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Balkland
2027
3:20 AM

Flick. The sound of the lighter, Zippo style, being flicked open and then on. The sound is followed by a sizzling sound, the kind a roll of paper makes when it is lit on fire, followed by a taste. An awful taste, or what should be an awful taste, If I were not addicted to it. Part of my brain tells me it’s awful, the rest. Tells me it's wonderful. Flick. The cap is closed. I extend my right hand, the one that holds the lighter, to my right. I feel warm fingers brush my palm, and the lighter is gone. I remove the cigarette from my mouth and exhale. leaning back I open my eyes. The sight before me is all too familiar. A bleak transport truck, with green canvas top, metal floor, and the most uncomfortable benches you have ever sat on. We sit in the bed, separated from the cab, our “tent” illuminated by a single gas lantern.
There are seven of us, lined up on the two benches, the scene feeling like something out of some old war movie. I inhale (leaving the cigarette out of my mouth) taking in the scent of cigarette smoke, diesel fuel, dirt, and early morning air. Dry early morning air. The truck bounces along, the engine rumbling as it clambers up this mountain in the desert land of Balkland. The tallest mountain in Balkland. The road we’re on is dirt, the incessant bouncing and shaking is enough to inform me of that of that much. There two other trucks, also filled with people; with soldiers. We’re all soldiers -special ops to be exact- from the land of Oseanus. The 57th SOD.
I look to my left, shifting my gaze outside the truck. The sky outside is dark, slowly turning to that dark purple color that it becomes just before the sun rises. I shift my attention back inside the truck. I sit at the rear end of the trucks bed right next to the tailgate. Directly on my right is my longtime buddy, Orssov Dross. A tall man, with short dark hair, and similarly dark eyes. Born in Russkland, his family immigrated to Oseanus when he was three. We in the squad nicknamed him Brainiac, cause he’s the most intelligent of all of us in Bravo team (our fire-teams designation). Dross is lighting up a cigarette with the Zippo I handed him. I look back out the truck, at the dark road illuminated by the headlights of the truck behind us. Someone tugs on my shirt. It's my younger brother, sitting across from me. John “Jack” Anthony Carson, four years younger than me, with the same short sandy hair, and dark blue eyes as myself. Unlike me however, hes short...well not that short.
“Hey, brother why can't I have one?” He asks me. I look around and notice that everyone but him has a cigarette.
“Sorry brother, I've told you before, not until you're twenty one.” My reply is quick, its also the same response I’ve been using since he joined the squad. Hes expecting it.
“Yeah well I'm twenty one...almost.” This time its my turn to expect the response..
“Not until tomorrow you're not.”
“So. What's one day early.”
“I said no. Now knock it off.”
“Jeez bro, why you gotta be like that.” He slumps back into his seat, clutching his rifle.
“Cause otherwise he wouldn't be Zack Carson. Your mother.” I look at the man speaking. Private First Class, Henry Willis Anderson, AKA: “Blow Torch”. A genuine pyromaniac of average height, with charcoal black hair and dark green eyes. There is no doubt about it, hes the spirit of the team.
“That doesn't make any sense. nor is it physically possible.” My brother gives Blow Torch the oddest look.
“Rookie, people don't make any sense.” BlowTorch pokes my brother on the forehead. He responds with a humph noise. BlowTorch just laughs and puts the Zippo (which by now has gotten back around to him) into his right breast pocket.
“Common Zack, let the kid have a smoke.” This time it's the man on Anderson's right. Private First Class Joe Laterno. A big burly man with the heart of a teddy bear, black hair and brown eyes. He's the squads support gunner, and well, he's support in more than one way.
“I said no already. Can you just knock it off.” Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with these guys.
“Yeah, but Zack. He's at war. He could die today and never have the chance to...” I cut him off.
“He won't die.”
“You can't know that for sure.” I brush off Joe's words.
“No, I know he won't die. Cause I won't let it happen.” I fiercely point at myself.
“Guys please. Leave him alone already, he's already made up his mind.” This time it's Dross who interjects. He understands me.
“Hey look Brainiacs taking Zacks side. Again.” I can tell Dross is slightly offended by BlowTorches words.
“Lock it down! All of you.” We all shut up. The voice of authority has spoken. Gunnery Sergeant William Harper. Tall with brown hair and dark green eyes, the Sergeant was a man we all respected.
“Anyways, put those things out, we're entering the dark zone.” The Sergeant ordered us to, so we did. I took one last inhale then chucked the thing out the back of the truck. Once everyone else had gotten rid of their cigs the Sargent shut off the gas lamp. We all keep quiet. I check my rifle over to make sure it was ready. I watch as the others do the same. We continu on in silence.
Thumping. Off in the distance. A strange yet somewhat familiar thumping.
“Hey sarge.” I whispered.
