Combat Zone

Everyone in the story is over 18 years old. This work of fiction is a product of the author's imagination and the characters, incidents or dialog are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to real situations or persons, living or dead is pure coincidence. The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. No one should publish or post this story anywhere else without the author's written permission. This is a NON EROTIC story and there is no sex n this story.

The length of this story is about 1490 words and takes up 1 page on Lit.

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He woke up slowly. At first there was only "Now" and "Here". Gradually the idea of "Me" came to the front. He was on his side and leaning against something at his back. Memory slowly returned, a little at time, in stages. First he remembered who he was, then where he lived, then his parents and the farm. It felt nice to wake up like he used to do on Saturdays when his parents let him sleep in. His eyes flickered open, closed, then opened slowly as they got used to the light.

Slowly his life came to him, bringing him to the present. School, graduation, volunteering for the draft, planning to save his pay to go to the University after he got out. That was his goal and it was working out as he planned. His combat tour was nearly over and not a scratch so far. He heavy lids closed over his eyes. Just for a few seconds.

He dragged this eye lids up. It was warm, comfortable warm, but he felt fragile and didn't want to move. His ankle dully ached all the way up his shin. Must have sprained it. He felt completely relaxed and sleepy. Everything was fuzzy, but not like when he was drunk. He knew should get up and find the others. It was getting warmer and clammy sweat started beading out, he could feel it pop out of his skin. There was a buzzing sound in his ears.

He started to smell things, the leaves around him seemed thick with a scent of decay. The smell of the earth filled his nostrils, but not the dirt of home, but a rotting smell more like the compost pile his mother kept and spread on her garden. He was hot, the air was hot and almost seemed full of steam.

His mother's garden was small, but he loved helping her, and loved the vegetables she grew, and the juicy sweet cherry tomatoes. In the fall she would take a cutting and put it in a jar, placed near the big south facing picture window. There was a heat register under the window and all winter that tomato vine would grow, he loved the fresh cherry tomatoes they would have when outside everything was covered in snow.

The buzzing in his ears reminded him how in the middle of the winter a fly would appear inside, buzzing against the window, he always wondered where a fly came from, when all outside was frozen. He remembered the buzzing sound the fly would make as it tried to get out the window.

It wasn't cold here, it was hot and humid, more humid and sweat inducing that any Nebraska summer could ever be. He felt limp and fragile and was afraid of what would happen if he moved.

It was uncomfortable, but he was so tired that he didn't have the energy to move. The buzzing sound was louder and he wondered what it was. He remembered being chased, running, following the tiny stream downhill, the RTO was calling for an extraction. Then the Sergeant said go left, up the side valley. He was drag, the last one, and watched them turn up up the side valley, then heard gunfire. He veered off, hoping to come in from an angle.

He was sleepy, eyes fluttering open and closed. He wondered again very briefly wondered, he wasn't sure, but there was something he wanted to remember, Then he had it, he wondered for that split second about the rest of the patrol, about where they were, but he couldn't concentrate.

He was nearly through with his tour here, nearly ready to get out and go back to the world, go to the university, that was what it was all about, wasn't it? Getting on that great silver bird, drink the fresh milk and look at the stewardesses in short skirts. Then home, Mom, Dad. The Farm.

He looked around, sweat ran into his eyes, he felt hot. There was a small clearing. He could hear birds, the scurrying of a small animal. The buzzing. That damn buzzing it was getting louder. He rolled his head and turned his eyes, his backpack was against a huge tree. The clearing was just a few yards across and in shade, hell everything was in shade here. In spite of the shade he was burning hot now and he craved water.

He could see a patch of sunlight near his head, just a single shaft of light spearing down through the vegetation. It was a bright spot on the ground, no larger than a small coin, but very bright in the shade. He was burning up. He'd rest, take a nap just for a few minutes. Not long, just let the lids drop for a few, just a few.

His eyes opened. The shaft of light had crept closer and was bigger now, like a small ball, it seemed to be heading for his face, moving across the ground in response to the movement of the sun. He stared at it, the brightness in the gloom dazzling his eyes, hurting them. He closed them and still saw the bright spot. His body relaxed, he felt boneless, almost collapsing into the ground.

He could feel the earth moving, turning in space. A huge ponderous movement, like a giant clock, unstoppable, but true and steady. Was the loud buzzing sound his imagination? Or was it the sound of the gears working, gears that slowly slowly moved the earth around, causing the bright spot of sun to work its way closer and closer. He shut his eyes, just for a second, just a second, just for a minute.

He licked the sweat on his upper lip and brought the moisture and taste back to his dry mouth. He was weaker and had to work to keep his eyes open, a few swallows from his canteen would feel so good, but he was still afraid to move and didn't reach for it. The spot of light was even bigger and was moving up his face now. Bright light tinged with the green of a few leaves. It was comfortable to see in, like tinted glasses. He smiled, he liked the sun.

He rested his eyes, he felt like he did back home on a Saturday morning, Dad and Mom were up and tending to the chores, Mom letting her chickens out of the coop, Dad tinkering in the barn, they always let him sleep in a bit on Saturdays. He remembered how the sun would creep across his window, trying to force its way through his closed eyelids.

The spot of sun was as big as his head now, he felt it through his eyelids as it crawled up over his eyes in time with the buzzing. It warmed him even more, warmed his head, his brain, he heard the nearly silent plop of each drop of sweat rolling off his face and hitting the ground, but the sweat seemed to be slowing down. He was blazing hot now and if he could move he'd like to take his clothes off, but he didn't move. Mustn't move. The buzzing in his brain was all he heard now.

He felt no fear when he heard someone, several someones, approaching. He smiled, it was cooler now and the weight of his pack was gone, the ache in his lower leg was gone, he looked up into the light, the bright sun sending a beam down, it seemed to get so much brighter when you looked. The ground wasn't hard, it felt like he was floating on air.

The shaft of light was brighter, blindingly bright, but it was easy to look into, he didn't think about that anomaly. He stared into it, it felt like he was floating, he could imagine what he looked like sprawled next to the huge tree, the small clearing. The shaft of sunlight covered his whole body, spotlighting him.

He saw them approaching, he had floated up so far he had to look downward now to see them. He could see it all from above, the tops of their helmets, their weapons at the ready, slowly approaching. He saw the small crater, the mess of his lower leg, the flies swarming on the pooling blood, covering his leg, a moving carpet over everything. It all got smaller, smaller, as the enemy soldier crouched over him, taking his weapon.

He could barely make them out, he could see the whole area, the forest, the stream, the land rising to a hill, a larger river in the distance. The land falling to the lowlands, clouds, as if he was zooming upward. It was harder to see because of the light, he turned and looked into it, floating into it, it was cool now, the heat, the pain, the thirst and the sweat all forgotten. He smiled.