The Warthog

PART 1:


Ranger Corporal James Allen laid low amongst the rocks high above the Iraq camp. Binoculars glued to his face he kept watch over the dozen or so soldiers that noisily moved about doing their daily chores. Making a quick count, 13 total, he reached for the mic on his shoulder and quietly spoke into it.


"13." Spoken softly, the number was all he needed to say, the man at the other end would understand.


The Iraq camp was supposed to secretly house ammunitions. No one knew exactly what or even where it was until a reconnaissance helicopter high above ground spotted the movement using infa red scope late one night. It was Allen's role to sneak close enough to the camp to get details on who and what was there and why. In a few minutes he would head back to the rendezvous point a few miles away.


Allen took a quick glance around before crawling, snake like, backwards until he was far enough from the edge of the small cliff to stand. Silently as before, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and took off at a quick trot across the boiling sand.


Twenty minutes later he slowed to a walk, once again reaching for his mic.


"I'm here." Away from the enemy he had no care to keep his voice quiet.


Within minutes he heard the familiar, welcoming thump of the Huey's rotor blades. Blocking the sun with his hand he spotted the huge green bird as it made it's way towards him. With out warning, shots from an automatic rifle riddled the air around him. Allen spun around and spotted at least 2 Iraq soldiers several yards away. Both had weapons and both had opened fire.


The Huey's gunners immediately opened fire back on the enemy. Allen sprinted to the lowering Huey, leaping inside just as the bird took on several bullets. The metal ripped thru the side walls partially damaging the main rotor engine.


Allen leaped inside the open bay just as a 3rd Iraq soldier let loose with a SAM. Making evasive maneuvers the Huey banked sharply to the left. The corporal started to slide towards the open doors, frantically grabbing at anything to keep from falling out. His hands reached nothing. The gunner made a last second grab for him but was too late, as he watched the surprised look on the soldiers face, he started to fall backwards away from the Huey towards the fast approaching and hard ground at least 30 feet below.


The last thing Allen remembered was looking into the shocked face of the gunner who had just tried to catch him as he slid past and out the doors.


He hit the ground on his left side, his lower left leg and knee striking first. His head slammed backwards, knocking him out as the rest of his body slammed down.


The severely damaged Huey circled around, the right side gunner opened fire once more, his aim accurate, knocking the 3 Iraq soldiers down, dead before they hit the ground.


"H63 to base we have a man down, repeat we have a man down. Received heavy fire." The pilot spoke quickly into his radio his words coming so fast they seemed to join together. "Permission to land to pick up injured?"


"Base to H63 how bad are you hit?"


"We've got smoke coming from the engine and a mean ass shimmy in the pedals but where holding together. Can we go pick him up?"


"Negative H63 return to base asap we can not loose one ship over one man, Rescue will be out in a few."


"Base we can't just leave a man down there."


"H63 you obey and return home, now."


The pilot cursed under his breath, both hands fighting the controls of his helicopter, he knew they were right. There was no way they could land safely without risking the lives of the four crew men as well as the expense of the bird.


Trying not to glance at his co pilot he flipped on the outside PA system. Making a sharp turn he looked down at the motionless body of his ranger.


"Corp Allen. We will not leave you behind. We will be back for you."


He clicked off the PA and headed back towards home base, knowing in his mind that if the enemy did in fact find him, they would more likely take him hostage rather than kill him right there.


He silently wished him luck.

　


PART 2:


Corporal Allen slowly opened his eyes. The bright sun shining in his eyes made him immediately lose them back. The pounding in his head taking over, droning out everything. He groaned and reached a hand to his forehead. The slight movement sent shooting sharp pain through his torso. He inhaled sharply bringing his hand down to his left side. Gently probing with his hand he winced at the pain at the slightest touch.


He had at least a few broken ribs. Carefully, Allen moved his other hand easily, no pain there. Next came his right leg, still nothing other than slight stiffness. The worst was yet to come. His left leg was numb and tingling below his knee. He tried to move it but stopped immediately as pain raced upwards nearly making him black out again.


Sweat poured from his brow as he collapsed back down again the effort almost too much for him.
Not much of a religious man, the corporal said a silent prayer that his leg wasn't broken.
Exhaustion and heat seemed to overwhelm him with the exertion of trying to move. He lay as still as possible, his eyes still closed against the searing sun.


His senses unaffected by the fall came alive.


Quietly behind him he heard footsteps, muffled by the sand most people wouldn't have heard them. Holding his breath he gauged them to be several yards behind. With slow hesitant movements, he moved his right arm carefully drawing his pistol.


As soon as he sensed them behind he flung his hand over his head and opened fire backwards hoping his shots would hit home. Four shots and he heard a gurgled breath, then the tell tale sound of a body hitting the ground.


Chancing against the pain he opened his eyes and tilted his head back catching a glimpse of the crumpled form of the Iraq soldier.


The effort nearly exhausting his strength he closed his eyes once more trying to fight the impending nausea and blackness the threatened to swarm over him.


Allen's eyes sprang open. He had no idea how long he had been out. The sun was still a ways away from setting but was much lower than the mid sky of noon. Something had brought him out of his deep unconsciousness. He craned his neck behind him once more, the dead soldier was still there. Carefully turning to the right he tried to spot further behind him. Still unsure of what had brought him around he knew he had to get up.


Gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest and leg, he carefully raised up on his arms. Stopping in a sitting position trying to catch his breath. The pain in his chest was worse. Making it hard to breath the heavy hot air of the desert. He knew he was worse off than a few broken ribs. Cursing against the pain he twisted around spotting the bodies of the three soldiers the Huey had shot down. His man behind him must have been the fourth.


The noise came to him again, steady this time. The unmistakable noise of an approaching tank. His mind flashed back to what he had seen at the camp. Covered to conceal it from a fly over, the tank had been clearly visible from the ground.


His radio crackled to life, startling him.


"W64 return to base." The voice came forth a little static but still clear. "W64 return to base that's an order."


Whom ever they were calling obviously wasn't paying any attention or refusing to answer.
The radio crackled again with undetectable words. He suddenly heard the sound of two jet engines fast approaching.


"The next best sound to hearing a Huey is the sound of an A-10."


Just then the plane in question flew low overhead nearly surprising the wounded soldier. He smiled to himself as he watched the ugly green beast make a slow loop around and fly nearly head on back towards him. Just as it reached him the turret gun opened fire, it's bullets could be heard for miles slamming into the tank that was approaching over the hill behind him.


A small pick up flat bed caring 3 Iraq soldiers opened up with their own weapon, several rounds striking the body and wings of the tough flying beast before it could move out of the way.


Once again the jet made a long sharp turn coming back for more.


"W64 return to base. You have no fuel for this fight leave it to the ground team." The bodiless voice sounded more urgent this time, it's owner slightly panicked at the thought of loosing a plane.