“Don't you think that thumping sound like...” Too late. An explosion causes the truck to bounce and I’m thrown on top of Dross as it squeals to a stop. I picked myself up, but was knocked down again as the truck been behind us slams into our rear end. I really wish we’d been just slightly further up the mountain. We were at a section of road straddling a cliff. The truck hit us so hard it bounced off ours and careened off the edge. May their souls rest in peace.
I pick myself off of Dross -again- and kick down the tailgate.'
“Everyone out.” Ordered the Sergeant. The Sarge was the first one out, followed by Joe, Dross, BlowTorch, my brother, and finally me. As I leapt from the vehicle an explosion which defend the ear sent me flying to the ground face first. The impact of the landing knocks the wind out me. I gasp and struggle for breath until my lungs are finally full again. I get up off the ground and examine the situation. The area was illuminated by the two burning trucks. The sound of gunfire and the smell of burning truck causes my adrenalin to kick in. Any fear I might have had any anxiousness was gone. I become a killing machine. I spot the Sargent and Joe by the first truck -now turned on it's side- waving at me to hurry over and take cover. I obey, diving behind the truck. We're joined by Dross, BlowTorch and my brother shortly after. I hear gunfire, and bullets ping off the overturned truck. I peek over the top of the truck for just a second. I notice that the road turns to the left, and the area directly in front of us is a hill that covered with many large rocks that can easily conceal an opponent. There is a small dune at the foot of the incline that could serve as cover as well. The hill appears to go straight to the top of the mountain. Bullets whiz by my head. I duck back behind the truck.
“Alright listen up.” Barks the Sergeant.
“The enemy is held up in the rocks above us, and we can't see shit in this lighting. Switch on infrared and thermal, and engage the enemy.” I obey the Sergeant's orders; we all do. I flip a switch on the scope of my XM8 assault rifle; successfully turning the infrared in my scope on. I watch as others pull their helmet mounted night vision/infrared goggles down. I don't. I flick the safety on the rifle off and set the gun to fire in three round burst. I raise my rifle to the ready position, and peek over the edge of the truck. Aiming through the scope. I spot a glow of orange through the infrared. Poking out from one of the rocks an enemy. I pull the trigger. Three rounds are let loose from the rifle in quick succession. They impact on the target. The target falls. I duck back behind the truck, wait a moment, then poke out again rifle raised. I spot three targets. I fire at one. He drops. I go to fire at another, but several bullets ping of the truck. Something hits me hard in the head, and I'm thrown to the ground. I get up and crawl back behind the truck. I remove my helmet to see what happened. There is a hole where something entered the interwoven Kevlar. My jaw drops and I quickly thank the gods for not having taken my life.
“Sir!” Shouts Dross, “We can't stay here or we'll get slaughtered.”
“No shit Sherlock.” BlowTorch snaps back.
“Sir. I see small dune on the other side of the road that could be used as cover.” I inform the Sergeant, checking my ammo as I do.
“Well if you can figure out a way for us to cross that open space without getting shot let me now.” The Sergeant barks back.
“I think I can help with that.” Joe says hefting his XM8 with LMG attachments.
“I'll give you covering fire while you cross over. Then you give me covering fire when it's my turn.” The Sergeant looks at Joe for a minute. Then looks around at the rest of us.
“Right.” He replies.
“On my mark.” The Sergeant raises his hand. Three fingers outstretched.
“Three...” He lowers one finger.
“Two...” Another finger goes down.
“One...” The finale finger drops.
“Mark.” Joe hops up, raises his gun, and begins firing on the enemy’s position. I jump up, sling my rifle, plant my hands on the truck, and vault over. I land firmly on my feet, unsling my rifle, and sprint towards the dune. I dive for it to avoid getting shot. The rest, minus Joe, arrive in a similar fashion.
“Joe we're on the other side. Move i...” The Sergeant didn't get to finish his order. Several bullets catch Joe in the chest. He disappears behind the truck.
“JOE!” BlowTorch screams. I look over. BlowTorch goes to run back across, but the Sarge and Jack hold him back. When I joined the squad it was just the Sarge, BlowTorch, and Joe. They'd just lost a couple of guys, traitors both of them. The two had been buddies before I joined, and they still were. Not only that Joe had been a friend to all of us. His sudden death pained me as well, but I couldn’t even imagine what BlowTorch was going through.
“Dammit Joe! Get up! Respond man respond!” BlowTorch screamed across the road. I choke up, I don't have anything to say. Not that I could have said anything if I wanted to. The death of a friend can do that too you. I look over at my brother. He seems about to cry.
“Fuck.” Dross shouts staring blankly at the burning truck. Dross was never really the swearing type. The Sergeant get an angry look on his face. He spins BlowTorch by the shoulders so that they are face to face..
“Listen to me soldier. You pull yourself together you get me. We have a job to do. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain.” I stare at the Sergeant. I can see BlowTorch gulp, and then, after a brief pause. He nods.
“Right.” He raises his flame thrower, then wipes the forming tears out of his eyes. “Lets do this.” The Sergeant smiles gives a nod.
