Novels2Search
The Iron Mind
The Hand of God (Ch.1)

The Hand of God (Ch.1)

Isle of Proditor, off the coast of Ecuador. 2031

Rushing through the air at 180 Mph in a black Skyly AS69 the fireteam sat harnessed into their seats listening to Sgt. Sharp yell over the roar of the twin solar engines. “You will have 72 hours once I leave the drop zone to complete your task! You already know what your objective is; I need you to prove you’re the best candidate for the program!” He turned his head to look at the monitor and continued, “You have to work as a team to make this a success, but we will be observing your scores and judging you independently!” He continued, “The compound on the island is heavily guarded with android technology. There are no humans on the island, so anyone you see is a non-human. Be advised they will shoot on sight!” Cpl. Dillon Grey was listening intently to the speech and then he pressed his earpiece to respond “Sergeant! What exactly will we be judged on?” Sgt. Sharp responded, “The Island has remarkable video surveillance from space, drones, and cameras on the island in addition to the androids.

Gentleman, we will be judging your reaction time the decisions you make and how accurate you are on this mission. These are what you need to worry about, the rest of the test is confidential and I cannot advise on it.” The four men strapped in were looking at each other while he spoke again “Gentleman! You will go in hot and kick some ass for me! Work as a team, and may the best man win!” They unharnessed themselves and focused on the monitor above. Cpl. Grey saw a flag on the arm patch of Sgt. Sharp, Dillon thought about what it meant to him. This is what he signed up for, he loved fighting, training, shooting and he loved his country. He was doing this because he loved his job and wanted to progress even further. He was a dedicated man.

Cpl. Dillon Grey noticed he had about thirty seconds before he dropped out of the helicopter. He was nervous, that feeling of anticipation he could not shake was in his stomach. The biggest week of his career was about to start and all he had to do was win. Sgt. Sharp spoke “Alpha team, drop zone in ten seconds, prepare to exit!” the team responded in unison “Prepared to exit!” They stacked up on the door in synchrony, holding on to each other’s right shoulder. When the monitor made that familiar sound, the fourth man tapped the third man, and so on. When Cpl. Grey received the tap, he jumped out of the helicopter as point.

He looked back for a moment and saw a grin on Sgt. Sharp’s face, and hoped to see it again when this was over. Falling through the air at almost 120 MPH, he looked down to see the ground quickly approaching. He was looking at the trees and the island. He discerned what side of the island he was on and the direction he needed to travel, he could not see any targets yet. Cpl. Grey tried to take in the lay of the land as fast as he could. He noticed some faint red lights and the shadow of a steel monolith on the far side of the island.

He checked the time on his wrist at the same moment he was going to deploy his parachute. Dillon did not need to signal to the rest of the team, once he deployed his they followed suit. The uneasy feeling again, he clutched the straps of his parachute. That feeling of surprise struck Dillon like a mortar. He was sucked back up into the air after deploying his chute. He held in his breath every time he pulled the cord. Dillon let out a deep breath. He looked out over the island for a moment and saw how dark and beautiful the sky was. The moon cast a shadow onto the ocean, and aside from the faint red light, he noticed earlier the moon was the only source of illumination for them. The sky amazed Dillon; he was falling through the air and still had time to take notice of how beautiful the stars were above him.

The ground was approaching; he slipped back into reality and prepared for the mission ahead. Touching down they all began unhooking themselves and packing up their chute. Cpl. Madamba was finished first; he began digging a hole into the sand with his compact shovel. They were trained to leave as little evidence as possible so they would not be easily tracked. A hole was easier to cover up than a parachute left in the bushes. They were somewhere on the west side of the island. They had to make sure and bury their chute’s far enough away from the tide that it did not get washed out and their landing site exposed. The parachute was made of a material that reacted with the dirt and alkaloids in the soil, causing it to rapidly deteriorate after being buries.

He spoke quietly, and everyone was tuning in through their earpieces. “Listen up; I want to finish this as fast as possible. We all need good scores; I say we let the accuracy do the talking.” Cpl. Madamba was finishing up with his task and retorted, “I don’t know about you cunts, but I don’t need this team.” Dillon looked over and saw him take the earpiece out and throw it on the ground a few yards in front of him. Cpl. Madamba made the “peace” sign and started walking off towards the jungle. Dillon was dumbfounded, if they were to be judged, as a team also, then how was this person just walking off the group? He was just about to run after him when he saw Sgt. Williams already over there talking to him. The only thing he could hear from it was on Sgt. Williams’s end of the earpiece “I need you to stay with us; we don’t know what we’re getting into. You can’t complete this on your own.” Everyone was listening for Cpl. Madamba’s reply but could not make it out “I’m not making you stay, but I would advise sticking with us until you’re confident you can survive by yourself.” Dillon was motioning his other fireteam member over to him, Pvt. Stovewall.

He was an exceptional shot and had amazing physical endurance. Stovewall was a quiet, but precise individual. Unlike Cpl. Madamba who was currently creating a situation as soon as they landed. Dillon knew they should be off the beach as fast as possible and get into the brush. He heard Sgt. Williams speak again “Fine but remember this; my Captain once told me, you are the architect of your own destruction. If I do not see you when we are leaving the island in three days, I am not coming back for you. It’s on you.” Dillon saw Sgt. Williams wave his hand and jog back towards the group. “Prick.” Pvt. Stovewall said. Dillon nodded and spoke “Let’s get going, we have to get ahead of the game.

If he’s by himself he can travel faster.” Sgt. Williams replied, “He’ll die by himself also.” Pvt. Stovewall spoke “Agreed.” Dillon motioned them forward “Moving out. Stovewall, you have got rear security, Williams I expect you to be on the lookout for any cameras and drones. We will avoid those at all costs. I’ll make sure we’re traveling on the right course, and that we don’t fall for any traps around here.” “Rodger.” Sgt. Williams and Pvt. Stovewall replied in unison.

Dillon was a Cpl. and he was in charge of the mission, in their line of work, rank did not necessarily imply power. It was situational on who was the team leader. They decided amongst themselves who they wanted to take them into the fight. Dillon was voted 3 to 1 to lead this mission, with Cpl. Madamba voting only for himself. Still, no one imagined he would go rogue as soon as their team had landed.

The team advanced on into the night. Dillon’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness and the moon was the brightest thing inside his field of view. Still, he saw some clouds coming in and heard the rustle of the leaves around him. The wind smelled like rain, and they did not have time to worry about making a shelter. The jungle was humid; he was prowling through the terrain slowly with his team. It was careful work. Dillon did not want to fail in this mission; even though it was his goal to win, he wanted the team itself to succeed. To be honest winning was not the main thing on his mind. He was wondering if Cpl .Madamba would be fine on his own.

They were informed that the androids on this island were equipped with less lethal munitions, but that does not mean people have not died here. His team itself were equipped with an old M16 style assault rifle, the ones used back in the first few decades of the 21’st century. The top of the line stuff now would put their rifles to shame. However, Dillon did not mind, he was a good shot with his .556 chambered rifle.

