Fox

Kandahar province, Shorabak district, Fort Col. Stiller

A scorching sun soared high over the dust and the sweltering ancient lands of tan rock sand.

Jutting out of this ocean of rock and sand, was the colorless grey of reinforced concrete surrounding a military compound; an oasis of grey and steel, amidst waves of uneasy tension.

Within the main building at the center of the compound I had been probing my way to a straight answer from my lieutenant,

"Sir I just don't understand the lack of communication going on around the TACCOM, we've been ordered to get up early every day to do CQC drills, and heavy breach assignments. This has gone on for three weeks now. And I think me and the other NCOs deserve to know, sir."

The Lieutenant stopped in his tracks. He looked around before getting close to me.

He hushed his voice waved me to lean closer.

"Look Sergeant, I'm going to be completely frank here, we got the word, understand? We have to act now, because if we don't, guess who's going to be sniffing up our skirts; bloody NATO pencil-pushers"

I tried to hide my surprise as he continued.

"James, we recently got word of a large American mobilization to the north in Spin Boldak, the commander there has a bad habit of not including us Canadians until they're in too deep or the storms already passed. Colonel Harrison doesn't want to miss the party this time and knows something big is going down, that's why all the hush-hush."

I nodded,

"Is this about Pakistan?"

The lieutenant near-blew his top,

"ARE YOU..."

He hushed down after noticing a few eyes beginning to glance our way.

"…Shitting me Fawks?!"

He slowed his speech and spun his head surveying the room; the few people who looked our way went back to their conversations or files.

When I looked back, he had already started walking towards the hallway, waving me to follow. After walking out of the commons the lieutenant headed towards the Communications room. Tugging the door open he ushered me in, I quickly followed.

"How the fuck did you hear about that?" he put his coffee down on a nearby computer desk.

I immediately gave my answer,

"I overheard several of the men this morning mention Pakistan and something about an operation, one with a name, sir."

He looked in disbelief at me,

"Alright Sergeant, yes there is going to be an OP, and yes Pakistan is involved."

I let out a breath at the confirmation.

"You have to keep your boys shut up tight; keep the talkin' for the Brass only, okay?"

I nodded and he heaved,

"Did they say anything else?"

I shook my head,

"No sir, after one said Pakistan, wild theories began flying so I tuned out. I only took Pakistan and the OP as possible truths."

He nodded and picked his coffee back up.

"Okay look Fawks; I want this to stay in this room right, no further."

I perked up, he was getting really serious. He paused to take a deep breath.

"Okay, today at O' nine fifteen there will be a general briefing of the COs as well as a few NCOs to spread it down the chain; you will be one of those NCOs so here's the heads up. At the briefing Colonel Harrison will outline "Operation: Roerich's Drift" this is going to be a joint-operation that will be reaching across the border into Pakistan. The Americans, us and a British airborne division will be carrying out a high level S&D sweep in the Pakistani mountains near the border."

He tilted his mug to his mouth and took a sip.

"That's all I'm going to tell you now, don't spread this around to anyone, you get me?"

I nodded and saluted "Of course sir, I get you."

He sipped again and returned the salute.

"Good," unlocking the door he peered around the corner and slipped out silently.

I came to ease after he left, breathing heavy from the weight of this information. I shook my wrist to get my watch out from underneath my jacket sleeve, it read 8:49.

I looked up out of the comms room, and quickly made my way towards the outer doors. Heading out the hot sandy air hit my face, and the sun greeted my eyes with a reddening embrace.

I started into a jog and began heading towards my regiment's barracks area. Passing a few people commented,

"Where's the fire sir?"

Eliciting a few laughs from their friends. I just focused on getting to my building. Peering down the rows of concrete bungalows I sped up to try and reach my doors with enough time to get ready.

A few privates that were coming out of the door held it for me as they saluted. I didn't have the time to slow down and return the courtesy I could only spare a "Thanks." in between breaths.