“Alright men. Grenades out.” He barks. I rip a grenade from my tactical vest, pull the pin and chuck it into the rocks above us. Several explosions, followed by the screams of the enemy.
“Lets move.” Shouts the Sargeant. BlowTorch is the first one over the dune. He torches the enemies rocky position with his flamethrower. Their agonized screams fill my heart with a sense of fulfillment after what they just did to Joe.
“This is for Joe you dumb fucks.” He curses while slowly marching up the hill. Letting loose a burst of fire every few seconds the side of the mountain burns a bright orange, illuminating the darkness. The rest of us follow his example. We charge up the hill. Spreading out among the rocks as we sprinted for the towards the top. I aimed down my sights, spot an enemy fire, killed him, curse him, and repeat. Every now and then I glance to my left and right. Checking to make sure my comrades were okay. On my left is BlowTorch, on my right Dross. I kill another soldier then looked to my left. I wish I hadn’t. Several rounds connect with the pyromaniac. The world around me slows. I watch as the man who had just lost his closest friend arcs his back as he falls to the ground. His flamethrower leaves his grasp and is thrown a few feet away.
“BlowTorch!” I scream. I change my direction and sprint towards my fallen comrade. I can barely tell what’s going on around me. I’m so focused on reaching him. I sling my rifle, and drag him behind cover.
“BlowTorch! Common man. Its Carson respond.” But I’m too late. His last breath had left him before I even go there.
“Fuck.” I shout to the sky. I reach into his upper pocket and pull out the white envelope containing the letter to his family. Something else falls out with it. It's the Zippo lighter that we had passed around just moments before. I pick it up out of the sand. My hands clench tightly around it, and then stuff it, and the note into my own breast pocket. I unsling my rifle and return to my sprint up the mountain. I hear a precise gunshot to my right. Fear washes over me. I look to my right.another one of my comrades falls. This time it is my own friend. Orsov Dross lays on his back.
“Dross!” I sprint over to him. Bullets whizzing over my head.
“Dross?” I say his name as a question as I kneel down next to him. He smiles at me.
“How can you be smiling like that?” I look down and notice only his legs been hit. I frown and quickly drag him over to a tall rock away from the line of fire.
“Don’t scare me like that.” I rip apart my sleeve and use it to bandage the wound.
“Look. We got to keep moving.” I sling my rifle.
“Na just leave me.” He sounds sad yet sincere.
“Never in a million years.” I bend over and pick him up, unholstering my pistol. I pull down and activate my NVGs with my hand, the task made difficult by the pistol I just drew. Using me as a crutch Dross is able to keep walking. The two of us steadily make our way up the mountian. Every time I spot an enemy I pop a couple of shots in their chest. When my pistol finally runs dry I reach down and grab Dross's pistol.
Eventually we reach the top, somehow we reach the top. The two of us collapse. Out of ammo and out of breath. I don’t know what’s become of the Sergeant and my brother. I fear they are dead, and that the enemy at the top of this hill will soon finish us off. But the enemy and their installations there have already been destroyed. I hear the voice of my brother as he helps me to my feet. I thank him and take a look around.
The top of the hill is covered in sand and rocks. There's the old ruins of some old temple.Half a wall, a door frame, some bricks. The bricks and stone are the same color as the sand. At one end of the summit -the end facing the enemy's capital, the end facing the sun- the mountain drops off into a cliff. Here we stand at the top of the tallest mountain in Balkland victorious. The sun rising up from the horizon.
We did it. I think to myself. Then I take a look around. Of the eighteen of us that left from base that night, only four remained. I sigh and lower my head.
“...Are you fucking me! What do you mean there is no extraction...Hello...Hello...God dammit.” I look over at the Sarge who is cursing the ground.
“What is it Sarge?” I ask him.
“They say they're not sending us our evac for finishing the mission.” He kicks one of the ruins so hard it nearly falls over.
“Oh god man. We’re fucked.” My brother slumps down against a wall, head in his hands.
“But sir. We just won the war right?” Sarge just glares at me. I look to my brother who seems about to cry, and to Dross who is looking at the night sky. “Right?” I repeat myself.
“Can’t we just...” Dross cuts me off.
“Hey you guys might want to take a look at this.” I look over at Dross. He’s still staring at the sky.
“Huh?” We all give him a funny look.
“Up their.” He points to the sky. “Is it just me. Or are those a whole lot of rockets.”
“Shit man.” My brother lets out.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.” I mutter. Off in the horizon, lit up by its lights, was the Balkland capital city. The rocket split into multiple tinier bodies just barely visible in the night sky. It didn’t take us long to figure out what was going on as we traced one of the objects, now glowing from reentry, towards the city in the distance.
“Everyone take cover!” Sarge shouted. I dove behind one of the ruin walls. There was a blinding light followed by a really loud boom several seconds after. And then black.