It was stocked with an advanced laser system and flip light, and they all carried NVG monocular attachments for their Kevlar printed helmets. Flip lights amazed him, it was the size of a scrabble letter, entirely see through and when activated it illuminated an area with visible or infrared lighting. He did not know how it was powered, but it was the coolest thing he had seen this year. The fireteam wore jungle camouflage uniforms with assault vests containing ammunition and small explosives. Your typical setup for this kind of thing, Dillon wondered why he was using a plate carrier vest if they were being shot at with non-lethal munitions though.

When he considered why they were sent with the plate carrier, he assumed it was part of the physical endurance they must overcome. Dillon used hand signals to point towards a gigantic looking spike coming out of the ground. It was concrete or of a similar construction and extended about eight to ten feet in the air. He noticed another one and motioned with his hand to alert the rest of his fire team, they creeped along and discovered some more spikes coming up from the ground. He thought to himself “What were they?” The moon was dim now; the trees above and clouds moving in dulled their sight. Wind was slipping through the trees and tickling the back of his neck.

Without warning Pvt Stovewall halted the team, Dillon was leading them further through the holes in the ground and though he did not say it he felt like they were being forced into a choke point. He heard rustling behind him. Pvt Stovewall was motioning for them to get a visual on the path they just came from. Dillon folded his NVGs down and turned his monocular on. It was too dark to see anymore without it, the rest of the team followed suit. He could make out everything clearly now in that familiar neon green hue.

The eyes of Stovewall were light up. The rustling was louder now, and a light rain started to fall. Dillon smelled the scent of a storm on its way. The team was on alert. Sgt. Williams slowly moved to cover behind a large tree. Dillon felt it too. Something was coming through the brush. He moved to position behind a fallen log and some brush. Stovewall found a tree to cover behind also. Dillion motioned to them to assault forward. He maintained a low profile as he bounded ahead of them. He stopped for cover. Sgt Williams bounded ahead of him.

The trio was focused on the threat they sensed ahead. “AHHHH!” BLINDED! Dillon got down. He heard screaming. A flashlight passed his line of sight again; blinding his right eye hooked to the monocular, he wondered how long it would take him to get his sight back. The light got Williams too. *FIRING FROM BEHIND HIM* Dillon went prone. He froze, were they surrounded already? “GET DOWN!” Whose voice was that? Dillon heard footsteps approaching, just then he recognized Pvt Stovewall rushing forward and firing his rifle. Dillon got up from his position upon instinct joining the assault. Williams followed behind. *SHOTS FIRING* the light that was sweeping their way changed direction immediately towards the sky.

They rushed forward. Dillon could hear the beach now. Where was the enemy? Breathing heavy he felt something wet brush against his face. They kept charging forward. Reaching up to touch his face, he looked down quickly, blood. “FUCK!” He screamed *DROP* He fell into a hole.

His left leg going inside and his body still trying to go forward. Dillon smacked his face on the ground. “OH.” He moaned. The monocular shoved back into his eye socket. Dillon fell at running speed into the ground and the impact knocked the wind out of him.

He clutched at the ground while seeing his fire team charge ahead still. The dirt dug into his nails as he attempted to claw forward. Pain. His right bicep, his leg. He looked at his arm and there was a stick about the size of a banana protruding through his camouflage with blood on it. His leg hurt badly, Dillon forced himself up crawling out of the hole. “Fuck!” He spat blood onto the ground. He had bitten his tongue fairly well too. Dillon adjusted his helmet, flipped his monocular up and ran to the beach.

What he saw before him made gave him the chills. There were two men on the ground dead. A rifle with a mounted flashlight still on, casting a shadow of boots from the two beings standing above the bodies. Dillon was in shock, there was blood everywhere. One man had an earpiece clutched in his hand. Pvt Stovewall turned towards Cpl Grey. "Look." Dillon pointed to where they landed and their parachutes were dug up. The dead man on the ground was clutching an earpiece. The same earpiece Cpl Madamba threw earlier. His fireteam had been tracked from the beginning. It was time for a new plan.

Dillon felt nervous now, and he knew they had to get on their way. This was his first mission as a leader and it was going terribly, if he thought about it too long he knew it would get to him. He had to act quickly to get them out of harm’s way. They were standing above two dead bodies on the beach. He had many questions that he wanted answered but most could be solved by searching the bodies. “Listen up” he spoke “Search the bodies, check the weapon to see what kind of ammunition they’re using.” He kept watch while his team was looking through the corpses and their items. Sgt. Williams was kneeling down over one body, his weapon slung behind him while he did this. He briefly observed Sgt Williams rack the enemies’ weapon back and eject a round onto the ground. Grunting as he spoke, Sgt. Williams said “.556 NATO. Same ammunition as us, boss.” Dillon stood there bewildered as Pvt. Stovewall said, “These are humans, no other intel from checking the body.”

Noise in the distance provoked a response from Dillon “Move, Move now!” They took off into the jungle. “Weren’t these supposed to be the androids?” he thought to himself as his blood pumped quicker. They were hurdling through the jungle; he flipped his NVG back down and turned it on. They were running back down the same path as earlier.

His night vision was flickering; Dillon smacked it to make it come on again. They were coming up on the holes again; it would be a bad time for his equipment to fail now. “Hold up” he choked out, they slowed down and everyone was sweating profusely from their jog back into the jungle. “So” Sgt Williams was catching his breath and continued “Humans tried to kill us.” The wind howled by them through the trees picking up speed. Sgt Williams looked up to Dillon for confirmation and Dillon replied, “We were told that there would be no other humans on this island.” He motioned for them to keep walking, Pvt. Stovewall turned his head and checked behind them and said, “We can’t say for certain they tried to kill us.” Dillon replied, “Why is that?” Stovewall spit onto the jungle floor and looked over with his face hot and breathing heavy he said plainly, “I shot first.” Sgt. Williams murmured “Then who did we kill?” Dillon was flushed with a feeling of hopelessness.

He felt like everything was failing and he could not do anything to stop it. Dillon said, “I think sticking to the plan is our only option.” He continued “However if we treat the next encounter as if they were androids. We could take the chance of killing someone else.” Pvt. Stovewall replied, “If someone is in the way of my mission, I’m taking them out.” Sgt. Williams spoke “I’m with Cpl. Grey on this, what if the next people we kill are human?” Pvt Stovewall replied “I was told everyone on this island were androids.

In my mind, I’m shooting androids.” Dillon spoke “That’s fucked up Stovewall.” Sgt. Williams spoke next “If we focus on the task and don’t check the bodies we won’t know.” Dillon said, “Is not knowing better than finding out?” Pvt. Stovewall spoke in return “If we’re killing humans what changes? We have no way out for three days.” Sgt. Williams looked over at the Pvt inquisitively “What if they lied to us about more than what is on this island?” Dillon thought on it for a moment and spoke “There’s too many variables.