Jumping through the doors the ice air of the fans was a welcomed luxury. After navigating the main hall and groups of soldiers enjoying R&R I barged into the bunkroom and made my way towards my foot locker.

Flipping open the trunk I rooted through to find my field notebook and a good pen. While there I also grabbed my canteen and turned to fill it at the nearby fountain. As I passed the bunks on the one closest to the door sat the three other sergeants in our platoon playing Texas hold 'em. Barely looking up from the game, Sergeant Hobbs caught my attention,

"In a rush there Fox?"

Holding the leaver on the water fountain I held the canteen to the spout and I looked away from the flowing water. I smiled as Hobbs tilted an eyebrow.

"You won't guess who was spilling HICOM Intel"

Hobbs turned back around and the three of them looked at each other briefly before throwing their cards down to turn to me.

"Who?"

I smiled and I tried to keep my voice low,

"Lieutenant Wilson,"

They all had puzzled faces and I huffed,

"You know, the one from 2nd platoon,"

Still none of them knew the name; I looked back to the water,

"He has the broken nose, it's really noticeable, it's tilted like…"

I paused searching for a number.

"Forty degrees …"

Hobbs and Ike both nodded and 'oohed while Jen sat still dumbfounded. She shook her head again but waved me to get on with it. I turned around from the fountain and screwed the top back on,

"Anyway I ask him for some clarity about something I had overheard this morning, he then goes on to tip me off big-time about something involving the colonel and the Marines to the north." Hobbs went bug eyed and Jen and Ike looked down.

"Something's going to happen today, and there's a meeting at o' nine fifteen I gotta head to now."

Jen and Hobbs stood up and Hobbs spoke

"Whoa slow down there, we're heading with you."

I shook my head as I walked out the doors,

"Invitation only boys an' girl. I'll be back soon to spread the word!"

I set out of the doors in a jog, as they closed behind me I think I heard Hobbs yell "Son-of-a-bitch!" Checking my watch it read 8:54, passing one of the speaker poles an announcement came roaring on. The Crackling had always made the Comms officer sound hard to understand, and his thick Newfy accent didn't help.

"All CO's on-base and selected NCOs are to report to the briefing room at o' nine hundred. That is all."

Several barracks doors flew open and the officers began to pour out in light jogs or very brisk walks, I headed towards the main building to try and beat them; HICOM always likes punctuality.

Entering the cool concrete block that was the base's hub I passed several milling corporals who quickly saluted as I made my way to the briefing room. I didn't look back but I did wonder how long they would be standing there with over 15 officers and NCOs passing them saluting.

Lieutenant Wilson was speaking the truth, the Colonel was there and the OP was going to be very real. I took my seat not at the front but the mid-row, entering the briefing room always made me feel like back at college during a lecture.

The colonel was adjusting his LCD projector and looked up at me briefly,

"Take your seat son."

I nodded and gave him a curt salute he returned it full-heartedly. Everyone began to come in and sit down, most were panting and a few were shaking in anticipation, in all honesty I was too.

I'd never been in the same room with the Colonel before, and the gravity of the situation continued to grow as my inner-self, started over-thinking the current events. The Colonel waited after everyone sat to begin.

"Someone get the lights."

First Lieutenant Carson, a real QB and an ass-kisser, jumped up to facilitate the Colonel's request. He glanced at her and spoke calmly,

"Thank you."

Looking back down he clicked begin on the slideshow. The first image to come up was a comprehensive satellite image of the mountain range right on the Pakistan-Afghanistan border.

"Three days ago we received confirmation on a high concentration of Taliban insurgents in this area of the Diwably mountains, down here in the northern plain at the base of the highest peak is an abandoned Russian air force base kept over from the old regime."

Everyone nodded and I began writing down the information.