"W64 your orders are to return to base immediately. Your fuel level is too low." Still no response from the brave pilot above.


"Johns, please, return home now." The voice tried desperately to get the pilot to return, thinking of using his name would bring the pilot around.


The A-10 came back hard it's missiles rocketing from under it's wings. It's hit was dead on the tank exploded upon impact, the blast making Allen fall to his side covering his head with his arms as the body parts rained down upon him.


The pick up opened fire once more. It's bullets taking more effect on the beast flying down upon it, guns blasting. With equal blasts the bullets from both guns, one on the ground and one in the air hit their intended targets. Smoke and flames poured from the right engine of the flying beast as the pick up exploded, flipping in the air and landing on it's roof.


The Warthog tried to pull up, smoke billowing from the damaged engine. Alarms blaring the A-10 set off towards the horizon, it's deed was done.


Allen watched solemnly as the wounded plane limped further away from him. It's nose with the sharks mouth painted on it, headed in the opposite direction from which it had come.


"Mayday mayday." Allen stared wide eyed at the radio on his vest. Disbelief filling him as he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "W64 is going down. W64 is going down."


Static drowned out the remaining plea from the pilot as the wounded ship more likely tumbled to the ground. The loud boom filled Allen's ears as he closed his eyes and slumped back against the warm sand of the hill behind him. The last hope of a possible rescue leaving his worn and injured body with the sound of the plane impacting the earth.


"Thanks for the effort Johns." He whispered to the faceless pilot.

　


PART 3:


The sound of approaching foot steps brought Allen from his fitful slumber. Darkness had settled in making it impossible to see. The noise was coming from behind him several yards away but still too close for his liking. He silently pulled is pistol out once more, disengaging the magazine release, with his fingers he carefully counted out the bullets he had left. Only 3.


The footsteps were coming closer. They seemed irregular almost as if the person was either stalking him like prey or either they were hurt, stumbling along. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the downed Iraq soldiers.


What if one of them hadn't been killed only knocked out much like him? His measly 3 bullets would be no match for their endless fire power.


Allen heard a female speak up, speaking in an Iraqian language she seemed to be asking someone a question. A surprised male made a reply in the same language.


With out warning he heard shots ring out. 2 almost in unison then a third. The thick air smelled of gun powder, but was still. Allen held his breath not daring to breath, his pistol hugged tightly to his chest, safety off. He tried leaning his head back straining to see but the stiffness of laying still for hours making the pain in his body seem 10 times worse yet he clenched his teeth against the pain and turn around to see who was there.


The footsteps started again. Making their slow irregular movement towards him. Allen heard the unmistakable sound of night vision goggles being turned on. The slight hum seemed almost upon him.


Allen closed his eyes trying to feel with his senses where the subject was. The footsteps stopped. The silence was interrupted by a strange bird call.


A whistle pierced the air sounding much like the Bob White birds back home in the states.
Allen sucked in a breath listening quietly as the bird call was once more repeated almost inaudibly but still detectable behind him. His mind started to whirl remembering something a fly boy had told him, something about how the pilots would call out to each other using bird calls.


Taking his chances, Allen called out, he had nothing too loose if it was the enemy they already knew he was there.


"Flash" In an almost hushed whisper, Allen used an old code hoping who ever it was if a friendly would recognize it.


The bird calling stopped. He listened for several minutes.


"Flash" He whispered a little louder, praying once more they would answer.


"Thunder" The even quieter reply came from next to him.


Allen's heart leaped with excitement, no detectable accent could be heard in the voice. He twisted sharply to the right, groaning as the pain once more raced thru his body causing him to fall back against the sand, panting.


With the muffled thump a body flopped down next to Allen nearly landing on top of him. With pain riddled eyes he looked up into the face of his savior.


A helmet and night vision goggles covered nearly all of his face but still, he knew he was a friendly.
"Corporal Allen." The person whispered to him.


Allen's brow furrowed at the voice which sounded oddly feminine, much like the one he heard a few moments before speaking in the foreign tongue.


"Who are you?" The words came out harsher than he expected.


"Lt. Johns, United States Air force." She pulled her night vision goggles off. "How badly are you injured?" She spoke up ignoring his tone.


"You? Were you in the A-10?" He glanced her over noticing her flight suit was covered with a dark substance on the front and she was favoring her right arm. The helmet was clearly seen now, a white flight helmet.


"Yes that was me." She sighed heavily. "How badly are you hurt?"


Trying to over come his shock of a female pilot, Allen pointed to his leg.


"I think it's broken. My chest hurts when I breath, I may have broken some ribs and I have a killer head ache. And you?"


"I'm ok." Trying to hide the lie from him, she leaned in closer resting her hands on his leg, gently running them downward trying to feel for any fractures.


At his knee she stopped and looked up at him.


"It's not broken but I think it's dislocated. I've had some medical training and may have to put it back in place." She pulled her goggles back on and placed both hands on either side of his knee. "This is gonna hurt, badly."


With a quick movement she twisted her hands. What seemed an eternity the bone popped back in place making a slight crunching noise. Allen flinched wrenching his rib cage causing even more pain. A groan spilled from his lips as he collapsed backwards once again unconscious.

　


PART 4:


Allen's eyes slowly opened but quickly closed again against the bright glare of the morning sun.


He carefully tried to move his limbs, groaning against the pain that suddenly awoke with the movement. Laying back down, he whispered out to the pilot beside him.


"Johns?" His call went unanswered.


He started to worry that maybe it had all been a dream his injured mind had brought forth in his pain induced sleep and that there never had been an actual rescuer. He had to know.


Being careful to let his eyes gradually adjust to the sun, he slowly opened them once more. What he saw in front of him made him want to close them immediately back again.


An Iraq soldier stood over him. Gun pointed directly in his face. The man spoke something in a language Allen couldn't understand. He shook his head and raised his hands in surrender.
The man kicked him hard in the ribs, making the blackness swarm again threatening to envelope him once more. Harsh undetectable words spoke for from the man's mouth again as he raised his rifle striking Allen in the face with the butt end of it.


With his mind fogged all he could do was lay there, hoping the torment wouldn't last and death would come quick.


From over his head, Allen heard what he thought was a whistle his brain not quite registering exactly what it was. The Soldier looked up surprised as 2 bullets ripped through his chest, a 3rd placed a hole directly between his eyes.


Allen coward back against the hill side as best he good, not understanding what had happened, part of him thinking the shots had been at him and he was the one that was crumpling to the ground, his life blood pouring from the holes in his body.


Before the body hit the ground, the shooter slid down the hill, stumble then fall heavily next to the fallen enemy. Without checking for any signs of life the subject ripped the rifle from the dead man's hands.


Allen watched this all confusedly, the subject turned to him speaking to him but he didn't understand the whole situation. He wanted to sleep so badly, his eye lids became heavy and he allowed the to fall closed.