We do not know what is going on. We have to get into the monolith and get the fuck out of here.” Pvt. Stovewall smirked “No checking the bodies?” Dillon replied “No one checks the bodies; let’s just get the fuck out of here.” They drudged on into the dark of the night not knowing what this mission had in store for them. Dillon was uncertain about himself, but he was focused on his mission. He had never been in a situation like this, he felt safe coming into this situation. Yeah, he knew it would be physically and mentally demanding. Originally, he planned that he would be having some fun shooting human-looking robots for a few days on an island with his comrades.

The fun was gone now; he was starting to wonder if he was going to make it home. The safety net he had, just disappeared. For the first time in his life, Dillon felt vulnerable. He knew this though, he was going to protect his comrade’s lives and protect his the best he could.

Walking through the jungle at a slow pace, they were far in now. The wind was howling and rain was falling to the ground in sheets. They packed extremely light but they still had GORTEX camouflage tops in their packs. Dillon’s legs were wet and cold, his trousers were sticking to his leg and the freezing water was running off his rain gear down his trousers and into his boots. “Get your rain gear on boys,” Sgt. Williams said, pulling his top out from his assault pack. Just as Dillon was pulling his out too, Pvt. Stove wall spoke “I didn’t pack one.” Cpl. Grey slapped himself in the face, “What the fuck’s wrong with you Stovewall?” Sgt. Williams laughed. “If he doesn’t have one, I don’t have one.” he took his rain gear off and put it back in to the pack. Pvt. Stovewall spoke next “You don’t have to do that. I did not think it would rain.

It’s my bad.” Cpl. Grey replied “Well. We live and die as a team. If you don’t have one, we don’t either.” Sgt. Williams slung his pack back over his shoulder and kept moving “You owe me a hundred push-ups when this motherfucker is over Stovewall, you hear me?” he laughed. Pvt. Stovewall smirked “Got it Sgt. My apologies gentleman.” They moved on together, laughing about their miserable situation. Dillon stepped in a puddle of mush; he absolutely hated the feeling having wet socks on inside of a boot. Every step was measured, visibility was hard and progress was slow.

Areas like these turned into a swampy mess rather quickly when rain fell. The island was big enough that it probably had an effect on its own weather. Jungle’s work like this because all day the water evaporates into the air, at night it condenses, and rains back down. They were not focusing so much on the wildlife, but he had spotted dozens of snakes on the way. “Fuck snakes” Dillon thought. His night vision flickered back off; he slapped it to no avail. “Hold up” his group stopped moving. “Let’s take five and keep on. We should be about a klick out from the monolith if my estimation is correct” Sgt. Williams hunkered down on a tree and was sitting on a big root protruding from the ground, his head was facing the floor and rain from above was pouring onto his booney hat and off onto the ground.

Pvt. Stovewall had taken a knee and was looking out ahead of them. “We’ll probably start seeing a lot of hostile’s now,” he said over the thunder roaring above him. Sgt. Williams replied, “I wonder how Madamba’s ass is doing.” Dillon spoke next, looking up into the jungle canopy “To be honest, he could be dead if he ran into the same thing we did.” Sgt Williams lifted his head up and replied, “He’s not that lucky. If I see him, he’s going to wish he was in hell with his back broken.” Dillon smirked “God damn Williams.” He laughed; next, it was Pvt. Stovewall who replied. “I’m wondering why we haven’t seen any drones or cameras yet.” Dillon frowned slightly, speaking in return “I can’t say. We’re in a completely different situation that what I thought we were going into.”

He cleared his throat and continued “Gentleman, when we approach them, let’s get rid of the hostiles as fast as you see them. I will take point, Williams you have been left flank. Stovewall right flank and rear.” Pvt. Stovewall rose, “Ready when you are.” He said. Sgt. Williams stood up from his position, flipped his monocular down and adjusted himself “Feeling like Clint Eastwood boys, let’s get this show on the road!” They stepped off in unison towards the monolith. They drudged on through the brush and enduring rain until Dillon stumbled forward. It was the edge! The jungle had stopped.

It seemed like one second he was walking through the trees and the next step he was in a gigantic clearing with what looked like a road leading up to the monolith. He quickly stepped back into the trees. Using hand signs as soon as he had stepped into the clearing to tell them to stop. “I didn’t expect that.” He looked back and Pvt Stovewall spoke “We’ll have to find another way up.” Dillon responded, “There’s no way we can just walk up through this clearing to it.” Sgt. Williams pointed, “That looks like a road leading up to what might be the entrance, and I bet it goes to the coast from the monolith.” Dillon spoke “If it goes to the east beach, there could be some heavy traffic over there.” Pvt. Stovewall stepped up to their line of sight “This Island could be an observation post; we shouldn’t go near either side of that road.”

Dillon observed the scene before him trying to come up with a plan. The monolith sat on top of a naturally raised part of the island. He estimated it was probably half a klick in elevation, which meant if they did not take the road the backside would naturally be a half a kilometer steep cliff up. They did not have climbing gear but that may be their best shot. Pvt. Stovewall was using his monocular, zooming in for surveillance on the entrance of their target. “I don’t see anyone. There is a few obvious cameras, and a faint red light up there. I can’t focus on anything behind it.”

Sgt. Williams moved from cover behind the tree and focused on the building too. “I can’t see a way inside, but we’ll have to get up there at some point right?” The distance between them and the building was about a kilometer at a 45-degree incline. Dillon quickly rationalized their best hope was to travel along the edge of this clearing to behind the monolith. He would bet that is also, where surveillance was a minimum and anyone would have a hard time locating them there so they might be able to rest. They had not stopped since they got there and it had been about 10 hours of meticulous work. He had burned far more calories than he had planned, and they did not have but barely any food to speak of.

It was time to rest, he knew if his mind and body were getting sluggish then theirs were too. “We’ll follow this clearing north west until we reach the back side.” Sgt. Williams spoke “It’ll be day soon; I reckon we set up camp down there as well?” Dillon replied, “Exactly, let’s rest and move again when we’re under cover of night.” Pvt. Stovewall spoke “Agreed.”

Dillon moved on, taking great care to move a little away from the edge to the clearing. If they had as many cameras as they were told then it was possible they had already been seen when he accidentally stepped into the clearing.

Dillon did not know what they were facing and was simply playing things by ear, trying to make the best decisions he could. At this point, it was about him leading, he was their leader but together they made the decisions. Casually walking through the jungle he was soaked in sweat and rain, it would feel so good when he finally has to stop for a while. He caught his eyes closing for a second longer than they should occasionally, as if he was falling to sleep while marching.

The fatigue really took it out of you, especially when you had to remain alert the entire time. They moved around some bushes, and a couple more holes. They tried to keep communication to a bare minimum as some of the cameras or surveillance could be possibly be triggered by audio, and maybe some humans were around here too, point being he did not know. Some taller trees now and the ground turned to mush. “Tired of my feet being wet” Sgt. Williams grumbled. The usually quiet Pvt Stovewall chuckled and replied “Ha-ha, damnit me too Sergeant.” They kept on.

