Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pistol raised, I darted around the corner of a large building on the edge of town. Looking down the sights of my weapon, I scanned the clearing and the woods beyond. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I holstered my weapon and scrambled over a low wall, then I dashed across the remaining twenty meters and slid next to my injured squad-mate. Five meters in front of us the forest loomed in the dual midday suns, an eerie silence radiating from the trees.

He was breathing raggedly, the strained sound filtering through the external speakers of his helmet. His tan faceplate was damaged, a long, jagged crack running from his left temple to his right cheek. The cracked translucent surface was struggling to hide his pale, grimacing face. His brown, dark green, and tan splotched body armor was crumpled like tinfoil from his impact with the trap, which had thrown him almost ten meters. The thick log still swayed crazily from its’ ropes as if laughing at its’ victim. The splotchy fabric covering his joints seemed to be growing darker at his right shoulder. Doing another quick look over his body, I connected my helmet to Frankinstan’s with a thin black cord and displayed Franky’s vital signs and a damage report on my heads-up-display.

“Franky, can you hear me?” I panted, eyeing the red flashing vital signs displayed in the lower left section of my HUD. A weak groan was the only acknowledgment I received. I tapped a button on my forearm’s armor where a touchscreen displayed several controls. The vitals display became an armor damage report with the tap of a button, a second tap changed it to a fracture and hemorrhage report. Six fractured ribs, a dislocated jaw, and a punctured right lung blared at me in red script.

“Damnit Doc! Wait for the rest of us!” came an angry bellow. Sergeant William Jones’ name and rank appeared in the top left portion of my HUD as he spoke. “Three-sixty security, you all know the drill!” he barked to the rest of the squad.

“Roger!” replied the other seven squad members in unison.

“And for the love of fuck, watch for traps!” Sergeant Jones reminded.

As the squad fanned out, creating a secure perimeter, Sergeant Jones hustled over to where I was working on Corporal David Franinstan’s armor, trying to unhitch the emergency latches. He punched a few buttons on his arm, creating an open, two-way channel with me.

“Doc, what’s Franky’s status?” he asked in a calm, albeit, gruff voice?

I glanced at him, struggling with the latch. Grunting, I said, “Multiple rib fractures, a dislocated jaw, and a punctured lung. His suit is damaged beyond repair, and his injuries my not all be accounted for.” I adjusted my grip, using both hands now. “If I can get the chest plate off, I should be able to improve his breathing. Either way, we need a medevac ASAP.” As Jones turned to issue his next commands, I said, “And, I could use an extra pair of hands.”

Sergeant Jones grunted as he closed our private channel. He turned, calling our radio specialist and a recruit over. With my attention now wholly back on Franky’s emergency release latches, I realized they had bent with the impact, causing them to stick closed. Moments later, straining, I freed Franky’s chest plate and was splattered by a spray bright red of blood. Recruit Solomon, the newest member of our squad, knelt beside me a second later. Fighting with the strap to my aid bag, I could see Solomon fumbling with the display on his arm, from the corner of my eye. I put a hand on his arm causing him to look up at me. I pointed to his knee and then to Franky’s right underarm while using my free hand to remove my aid bag. Apparently not understanding what I wanted, Solomon continued kneeling next to the bleeding man, dumbfounded. Frustrated, I slammed a button on my arm control, turning on my external speakers.

“I need you to put pressure on his armpit, with your knee. That should stop, or at least slow, the bleeding,” I explained, quickly. Solomon gave no sign of comprehension. Grabbing his shoulders, I began to shake life into him. Solomon’s daze evaporated a second later. As Solomon did what I had instructed, I began pulling out my supplies; a large needle to decompress his chest cavity, a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, a vial of pain medication, a needle-catheter with IV tubing, and 2 packets of whole blood.

“Doc, I don’t think this pressure is helping…” Solomon sputtered, after managing to open a channel with me. Glancing at the wound, I could clearly see blood, still spitting from underneath Solomon’s knee.

“Shit,” I muttered, forgetting that my external speakers were on. More than one head turned my way, and I ignored them as I switched to Solomon’s channel. Fishing in my bag, I grabbed a large syringe with small white balls inside it. After removing it from its strap, I showed it to Solomon. “You remember what I taught you to do with this?” Solomon nodded weakly. “Well, get to it!”

Handing the syringe over, I checked Frankinstan’s vital readings. A dangerously high blood pressure, plummeting heart rate, and catastrophically low breathing rate screamed at me in flashing red lettering.

As I was beginning to work on his other injuries, Corporal Frankinstan began thrashing about; then he fell still once more. The five-second episode scattered my supplies, and dislodged Solomon, his task only half complete.

“Hurry up,” I barked at Solomon, “I need your help with other stuff!”

Solomon fumbled with the syringe, almost dropping it to the dirt, before regaining some control and finishing his task. While he worked, I began by inserting the large needle into his chest, allowing the trapped air to escape. Frankinstan seemed to breathe a bit easier, though still grimaced with pain. Checking Franky’s vital signs once more, I put away the pain medication. I was unwilling to risk his shallow breathing with a medication that slows it further. Noticing that Solomon was just sitting nearby, waiting for instruction, I said, “Take off his left sleeve and glove; then set up the litter.”

The recruit scrambled around to Franky’s other side and pulled the sleeve and glove free in one quick motion. As he turned to set up the litter, I started an IV in the back Franky’s hand. Moments later, blood was flowing into Frankinstan’s body. After disconnecting my helmet from Franky’s, I rolled him onto his side, while Solomon slid the litter into position. We rolled Franky’s body on top of the litter, and I could hear the faint sound of an incoming Osprey medevac, and it’s two Apache escorts.

I stuffed my supplies back in my bag and threw it over my shoulder as Private First Class Stanley Osmond appeared at the foot of the litter. Frankinstan began convulsing again, almost falling off the an. Watching helplessly, Sergeant Jones’ voice sounded in my ears. “The town’s central square is our LZ. We have 5 minutes to get there, the bird won’t land unless we’re ready. Let’s move out!”

“We need to wait for his convulsions to stop before we move him,” I warned, switching to the squad frequency.

“How long will that be?” demanded Jones.

“I’m not sure.” was all I could reply. Half a second later, as if his unresponsive mind understood the implications of missing the medevac, Frankinstan lay still. Before anyone else could move, I propped Franky’s backpack under his head and shoulders, suspecting he had a brain injury.

“Let’s go,” barked Jones, and everyone started for the town square, Solomon and Osmond carrying Frankinstan’s battered body. The squad moved in a protective diamond, checking and clearing all surrounding roads as we passed. Solomon almost dropped the litter twice, his gloves were slick with blood. Three minutes later, everyone came to a stop at the square’s edge, panting and ready for a quick rest. It was short-lived, with the Osprey landing less than a minute later, and the flight medic stepping out to receive my report. Running up to the medic, I switched to my external speakers, the litter team and patient close behind.

“What’s the sich?” bellowed the flight medic over the thrumming of the engines.

“He’s got a hemorrhage in his right axillary which is controlled by a hemostatic agent. A punctured right lung, an NCD was used to relieve the pressure. His jaw is dislocated, according to his suit’s report. And he’s got increased intracranial pressure. I have whole blood running, and his vitals are slowly stabilizing.” I yelled.

As I was finishing my report, the flight crew secured Franky into the bird. The flight medic gave me a thumbs up to show he understood and I turned to go.

I only took three steps before the first Apache was engulfed in a giant fireball.