Pain ripped through his head and torso as someone started shaking him.


"Allen open your eyes." Johns carefully raised his head. "Come on big guy don't go to sleep on me yet."


Allen peeled his eyes open staring up at the bloodied face looking back at him.


"There you are. Keep them pretty green eyes open for me ok my man."


"Your real?" Allen reached out to touch her face, still not quiet believing what he saw before him. "I woke...you were gone...thought it was a dream."


"Nope I'm here... and real." She nodded towards the hill behind him. "Went looking in that camp I spotted flying over for water. Found it there are more of these guys there."


She nodded behind her at the deceased. "When I came back I found him attacking you."


Allen nodded. Licking his lips against the dryness that he suddenly became aware of at the mention of water.


"You get any?" Allen met her gaze apprehensively.


She smiled gently at him, shaking her head slightly. "No."


She placed a hand gently on his head gazing across the barren desert around them. She knew her plane had water in it, but it was several miles away with both of them injured it would take a day or two to get there if not more. Then again she had her emergency beacon on that plane as well.
She looked back down at the injured Ranger sitting next to her. She wasn't even sure he could make it to the enemies camp in his condition.


Allen watched her closely, his head starting to clear after the strike the Iraq man had given him. He looked the pilot over more closely in the daylight.


Her blonde hair was cut short just below the chin. It was matted with blood and grim making it stick out in some spots. Her face as well was covered with dirt and blood. Moving his eyes lower he got a better look at her flight suit. The darkness on the torso looked wet like she had fallen in water or something but appeared sticky, maybe fluids from the plane. Her right arm she still held tightly against her chest, allowing him to see the blood stain on the sleeve and the unmistakable bump that signaled a fracture of the fore arm. By the looks of it, it appeared an open fracture. He also noticed she had been favoring her right leg as well.


"Are you sure you are ok?" He nodded towards her arm.


She glanced down and nodded. "It's broken but I'm ok."


She looked around her once more, verifying that they were indeed in the middle of now where.


"I have water and a radio on my ship." She motioned with her head in the direction of the crash site.


"It several miles away though, took me several hours to make it here. Think you can handle the trek?"


Allen struggled to sit up. Gritting his teeth against the ever present pain in his chest as well as the splitting headache he now had thanks to the dead man.


"Can if you can." He growled through his clenched teeth, trying to smile up at her.


"Guess we have a plan then." She smiled back at him.

　


PART 5:


Johns carefully slid her good arm under one of Allen's and gently helped him to his feet. Despite the fact that he had both of his arms wrapped around her like he was hugging her, he still had a hard time struggling to his feet.


Testing his left leg, he hesitantly put a little weight on it. Noticing there was only minor pain he added a little more. With his full weight the leg buckled and he almost fell if it hadn't been for Johns catching him but in the process she was forced to add weight to her right leg sending shooting pain through her body.


Johns sucked in a sharp breath and bit her lip to keep from screaming out in pain. She choked back the tears, turning her head so Allen couldn't see her.


"You sure your ok?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, worried about her.


She nodded, took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Yeah just hurts worse than I thought."


"We sure are a pair aren't we?" He smiled back at her.


She smiled back weakly at him and nodded.


Allen straightened up as best as he could, trying not lean against her very much.


"This outta be a challenge, your left leg injured and my right leg injured." Johns jokingly added.


Allen let out a little chuckle as he wrapped his arm around her waist, aiming to give them both a little support. The moment his arm made contact with her right side he immediately noticed her slight grimace even though she tried to hide it as best she could. He moved his arm back, noticing that the fluid that he had seen on her flight suit had come off on his arm. It was dark red. Blood. The area had a large tear in it that went from just above her hip to the center of her rib cage.


He looked up at her with a worried look on his face. "Your hurt worse than you say you are." He made it more of a statement rather than a question.


He reached for the zipper of her suit and carefully pulled it down. Beneath he noticed her issued tee shirt was also ripped in the same area. Beneath that was a nasty looking gash.


He looked up at her meeting her gaze. She quickly moved his hands away and pulled her zipper back up, hugging her good arm against the spot.


The gash was long running just above her hip up towards the middle of her rib cage. In some spots he could clearly see the bones of her ribs. What ever had caused it had sliced through not only skin but muscle as well.


They need help and soon.


Using each other for a crutch, they hobbled their way up the sandy hill, stumbling several times.
At the peak the barren desert laid out before them, in the distance were the rocky cliffs and the enemy camp. Somewhere beyond that was the Warthog crash site. Base was in the opposite direction. 15 minutes by air.


Below lay the burned out over turned pick up, further away was the still smoldering hulking shell of the tank. The A-10's kill. Bodies were strewn around.


"How many you say was at the camp?" Johns stared at the smoke billowing up from the tank.


"13." Allen let out a long sigh. "Huey got 3 before it left."


Johns nodded. "4 in the pick up there, 2 by the tank, more likely one inside." She pointed out each as she called them. "Then the 2 I got last night and earlier."


"So that leaves one at the camp right?" Allen turned back towards her.


She shook her head. "3 when I was there."


He felt like crumpling to the ground right there, but Johns beat him too it.


Plopping down, she used her good leg to help herself scoot down the hill, using her good arm and leg to shakily stand back up. Johns didn't hesitate in following suit.


She held her hand out once he got to the bottom but he shook her off being able to stand a little easier now that he had some of the kinks worn out.


"You doing better." She mocked at him.


He smiled and nodded. "Still hurts to breath, feels like someone's ripping my chest out, leg feels some what better, you?"


"Peachy."


Allen limped over towards the first body near the pick up. He leaned over pulling the rifle from underneath him. The gun was burned beyond use. He launched it into the air taking his frustrations out on it.


"No good." He turned towards Johns who was inspecting the another.


"Same here." She gazed around herself. "Looks like all wont be any use, cept maybe that one." She pointed over to the body near the base of the hill.


Her victim last night.


Allen moved over towards him, yanking the rifle from his hands. It had a full magazine. He held it out towards her raising his eyebrows.


"Not too shabby. How's your pistol stash?"


Allen shook his head. "None. Maybe 3 rounds. Pack had all the extra's in it. Amazingly it's still in the Huey."


She laughed at his sarcasm. She had one bullet left in her's.


"Two rifles. One full magazine each, 30 rounds. 4 .45 bullets for 2 pistols." She hobbled past Allen, patting him on the back as she passed.


"Seems we can hold the fort with that."


Allen couldn't hold back the laughter boiling up from him as he turned and shambled slowly after her.
With both rifles slung over their shoulders, the two soldiers limped away from the A-10 destruction leaning on each other for support. It was going to be a long trek to safety but with support from each they could possible make it without too much major incident.

　


PART 6:


The distance that seemed to take him only a short time the previous day seemed to take for hours this time. The ever present rocky cliffs on the horizon never seemed to be getting closer, at times Allen thought they were actually getting further away.