The only thing to do in this scenario was to embrace the suck, or so they say. It had been about forty minutes since they first saw the clearing. Dillon was assuming they should be close to the backside now. It was hard to tell when everything looked the same. He checked his wrist to make sure they were on the right heading. His arm hurt, the stick from when he fell last night had stuck his arm fairly well. No first aid except ripping part of the bottom of his shirt and tying it around his bicep to keep it from rubbing on his camouflage. Good thing they were out of here in a little over two days, he would probably need some antibiotics. They kept moving on in the brush, moving past trees and bushes, drudging through the soaked ground.

He had to admit it; at this point, he was getting a little complacent and just wanted rest. Dillon was rubbing his eyes, he bumped into a branch “Fuck!” he said Opening his eyes, Dillon noticed movement ahead, he jolted alert. Dillon held up the sign to stop. Everyone knew what that meant, if he was not talking his sign to stop, it meant something was ahead. The fatigue erased from his mind, time slowed down and he looked ahead, the two behind him took cover behind trees. His pulse quickened. Dillon crouched down and looked through the brush, moving his head to the left to see through a clearing in the jungle. Dillon saw two men with their back facing him talking, and pointing out towards something in front of them.

Dillon looked to his right and noticed that where the edge to the clearing should be was rocks, and the elevation of the ground was high. They must have reached the backside of the monolith! He did not have time to decide, if the two in front of him turned around they could be shot at. Dillon turned his head to Pvt Stovewall and gave him the signal, they all moved as a unit. Despite their fatigue, in this moment they were one.

They executed a forward assault, moving from their hiding positions and shooting the two before them. Dillon did not hesitate; he put a bullet in the target to his left, and a bullet into the one on his right. He planned to execute a box drill, shoot the left target, shoot the right, back to the left, and end with the right. There was more shots fired than just his fire though, they dropped so fast Dillon did not have time to shoot again.

No sooner than those two went down and they were rushing forward, four more enemies took their place. His feeling of celebration melted, apparently the thing the two men were pointing to was this fireteam of people further out of view. They were assaulting Dillon’s team now. He had no time to plan or issue orders. Dillon and his two men were still rushing forward shooting. Time froze in this moment for him. He saw the screaming faces of four men rushing him, and he could smell the sulfur from the bullets flying out of their rifles.

The humid air and rain was coming down on top of them all without discrimination, giving a sweaty sticky feel to everything. He did not see the man next to him as a warrior, he saw him as a father of three. He saw the other one as a man just beginning his career and a good friend. In his mind, Dillon had nothing to lose; he simply must shoot faster than the enemy must. He must kill them regardless that he did not know what situation they were all in.

Dillon did not have anybody back home, he was going to protect his comrades. He managed to pull the trigger twice before it happened. In synchrony two things occurred, Dillon shot both of his targets in the face, and then he hit the ground blacking out. *BANG* *Ringing sound* His vision was blurred, *Bullets* he could not see! He tried to speak, nothing came out. He was being dragged off. In his mind, he was confused, why couldn’t he talk? *SMACK* something hit his head.

It burned more than anything he had ever felt before. “AHHHHHHH!” he screamed, clutching his face. He felt his rifle sling dragging behind him, hung up on something as it was trying to fall off his body. His vision cleared only slightly, he saw bodies before him. Sgt. Williams laid sprawled out in a pool of blood. Who was pulling him? A familiar face, Pvt. Stovewall was speaking. What was he saying? He tried to read his lips.

“CORPORAL GRAY, YOU’VE BEEN HIT. WE’RE TAKING SHELTER NOW” Oh fuck, had he really been shot? His mind was so numb and dazed. He forced himself to stand and turn nut he fell down again. He saw Pvt. Stovewall shooting his rifle. Dillon was shaking, he could not stop it. His body was weak and he felt fragile.

His head rang so loud, his balance was all weird. Dillon looked behind him, turning his whole body because his head would not move properly. He was caught in a daze of confusion. He could see clearer now, his senses were coming back to him but one eye did not work.

Dillon saw a mass of bodies in the jungle. The four that rushed his team were on the ground where they once stood, but two more were dead behind Sgt. Williams. He thought he could see Sgt. Williams gasping for air, but there was only blood on his face and surrounding him.

A hand reached up towards them and his eyes were wide. Sgt. Williams’s hand fell down and his head dropped to the ground from his leaned up position. He was dead, giving the ground a thousand yard stare with blood dripping out of his mouth. What had happened? They were surrounded this whole time. Dillon was barely able to follow Stovewall up the rocks he had recognized earlier. He reached up to touch his face. He felt a patch on his right eye that is why he could not see out of it! Stovewall was speaking again as blood dripped from his fingers “Lucky to be alive CPL. Can you hear me?” Stovewall was pulling CPL Dillon Grey to safety, pushing him up and helping him move.

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It was a struggle; Dillon grunted in response, talking was too difficult now. He could think the words but they just did not come out when he spoke. How frustrating he thought. “We were hit from behind! You took a bullet in the temple! It appears to have exited through your right eye-“Dillon buzzed alert, this rang through his mind like a missile launch. “You fucking kidding me?” he managed to slur out. Further, up the rocks they climbed, through random trees and bush. He was more or less dragging himself up with all his might. He must get up, figure out what was going on.

Pvt. Stovewall helped him up with an arm for support, speaking “I patched your skull and eye with medclot. You got lucky, I’ve seen bullets do strange things but by all rights you should be dead.” Dillon thought hard for a moment as they hurdled up further and spoke “Williams?” Pvt. Stovewall shook his head “We finished off the targets in front of us, the two in the back shot you both before I got to them.

We had no chance “Blood was leaking down the side of his head. The patch that had been slapped on his head medically cauterized the wound with a nice chemical burn to stop the bleeding; however, the crack in his skull that extended from his eyebrow about an inch up past his ear was being held in place by the medclot also, it was quite literally, holding him together.

Further and further, they climbed up the rocks that made up the backside of the monolith. They were about ten minutes into the struggle when Stovewall heard something. “Corporal.” He motioned to stay quiet. Pvt. Stovewall was in the process of dragging Corporal Grey up the rocks having his hands under Corporals armpits and grabbing onto his forearms.

For this to work, Corporal grey had to lock his arms together in front of himself so that Pvt. Stovewall could hook under his armpits and grab his forearms tightly. It was an effective maneuver, but they were even more exhausted now. They both laid down flat at the sound of movement below.

There was nowhere to hide. Dillon was looking straight down; it was hard to see what was going on. He could see four people investigating the scene below. He dare not move. They were in no shape to fight, Dillon had not regained his composure yet and Pvt. Stovewall was exhausted. They kept watching Dillon took notice of one man in particular who was searching the bodies; he racked the rifle back and held up a round. Showing the team what kind of ammunition was in the weapon.