"This will be Operation: Roerich's Drift, so here's the plan, we're going to hit it. In-force, and in conjunction with the Americans, now as of ten minutes ago the Brits were going to have an Airborne division help us out, but due to the time constraints they won't be able to make it to arrive and do any good. Since the plans have changed and the time is now a larger factor we will need to move now before people start asking questions and everyone loses the will to get this done."

Clicking the slide to change it now displayed a map of the area we'd be hitting.

"Now in three hours the Americans will be hitting directly from the north utilizing a Hum-V column. We will be coming in along the mountain range in our Blackhawks in two."

Everyone grew deadly silent; the Colonel looked down and drew a heavy breath.

"Now all our men have been drilled extensively for an operation like this so it's time to put all those early morning practices into use. Captain Hurly and Captain Fisher, Lieutenants, Sergeants, Go round up your men; we have half an hour of prep-time. Make it count."

After he finished the Captains got up and started yelling,

"You heard the man, half an hour, Get your asses in gear!"

I jumped to my feet and shuffled past everyone rushing for the door. We all seemed to get out the front of the building at the same time, sprinting to our respective Barracks to give out the orders. When I got to mine the sergeants were standing at the entrance waiting for me. Hobbs spoke first,

"So?"

I huffed to catch my breath. Then I told them to get the platoon ready for combat, in less than twenty minutes the whole building was standing outside in rows as Ike and Jen did roll call. Everyone was prepped, equipped and ready for a combat drop. Jen and Ike nodded "All present and accounted for Fox, ready to head out."

I nodded and turned to our Lieutenant,

"We're all here sir, ready and willing." He adjusted his belt.

"Roger that; PLATOON, GET TO THE CHOPPERS!"

Everyone responded with a "Huzzah" and began running to the waiting helicopters.

We'd be the first of the regiment to land in the shit and I wasn't sure we'd be ready for what was about to happen. After the first hour of transit one of the pilots turned to me and the men in the Cabin, "See them mountains?"

We all nodded and looked through the door windows.

"That there is Pakistan, in twenty minutes we'll pass the border and this will become an Illegal operation."

I nodded to him and he started laughing as he turned back to his controls. I leaned against the crux of the door and the cabin wall and I tugged my helmet straps tight.

"You, you're Jason right?"

I pointed at one of our newer privates and he leaned towards me.

"It's Jackson, sir."

I gave a cringe and apologized.

"Sorry Jackson, uh, can you wake me when we're near the LZ?"

He nodded and I thanked him, closing my eyes I tried to find some calm before the coming storm.

After a while of peaceful darkness, he tapped my boot with his rifle butt.

"Sir, we're getting close!"

I dazedly waved him off before almost falling asleep again; thankfully my sensible side kicked me awake.

"Thanks Jaso- Jackson."

He smirked before responding;

"No problem sir."

He turned back to the others in the chopper as they were all chatting. I sat up from my bench seat and walked into the 'chopper's cockpit.

I leaned into the tight space and spoke;

"How far out are we?"

The first pilot who had spoken earlier looked down through the glass under our feet,

"Uh well see those moving dust clouds below us? Those are the American Hum-Vs. We're going to be dropping you boys off after they've begun the engagement."

I nodded and patted him on the shoulder,

"Thanks."

Heading back to my seat I looked out the window to see if I could make anything out below. The second pilot leaned back and yelled loudly,

"Heads up we're coming in low, about 5 minutes from the LZ. Hold on!"

Descending quickly the helicopters all began to draw into attack formation. The first pilot turned back around briefly to yell

"OPEN THE DOORS!"

I nodded and pointed at the gal closest to the left door to open it while I, being the closest to the right, opened the right. Below us the American Hum-Vs began forming a line as the air base grew closer to us.

Some of the trigger happy gunners in the Hum-Vs began firing at the concrete towers dotting the large security walls around the base. It was less than a minute before they began firing back.

I jumped on the doorway Fifty Cal, and began revving it up. The Hum-Vs all dispersed and began to engage; emptying their squads of Marines who began opening up on the compound while maintaining a forward momentum.

