Bang

“Welcome to Marine’s Special Force, newbie. You will not survive.”

Another volley of twenty rounds was shot, causing the marine to duck low into a ditch and cover its head. “We’re not going to make it!” he screamed, his voice drowned by the explosion of a hand-grenade. He reached for his M4A1 rifle, noticing he was running low on ammo. Panic swept through his adrenaline pumped body, his hands twitching now and then, his head whipping around with, quick, jumpy jerks. Where was Foam?

“Foam!” he screamed, desperately searching for his comrade. “Foam!” he coughed; a gust of dust clogging his throat. “Fuck!” his coughs became violent tremors, his body shaking as he lay sprawled on the floor dodging bullets. “Foam!” he tasted copper in his mouth, his voice hoarse and cracked.

“Calm the fuck down!” was the snappy reply, just as a missile missed the panicked marine’s head. “Don’t go pissing in your pants, Gum.” Foam appeared amidst the smoke, ducking right besides Gum.

“Holy shit, Foam,” Gum screamed in a startled manner, pressing low against the ground when he heard another round of bullets being carelessly shot. “What did the captain say?” he reloaded his rifle with one last round – the last one, at that-, his hands shaking with dread. His comrade stayed silent. More bullets flew past them. If they didn’t get back-up in less than five minutes, they were goners. “Foam, answer me, damn it!” Gum shoved the other marine with growing alarm, noticing how gloom his partner was. Bullets and haze overwhelmed the panicked marine, his whole body shaking with absolute terror.

“They didn’t answer.”

“What?” Gum couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In fact, he was pretty sure that grenade explosion had permanently damaged his hearing. “Did you just say: they didn’t answer?” his voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes widening behind the thick visors that protected them.

“The radio was fucked up, Gum. I couldn’t hold on enough to give out our-”

Boom.

Gum slammed his head against a nearby rock, causing his visor to snap in half. Blood momentarily blinded him, his body caught within the vicious tangles of barb wire. ‘Foam,’ was all he thought before attempting to stand. Pain, that was all there was too it. He pulled harder, to no avail. He was stuck, over twenty pounds of defensive armor – stuck. He wanted to scream for Foam, but he knew that’d be pretty stupid. Amidst the bullets and haze, he’d be lucky enough if Foam even saw him.

“Gum!” boomed the panicked scream, a blurred shadow approaching the trapped comrade. Gum tried to make out his friend’s face, but his eyes kept flickering shut against his will. “Oh, no you don’t, not today!” Foam snarled and started to pull at Gum’s armor with vicious jerks. It did not budge. “Help me undo this shit, we can still get out of this shit hole, you just need stay – fuck, you’re bleeding?”

Bleeding? Gum nearly laughed, looking down at his chest. He didn’t see shit, where the hell could he be bleeding? Foam had already unsheathed his OKC-3S bayonet, desperately slicing through his wounded friend’s armor. “Hey,” Gum whispered in a hoarse voice, blood gurgling at the back of his throat. “You look like shit man, what’s wrong?” his disorientation took another level, his head lolling back in a relaxed manner. “Hmm. It sounds like hell around here,” he chuckled, his eyes following a stray bullet that whizzed past them.

“No, fuck. I’m not loosing you, Hunter, you hear me?” Foam nearly screamed with hysteria, his hands frantically tugging and undoing belts. The bleeding did not stop, the wound gurgling to life once all the pressure upon it was lost. Most explosions resonated behind them, reminding the distressed marine how little time they had left.

“They’re coming, Eric, you really should get going,” Gum’s voice was groggy and slow, his tongue heavy and slurry. The wounded marine placed a hand on his comrade’s frantic ones, giving him a crooked smile, yellow teeth visible. “Stubborn ass,” he coughed up more blood, his head pounding in agony, “I just need some… rest…” Gum stared at his comrade with tranquility, his eyes staring at something in the sky with a transfixed gaze. Foam choked on his words, wildly shaking his friend’s limp body. He could hear the shots subdue, the enemy approaching their (his) current position. Words were shouted all around him, but the world held no importance at that exact moment.

“Sergeant Foam!” exclaimed a nearby voice, snaring the mourning marine’s attention. He raised a hand in a last attempt to give out his location, not trusting his voice. Gum’s wound had stopped bleeding, signaling two things; either he recovered miraculously, or his heart stopped beating.

“I’m from Task force 142, we’re here to evacuate your team, sir.” A man with dark skin reached forward, gripping Foam’s quaking arm. Such confidence, such bravery… the broken man couldn’t help but admire this young lad. Maybe, he had not witnessed enough to understand danger? Or maybe, he had witnessed enough to understand danger.

“My friend…” Foam croaked, turning towards his trapped comrade. Was he gone? Just like that? “He’s-”

Boom.

They dragged him across the mud and out of the ditch’s safety. Foam’s sobs were drowned by another loud ‘bang’ that erupted near them. Two pair of gloved hands clutched his shoulders, hauling him into the waiting chopper. He looked over his shoulder, staring at his comrade’s eyes for the last time.

He looked so peaceful.