Dillon thought, that is what we did! Are these people a fireteam? Are they the robots? What’s going on here?” They inspected the bodies and moved off as silently as they arrived; traveling in the direction Dillon’s team came from. A weight was lifted off his chest, *Deep breath* they kept moving up afterwards until they reached a flat spot, Pvt. Stovewall spoke “Let’s rest here for the rest of the day. It’s out of view.” Dillon had come two by now, his senses had returned and he could make his own progress albeit slowly up the rocks. He was thinking and asked Stovewall “What do you think we’re doing here?” the Pvt thought for a moment “We’re here for a training exercise.” Dillon replied, “This isn’t training, people don’t get killed during training.

Sgt. Williams has three children, he was a good man.” Dillon took a breath of air after finishing his long-winded sentence. He accidentally snapped it out, and realized he should dial it back. He felt strongly about his teammates, he was physically hurt by losing one of his own. Pvt. Stovewall spoke again, “I suspect we have been misled before our arrival. This much we can deduce.” Dillon replied, “do you think those were humans down there?’ Stovewall shook his head “We’re not checking bodies, Corporal Grey. Remember?” His face showed worry “It’s getting to me. I am strong. I’m good at what I do.” He paused “How do you not focus on it?” Stovewall and he were sitting on the ground on top of their packs for cushion; they took their blouses off and were using them.

Stovewall was sitting Indian style drinking out of his canteen. He took a big swig of his water and spoke plainly, “I’m numb to things Corporal. I trick myself into believing what I need to.” Dillon was making himself a pillow out of his blouse top. “What do you mean by that?” Pvt. Stovewall looked up at the sky and spoke “I was told everyone on this island were androids. In my mind, I’m shooting androids.” Dillon smirked “You said that earlier!” Stovewall replied, “It works for me. It’s my excuse.” Dillon sat there staring out into trees for a moment; they were both pausing between sentences.

They were both exhausted. “I guess.” Dillon said. “I’ll take first watch, you get some rest.” Pvt. Stovewall shook his head. “It’s fine. I plan to do some local reconnaissance for us while you recover. Go ahead Corporal.” Dillon looked relieved “Suit yourself then, Wake me up in four.” Dillon was sound asleep in the middle of the daylight before his head touched the deck.

His eyes shot open. *Screaming* Dillon sat up. He looked around for his rifle, panicking. A hand on his shoulder, he looked up. Pvt Stovewall was saying something. Dillon was shaking his head, looking for the source of the screaming. Where was his rifle? He scrambled to his feet. *SPLASH* *Deep breath* “What the fuck was that?” He yelled at Pvt. Stovewall, “Don’t you fucking throw water on me!” Pvt Stovewall replied. “You started screaming, woke yourself up.” Dillon checked himself “I was screaming?” Stovewall shook his head “Affirmative.” Dillon sat back down.

“God damn. I’m losing it aren’t I.” Stovewall spoke “Your head looks pretty fucked up.” Dillon agreed “We need to get off this island, I feel like shit and I have more in-“ He stared off into the ground “More in-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence! “More injuries!” he shouted at the ground. “God damn!” Pvt. Stovewall patted him on the shoulder “I’ve got news.” Dillon looked up at him. “I’ve found our route into the monolith.” Dillon smiled “What do you have?” He took a deep breath and replied, “We’re about 50 feet up these rocks right now, and the cliff isn’t our way up.” Dillon interrupted “Then what is?” Stovewall continued, “There’s a convenient ladder, looks like there’s some kind of electrical building not too far from us. The ladder goes up the side of the cliff, it is steep. I think it’s our best shot.” Corporal Dillon was dusting himself off “It’s too convenient, there’s got to be something bad about this plan.” Stovewall replied, “I’m certain there is. It’s still the best shot we have.” Dillon said “Get your rest, we’ll head out tonight and hopefully get this thing over with.” Stovewall motioned with his hands “I don’t need rest, let’s just go.” Dillon shook his head in disapproval.

Pvt. Stovewall started gathering his gear up “I’ll rest when I’m dead. We’ve got to get you out of here.” Dillon looked at his Pvt. inspecting him visually “It’s your choice; I’m fine if you want to rest. You have been up just as long as I have. I know you’re tired.” Pvt. Stovewall smiled for the first time this mission “When I was six, my grandpa put me in a box for five days!” Dillon looked bewildered “I’m sorry man; I don’t know what to say to that.” Pvt. Stovewall laughed, “I’m just kidding.” He laughed, “It was only three days.” Dillon laughed too, confused if it was a joke or not. “Alright man, if it’ll stop you from telling me fucked up stories we can go now.” They both laughed for a moment, packing their gear up and marching off up the embankment.

Pvt. Stovewall was correct. The little electrical building was not too far away. It was a tiny metal shack, probably fifteen feet by fifteen feet. They had been making good progress for being on the island about two days now. A metal ladder was bore into the cliff side that extended about a hundred feed up to what was probably the backside of the monolith. They approached the building cautiously and searched around it. It was dusk out. It was a clear sky, they could see over the treetops from their location. “Building clear” Pvt. Stovewall said, opening the door and discovering nothing but some circuit boards and monitors. Dillon walked around back, scanning and looking for anyone or signs that someone might have been in the area before them. He could not find anything.

He looked out over the treetops and saw the sun beginning to set, it was casting a bright orange hue to everything, and there was a small breeze going on that allowed him to pick up the scent of the fresh ocean surrounding them. He was enjoying the scene for a moment, trying to expel the stress that had filled him; he was brought back to reality by the low buzzing sound coming from the shack. It was a constant sound that he hoped Pvt. Stovewall could hear too. “Let’s head up.” He nodded his head.

Dillon spoke again “Stovewall, when we get to the top I have no plan. You know that right?” Pvt. Stovewall nodded “We don’t have time to make one.” Dillon reached out to fist bump his partner, and Pvt Stovewall acknowledged him. They climbed up for what seemed like hours, Dillon was a little off put by the height of the ladder. They were already so high up. It was dark now, he was reaching for the next cold rung drilled into the side of this cliff and looked down. His stomach dropped. He froze for a second.

Then he continued up the ladder, he was thinking about what he might see at the top, or how fast he would have to be ready to fight. They reached the last ten feet or so and he stopped again, this time on purpose. “Stovewall.” He waited for a reply “Yes Corporal?” “You’re a good man.” Dillon finished his last few rungs up quietly as possible, steadying his rifle behind him so it did not swing off to the side and hit one of the rings making a noise.

He peaked over the top and saw an unimpressive steel wall and a white door. The entire outside of the structure was either blue, or black. He could not tell. It stuck out like a sore thumb though. The Door was solid with no windows; it looked like it was solid steel. Stovewall got up and they stacked on the door, he slowly turned the handle to no avail. It was locked. They carried with them some small explosives but he did not know if this was the way they should enter. “Should we try to sneak around to the front side?” he asked Pvt. Stovewall, “There will be an easier entrance I assume, but more people. It’s your call.” Corporal Grey thought about it for a moment. “If we’re trying to get off here quick, we need to get this over with.”