Our Helicopter banked left and came low for a run along the towers.

Holding down the triggers I focused on one of the larger towers and I began peppering the building, shattering all the glass and turning the corrugated steel roof into a slice of Swiss cheese.

On the Comms the pilot told us he'd try to get us on the eastern side which had lighter defenses. Before he could however out of one of the towers an insurgent emerged with a large Russian disposable single use RPG.

In the split second I had I screamed out "RPG!"

As soon as I did however that distinct scream of the rocket erupted over the sound of the rotors. And I saw the trail of smoke before I felt the impact. I assumed that it hit us in-between the tail and the main body of the chopper because we started into a spiral over a hundred meters from the ground, I smashed my forehead onto the handgrips of the gun and I definitely suffered a concussion, blood started pouring down my face and into my eyes taking away my vision.

With a sudden jerk I fell backwards and I hoped to all hell I wouldn't fall out of the helicopter. Thankfully someone had grabbed the back of my Kevlar bag by the handle and kept me within the cabin, a familiar voice yelled,

"I GOT YOU SIR!"

The sound of the wind rushing around me and the deafening whooping of the dash alarms added to my growing sickness, the spiraling started speeding up and we began getting thrown up and down violently.

My stomach couldn't handle it and I'm pretty sure that I threw up across the door gun. The pilots were the most recognizable sound I could comprehend. The last few words I ever heard the two men say were,

"We are going down!"

Whether it was at the same time or after I wasn't sure but there was the roar of an explosion, it all became black and then silence followed.

I awoke much to my surprise to find that I wasn't dead, but I sure as hell felt like it. My legs felt as if they were torn from their sockets and put back in, by forehead was pulsing with a terrible migraine, and my right hand was hurting the most; it seemed like my index finger and middle finger had been cut off and reattached poorly.

I moved my left arm to my face and I scraped the dried blood away from my eyes to bring my right hand into view.

The index finger and the middle finger were bent the wrong way and the pain intensified as I looked in disbelief at the mangled limb, with my black glove on I couldn't tell if the fingers were broken or dislocated, so I ended up willing myself to do the single most painful thing I've ever done to myself in my life.

Tugging the Velcro band on the wrist of the glove free I had enough leverage to pull it off, I did so lightly and tried as hard as I could to not touch the fingers.

I yelped as the glove scrapped along the length of my hand. And upon seeing my bulging knuckles I felt immediately nauseous. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus.

Okay, they are not broken, only dislocated. I've got to push them back into place.

I almost sobbed at the idea of forcing them back into position.

"Whew okay, you can do this, just grab it."

I wrapped my left hand tightly around the index finger and held back a screech, "And Pull!"

While pulling it out and then popping it back into place I let out a scream of pure pain. Adrenaline began coursing through my body and the pain numbed slightly as I struggled to breathe.

"Okay one more, you got this, one more, Pull out AAND PUSH!"

Snapping the middle finger back into place hurt even more and I felt a hot tear stream down my face, collecting flakes of dried blood along the way.

"Goddamn this hurts!" I screamed out loud.

But immediately I stopped and spoke without thinking; "Wa-Wait,"

I looked around me; there was no mountain range, no air base, no sound of helicopters and no Hum-Vs.

I was under the crest of a sandy dirt hill with a few chunks of charred metal surrounding me. And it was quiet, around me there was nothing but that high pitched buzzing often heard in deserts in the movies. No sign of life and no sign of a crash or a skirmish. I felt that cool wave of terror wash over my body; it was one of those ones that make you realize you should have taken a piss earlier in the day.

My legs seized up on me and refused to move, my bladder cried for release and my fingers didn't hurt anymore.

The rocky sand was replaced by fine beach-like sand with tiny islands of grass dotting the landscape.

This was a savanna, and I was alone, helplessly, hopelessly and certainly alone. I desperately looked around for anything of remote familiarity and I found none, I followed my rifle strap digging into my shoulder and grabbed hold of its familiar steel. Bringing it in front of me I cocked it with my left hand and held it lefty while I rested the barrel on my right forearm the hand still in no position to be of any use.