The sun was high in the sky above them, beating down on their blood, sweat soaked bodies. When he thought he couldn't make it much further they finally arrived at the first groupings of the rock cliffs.


Now for the challenging part.


During the slow hike from the A-10's kills to the rocks, Allen noticed the steady shambling walk of Johns beside him getting worse. She toughed it out not wanting to give up. At one point he even asked her if she wanted a break. She bit her lip against the pain shook her head and shoved his offering hand away.


She was stubborn that was for sure but good soldier much the same way he was. Course he himself didn't want to stop either.


"Break time." Allen reached out and grabbed a hold of Johns forcing her to come to a stop.


Breathing heavily, she slowly raised her head and looked at him. He could clearly see the pain and exhaustion in her eyes.


"You up for this?" He draped his arm across the back of her shoulders in a comforting manner.


She took a deep breath and nodded. "Better now than never huh?"


He smiled back at her and took the first step up the small barely visible path winding it's way up through the rocks he had ventured on the day before.


His leg had become stiffer during the long walk and still caused alot of pain when he put all his weight on it but it was bearable.


Using hands and feet and each other, the two managed to climb into the cliffs fairly quickly.


Johns slipped a few times when her injured leg threatened to buckle. Each time it was Allen that had kept her from tumbling down back down to where they started. Course she had saved him a few as well.


Once at the top, Allen dropped to his stomach and slithered over to the look out spot he had earlier. Grunting with pain, Johns clenched her teeth and followed suit.


She reached into a pants pocket and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. Using them she scanned the area below them.


The Iraq camp was small. A few large tents were the only main buildings. A couple flat bed pick ups sat next to one that was completely covered. An armed soldier stood outside the door.


Allen patted her on the shoulder making her look up. He pointed out past the camp at a dust cloud that was making it's way towards them. Johns moved the binoculars towards it focusing them to bring what ever was making the dust stir into focus. She followed the object for a few minutes until Allen himself could see what was making it.


A large transport vehicle. The back flaps were pulled up allowing them to see several Iraq soldiers inside. All appeared to be armed.


"Crap." Johns lowered the binoculars, meeting Allen's gaze.


"How many?" His eyes remained fixed on her's.


"7." She sighed and rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Least from what I can see. At least 3 at the camp."


"10 total." Allen sighed, rolling over on his back.


"How good a sniper are you?" Johns looked back out at the camp, watching as the truck pulled in front of the largest tent, concealing it from her view.


"Excellent. Top in my squad." He reached for one of the magazines she held out to him. "We can take some or all out with sniper shots. The rest face to face."


"Yeah that's what I was thinking. Only problem is they may have a radio and request for back up, in which case even if we do clear the camp..."


"We're sitting ducks on the road to the A-10."


She nodded in agreement.


Allen rolled back over on his stomach ignoring the pain rushing through his chest. He slammed the magazine into the rifle, switching off the safety and turning it to semi auto. Resting the barrel on a small out cropping, he used the scope to line up his first shot.


Through the binoculars, Johns watched the sentry guard crumple to the ground a split second before she heard the shot beside her. The loud crack resounded of the rocks around them, echoing back down to the camp below.


Their presence was now known. A few soldiers came running out of the larger tent towards the one the now deceased was guarding. Allen took careful aim once more and managed to take out 2 more soldiers before the other's ducked back in front.


Johns started to move, Allen took a sec to glance her way before placing his eye back on the scope. He'd be more help up top than down below. She seemed better skilled at close counter combat.


"Psst." Johns turned and looked back at Allen, who tossed her his only magazine with the 3 bullets in it.


Johns caught it before she jumped down to the path below them making sure to land on her good leg.


A few minutes later, Allen spotted her slinking quickly towards the back of the closest tent. She rounded the corner just as another Iraq soldier came racing around it. Before she had a chance to react he fell dead at her feet. She turned towards the cliff and gave a small salute to Allen.


She moved around towards the front, relying on the man up top to watch her back. Peering into the first tent she spotted a bunch of wooden crates, but no people. Looking ahead she saw the truck sitting empty but idling, two tents down. Ignoring the searing pain in her leg she crept slowly towards it.


A small male burst forth from the 2nd tent almost colliding with her. He jumped back calling out in surprise but before he could sound another alarm, a .45 bullet from Johns' pistol ripped through his chest. She had to refrain from shooting him 2 more times as was her norm with a pistol.
3 bullets left. 5 more soldiers.


Johns peeked into the 2nd tent inside she could it was packed high with tons of large wooden crates. Making a quick look around she came to the conclusion no one else was inside.


Just as she reached the third and largest tent, she heard one of the pick ups on the other side start up. Before she could react it took off down the dirt road at a high rate of speed. From the quick look she could see only 2 people inside.


With her attention distracted by the truck, she didn't hear the soldier sneaking up behind her. He grabbed her around the neck, putting her in a choke hold. Reflexively she tucked her chin to her chest and twisted her head, placing her chin in the crook of his elbow. She jammed the rifle stock backwards into his stomach, hearing him expirate air and loosening his grip on her. She whirled around and slammed the butt of the gun into his face, his nose exploded with blood making him stagger backwards. Before he could recover, she shot him twice through the torso.


The two remaining soldiers ran out of the tent, rushing towards her. She spun around, trying to aim at them but the twisting motion was on her bad leg and sent her tumbling to the ground. They were on top of her before she could get back up.


Allen heard the shots below and knew she had gotten at least 2 of them. He started making his way down to help her when he spotted the pick up speeding away. With out thinking, he leaped to the ground, and took aim at the front of the truck before it could make the turn onto the road. Two shots and the engine erupted into flames. The vehicle rolled to a stop just before the two occupants covered in flames burst forth from the cab, dropping to the ground as the flames consumed them.


Allen broke into a trot, ignoring his leg. Rounding the corner between two of the tents, he stopped short at the body laying on the ground. Looking around he saw no one else.


"What the...?" He whispered to himself.


Slipping into the 2nd tent he made his way through the crates before making his way back out. It was empty. HE silently made his way to the last tent. The flap was tied open. He made a quick peek inside then looked again longer not really believing what he was seeing.


Johns sat in a chair, she had her hands tied behind her, fresh blood was dripping from a gash across her forehead down between her eyes.


Standing over her were 3 Iraq soldiers, one had a gun pointed at her head. Another was talking to her in broken english asking her if she was alone, what she was doing there.


None of them had spotted him.


The third struck out at her, landing a square punch to her nose, shattering it and almost making her fall backwards. She glared up at him. AS her gaze came down she spotted Allen at the edge of the doorway. Pleading with him not to come.


Allen could only see one choice. He had to risk hitting Johns and open fire inside the tent hoping he could hit all within seconds of each other. It was the only option he saw on such short notice. He had to take the chance.


Kneeling down, he signaled to Johns, pointing at his rifle then each soldier. She nodded back slightly in acknowledge ment.


