04-30-2014, 10:58 AM
Jay was sitting shotgun in a black Escalade, the second in their impressive two-car convoy. That made three men per car and six total on their team. All of which could have fit into either of the beefy SUV's, but this way there was twice the chance of someone from Legion Premiere arriving in the city center. Jay would prefer both groups make it in and out with their teeth intact, but he was prepared to do anything to see the assignment through. It was why he volunteered to take rear watch.
The mood in the SUV was normal as ever. Picard, who was driving, and Smitty, monitoring the road behind, his fellow Legionnaires so-nicknamed for Picard's shiny bald head and Smitty's teeth implants, were talking up a recent fútbol (aka: soccer) championship, and Jay could contribute no more to the conversation than to make sure they knew his stance on soccer. He stifled a chuckle at that. Sometimes he desperately missed the Marines.
Despite the seemingly distant thoughts, he was hardly distracted. In fact, he was keeping a sharp eye on his side of the road. Soccer-talk was a big, big reminder that he was far from home, but definitely not the only one. They were cruising at a good speed down what should be a four-lane road with a curb-height cement partition dividing the two sides. Buildings on either side were built at the edge of the pavement with only a narrow dirt path for walking space, which meant people were constantly spilling over on the outer lanes, walking, or in today's case, half-running, to get to where they were going, they kept Jay’s sharp attention at the ready. While, the buildings themselves were single, sometimes two-stories, they were often built with low, flat roofs very easy to stand or lay down upon, though the shingles would be hot as the surface of the sun today. A sniper patient enough to roast on one of these roofs for hours on end would need some serious gear or else be boiled alive. Few palm trees obscured the distance, which made it easy to see smoke rising from pockets at varying distances from the road. The rest of the periphery was filled with walls, parked cars, and abandoned buildings. Strangely, Freetown reminded Jay of Jamaica, but you know, with more guns.
Their convoy slowed as they approached a mess of cars blocking the road. Radio from the lead car came on the speaker, and Picard and Smitty immediately ceased chatter to listen.
"Take alternate route 3Bravo," said the voice of Corporal Contee. The lead Escalade drove over the partition in the road and Jay's SUV followed. Two swift u-turns later, and they were gunning for the most recently passed side-street. Detours were a way of life in this line of work, but Jay noticed Picard and Smitty were quiet as their convoy continued. Side streets meant narrower lanes, and that meant greater possibilities for unexpected interruptions.
Ten minutes later, they were still on route to the city center, zig-zagging their way through side-streets, across dirt-roads, and over enough pot-holes to give a guy a concussion. By the time they emerged onto solid pavement once more, Jay flat-out had to ignore the annoyance throbbing in his skull to keep his senses sharp. One more turn around a traffic circle and everything quickly became more congested, the buildings more substantial, and the pedestrians thicker. They were nearing the denser part of the city, and Jay was perfectly aware that most everyone in sight were young men of fighting age. Many harbored weapons at the sides. He adjusted his sunglasses, frowned, and glanced at Picard.
Another blockade turned their SUV off the main road again. Corporal Contee's voice took over their car, "Alternate route 8Ninja."
They dove down a one-way alley barely wide enough for the SUVs, and Jay grew increasingly attentive of every parked car shoved on the edges of the lane, half in the narrow trenches that served as water-runoff, and only barely out of their way. Although he was thoroughly aware that these Escalades were powerful enough to ram their way through if necessary, everyone preferred a more uneventful ride. Himself included. There was a woman at the end of this trip in need of extraction. Her image, stats, name and information filled his head once more, going over the details he already knew when movement jerked his head to a wire-capped wall adjacent to the lead Escalade. A pair of young men threw rocks at the roof of the vehicle and Jay could practically hear Contee's mumbling french curses in response. The sound of a rock hitting the side of a car sounded eerily like a gunshot doing the same, and none of the men inside would appreciate the noise, but the pair of kids laughed and jumped out of sight quickly.
They sounded the horns at one point to clear the lane of a pack of fighting dogs. They slammed on the brakes when a naked kid ran right in front of them. Smitty announced that a single driver on a motorcycle was approaching from the rear at a high rate of speed. Jay cursed a few happy words for the asshole that slapped his car door with the palm of one hand when the motorbike flew around them. It was a long drive.
At Picard's request for ETA, Jay pulled up a map of their route. It projected across the dashboard at the lower rim of the windshield for the driver to follow in real-time. Not the greatest technology, as the bright sun made the lines and distances difficult to read in the glare, but helpful nonetheless.
