(Hello again! It has been quite time since my last story and i have joined the army due to hard times, and finally got internet after almost 2 years, let me try and get the creative juices flowing again with Private, Pop Red Smoke)
It was with a heavy sigh that Private Stonewood thought about all he could be doing, and none of it evolved being on staff duty.
I could drinking, at the strip club on billy goat hill, hell i could even be in my room rocking some Call of battlefield or whatever the hell new game that Mark wont stop playing.
And, try as hard as he might, he could not pull his grey eyes off that damn clock on the wall. He sat back in his beat to shit swivel chair and looked out the great glass front of the Battalion HQ, picking at the loose string on his ACUs and watching the rain fall on the streets outside. Ft.Leonard Wood wasn't the best post to get, worse to the fact he was a ground pounding infantryman with a broken foot and not an MP or Chemical boys that run the show down here. Stonewood looked down at the cast on his right foot, his left boot casually laying over it and wiggling back and forth. He has had these pair of boots since basic, and now the left boot is getting more worn than the right boot...his OCD was going to give him an ulcer when he got the cast off.
The hours were just ticking by, a friend of his came by and dropped off a few Rip Its and a box of pizza... it tasted like crap and it sure as hell didnt help anything. He sat, looking out the window and eating a piece of cardboa- err, pizza, when he saw a soldier just rolling along, obviously drunk. He picked up the phone, called the MP's, and sat back, watching this moron stumble back and forth, fall into the ravine, meander into the road, etc. By far it was the only entertainment he has had all night, so he sat back and enjoyed the show. The MP's came, took him away, and he sat back.
Two more hours past... and his forehead slammed into the desk, asleep.
When Stonewood finally woke, the rain was still falling softly, his phone battery was dead, and the morning light was just beginning to peak over the tops of the trees in the distance. Stonewood rubbed his eyes with his left palm while his right hand smacked the desk in a futile attempt to find his phone... for some reason his fingers never decided to function so he just slapped his phone untill it was within an appropriate range. Seeing it was dead, he looked up at the clock and it read 0700. His relief was almost an hour late and apparently no one bothered to come in to wake him, so he sat up and awaited the Sgt Major, the Commander, and the rest of the Staff to come in.
Another Hour passed...
And soon Stonewood was wondering if he had missed something, was there some kind of morning meeting or battalion wide heart to heart going on that no one briefed him about? Stonewood stood up, his club of a foot clumping down on the ground, and he hobbled over to the window, looking out.
"Not a damn thing..." he said to himself, and what he said was pretty much true. There wasnt a single car, truck, or hummer on the road, and that was a very creepy thing to see on a Tuesday. Stonewood opened the door and walked outside. Now its not always wrong to hear gunshots on a military training base, however these seemed awfully close and the rate of fire did not match the usually staccato of a firing range. Stonewood, his broke ass leg thumping along like a piece of drift wood, limped along the road towards the gunfire, which seemed to be getting closer and more frantic the closer he got. Stonewood was covered in sweat by now, and once he finally crested the hill, a cool, refreshing breeze brought forth the smell of rotting, fetid meat. Stonewood was locked in place, the scene below him didnt quite register until after a few minutes, the smell bringing him back to the real world.
There were bodies... hundreds of bodies stacked onto each other. Stonewood realized that this was an entire Battalion of new privates, they lacked patches on either shoulder. It was an entire ocean of red and digital green, the bodies seemed to have fell upon eachother in droves. He followed the flow of the bodies and there were machine gun nests set up in a couple of old barracks buildings, and the guns were still burping away into the already dead bodies. This seemed bazaar to Stonewood, and he sat in awe watching this... and began to see why.
The bodies were still moving.
Thanks to the digital pattern he didnt see it, but almost half of the bloodied bodies were still moving, some just squirming, others crawling along the ground in an unnatural determination to reach the men behind the guns.
Stonewood stood on that hill for quite some time, the brilliant morning sun rising on the digital green sea, the spatters of blood from the guns rising like fish snapping after bugs in the wind. Finally, the squirming sea finally laid still, and guns went silent, and he could heard the sound of ammo belts being torn off and fresh boxes of ammo being cracked open. Stonewood stood there, watching...listening. Suddenly... Stonewood began falling... a brilliant blossom of blood flowing out from his neck, the flesh opening up like an orchid, and the dark crimson of fresh blood flowed down the front of his ACU jacket, a soft, almost sad gurgle emitting from his throat.
Stonewoods body hit the ground with a hallow thump, the soft babble of blood leaving his throat filling the silent morning air. His body twitched in futility, his good foot twitching back and forth, his knee flexing, his brain trying to give the command to get up. Stonewoods head fell to his left, his blood speckled eyes looking over at the windows. He saw a barrel poking out of the window, the big thick stub of a silencer taking up most of the barrel. A few angry gurgles came out of his neck, the air never finding its way to his mouth, his head rocking back and forth slowly. Soon... Stonewood didnt move at all, and lay silent, surrounded by the cooling river of his blood flowing down the hill.
It didnt take long for Stonewood to die.
It didnt take long, for Stonewood to start moving again.
And when he moved, his legs curling up to roll over, there was a sound of thunder.
(hopefully this turned out okay, going to try to write atleast 3 parts a week)