Cold war: Continuation - 1.5
Connor forced his crusted eyes open, as he stood, he looked around to find himself in a forest covered in snow. So much snow, but he wasn’t cold, but he also wasn’t warm either.
He looked all around, the forest seemed to go on forever. He spotted his rifle, he walked over it, the snow felt weightless as he shuffled through it. He tried to pick the gun up, but it was heavier than usual, guess he would have to settle for pulling it by the barrel.
He started walking, he wasn’t sure where he was going, or where he even was, but it was calming, so that was all that mattered.
He closed his eyes as he listened to the crunching of the snow under his feet, it reminded him of something, something he couldn't remember though, so he didn’t think about it.
He kept walking for a while, peacefully. That was until the ground started shaking, no, rumbling. He fell over, but he tried his best not to let go of his rifle.
He closed his eyes in shock and fear, what the hell is happening? Where was he?
Suddenly, it all hit him at once, and the world seemed to twist and change and bend.
“CONNOR! CONNOR DO YOU HEAR ME!”
Connor looked around, he wasn’t in a forest anymore, instead in a dirty dugout, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. He felt worms and bugs crawl on his skin, he was on the floor, and above him his officer.
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He immediately vomited into the dirt, causing his comrades to attempt to move away, unsuccessfully due to the tightness of the small room.
“Christ, you look like shit…we thought you were a phantom when we saw you walk past the door dragging a corpse.”
Connor barely heard the officer, as all his senses were assaulted at once. His nose smelled burnt flesh and blood, and his skin crawled and itched like he was being boiled alive. He felt another wave of vomit come up his throat, but he forced it down and spoke.
“Sir, what’s…happening?!”
The officer grinned slightly, seeming satisfied with something.
“Good to know you're still conscious enough to be scared Connor! To answer your question, we’re getting bombed, we can’t leave this room until it ends.”
The memories flooded Connors mind, the church, the running, the…explosions. This time he couldn’t force the vomit down, as he hurled again, this time on the opposite side of the room. He felt himself being lifted off the dirt and onto a wooden bench. He slumped over, his bones ached and his vision was barely any better than when he was almost hit by the bombardment.
“Sir…are we going to…be killed?”
The officer’s features softened, almost sympathetically.
“Don’t worry about that alright? Just focus on staying awake until we can get you medical attention.”
The officer then reached over and slipped off Connor’s helmet, which he forgot he was wearing, and placed it in his hands as a makeshift bucket.
The booms outside went on for a while, at least 10…no…15? 20 minutes the bombings didn’t stop, dirt flying off the roof and walls of the small dugout. Connor shut his eyes, trying to remember the tranquility of the snowy forest he had found himself in, but with no luck, as the loud explosions made his skin crawl in a way he couldn’t explain.
Then, it stopped, just as suddenly as it started. Connor’s head immediately raised, was it over? We’re they safe?
But sadly, it wasn’t. Instead, the sound of explosions and screams were replaced with the sounds of hundreds of stomping feet and war cries in a language Connor didn’t understand.
The officer, who was sitting on the dirt floor, practically jumped up, his face deadly serious.
“They're here, THE ENEMY IS HERE!”
The End