Stovewall began taking out two small shape charges from his pack, he placed them on the hinges of the door, which thankfully were visible. In some high security buildings, the doors do not have visible hinges. Making entry more difficult. They stacked on the door and *BOOM* rushed in. They entered into a stairwell, with concrete stairs going both up and down. They did not hear any alarms going off, surprisingly. “Let’s go up, what we’re looking for isn’t on the ground floor.” Dillon said quietly. They approached the next set of stairs, moving quickly and efficiently.

It hurt Dillon to hold his rifle out, his bicep was still very hurt from the first day, and his head was pounding. He felt like he had a fever, and needed a nap. He probably should not have slept earlier; he had something worse than a concussion. They climbed up the stairs quickly, coming to a door a flight up from where they had started. They stacked up on the door again and he turned the handle. “It’s unlocked!” he whispered. Again, no windows on the door. Anything could be on the other side. They were in too deep now; they had to finish the mission.

Pvt. Stovewall had his hand on the handle of the door, he was nodding his head to motion “One, Two, And Three!” and Cpl. Dillon rushed in with Pvt. Stovewall following behind. “Oh no.” Dillon said “We’re not the first ones here...” Stovewall chimed in. They were looking out over a large dimly light warehouse kind of room. There were tables and machines that look like they built machines, everywhere. There was an ominous feeling in the air as they stepped quietly forward, scanning everywhere. Pvt. Stovewall was scanning the left side and looking under tables and such. Cpl. Dillon was scanning the other side of the large rom and focusing on the bodies on the ground.

There was a fight in here. These were not humans though; these were the androids he was supposed to be fighting. There was dead, bullet ridden android corpses on the floor. They bore a human like face and showed a blank expression but Dillon thought he could see some pain in their faces. They kept moving and searching through the building. When you cleared a room, you had to move with care and purpose, scanning high and low for any hiding spots that could be there. He pressed his earpiece “A team must have cleared these out?” Pvt. Stovewall was looking under a stainless steel table. It was cool in this room, it smelled metallic to him. “We need to hurry; if we lose we might not be getting off this island.” Dillon thought on it for a moment as they neared the end of the room. “Let’s keep going. We’re looking for an item that should be on this floor.” They were coming up on a big automated door.

The type where you press a button and it lifts up, like a garage door. With a sense of urgency they sped up their searching, finding the switch for the big door in front of them. Dillon had no idea about the layout of this place. He knew what floor he was supposed to be on to retrieve his item for the mission. However, with so much changed from the original plan already was it really going to be that easy? Now he was thinking about these robots with bullet holes in them, surely, there was a team ahead or that someone had already been through here. He could not tell how fresh anything was, it looks like a fight occurred in this room.

However, why did they just enter here if they were going after the same thing he was? Either way they needed to hurry up their progress. Dillon walked over and flipped the switch, the door began slowly rolling up. They were off to the side; as if you were standing in the middle of the door when it began, moving up you would be in view and are shot rather quickly. His heart was pounding as the door went up. It was just him and Stovewall now, what could they do against four people? He was holding his breath, looking over at Stovewall when the door was up to head-level he gave the signal and they both popped out from around their corners and assaulted forward.

Before them were more robots with bullet holes in them and shells on the ground. This room was smaller than the last one, but with pallets and boxes. There were containers and thing around as you might see in a factory. He supposed this might be a factory, where they build androids. Who build them? He wondered. They continued forward, dodging through the pallets and searching as quickly as possible. They reached the next-door, locked. Dillon was opening his bag to pull out the shape charges he needed and began to faint. He fell over and lost his balance, his hand banging against the door making a loud *dung* sound. Pvt. Stovewall hurried over to him. “You need to rest Corporal?” Dillon eyes were closed but he was coherent, he grasped reality inside of his head and was not letting it slip away just yet. “I’m alright.

Crouching fast made my vision get hazy. It’s fine now.” He picked up the charges and placed them on the door. They stepped off to the side and prepared for their entry. “Stovewall.” Dillon said and paused before continuing, “I’ve known you for a while now. There’s no one I’d trust more to get through the rest of this with.” Pvt. Stovewall spoke “I’ve learned a lot from you. Let’s get this over with and go give Sgt. Williams a proper burial.” Dillon nodded and light the cord to detonate the charges *Boom* the door was down.

Dillon rushed through the doorway first with Stovewall on his heels. He saw what happened in slow motion. There was a team waiting for them to enter. There were four men in assault gear. Two were directly in front of him using pillars for coverage. The other two were on either flank of the door at a 45-degree angle. Dillon knew the entry point was the point of no return. He knew they were fucked but he pulled the trigger sending rounds down range at his first target anyway. Pvt. Stovewall had taken a shot at the man on his right flank. At the same moment, Dillon was struck in the chest with multiple rounds. He was flying backwards falling towards the ground as a hand flew off his rifle. Stovewall fired again and was struck multiple times and one in the leg. He went down screaming. The scene was going so slow for him.

He could think clearly, these were his last moments. *Bullets firing* he saw them fly past his head, he knew it was over. Dillon fell down too *BANG BANG* He took another hit somewhere. He could not move his left arm. He used the last of his strength to lift his rifle up with one hand aiming at the second target in front of him poorly. Stovewall was on his side laying on top of his rifle. They both managed to fire at the man in front of them and eliminate him. Just as this, happened Pvt Stovewall took a hit to his neck.

He immediately fell limp, blood splattered all over the crate to the right side of the entryway. With rage, he felt from deep inside he forced himself to use his left arm. He could not feel what his arms were doing, what his body was going. Dillon was screaming. He had never felt such pain, frustration, and anger in all his life. Dillon was pulling the trigger with all his might, firing and missing shot after shot. He needed to save his friend! Unfortunately, the enemy had perfect vision of him, and fired.

His face exploded, opening a cavity in the front of it. His nose was hanging on by a thin piece of skin, dangling down and touching his face. His eye was gone, brain matter and blood made a cloud of pink mist as he fell forward. Stovewall had made his last shot, and saved Dillon’s life. However, Dillon could not save his. Relief struck Dillon for a moment; he crawled backwards and dropped his rifle. He drug himself across the cold concrete floor franticly towards his last friend. He was okay right? They would all be okay.

He was grunting making his way over to Stovewall with haste. He shook Stovewall by the arm, he was propped up against the crate with a blank expression on his face and his mouth was open. “Hey!” Dillon kept shaking him. “Private?” ...“Private”... “Stovewall?”... He began crying now “You answer me right god damned now Stovewall!” tears streaming down Dillon’s face “Stovewall! Damnit Stovewall!” he was shaking him vigorously now, his limp body rocking back and forth. “Stovewall.” He paused “Stovewall?” Dillon fell forward sobbing, holding his friend. Shaking him. “It’s not your time!” “This isn’t your time!” he sobbed. Dillon continued like this for some time until the pain in his body beckoned him back into the real world.

He was in bad shape. Dillon pushed his friend to the ground so he could gain access to his pack. Dillon took out some more medclot and threw it on the ground. He took his own vest off slowly, his right arm hurting and his left arm unable to move. The Bullet must have hit him good he thought. He undid his carrier plate and was having a hard time breathing. It hurt so bad to breathe! His head was killing him too. Dillon was shaking and clammy, he had to act quickly before shock took over. It was so hard to undo his straps with one hand shaking.