Allen took a deep breath, checked his magazine once more and switched it over to fully automatic.
At the same second Johns pushed backwards as Allen burst the door opening fire. The bullets shredded through the back fabric of the tent.


Seconds later the magazine ran dry. In the clearing dust, he spotted no movement.


"Johns you ok?" He glanced down spotting 2 of the 3.


"Just peachy." SHe rolled off the chair landing next to the faceless body of the 3rd. "You got 'em."


Allen walked over, squatting down next to her. Taking his knife from his boot, he sliced through the make shift restraints. Replacing it back into his boot, he gently pulled her to her feet.


"How bad are you?" He cradled her face in his hands.


"I'm alright." She smiled back at him. "Thanks big guy."


He smiled back and dropped his hands. "No prob Crash."


Other than the gash on her forehead which looked superficial, she had a broken nose and more likely a good shiner in the works.


Taking her by the hand, he led her out of the tent towards the middle one. Inside he located the crate he had seen earlier. The sides were marked with a bright red cross.

　


PART 7:


********************************
Note: The song "I will survive." belongs solely to GLoria Gaynor. It is used in this as entertainment purposes only. I did not write it nor received any royalties from using it.
*********************************


Allen yanked the box from on top of the others. It landed on the ground with a loud crunch, one of it's sides splitting. Using his good leg, Allen kicked at it until it broke completely open.
Johns stayed back and watched him curiously.


Reaching in, he grabbed a handful of bandages, gauze and sterile water. Placing the items down next to Johns, he gently pushed her back, forcing her to sit down upon another crate.


"I'm gonna need to bandage that wound on your stomach." He nodded towards her.


She looked up at him, understanding. SIlently she unzipped he flight suit, taking it off her shoulders and pulling her arms out. Allen reached up and helped her pull her shirt up over the wound, which she held up with her good hand.


"This is going to sting a bit."


Being as careful as he could, he gently poured the sterile water over the wound, trying to flush it out. Johns stiffened slightly when the cold water touched her open skin but other wise made no movement.


The wound looked a little better once it had been cleaned. The edges had started to clot. It needed to be closed as soon as possible but with what they had they would have to do.


Rummaging through the box, Allen located some steri strips. They would have to do. With the wound once more wet with the water, he was able to use the strips to close it up, pretty well despite the fact.
Once the strips were in place, he placed the bandages over top and wrapped some gauze around to hold it all in place.


"Not bad for an amateur." Johns inspected his handy work. "Not bad at all."


Using what was left of the sterile water, he cleaned the gash on her head. It was small only cutting through the first layer of skin.


He looked down at her arm. It was black and blue, badly swollen. part of the fore arm bone had cut through just in front of her elbow on the underside of her arm. Using some of the gauze, he wrapped it gently at least that way it could keep some of the infection out of the bone.


Once done, Johns pulled her suit back up. "Now for you."


Giving him the same treatment he had used on her, Johns carefully cleaned the wounds on his face. Letting him take his shirt off, she wrapped his chest as tightly as she dared. Anything to keep his ribs still from causing anymore damage than they already had.


"Not the best but it'll ease some pain."


"Can feel less already." Allen patted her softly on the shoulder. "Let's go look for some water."


Inspecting the remaining tents, they were only able to locate less than a gallon of water. Not nearly as cold as they liked but it was still water.


In the larger tent, Allen located the ammo that caused him to be out here in the first place. Digging around for awhile he found more .45 bullets. They were out of luck on the rifles.
"Check this out." Johns held up a small soup can looking object.


A flashbang grenade.


Looking each other in the eye, the idea hit them at the same time.


"Demolition." Allen grabbed the grenade from her and stepped out of the tent.


Pulling the pin, he lobbed it into the open flap of the tent. Seconds later the was a loud bang, a flash then a huge explosion that knocked them both flat. Loud popping sounds could be heard from inside the tent as the flames quickly devoured the sides and contents inside.


"That's one supply their not going to need." Allen chuckled softly, turning his back to the inferno.


With out another glance back, the two took off in the direction of the A-10.


It had taken Johns nearly all evening and part of the night to make the journey from the crash site to the camp. Tired, hungry bodies stiffening with their injuries Allen figured it would take atleast a day, maybe two even.


"I tried following the road as best I could." Johns shuffled her feet along, kicking a stray rock away. "Hoping to find something or someone."


Allen glanced over at her, noticing her disappointment before he looked back towards the road ahead.
"You know how far?"


Johns shook her head. "Crashed a few after I blew the tank. At 90 that could be miles."


They walked on in silence for several minutes. Then the minutes dragged on into hours. The sun which had been high above when they left the camp was slowly sinking it's way towards the horizon once more.


Allen sighed to himself. He should have been back at base enjoying a hot meal, catching up on that John Grisham novel he had been trying to finish for the past couple days.  He had tried for several days finish it, being on the last chapter he figured it wouldn't take long, but each time he got back into it something happened and he had to put it down. When he left that morning he had thought about bringing it with him but thought twice about it, leaving it behind. He tried not to think about the fact the he might not get too.


His thoughts were interrupted by a soft humming coming from beside him. He turned and looked over at Johns. She had her head down. Her limp was getting worse, at times she barely used her right leg. Watching her, he heard the humming again. Softly but familiar to him.


Eventually her humming started to turn into words. He smiled to himself listening to her singing in the dusky light. Trying to figure out what she was singing.


"First I was afraid. I was petrified, kept thinking I could never live without you by my side." She paused, humming, trying to remember the lyrics. "But I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong, and I grew strong."


"I learned how to carry on."


She suddenly looked up at him surprised to see him staring at her, more so than that he knew what she was singing.


Allen smiled back at her. "Oh not I."


She smiled big joining him.


"I will survive, as long as I know how to love, I know I will stay alive. I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give." The two of them open up singing as loud as they could together.


"And I will survive." Allen stopped singing putting his arm around Johns' shoulders.


"I will survive." She finished the last in almost a whisper.


With out a word they walked on slowly trekking their way across the desert, towards the disappearing sun.

　


PART 8:


The hours seemed to fly by. The two soldiers trekked on with out much conversation.


At one point, Allen noticed Johns take a small card out of her helmet and place it in an upper pocket on her flight suit. As she twirled it between her fingers, he noticed a small plant was glued to one side of it.


"Lucky charm?"


"Hmm? oh...yeah, four leaf clover I found on my Great Grandmother's farm along time ago."


"Doesn't seem so lucky now." Allen kicked at a large stone, watching as it skidded across the ground.


"Nah. If it wasn't lucky...I never would have walked out of that bird."


Allen smiled silently to himself. She was right though, he just wished it would give them a little more luck than they were running into.


As the sun slowly set, Allen was just able to see a large hulking object on the horizon. At last light before the sun totally disappeared, he noticed that it was then tail rudder sticking high up into the sky.