I looked down the slide of my C7A2 and saw the entire chamber was filled with sand; useless. I rested the rifle along my knees as I reached across to my right leg to open my holster and pull out my sidearm, finding it too was filled with sand. I shoved the useless pistol back into its home and clipped it shut, then I re slung the rifle across my back. I bent as I reached to my left boot for my one surefire weapon; the combat knife. Bringing it up closer to my torso I stabbed it into the sand beside me so I could use my good hand to help push myself into a standing position.

As I got higher I was able to greater view the new land I found myself in. I was overwhelmed with the expansive openness of sand around me, there were sparse collections of trees dotting ridges here and there but for the most part it looked like a Texan prairie.

I reached into my left front pocket for my GPS, pulling it out the screen was cracked and the plastic edges had been shattered; broken. I put it back away. Bringing my hand to my side I searched my belt for my small hand held radio.

Bringing it off its clip it was drowned in sand and like the GPS also cracked on the screen and broken along the plastic sides. "Well, that's just great."

I re-clipped the broken equipment on my belt as a force of habit, before reaching into one of my leg pouches for the hard copy of the area grid-map and my combat compass. The compass was rotating around and around trying to determine north. My heart started racing as a thought began to burrow into my head,

"Maybe I'm dead."

I looked up from the map and compass towards the horizon. Then I steeled myself; "No I'm not dead, I doubt my hand would have hurt that bad if I were."

Getting a little steadier on my feet I turned while looking around, nothing looked like Afghanistan. I bent over and picked up my knife, now facing the hill I decided to climb it and get a better view of my new surroundings.

Once I reached the top I looked in the direction that was previously behind me and I gazed in utter surprise at the barren rocky hills giving way to a lush impenetrable forest. That's when I lost it, terror and panic welled in my chest and my hands shook. I was at the moment when noise wasn't physically possible, neither was moving.

But on the inside I wept and I screamed, oh God I screamed "Good God where the fucking hell am I?! Those trees aren't normal, this isn't Afghani desert and I'm all alone, what the goddamn hell has happened to me!? WHERE AM I?"

I fell to my knees, and it seemed that it was the only thing I could control. I stared straight out at the dirt path, worn from what looked like a lot of recent activity.

Along it my eyes stopped at a heaped black shape with what looked like a person bent over top of it. I didn't believe in a god but I certainly started thanking one, my feet came out of their entropy and I jumped up into a run.

I began yelling in Arabic, I didn't care if he was friendly or not I just wanted to see another living thing out here. There was a satisfying feeling when my boots made contact with the harder surfaced path and I began to think; I might just get out of this alive.

At a near sprint I began to yell at the man,

"Ha harra! Ma'kumalic sar sari!?"

His back was towards me and when he heard my voice he turned immediately, and I stopped in my tracks. He wasn't an Afghani or Pakistani, he wasn't even fucking human. His face was a grizzled mug with two gruff tusks protruding from his mouth; he had a wiry black beard and an ebony ponytail.

But the most striking of all his features was that he was green, a bright sickly colored hue of green. I quickly went over his attire; his clothing was made with thick rough leather. Hell he looked like a burlier, green version of Conan.

On his belt was what caught my eye even more than his face, a thick, worn serrated long sword. I then looked at what he was hunched over, it looked like a cow, an upright bi-pedal fully clothed cow. I immediately fell cold, this is not real, this is not possible, and this isn't real!

The gruff green monster drew his sword and began sprinting at me, a lot faster than his demeanor suggested he was capable of.

I felt like I shit my pants, and I let out a yelp, by instinct I reached for my slung rifle. But remembered it, and my sidearm were filled with sand.

