Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33904527-20190212002053

Roger glanced around the desert once more. Nothing but the cloudless sky and the sand scattering in the wind. With nothing else to do, he checked his magazine, already knowing how many bullets he had. Full. Adjusting his helmet, Roger sighed and turned back to face Elliot.

“What a waste of time. It’s hot as hell in this uniform. I fucking hate being deployed in the desert. The sand’s more of a threat than anything I’ve seen so far.” Roger picked up a gloveful of the yellowish dust, letting it slip between his fingers.

“Yeah, if there were any actual threats out here. I can’t remember the last time we actually saw anything.” Elliot replied, staring off into the horizon, his visor dampening the bright sunshine.

“Me neither. Still, better than just sticking around back at base, getting yelled at by Sergeant Taylor.”

Elliot nodded. The pair moved onwards, barely bothering to check their surroundings. A cluster of curved dunes lay in the distance.

“Y’know, the-”

Elliot was interrupted by the whizzing of a bullet passing by his head, thumping into the sand below him. Keeping a level head, the two soldiers ducked behind a large rock, keeping their bodies away from the rock’s edges.

“Holy shit, that was close.” Roger said quietly.

“You’re telling me,” Elliot responded. “Did you see where it came from?”

“Somewhere up in one of those hills ahead. Out of range. Didn’t see the guy, though.”

“Well, I guess we’ve finally got us a target.” Elliot whispered, a grin on his face. The sun bounced proudly off his tanned complexion.

“Yeah, well, there’s two of us, and only one of him. If we sprint out from either side, we might both be able to make it to the dunes. Then, he’ll be finished.” Roger suggested.

“Sounds good.”

“Ok, when I say three, go. One…two…”

Roger shifted into a kneeling position, bracing himself to run. His teeth were gritted, his rifle held firmly in his hands.

“Three!”

Both men rushed for the dunes, running in curves to dodge the sniper’s bullets. A few more shots whizzed by Roger’s body as he looked back up to the dunes, trying to find the mystery attacker. Not even a scope flash in the sunlight. It was as if the bullets were shooting out of thin air.

Soon, the dunes were only a few more seconds of running away. Roger looked over to his fellow soldier, catching only a glimpse of his friend before a bullet passed straight through Elliot’s skull, dropping him to the sand. Roger rounded a corner, pushing his back against the flat side of rocky slope.

“Shit. God damnit. That Taliban fucker. I’ll fucking get him, Elliot.”

Rounding the slope, Roger aimed up at its peak, vengeance in his eyes. Nothing yet. Scowling, he began to ascend the jagged rocks.

Another whizz sounded through the air. Roger tumbled back down the slope, a bullet having sped straight through his temple. Motionless, he lay face down on the sand as the attacker let out a victorious cheer from around the side of another dune, turning back to the desert.

Roger wiggled his fingers, feeling his heart still pumping in his chest. No pain, no blood. He was alive. In shock, he picked himself up off the sand, reaching up to where the bullet had gone through. A thin wire was poking out into the air, sparkling slightly, amidst a large computer chip. On the side where the bullet had left, a slightly thicker cable and another computer chip resided peacefully within him.

“Structural damage detected.” A robotic voice within Roger’s head spoke. “''Repairing damage. Deleting memory of incident.''”

Roger felt his wounds slowly close, the wires being fitted back together. Within a few seconds, his skin was pieced back together as if there had been no injury at all. A sharp pain stabbed into his skull suddenly, causing him to wince.

Glancing around, Roger clutched his head, wondering how he had got to the dunes. There was a blurry area in his memory, clouding the immediate events of a few seconds ago.

Spotting the Taliban member, Roger aimed carefully, pulling the trigger. Multiple shots pierced through his body. The man let out a cry of pain, turning to face Roger. A dumbfounded expression sat upon his face, lingering just for a moment before he toppled off the dune, his blood staining the sands red.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Roger spun around.

“Roger, what…what the fuck just happened? We were getting shot at, and…” Elliot asked.

“Hell if I know. Completely empty space in my mind. We should tell the sarge about it. I got the fucker, though.”

Roger pointed to the attacker’s lifeless body in the sand.

“Nice one. Let’s head back to base; I’ve called for a chopper to pick us up.”

“Right. Maybe I’ll get a promotion for dropping this guy.”

Elliot chuckled.

“Heh. I doubt it.”

The two soldiers walked calmly away from the dunes, blissfully unaware. 