Conflict

Prologue

PROLOGUE

JAMIE

I t’s seven in the morning, and I’m bone tired.

I’d give anything for a peaceful night’s sleep right now, but that’s a long way off.

I’m up, washed, dressed and ready for the day ahead.

Tom, my best friend and comrade, slaps me on the back as he sits beside me to eat breakfast.

“Morning, Spooky.”

Rows of personnel are packed onto the bench seats that fill the tent, all hungry and need feeding before they go about their daily routine.

The smell of body odour intermingles with the smell of the bacon and eggs and hangs in the air, along with the sound of soldiers tucking into their breakfast.

The freezing night temperature abates as the early morning sun heats the canvas.

Light-hearted banter soon rises around the cookhouse, everyone’s more awake now their stomachs are full.

It’s not all doom and gloom.

Daily life is pretty much the same as it would be anywhere else in the world, doing any job; the only difference is we’re on deployment in Afghanistan.

“It’s poker night, you joining us?”

Tom asks me around a mouthful of scrambled egg and toast.

“Seven thirty, if you’re in.

I’ve got to message Scarlett first though; she’ll get twitchy if I don’t.”

I shake my head as I chuckle at an image of Scarlett that instantly pops into my head.

She’s feisty for sure, twitchy is an understatement.

She’ll go full-on batshit crazy if her brother doesn’t check in with her.

“Say ‘hi’ from me when you call home.”

I scoop the last forkful of beans into my mouth before I stand to leave the table.

I’ve got around five minutes before I need to be in the truck, that gives me enough time to text my mum.

I haven’t contacted home in a few days now, and although she doesn’t expect me to contact her daily when I’m away, I like to as much as possible.

I know it puts her mind at rest.

“I’ll be back in five, don’t leave without me.”

I joke.

There’s no chance in Hell of those trucks leaving until we’re all loaded in and ready to patrol the local area.

The messaging with Mum goes on longer than I envisaged.

I can sense the relief in her words, that I’ve thought to contact her and I feel a little guilty that I didn’t bother yesterday.

I promise to ring her later as I tell her I’m short on time and should’ve been out on patrol two minutes ago.

As I race through the base in the direction of the line of waiting Land Rovers, the early morning sun beats down on me, it’s going to be another scorcher of a day.

They’ll have my arse if I’m any later.

“Come on, Kasper!”

Tom bellows from the gun position of the first vehicle.

“You’re driving the second vehicle now, dickhead.”

I flick him the bird as I fling open the driver’s door of the second Land Rover and climb in.

As I turn the ignition and bring the truck to life, Scotty farts and fills the cab with noxious gas.

“Seriously? You smell like something has crawled up your arse and fucking died.”

I complain before I switch to mouth breathing.

The lads in the back of the truck howl with laughter.

The first and last vehicles signal they’re ready to go and we begin the first tour of the day.

All three trucks move slowly towards the base’s exit checkpoint.

I watch as Tom’s truck is waved through the barrier.

All my senses are now heightened as my mind focuses on the task in hand.

My vehicle is waved through the barrier next; I pull the truck out onto the dusty road and settle in line, at the required distance, behind Tom’s Landy.

The sun blinds me, I’m forced to slip my sunglasses over my eyes so I can focus on the journey ahead.

I scan the landscape, always on the lookout for even the slightest threat. The road to the nearest town is quiet as usual, and I settle a little as the nervous energy calms somewhat.

It’s day ninety-eight of two hundred.

I’ve travelled this road a few times now, I know the terrain like the back of my hand, this journey should take us just over twenty minutes.

That’s if we don’t encounter any snags along the way.

I continue to survey the road ahead, the safety of the team rests with me today.

We pass through these cornfields every day, and it unnerves me every damn time.

The vegetation provides the perfect cover for the enemy, you can never be certain that there isn’t anyone hiding amongst the crops.

Even the slightest breeze causes the sway of the almost six-foot crops, but I know the guys up top are scanning the fields, guns ready to take out any insurgents. The farmers work hard but always stop to acknowledge us with a wave or a salute of some sorts. They’ve come to appreciate why we’re here.

We’ve just passed the first cornfield and are approaching the crossroad when my concentration is sharply interrupted.

The scene that plays out in front of me sends my world into turmoil.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as sweat drips down my back, and I watch helplessly as Tom’s truck flies slowly through the air.

Dust jets from every nook of the vehicle, a deafening thunderclap of noise, and a billowing cloud of dust follows.

Shockwaves rock through my body.

I’m instantly dislodged from normal time as my foot slams down on the brake causing the vehicle to skid sideways as I bring my truck to a sudden halt.

Me and Scotty are jolted forwards, Scotty’s head makes contact with the windscreen as I’m jolted forwards against the steering wheel. The early morning light angles weirdly through the armoured windscreen of Tom’s truck as it appears to float above the road before crashing back to the ground on its roof in a hot, mangled mess. My blood runs cold as my heart hammers violently against my ribcage. The roof is crushed, the doors blown off and all six of the servicemen that were in the vehicle are now scattered lifelessly across the road.