They were still five winding kilometers from the hospital.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, Apr 30 2014, 10:59 AM.
The mood in the SUV was normal as ever. Picard, who was driving, and Smitty, monitoring the road behind, his fellow Legionnaires so-nicknamed for Picard's shiny bald head and Smitty's teeth implants, were talking up a recent fútbol (aka: soccer) championship, and Jay could contribute no more to the conversation than to make sure they knew his stance on soccer. He stifled a chuckle at that. Sometimes he desperately missed the Marines.
Despite the seemingly distant thoughts, he was hardly distracted. In fact, he was keeping a sharp eye on his side of the road. Soccer-talk was a big, big reminder that he was far from home, but definitely not the only one. They were cruising at a good speed down what should be a four-lane road with a curb-height cement partition dividing the two sides. Buildings on either side were built at the edge of the pavement with only a narrow dirt path for walking space, which meant people were constantly spilling over on the outer lanes, walking, or in today's case, half-running, to get to where they were going, they kept Jay’s sharp attention at the ready. While, the buildings themselves were single, sometimes two-stories, they were often built with low, flat roofs very easy to stand or lay down upon, though the shingles would be hot as the surface of the sun today. A sniper patient enough to roast on one of these roofs for hours on end would need some serious gear or else be boiled alive. Few palm trees obscured the distance, which made it easy to see smoke rising from pockets at varying distances from the road. The rest of the periphery was filled with walls, parked cars, and abandoned buildings. Strangely, Freetown reminded Jay of Jamaica, but you know, with more guns.
Their convoy slowed as they approached a mess of cars blocking the road. Radio from the lead car came on the speaker, and Picard and Smitty immediately ceased chatter to listen.
"Take alternate route 3Bravo," said the voice of Corporal Contee. The lead Escalade drove over the partition in the road and Jay's SUV followed. Two swift u-turns later, and they were gunning for the most recently passed side-street. Detours were a way of life in this line of work, but Jay noticed Picard and Smitty were quiet as their convoy continued. Side streets meant narrower lanes, and that meant greater possibilities for unexpected interruptions.
Ten minutes later, they were still on route to the city center, zig-zagging their way through side-streets, across dirt-roads, and over enough pot-holes to give a guy a concussion. By the time they emerged onto solid pavement once more, Jay flat-out had to ignore the annoyance throbbing in his skull to keep his senses sharp. One more turn around a traffic circle and everything quickly became more congested, the buildings more substantial, and the pedestrians thicker. They were nearing the denser part of the city, and Jay was perfectly aware that most everyone in sight were young men of fighting age. Many harbored weapons at the sides. He adjusted his sunglasses, frowned, and glanced at Picard.
Another blockade turned their SUV off the main road again. Corporal Contee's voice took over their car, "Alternate route 8Ninja."
They dove down a one-way alley barely wide enough for the SUVs, and Jay grew increasingly attentive of every parked car shoved on the edges of the lane, half in the narrow trenches that served as water-runoff, and only barely out of their way. Although he was thoroughly aware that these Escalades were powerful enough to ram their way through if necessary, everyone preferred a more uneventful ride. Himself included. There was a woman at the end of this trip in need of extraction. Her image, stats, name and information filled his head once more, going over the details he already knew when movement jerked his head to a wire-capped wall adjacent to the lead Escalade. A pair of young men threw rocks at the roof of the vehicle and Jay could practically hear Contee's mumbling french curses in response. The sound of a rock hitting the side of a car sounded eerily like a gunshot doing the same, and none of the men inside would appreciate the noise, but the pair of kids laughed and jumped out of sight quickly.
They sounded the horns at one point to clear the lane of a pack of fighting dogs. They slammed on the brakes when a naked kid ran right in front of them. Smitty announced that a single driver on a motorcycle was approaching from the rear at a high rate of speed. Jay cursed a few happy words for the asshole that slapped his car door with the palm of one hand when the motorbike flew around them. It was a long drive.
At Picard's request for ETA, Jay pulled up a map of their route. It projected across the dashboard at the lower rim of the windshield for the driver to follow in real-time. Not the greatest technology, as the bright sun made the lines and distances difficult to read in the glare, but helpful nonetheless.
They were still five winding kilometers from the hospital.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, Apr 30 2014, 10:59 AM.
Only darkness shows you the light.