He took his left arm out of the vest with some pain and had to use it to take out his right arm. The vest off him precariously took his shirt and blouse off. This whole time blood was flowing at a steady rate down his right hand and off onto the floor. He got his blouse and shirt off and saw the wound, damage to his shoulder. He sniffled. The area he was hit on was covered in blood; he could not see the exact wound so he felt along his arm to see. He quickly wiped some tears from his eyes and went back to feeling for the entry wound *AHHHHHHH* he discovered the missing chunk and hole. His arm burned as he touched it, he felt inside the hole, shoving his fingers inside of it, it was hot; he pulled out the bullet which had lodged itself rather short inside of his arm.

By all rights, it should have exited his arm, but no time for this now. He threw the bullet on the ground and screamed again *AHHHHHH.* “Mother fucker!” tears still on his face, he pressed the medclot onto the wound. It chemically cauterized the wound stopping his loss of blood immediately. His next issue, he began feeling around on his chest smearing blood on it, the bullets that had hit him there had broken his advanced plate carrier and broken his ribs. It hurt just to touch his bottom two ribs.

That was probably where his difficulty breathing came from. Dillon adjusted himself against the crate, holding his medclot firmly on his shoulder. *Deep choppy breath* the emotion was drained out of him. He looked at his friend; he decided not to check the body. Instead, he forced himself up. *Aagh.* He looked around, his legs were fine. He was grateful for that. Dillon saw a water fountain against the wall and walked over to it, half closing his eyes while stumbling on the way there. He took a drink from it. The cool water felt good going down his throat, he was so hot. He kept drinking until his insatiable thirst was quenched.

He was light headed, he felt high actually. Dillon was calm, and emotionless. He looked over at the pool of blood coming from the two men that were stationed watching for his entry. As he wiped tears off his face, Dillon thought solemnly “This is my fault.” He muttered aloud. He was thinking about how he fell looking for the shape charges and his hand hit the door. It must have been that that alerted them to their presence. It was then he knew he was responsible for Pvt. Stovewalls death. He felt colorless as he looked over all the bodies around him. He was taking shallow breaths because it hurt. Standing hurt, sitting hurt, moving his arm hurt, and worse. His heart hurt.

He was miserable. Dillon knew he would die here. He was scanning the faces of the men before him and noticed something that might help his situation. There was a pistol strapped to the first man Stovewall had shot. A turn of luck! He stepped over there slowly and began taking off the man’s duty belt, he did not want to look at his face this close. It might spark something inside of him. Dillon was in the process to put the pistol on and discarded his rifle ammunition for the man’s pistol ammunition. This would be helpful to him. I hope that he could get through this with just the pistol though. Just as Dillon began to put the pistol in the holder after adjusting the holsters placement, the man moved. .

Without hesitation, Dillon pulled the trigger. Shooting the man in the face. His face caved in around the bridge of the eye, distorting the man beyond recognition. Dillon function checked the pistol and counted the rounds before seating it. It was time to move on. He was serious and moved with purpose as he crept slowly away from the bodies and towards the next door. He should be close to the mission point. If that was the team that had destroyed all the robots, he might be in good shape. There was a few exits from this room; he suspected one entryway that was off near the corner to be the correct one. It was his hunch.

The whole way there, he was holding his ribs. He was not checking for anything anymore, he was not searching. There was no point. Dillon got to the door and the handle turned, it was open! Dillon opened the door to see the room he had been looking for. It was a control room of sorts, in control of the cameras and monitoring. What luck for a change! His item was on the table in there. It was the item so many people had died for today. It was the flag for his country. He had been sent here to retrieve this flag, and what it once stood for to him before this mission no longer remained.

He picked the item off the table and began stepping towards the control panel to look for a way out. “That’s mine.” A familiar voice stated. Dillon’s eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped as he turned. “Corporal Madamba” he spoke. Cpl Madamba had his rifle slung in front of him with his hands on it. “You’re in rough shape.” He nodded his head “Now put the flag down, I’m coming out of this place alive.” Dillon put his hand on his pistol speaking angrily “Everyone’s dead. Everyone’s dead now and you want this?” Madamba laughed, “I saw Sgt. Williams die.” Dillon was shaking with rage now “You did nothing?” Madamba said, “I have been following you from the beginning, I’ve watched every move you’ve made.” Dillon drew his pistol, and Madamba drew his rifle up “If you think I won’t kill us both you’re fucking crazier than I fucking am!” Dillon spoke with authority now “We can leave here together or we’ll shoot each other at the same time. It’s your move.” Dillon looked fierce; he had fire in his eyes. Cpl. Madamba continued, “You’ll kill me anyways. I can’t trust you.”

Dillon shook his head, the pistol getting heavy in his hand. “Yeah like I’m the one who can’t be trusted. What kind of shit is this? You follow your fucking team and watch them DIE?” he continued, shaking the pistol as he spoke “These were good men! WE trained as a team. WE are a team. These guys have families!” Madamba laughed again “Put the pistol down.” He said. Though Dillon did not recognize it, in the last five minutes he had changed. His worries, his doubts, his concerns, they all flew out the window. He did not care right now; he did not care about anything really.

Dillon was cold and angry, and he had a plan. He jumped forward dropping his pistol and grabbing a hold of the rifle at the same time. Deflecting it upwards away from his face as a round left the chamber. Madamba continued firing *BANG BANG BANG* Dillon pushed him over and was on top of him, Madamba let the rifle drop as the struggle ensued. Dillon punched him in the face but was no match for Madamba having use of both arms. Madamba kicked him forward and pulled his head down, toppling over him and ending up on top of Dillon. He punched Dillon in the head denting in part of his socket held together by medclot, he punched him in the face. The anger Dillon had painfully drained out of him. The punch to his head shook his whole body as if he had been hit with an electric fence, Dillon was stunned. He could not see, he was going to die.

Dillon retreated inside of his mind and in this peaceful moment, he heard Stovewall in his head, talking about being locked inside of a box by his grandpa. It made him click, it made him laugh. In this serene moment, he remembered what he was doing. The rage built inside of him like a storm the likes of man had never seen, he grasped Madamba’s head and pulled it close to him, head-butting Madamba and then bucking him forward with his knees at the same time. Dillon bit into Madamba’s lip, ripping it off his face. Dillon spat it out onto the cold hard floor and Madamba clutched his face, Dillon crawled away from the mount and grabbed the flag.

Madamba was reaching for the rifle and Dillon kicked him in the side of the head. He jumped on top of Madamba with all his might and started strangling him with the flag. He wrapped it around his neck and used all the strength he had left laying on top of him. He was killing the last member of his fireteam. At the beginning of the mission, the flag he was so proud of was the reason he was heading in to this island, to do his best and come out on top with his team.

