Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Noah
We move under a blanket of darkness, doing our best to go unnoticed.
I lead our team of five, my best friends, as our full troop follows behind us.
The importance of my role in this team is always at the forefront of my mind.
My decisions, my choices, impact not just me, but us all.
Even at night, the desert air is thick and humid, making it hard to take a clear breath.
The weight of the helmet adds pressure to the base of my skull, and I’ll be relieved when I can take the fucker off.
I scan the surrounding buildings, looking for clues, shadows, anything that could indicate we are in danger. We walk in formation, Scotty ahead of me, Brad to my left, and Jack and Harry behind, so I can swing my gaze between them all.
We have a couple of miles before we reach safety, and I focus on the cool shower I’ll have, the ration pack of food I’ll devour, and the cot bed I’ll sleep in that, on any other day, would feel like torture, but when you have slept on the desert ground for nights on end, those things feel like luxury.
Gravel crunches beneath my boots, and something out of the corner of my right eye catches my attention.
I turn my head and see nothing, but the sinking feeling that something is off won’t leave me.
I turn my head again, and there, through a tiny window in a derelict stone building, the moon reflects off something shiny.
Before I can yell a warning, everything happens in slow motion.
Gunshots are fired, Scotty falls to the ground, and then chaos ensues.
I run to Scotty to cover him, while Brad moves to shield me and begins shooting.
I tug on my radio, yelling so aggressively I don’t recognize my own voice.
“Chaos six, this is Chaos One, Contact, wait out.” My head snaps to the side, taking in my surroundings, trying to figure out where the shot came from, and then, more shots fire from surrounding buildings and echo in the air.
Dirt kicks up as bullets ricochet off the ground.
Smoke and the scent of gunpowder invade my nostrils, making me lightheaded.
The sound of metal being hit pings off a nearby vehicle, and then, something whistles past my ears, and Jack roars in pain.
Fuck, he’s been hit.
I’m not sure where he’s been hit, but I look over to see between the dust clouds that he and Harry have taken cover behind a truck, still firing, but Scotty is unmoving on the ground, blood soaking his vest. I need to get him out of here before he bleeds out; I need to get us all out of here.
Alive. Smoke hangs thick in the air, blanketing us, stinging my eyes and almost choking me.
I roll Scotty over onto his back. Blood covers his neck and chest, and I freeze. My head swims and everything seems to slow for a second as I stare down at my best friend, my brother.
No, Scotty, no.
The sound of a machine gun shocks me back to the present, alerting me that I need to act fast, and get him the fuck out of here. I reach for my radio with a shaky hand, and press the button.
“Chaos Six, this is Chaos One. We’re pinned down, troops in contact, taking heavy fire! One urgent casualty. Request immediate support. Over.”
The radio crackles to life.
“Chaos One, this is Chaos Six, roger, MEDEVAC inbound. ETA eight mikes. QRF moving to your position now, over.”
Eight minutes. Fuck, I need to move him.
“Stay with me, Scotty,” I whisper, and it sounds more like a desperate plea than a command. I clamp my hands around his ankles, keeping my head ducked as a continuous stream of rounds are fired, and I drag his limp body across the sandy ground.
Helicopters, gunshots, grenades, yelling, shouting, voices all ring out around me as I get him into a nearby abandoned building. I shove an old wooden table and chairs to make room and lay him on a dusty rug.
I take his helmet off and try to find the bullet wound. My stomach sinks when I see it just above his collarbone, blood pouring from it. I press my gloved fingers into the wound to stop the bleeding, and it earns me a reaction.
His eyes flicker, and when I hear his gravelly voice groaning, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Scotty, hey. Hey, talk to me, buddy.
He moves his head, and it adds pressure to his neck, and more blood pours out between my fingers.
Fuck, I need help. I radio Brad, and he’s in the compound in seconds.
“It’s his neck,” I yell at Brad as I press the palm of my hand over the wound so firmly, I’m worried I’ll crush his neck, but I need to stop the bleeding.
