09-29-2016, 12:16 AM
The cold desert winds were cutting, especially in December. Nicholas stood alone, on a lonely lookout above a battlefield. But he wasn't alone. The sound of gunfire and the smell of smoke was overpowering. Al-Hasan's men were closing in from all sides, and as they appeared they died. With flows of fire and air, Nicholas cut and burned. Where he looked, they died. The smell of burned meat hung heavy in the air, and corpses turned to mush littered the airstrip. He was too tired. Too tired.
Nicholas blinked, and Reed was standing next to him. Ninacska.
She said something, he said something. She smiled. He couldn't hear the words. But he could see the men appear behind her. He felt every bullet hit the ground around him and -
The only thing Nicholas could hear was his heart beating, drowning out everything else. Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba - In another world, a glass dropped to the ground, shattering across the floor. Nicholas clawed his way to his feet, he needed to get outside. He was in a townhouse, in Washington. Jeddah was more than two thousand miles away.
The balcony. Why did the walk to the doors look so far? Stumbling across the room, Nicholas reached it after what felt like an eternity. He clawed for the handle. He tried to reach for the power but it was gone. He had to get outside. The drum in his chest started banging louder, why wouldn't the damn door open? He found the deadbolt and turned. Fresh air blew across his face. He had to see it, it was just a summer day in Virginia. A bird chirped in a tree sprouting from the sidewalk, somewhere in the distance he heard a car alarm going off.
It was still minutes, agonizing minutes, before the ringing in his ears died down and he was able to catch his breath. Jon Little Bird was supposed to arrive in an hour. Why was Nicholas so weak? He'd spent long enough talking to people to know that his story was nothing. So he'd been shot, so he'd killed a few people. In the South China Sea people lost more than a couple weeks spent in a hospital ward. Arms were blown off, legs severed. Why couldn't he get over a few hours in a war zone? Because he was finally a participant and not an observer?
How was a hyperventilating wreck supposed to help the world's rightful superpower stand up to the most powerful tyrant in human history? Nicholas needed a drink. He sighed, and turned back inside.
Edited by Nick Trano, Sep 29 2016, 12:23 AM.
Nicholas blinked, and Reed was standing next to him. Ninacska.
She said something, he said something. She smiled. He couldn't hear the words. But he could see the men appear behind her. He felt every bullet hit the ground around him and -
The only thing Nicholas could hear was his heart beating, drowning out everything else. Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba - In another world, a glass dropped to the ground, shattering across the floor. Nicholas clawed his way to his feet, he needed to get outside. He was in a townhouse, in Washington. Jeddah was more than two thousand miles away.
The balcony. Why did the walk to the doors look so far? Stumbling across the room, Nicholas reached it after what felt like an eternity. He clawed for the handle. He tried to reach for the power but it was gone. He had to get outside. The drum in his chest started banging louder, why wouldn't the damn door open? He found the deadbolt and turned. Fresh air blew across his face. He had to see it, it was just a summer day in Virginia. A bird chirped in a tree sprouting from the sidewalk, somewhere in the distance he heard a car alarm going off.
It was still minutes, agonizing minutes, before the ringing in his ears died down and he was able to catch his breath. Jon Little Bird was supposed to arrive in an hour. Why was Nicholas so weak? He'd spent long enough talking to people to know that his story was nothing. So he'd been shot, so he'd killed a few people. In the South China Sea people lost more than a couple weeks spent in a hospital ward. Arms were blown off, legs severed. Why couldn't he get over a few hours in a war zone? Because he was finally a participant and not an observer?
How was a hyperventilating wreck supposed to help the world's rightful superpower stand up to the most powerful tyrant in human history? Nicholas needed a drink. He sighed, and turned back inside.
Edited by Nick Trano, Sep 29 2016, 12:23 AM.