"Almost there." Johns lifted her head, glancing over at him as he spoke.


Allen pointed towards the tail rudder. "Nose down, looks like you hit hard."


"Yeah seems that way now. Didn't when I hit."


Allen watched her closely. The day long trek was taking it's toll on her as well. Her stride had gotten slower and more irregular. Stumbling several times now, she barely touched her right foot to the ground. Reaching over, he gently placed an arm around her waist, helping her as much as he could despite the fact he was fading fast as well.


"You know what I could go for right now?" Johns spoke quietly, not letting him answer. "A coke and a snicker bar."


Allen laughed quietly, pulling her a little closer.


Darkness had set in by the time they reached the crash site. Allen took in the mangled plane with awe. The nose was almost completely buried in the sand, crushed to the cockpit. Part of a wing and tail wing were broken off. One engine was completely black, charred beyond recognition. Bullet holes riddled the body armor in several places. He couldn't believe anyone had walked away from it, and with as minor injuries as Johns showed.


Letting go of her, he hobbled over towards the shattered plexi glass of the cockpit. Looking around, he at first couldn't spot what he was looking for.


"Behind the seat there's a green pack." Johns leaned against the side of the Warthog and slid to the ground.


Allen located the pack easily once he knew where and what to look for. Bringing it over to Johns, he settled down next to her and started rummaging through the contents. Inside were a couple bottles of water, maps and a radio with an emergency locator.


He handed a bottle of water to Johns along with the radio.


"The plane's electrical system was fried." Johns took the radio and flipped it on. "This is a back up."


Immediately the little machine started to make a low beeping sound. On top a small red light started to flash.


"Now all we gotta do is wait." Allen turned around and leaned his back up against the plane. "I'll take first watch, you try and get some sleep."


Johns nodded. She scooted a bit closer to him, using his shoulder as pillow. She raised her head again after forgetting something. Leaning over she picked up her helmet and pulled off the night vision goggles.


"You might need this." Allen took the goggles from her, smiling gently.


He settled back down again, listening to the soft gentle breathing of his fellow survivor asleep beside him. His mind was alive, sleep wouldn't come easy for him.


Glancing down at the sleeping pilot at his side, he decided to let her sleep as long as she could.

　


PART 9:


Allen watched Johns sleeping in between scans of the surrounding blackness with the goggles.
She moaned every once in awhile when ever she shifted her position slightly. One point he carefully unzipped her flight suit to check her bandages. She was dead to the world never making a move, obviously trusting him. Her wound was bleeding again, the blood had soaked clean through again. He checked on her arm which was badly swollen, loosening the gauze slightly, he hoped it would help at least a little. Her leg was what worried him. Already it had swelled up to the point he removed her boot in fear of it cutting off her circulation. He figured it was more likely broken as well.
He himself wasn't in much better shape. His knee had become black and blue and was swollen twice it's size. His head pounded with the slightest movement. Probably a concussion. His chest hurt immensely, his breathing becoming more and more labored.


He silently prayed once more for a quick rescue, other wise he was afraid they may not make another night.


Allen woke with a start, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. Something had awaken him, causing him to jump and banging his head against the downed plane. The resounding thud, caused Johns to jerk awake as well.


The sound came again. Both of them were wide awake now.


Somewhere in the pitch black they heard the sounds of approaching foot steps. Holding his breath Allen silently pulled the night vision goggles over his eyes.


Turning his head from side to side, he spotted the figure walking towards them just past where the nose of the plane should have been.


Still several yards out, he bumped Johns with his elbow and pointed in that direction.


She motioned with her head to the other side of the plane. The sand was built up more and they may be able to hide better there. She tried to move but nearly blacked out as the pain from her leg and side sent fire rushing through her body. She moaned against her will and slumped back down against the plane.


Allen leaned over as she whispered in his ear. "I can't move."


The words sent chills through his spine. They only had a few bullets left and after a second glance, he spotted 2 more Iraqi's headed their way. He glanced around the area looking for a way out.
Suddenly he had an idea. Use her for bait to reel them in closer to where he could knock them off without wasting any bullets in case he missed.


Leaning closer, so close his lips almost touched her ear he whispered his intentions to her. She nodded without a word, agreeing fully with him.


Quietly, Allen moved under the raised tail of the plane as best he could. Using his hands as scoops, he shoveled sand over his lower half of his body. Laying on his stomach, he was able to look under the plane and clearly see Johns and the approaching subjects.


Johns sat motionless, her legs splayed out in front of her, arms draped to her sides. If he didn't know better, Allen would have thought she was dead. Covered in blood, not moving the way she wasn't.
Allen held his breath, at times barely breathing in and out as the 3 subjects approached closer and closer. He could clear see that the subjects were all carrying assault rifles and somewhat light colored clothing other than that they were all shadows.


Trying to keep his breathing even he waited til they got closer. As they came within about 10 feet of the plane he started to squeeze the trigger, taking as much play out of it as possible so when he had a good sight on them he could fire, making sure they got hit while keeping Johns safe.


His index finger squeeze back even more. A hair before the gun actually fired he paused, one of them had spoken up.


"Lieutenant Johns?" The front soldier slung his rifle over his shoulder as he spoke.


Allen let his finger ease up on the trigger, opening both eyes wide he got a better look at them. All were dressed in army issued desert camouflage.


Johns opened her eyes. "Friendlies." She whispered, her voice coming out hoarse.


"Lt. Johns, We are with the delta force. We received your emergency beacon. A helicopter is on it's way to pick us up. Is Crp. Allen with you."


Speechless, Johns nodded towards the back of the plane just as Allen stood up.


In the background they could already hear the wonderful sounds of the Huey's rotor blade's.

　


PART 10:


Allen watched quietly as the medic carefully taped up his knee. It wasn't as bad as he thought. IT had been dislocated but thanks to Johns it was now back in place with our further damage. His ribs as he had original suspected were broken at least 4 of them. Luckily no further injuries there. He had a minor concussion that would just take time for it to heal other than that he was doing fairly well.
The medic finished wrapping his knee and gave him the ok to leave.


"Stay off it as much as possible and watch out for those ribs." The medic pointed a sharp finger warningly at him.


"OK OK." Allen held his hands up in defense.


He made a quick stop before he headed over to the surgical tent where hopefully he would find Johns before she went into surgery.


Entering the tent, he looked around for a few minutes before he spotted her by the corner. She had 2 iv's hooked up to her. Her head and chest were wrapped tightly. Her arm was braced with a temporary cast. She appeared to be sleeping.


Speaking quietly, Allen approached a doctor looking at a chart. "How is she Doc?"


"Tib fib fracture to the lower right leg as well as a severely sprained ankle. Open radius ulna fracture to the left forearm. Severe laceration to the middle to upper torso. Your fancy bandaging there saved her from any bad infections. The laceration on her head isn't very bad, nothing a few stitches won't clean up but she does have a slight concussion. How that girl survived the several mile trek is beyond me." The doctor closed the chart nudging the Ranger.