As the creature got closer I immediately was hit with a dose of instinctual; fight or flight syndrome. My hands shook and my chest heaved, a crazy idea popped into my head; Doge him. He brought his sword high above his head and brought it down towards where I used to stand, I side-hopped and rolled to right beside his legs.

When I came out of the roll he had turned around and now it was my turn to start running. He roared as he charged after me, I was heading towards the giant forest with the deluded idea that I would lose him in it.

Passing the dead bi-pied cow I only gave it a quick glance. Protruding out of its abdomen was a large chunk of charred metal. I would have given it more thought but as it were I was running for my life. The green monster was obviously not good at long distance, and his heavy foot falls became less prominent the closer I got to the forest, all my common sense told me not to turn my head around.

But my curiosity got the best of me, and I looked back. The green monster had stopped completely at the body of the cow and picked something up. I couldn't tell from this distance so I turned back around.

Whistling over my head an arrow imbedded itself into the rocky earth, a cold sweat started. Good fucking god that was close. I began adding a serpentine pattern to my running; he almost got me two more times before I reached the forest. I kept running into the thick underbrush without looking back again, I simply stared forward and avoided the occasional low hanging branch. I ran and ran until my blood pumped what felt like acid, my will was fueled only by my utter terror.

The sound of the desert hissing left my ears and when I finally slowed down for air my head became filled with chirping, buzzing crickets and other fauna. I turned around, my knife ready, and that's when I noticed in my panic stricken running I went off the path a long way back and I was in no way willing to go back the way I came to try and get onto it.

I turned forward again to face the mass of green before me without thinking I walked forward for a little while to give myself a little more range from the desert. And then my body gave me back control of everything.

I walked to the nearest tree, to sit. That's all I need to do, sit down, get my breath, and then get my bearings. I sat between two large roots protruding from the tree and I drew my rifle, grabbing the handle with my right hand I winced in pain as I tried to fight through it. The whole while thinking; is this real? That sand felt real, this pain; its real. Those creatures earlier were real enough.

Once again I came to my biggest and most important unanswerable question "Where the fuck am I?" I opened the chamber on my rifle and I started to blow and clean the sand out of the ejector and bolt. I de-assembled the firing chamber quickly to make sure it would actually work.

Doing something so familiar was a calming and needed feeling; anything to distract me was welcome. After a quick strip the weapon became operational, I loaded the mag in silently and cocked it. That weird feeling came over me, I wasn't alone.

That thing had followed me. I took my helmet off and I threw it onto the forest floor. I leaned deeper into the tree while leveling my rifle. I waited for what seemed like ten minutes, each second pain began a siege on my nerves. My forehead hurt and my fingers screamed, my legs felt like rebar had torn through the muscles and my lungs felt too small for their job.

But I waited, I knew he was coming and my trap was set: it wasn't elaborate and it wasn't smart. But it would work. I hazarded a look at my watch, not even four minutes had passed. I whispered a fuckin hell and was prepared to give up when I heard a twig crack and I grew silent. I drew a deep breath and prepared.

A rustle of a bush to my right gave the brute away. He huffed loudly and walked towards my helmet, ignorant of his corners. I aimed at the base of his neck as he bent over to pick up my helmet.

He turned and looked around for me, and when he turned toward me I fired. His face was one of surprise and panic; he dropped my helmet and clutched his throat as his artery spewed out. He staggered back and dropped his sword to bring his right hand up as well.

I fired again, into his abdomen and he tripped backwards, I fired a third time into his forehead and made sure he wouldn't get up.

The forest was silent no bugs hissing, no birds chirping.

I killed a living creature and the world around me knew. I picked up my helmet and ran; it was all I wanted to do and all I could. I kept going until I came to a pond.

I panted heavily and struggled to keep an even breath. I bent to my knees and dropped my gun and helmet. I struggled to get my left glove off I and I washed the dried blood off my face and with it I tried to force that creature out. I took a deep breath and reached for my canteen. I am okay now, I am alone, and I am safe. I took a drink and stood up.