Now he was using it to kill his once thought friend. Madamba lost strength quickly; even injured Dillon had the size and strength advantage over Madamba. When he passed out Dillon picked up his pistol and shot him in the face. He continued shooting. *Bang. Bang. Bang* He continued *Bang. Bang.* Looking on at the body with a menacing snarl to him. Dillon shot Corporal Madamba in the face repeatedly. 17 rounds of 9MM ammunition were unloaded, along with all his rage. Dillon dropped the pistol and grabbed his flag. He walked out exhausted, much as you feel after you are done running a few miles and going through football practice.

The type of feeling where when you finally get to your next destination you just pass out, and that is what he did. He walked out without a bulletproof vest, without a weapon, without his camouflage top. He walked out the front door with the flag over his shoulder and stepped down the path they once looked at wide-eyed inside of the jungle. Dillon walked to the east beach area that the road up to the Monolith lead to, and sure enough. There was a helicopter with that long awaited grin Dillon once hoped to see on Sgt. Sharp’s face.

There was a bunch of people around the helicopter; they clapped as he collapsed on the ground in exhaustion.

The next thing he knew he was waking up inside of a hospital. He quickly noticed he had an extremely odd sensation going on from his right eye. It was still seeing pitch black, he reached up and felt a bandage there. A Corpsman entered the room “Mr. Grey! How nice of you to join us!” he spoke for the first time in weeks “Where am I?” the cute girl spoke “You’re at Camp Renaldo!” He nodded and she spoke again, “I’ll send Sgt. Sharp in to speak with you. Can I bring you a drink or anything? Are you in pain?” he felt his body was aching all over, his ribs were in pain.

“I am. My ribs are killing me.” She spoke “Absolutely. When I return I will bring you your pain medication. What can I get you to drink?” he spoke “Water with lemon please.” She nodded “Be back in just a moment!” he closed his eyes to rest for what seemed like a moment and Sgt. Sharp came walking in with a Captain. “Good to see you. Corporal Grey, this is Captain Streaby. The director of the program.”

Dillon judged the Captain; He was a tall man, in his early thirties. He was quite pale, had green eyes and a buzz cut. He wore a silver watch and had matching silver glasses. Something ominous exuded from the mere presence of this man, it made Dillon uneasy. “What program?” Dillon said. Sgt. Sharp and Captain Streaby set in the chairs pulling them closer to his bed. Sgt. Sharp pulled the door shut and rolled the curtain closed before speaking. “While unconscious you’ve undergone multiple surgeries. You sustained three broken ribs, a fractured left collar bone and shoulder, a torn bicep, a fractured shin bone, a concussion and broken orbital, your eye was shot out, and you had stitches placed in your tongue.” Dillon winced “What the fuck-“he was interrupted by the Captain “You passed the tests placed before you on the island and we didn’t want to lose you because your sight had gone.

We have been developing an experimental optic for synthetic eyes. We had you implanted with this eye, and it should be completely functional.” Dillon felt the patch over his right eye, feeling there was an eyeball under there. “Why?” he started to choke up immediately “Why did you send us into that?” the Captain tried to talk “No. I WANT YOU TO TELL ME, WHY YOU SENT MY FUCKING TEAM IN THERE?” he was screaming now “TELL ME WHY DAMNIT” He was shaking the bed. Sgt. Sharp held up his hand “If you’ll give me a chance.” Dillon was filled with rage “Go ahead, let me hear your FUCKING EXCUSES” Sgt. Sharp stood up “You won’t believe me, but it was a simple miscommunication.” Dillon screamed again “MISCOMMUNICATION MY BALLS” he was trying to get up, but realized he was strapped into the bed. Sgt. Sharp sighed, “I understand, I do. It just so happened that multiple agencies has mistakenly dropped their fireteams off on the same date.

Due to the cloaking and secret nature of our operations there, we weren’t able to coordinate it properly” Dillon was shaking his head “You knew, you knew and my team died.” Captain Streaby spoke “By the time you had been dropped off and we found out, you had already annihilated two fireteams with impeccable accuracy. We decided to let you go at that point.” Sgt. Sharp continued “You succeeded in your mission. You are accepted.” Dillon threw his tray and drinks off the medical cart over his bed, sending them crashing into a mess on the floor, “I don’t want you’re fucking position, I don’t want in any of your fucking mess or lies. My friends died because of you.”

Sgt. Sharp spoke “I understand your pain. However, you have a contract left to complete. If you want out when it is done, that is fine by us. Your obligation is to us now; you have the Hand of God.” Dillon looked at his hands “What the fuck are you talking about?” Capt. Spoke next “The optic connected into your eye is linked to your nervous system and into our defense network.” He continued, “If you’re looking down a scope and a target crosses your field of view, not only will your telescopic eye zoom in. It will trigger a response in your brain to fire. Your hand will fire without you knowing that you are pulling the trigger, it will happen automatically. Your other pupil will be forced to contract or expand in rapid succession as well. You will be capable of things we have never tested before.” He was picking up excitement as he spoke. Dillon was confused now, a mix of emotions. He was going to run away from all this. God hand or not. “Now, I know you don’t exactly agree with us right now.

However, you do not have a choice, corporal. That optic cost the government a large quantity of taxpayer dollars. If you want to keep your vision, you’ll have to finish your contract.” Dillon was enraged; he was thinking that if it was connected to their network it was certainly tracked by GPS. He probably could not escape them at this point. He could not even move yet. Sgt. Sharp spoke “Corporal Grey, we chose you because you survived. During your mission, you made the best decisions possible under the circumstances, and you were in the top 3% for accuracy and trigger time. You pull the trigger faster than most people take to flip a selector switch.” Dillon was not speaking.

It was too much to take in. Captain Streaby stood up “We’ll leave you for now; we’ll visit again soon Corporal. Before I leave, I’d like to present you with this.” He opened his hand and there were sergeant chevrons inside of it. “These were Sgt. Williams’s chevrons. I’m going to promote you to sergeant; if you want to accept then you may take these.” Dillon thought about it for a moment, he did not care. He wanted the chevrons for in memories of his good friend. He needed to write a letter to the families of his friends too. He took the chevrons from Captains hand, and they left him in the room.

Next week the corpsman came in “How are you doing today Mr. Grey? I hear you are mostly healed up now! Does that shoulder still hurt? How’s your new eye?” Dillon looked around the room. He felt like a maniac to be honest. “I’m doing fine Ms. Kayer” he grumbled, “My vision is astounding, this thing is quite amazing. He made eye contact with her.” In this moment his God’s eye looked at her, his other eye went from contacted to completely expand in less than a millisecond, sending a pain through his eyes. He closed them “God damn!” he paused “I’m not used to this!”

She laughed, “It’s going to take some time to get accustomed to. I hear you’ll have your orders and be on your way out tomorrow.” He sighed, “This has been a terrible last few months. Thank you for your kindness. I won’t forget it.” She smiled flirtatiously “My pleasure Mr. Grey. Take care now!” and she left the room walking in a way that made him want to jump out of his bed and follow her.