"She's got more balls than any soldier I know."


Allen grinned widely back at the doctor.


"Feel free to go say hi." The doctor nodded towards her before he stepped out of the tent.


Keeping his foot steps as quiet as possible, Allen walked over towards the sleeping Lieutenant. He placed a hand gently on her forehead.


Johns sluggishly opened her eyes, smiling as best she could at the man before her.


"How you doing?" Allen smiled softly back at her, moving a stray strand of hair from across her face, tucking it behind her ear.


"Peachy." She whispered back at him


"You ready to head out?"


"Yeah just give me a sec to gather my pack."


Allen laughed at her little joke. Raising his other hand, he held up what he had gotten early. A bottle of coke, 2 glasses and a snickers.


"How about a celebratory meal?" He laid the items down on a table close by. "But wait we haven't been properly introduced."


Johns looked up at him, the best surprised look she could muster in her drugged state.


Allen cleared his throat and placed a hand on his chest. "I'm James, Jimmy to my friends."


"Kira." Johns croaked out hoarsly. "Just Kira."


"Well Kira, it's very nice to meet you."


She reached out her free hand, taking his empty one in her's she gave it a gentle squeeze.


Leaning down, Allen ever so slightly gave her a kiss on her forehead.


He had a feeling they were going to be just fine.

Drop

It was a dark and stormy night.



Miranda sat alone by herself, curled up on the couch in boxers and a tee shirt watching "Queer As Folk."
She shifted her position on the plaid colored couch, bring her legs up and curling them underneath her. She reached behind her and pulled down the afghan blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her, trying to control the shivers that had suddenly racked through her body.



The air all of a sudden seemed chilly. She glanced over at the digital thermostat on the far wall, squinting to get a better look at it. 79 degrees. She should be feeling that cold. She turned her eyes back to the television set in front of her.

Slowly the numbers on the digital face of the thermostat started to drop. 78...77...76...Within seconds it had dropped almost 10 degrees.



Rumbling came from outside as brief flash of lighting streamed across the sky. Miranda glanced out the big bay window, watching as the wind picked up, bending tree branches nearly to the ground. Green leaves were ripped from their perch and strewn across the back yard.



An odd clicking noise brought her head around to the other side of the room, to where the door led into the dark kitchen. It sounded almost like tapping on the window. She shook her head. Probably a tree branch moving across the window.

She reached for the remote beside her and began flipping channels. Commercials she hated them and usually surfed for something else to watch during them. Nothing was on.



The tapping noise came again. She frowned in the direction of the kitchen. Then she turned and glanced outside behind her. The wind had died down, but the tapping continued. She crawled across the couch listening intently to the noises coming from the darkness before her. The tapings sounded as if they were moving across the floor.



She rolled her eyes. "Buford! Lay down!"



The large Siberian husky.



She laughed to her self and settled back down.



Just as she was about to switch back to her show, noises came again. This time it sounded like something being dropped. Something heavy.



"Dangnabbit Buford settle down!" She yelled angrily, not bothering to look in his direction.



Several minutes passed. The wind had picked up again. Thunder gently rumbled across the sky.



BOOM!



Miranda jumped at the noise. *That had been inside*



Her head whipped around towards the kitchen once more. It sounded like someone had dropped a bowling ball from 10' above to the hard linoleum floor. Frustrated, she threw the blanket off her and stormed into the kitchen.



"Dang it Buford I've had enough!" She flipped on the lights in the kitchen.



As the harsh light filled the small space, she glanced around. It was completely empty. No dog came eagerly to greet her.

She padded silently in her bare feet over to the back door and peered out. Lightning flashed, illuminating the small covered enclosure just outside. The large form of the dog, laying in front of the dog house, was seen beneath.

She shook her head quizzically not understanding. Turning around. Looking out the small window above the sink. The only window. There were no trees outside that window.



Lighting flashed illuminating the dog. His tongue was hanging out. Blood slowly dripped from the corners of it's mouth.



Thump.



Her eyes whirled around. The lights went out.



"I paid the electricity already today!" She sighed heavily, turning towards a row of drawers, rummaging through them for a flashlight or candles.



Lighting briefly lit up the room once more. A shadow out of the corner of her eye. She spun around, dropping the flashlight. It shattered open on the hard floor, it's batteries rolling away underneath the table.



"Grrrrrr" She threw her hands up in frustration.



Just as she bent down to pick up the flashlight, movement in front of her made her freeze. A large mass, slightly shifted. She stared at the spot. Her mouth open, breathing coming fast, her heart seemed to want to pound out of her chest.

She swore she had seen that shadow move. It looked almost inky, just a dark corner but it had moved she was sure of it.

She stayed motionless. Staring at the spot for several seconds willing it to move again. The creek in her back finally made her stand up. She flipped on the flashlight. Nothing happened. She slapped it against her hand a couple of times before she remembered it had no batteries.



She took two steps to the side and quickly bent down again. Not taking her eyes from the spot in front of her, she felt around for the batteries. her hand came upon something, smooth and cold, bony like a hand.



She screamed, falling back on her, nearly dropping the flashlight again. She scrambled for the batteries, slammed them into the flashlight and quickly turned it on, illuminating the spot in front of her.



Buford's bone.



She breathed a sigh of relief. And moved the beam around.



Her hands shook with fright as she slowly moved the beam of light around the room. The beam jumped in her hands, as it made it's slow journey around the room.



Just before it came to the dark spot she had been staring at moments before, the mass of shadows shifted to the left and disappeared. She heart pounding, she tried to follow but her light only fell upon the dark stairwell leading upstairs.



Thump...thump...thump. Walking up the stairs.



The noises were leading up the stairs. Away from her. She wanted to call her boyfriend but was afraid he'd call her chicken, "jumping at old house noises in a storm again?". She could almost hear him in her head.



Trying to will herself to call down, she took a few steps across the floor. A creaking noise came from above her head.

She shined the light on the ceiling above half expecting to see something through the walls. Nothing was there.



The sound came again. Thumping. Something was running across the room above. She tried to follow the noises, but her light stopped at the swinging chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.



Slowly she turned around, her eyes wide. She shown the light up the stairs ahead of her. It was the back staircase leading to the game room. There was no other way in or out of that room except by these stairs.



Lighting flashed. Thunder rolled as she took her first step. She pressed her body against the wall. Hugging her light to her chest, illuminating her face in a spooky way. She thought maybe she should turn the light off. But she decided against it. The light seemed to be a security for her.



She stopped at the top of the stairs, facing the back wall. The room laid out behind her. She was breathing fast, her heart pounding so loud it echoed in her ears. Slowly she turned, moving the light across the room with her. It's beam bounced across the various games and furniture. She was almost completely turned around. The light shone on the far side of the pool table.