The forest ambiance returned and I looked around. There was something odd about this little pond, white stone pillars came out of the ground here and there and the whole clearing had an ancient feel. I screwed the top to my canteen on and re-clipped it to my belt.

Slightly bending over I picked up my helmet and rifle, keeping my eyes constantly vigil. There was something peculiar about this place. I clipped my helmet on and had my rifle ready. I moved towards one of the larger fallen over columns, they looked almost Greek but had no tops; they were purely decorative. I walked around it and on the edge of the pond lay a pair of shoes. Puzzled I bent over and was about to pick them up when something hit me over the back of the helmet.

I fell forward and tried to turn around when someone pounced on my back and started strangling me. I dropped my rifle and grabbed at my attacker's arm, I was expecting to feel a rough hairy arm but instead I wrapped my fingers around a smooth, thin and what felt like a woman's arm.

I tried to pull it off but her grip was like steel. With my right hand I tried to keep my body off the ground and with my left I abandoned the arm to reach around and try to grab her hair or something, she grabbed my left wrist and pushed it to the ground.

The sudden jerk and her weight on top of mine were too much for my weak right hand and I flattened onto it and my rifle. I started gagging and choking struggling under her grip, I tried bucking her off; it gave me enough slack to move my right arm.

I positioned my right arm to push me onto my side in a roll. I snapped my head back to try and hit a head if I could, they moved and let go of my left wrist giving me enough of an opportunity; pushing now with both arms I was able to force a roll and I had turned belly up to face my assailant.

I drew in rapid breaths and she crouched hovering over me, a dagger in her hand pressed up to my throat. My heart almost stopped, my attacker was just so alien. She had vanilla white hair tied back into a ponytail, deep silver eyes, and huge ears almost the length of my forearm with piercings all along dotting them.

Her skin was a silky light shade of purple with the occasional dark purple tattoo, she was totally alien. I looked her over quickly before returning to her motionless eyes. She stared at me, and I stared right back.

My breathing was still uncontrollable and made even more so by her appearance. She was utterly flawless, probably the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. I was staring too long evidentially and she dug the knife in forcing me to look up.

I brought my hands up and she grew tense, that's when I noticed her legs wrapped around my abdomen and hips with her ass resting on my stomach. I almost let out a laugh, but instead I smiled. She was perplexed and eased up the knife while she leaned to face me.

She raised one of her well groomed eyebrows and her lips parted while she stared at my features. Her eyes darted around my face then she looked over my chest and all the different things on it.

I turned my head to the side and she paid the movement no mind, looking down my left I could see her leg on the ground digging into me and past that, my combat knife sticking out of my boot.

Moving silently I tried to reach for it and she made the mistake of looking where I was. She eased up the knife under my neck as she turned to look and I took the opportunity to push her back with my free right hand.

As I put my palm on her sternum to shove, she let out a yelp of surprise and while doing so her legs loosened their grip and I was able to sit up, giving me enough strength to push her onto her back while simultaneously pulling my knife out of my boot. As she fell back I brought my knife to her neck, and was prepared to get into the same position she had on me when a shock I didn't see coming, came.

She kneed me in the balls as hard as she could. I dropped the knife and fell to the side winded and clutching my groin.

I yelled into the ground and bit my lip as the pain was ungodly. She jumped to her feet and picked up both her knife and mine. I punched the ground with my left hand as hard as I could to try and relieve the pain. She walked to my side and easily pushed me on my back with her barefoot. I looked her in the eye and she had a face on that resembled a wince. I couldn't really tell.

She stood and watched me groan in pain for a few seconds before kneeling beside me. She sheathed her knife into her belt and she stabbed mine into the ground. Without hesitation she grabbed my back and helped me into a sitting position.

She sat down beside me and I would have looked at her but I was too focused on grabbing my groin. When the pain had finally numbed to the point I could think, I looked up at her and I said the only thing, aside from the pain, that was on my mind.

"What the hell are you?"