“Come on, buddy, you’re not going out like this. Stay with us.” I yell at him over the noise of the gunfire.
Brad tosses his bag to the floor and gets out the first aid supplies.
“Tori,” Scotty croaks.
“She’s fine, buddy. Let’s fix you,” I reassure him.
“I didn’t tell her…” He gasps like he’s fighting for his next breath, and I know this doesn’t look good for him.
Brad rips open the bandages, passing them to me, and then takes out an IV bag as the sound of grenades and firearms exploding around us fills the space, and I pray all my men are still standing at the end of it.
“You can call her when we get you back to camp.” I try to say as calmly as possible, as I try and press the gauze to where the bullet entered his neck, but the way the blood is seeping through my fingers, this isn’t looking good.
Fuck.
“I don’t think this is going to work; we need to close this fucking wound,” I bark at Brad, my tone panicked as he tugs up Scotty’s sleeve, looking for a vein to put the IV in.
“Tell her I love her,” he rasps.
“You can tell her yourself, buddy, okay? Just stay with me, Scotty. Keep your fucking eyes open, you hear me?” I shout, gripping his face in my free hand.
“Look after her…” He gasps.
“Scotty?” I scream.
“Promise.” He says the word like it took every last bit of his strength to say it.
“I promise,” I say on a shaky breath, panic flooding my body as I helplessly watch the light leave his eyes. He stares blankly at me, and a roar rips from my chest.
Brad tugs the quick release on Scotty’s bulletproof vest, ripping open his shirt and beginning chest compressions.
I keep my hand on his neck, his blood flow now slowing down, alerting me that he’s slipped away. “Wake up, Scotty, come on,” I plead.
Brad counts as he administers chest compressions, and I feel for a pulse, but there’s nothing. The color drains from Scotty’s face as quickly as sand flowing through a sand timer.
I know no matter how many times Brad pumps his chest or how many times I yell at him to open his fucking eyes, he’s already gone.
“Brad, Brad,” I call, clamping a hand around his wrist.
“One, two, three, four…” Brad repeats, as if on autopilot.
“Brad, he’s gone. He’s gone,” I say over and over.
Brad eventually falls back, and I pull Scotty’s body into my arms. I silently weep into him as the most painful and guttural sound leaves Brad, and I know that sound will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I cling to Scotty’s body, willing him back to life, but it’s useless.
He’s gone. He’s left us, and I think he took a piece of me, a piece of all of us with him.
As the sounds of gunfire cease, an eerie silence falls. I haven’t been able to let go of Scotty’s body. I hug him tightly to my chest, already feeling the coldness seep into his skin. Brad stares blankly at the wall, silent, unmoving.
I hear them. I see them, but I don’t move.
Jack and Harry stand in the doorway of the compound. They must see the bloodstains on the floor, the unwrapped bandages, and the unused IV bag. They must see the efforts we made to save him, but it wasn’t enough.
The noise of their grief sounds so far away, or maybe it was that I had floated off to somewhere else.
I always thought I would know how to handle a death like this, but it turns out that no amount of preparation or training can give you the skills to handle it.
I don’t know how much time passed, but Jack’s hand rests on mine, where I have held Scotty to me in an iron grip.
“Noah, you need to let him go.” I shake my head rapidly, all my professionalism and composure gone. How do we get up and leave and go on with life after this? How do we tell his family? How do we tell Tori?
“We need to leave, but we’ll all do it together,” Jack reassures me, his voice shaky. I reluctantly release my grip on Scotty and let his limp body roll into Jack's arms.
The IC from the other team that came as backup appears in the doorway. His face falls, and he looks to the floor, composing himself for a second before asking.
“Do you want my team to take him?”
I’m the first to answer. “No, we’ve got him,” I choke out.
The four of us move in silence as we circle Scotty, and we all take a second to look down at our friend who, just a short time ago, was walking alongside us and now lies lifeless before us. A reminder of how quickly life can change.
I look at my team, my friends, my brothers in arms, and note this will be the last time we will all be together. I close my eyes and take a centering breath and say, “Let’s carry him home.”