Her breathing increased, rushing in and out of her lungs. Her heart pounded even louder she was so sure that anyone else could hear it as well. her mind screamed at her suddenly.



*RUN!*



The beam bounced across the pool table.



Movement.



A form.



A shape leaped out at her.



A crack.



Pain.



Lighting flashed.



She suddenly saw red.



She whipped a hand across her face. Blood.



Her fingers shook as she shown the light down on them.



Movement. Her eyes moved slowly upward. Something was there.



Someone.



Total blackness.

Riney Road - 2002

Won 3^rd place for August 2002 at the “Castle of Spirits” website!

Everyone knew the legend that came with Riney Rd in Missouri. They heard the stories of how a family had broken down on that long bridge over the creek. 

How after several minutes of being stranded the car suddenly started bouncing up and down as if someone was jumping up and down in the bumper. 

Someone very large.

Then there were the kids who wanted to see for them selves if there was truly a large man like creature that was out there chasing away the poor people who for strange reasons always seemed to break down in the middle of that bridge.

I was one of them.  Me and a bunch of high school buddies had always thought of going out there late one night and seeing for ourselves if there was such a creature or if someone was just passing on another urban legend.

One night late November of last year we decided to check it.  So we piled in my friends Taurus and headed over to Riney Rd.

The road was like any normal street.  Paved unmarked two lane.  Houses were

scattered about on each side.  Then you hit the woods.  The trees were tall with their branches stretching out over the street making it seem like you were driving through a dark tunnel.

Your bright lights barely made enough light to see.  The road was winding and you had to watch your speed.

An early snow fall had the ground covered in white powder, muffling any

noise.

We drove on at a snails pass creeping along the road, so as to not wreck out on the wet pavement.  After a couple of miles, the road made a sharp curve to the right.

My friend driving brought the car to a stop.  The headlights shown straight out illuminating the bridge before us.

"We all ready for this?"  His knuckles were turning white from him griping the steering wheel so hard.

"You're not scared are ya."  Another one piped up, mocking the driver.

"Of course no."  I could see the fear in his eyes though.

He slowly pressed the gas and the car lurched forward.  Despite the cold we rolled down the windows.  The crunch of the tires on the unmarked snow echoed off the cast darkness.

In the middle of the bridge he once more stopped.  Turning the ignition off, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shivered.  I wasn't so sure it was from the cold.

"hey man you think we should turn off the lights?"  My tough guy friend received a thump on the head for that one.

But still we turned off the lights.

An hour later we all were shivering now more from the cold than anything.

"We should go."  I wasn't really wanting to stay any longer.

It was obvious there was nothing here.  The stories had just been legends.

"Man I gotta take a pee."  The guy next to me opened the car door and flat fell out onto the ground.

We all howled with laughter.  My driver buddy over his sacredness threw an empty coke can out at him.

The one on ground pulled himself up using the car for support.  "Forget you, man!"  He proceeded to stumble his way over to the side of the bridge.

With the head lights off and no moon out, he disappeared within a few feet. 

His voice rang out in a crazy song, throwing all us into fits of hysterics again.

With out warning his voice stopped.  Like a cd that had been suddenly turned off.  No slowly winding down.  Just flat stopped. 

We heard a thump and had assumed the klutz had tripped again.

Mr tough guy in shot gun decided to go get him.  He had just opened the car

door and placed one foot on the ground when a strange animal howl filled the night air.  It sent chills running up my spine like someone with ice cold hands was tracing it with their finger.

The guy in front froze were he was.  When he looked back at me his face had gone white.

"let's get out of here ya'll"  The driver's voice was barely audible.

"No we can't leave him out there."  With neither of the two guys in the front moving, I took it upon myself to be the rescuer.

I slid across the seat and climbed out the same door my friend had left open a few moments before.  Straightening up, I tried to let my eyes adjust to the darkness but with very little light it was next to impossible to see.

Carefully, one foot in front of the other, I made my way in the direction he had disappeared.  I glanced back over my shoulder and saw my two buddies with their faces pressed against the glass.  They had shut the back door behind me.

I heard a strange noise then.  It sounded like someone breathing but more like they had been punched in the stomach and all their air had been forced out of their lungs.  I sensed something close, something big.  The hair on the back of my neck was standing straight up.

Almost in slow motion I turned my head around, facing front.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement.  A blur, a flash of something

big and gray.  I heard a gasp from in front of me or maybe it was from me.

A shape started moving towards me and fast.  It was directly in front and coming on a course for a head on.  Frozen in my tracks, all I could think to

do was raise my arms.

The shape collided with me knocking us both to the ground.  I rolled over onto my stomach and leaped to my feet, ready to strike out.  My klutzy friend lay crumpled on the ground.  His eyes were wide, his face had been drained of any color.  I heard that strange breathing noise again and that was all it took.

I grabbed him up, half dragging half carrying, we ran to the car.  Slamming into the closed door my two friends inside nearly pissed in their pants. 

Together working more against each other, we tried to get the door open from the outside.  Finally the driver came out of his shock and opened it from the inside a second before we came through the window.

Rolling up the windows we sat there huddled together.  Our breath came out in white puffs, quickly fogging up the windows.

Daring against my better judgment, I wiped the glass clear and peered through it in the direction my now silent friend had gone before.   Suddenly

a movement came flying straight at the door, colliding with it in a clatter of hooves.

A deer, a young buck, staggered back to his feet and stared back at as.  Then in a flurry of brown fur he was off once more.

I can never forget that deer.  For in his eyes, was a look of pure terror.

"Start the car!  Start the car!"  I started screaming repeating over and over as my friends desperately tried to get the old engine cranked over.

The engine cranked over and over.  Cold from being shut off for so long in the weather it wouldn't catch.

"Man your gonna flood it,"  MY tough guy friend reached over and stopped his hand from turning the key.  "Just wait..."

He barely got the words out.  We felt it hit the back of the car.  A loud thump.  Like some one had kicked the back bumper.  Then the car started bouncing.

We all were screaming at the driver to start the engine.  Panicked by the car being bounced up and down, he dropped the keys.  Shaking so bad he could barely hold them he got them back in his hands and started the engine.

All it took was one try.

He pressed on the gas, not caring that we weren't getting any traction.  The heat from the tires quickly burned through the thin layer of snow.  The second the tire hit pavement, the car shot forward sending it into fish tails.  He quickly gained control of it and sped off towards the end of the bridge.

The drive home was quiet.  None of us could talk.  More likely were all were still frightened over what we had just experienced.

Parking the car in the driveway, we all slowly climbed out. 

Rounding around the back of the car, my fellow back seat passenger stopped and just stared at the trunk.  Curious as to what was up, the 3 of us joined him.

What was there I think frightened us even more.

Perfectly imprinted in the snow on the trunk lid were two very large hand prints.