Thread: Alone: Ch1
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Old 08-19-2011, 03:06 AM
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the soldier suddenly snapped out of his cold daze and the burn of addrenalin surged through his veins. He grabbed one of the iron bars and tried to lever the a piece of the broken rubble out of the way but it could not be budged. He was just not physically strong enough.

Blood began to run down and soak the legs of Brygida's field gray uniform pants. Her legs had stopped twitching and soldier fell to his knees and tried to peer into the darkness that was the rubble tomb. He heard nothing but a low gurgle sound which suddenly ceased. The soldier interpreted that it was Anka's final sound as she lay crushed under feet of hard grey concreate.

The soldier panicked and began to pull at the rubble with his bare hands digging and pawing, clawing away at the broken stone and tangled iron rods that portruded from there broken edges.

Tears began to pour down the face of the soldier, he could see nothing but gray. Suddenly he stopped diggina and fell flat on his chest. He craddled his head in his hands. He imagined the only freindly faces he had seen in weeks gone in instant. He started to feel dark emotions take over and he began to lose control. His hands and legs started to shake, his stomach began to knot and the tendons in his legs burned as he started to huddle into a ball.

His mind began to slip into darkness when suddenly he saw the angry face of his drill sargeant burned into his minds eye "get up you sack of shit!" The sargeant screamed. He could feel the his hot breath on his face " Get up or die!!!"

At that the soldier snapped back into the cold wet day, in the lonely village in far away poland. His face was cold and clammy and his hands still shook. They were pale white covered but convered in dried blood and dirt. The soldier sat up his hands panged with soreness.

Brygida;s boots protruded limply from the rubble. The soldier knelt forward and took them in his hands. He slid the boots from her bare feet and they felt lifeless his hands. He sat the boots to the side and noticed the AK-74 and AK-74S that the women had laid in the pile.

Infront of him was the dark green painted wooden box marked with cyrrillic writing that Brygida has pulled from the wreckage. He grabbed a large piece of gray broken concreate and covered the polish girls pale bare feet. The tied the laces of her boots together and slung them over his shoulder. He grabbed both Ak's and slung them over his shoulder.

He reached down and picked up the wooden crate by its rough rope handles. He couldn't risk being seen after spending so much time out in easy open. He realized that was stupid but perhaps no one had seen them. All he could do was hope navigate the streets of the destroyed village as quickly as possible.

The soldier could barely carry his own gear,the two rifles and the large wooden crate. He found the entrance of the ancient stone building and he lumbered to the end of the corridor and spotted the pile of broken boards and debris were the secret door was concealed. The soldier dropped the wooden crate and the rifles on the smooth stone floor. He reached to his belt for his M9 bayonet and remembered the polish girls boots. He sat them on the ground as well and took a knelt.

He pried the lid off the box with the blade of the M9. Within where several rows of light green colored orbs. They had cylindrical tops with a wire ring run throught them. The soldier recognized them as RGD5 antipersonel hang grenades.

The soldier could not believe that two young and beutiful womenb had died for a box of grenades so he decided to not take there gift in vein. He was able to secure 6 grenades to his LBV and Alice pouches. Sadly when he went through his rig he had only 6 loaded 30 round magazines in the LBV and 6 empty magazines in the two alice pouches on his pistol belt. He had fired 6 magazines during the ambush and he always placed his empty magazines back into the alice pouches because they were harder to get at in a shoot out.

This also reminded him to check the magazine in his rifle. Much to his suprise it only contained 20 rounds. He had fired 9 rounds in the fire fight with the russians. Quickly he swapped partial magazine for a full one from his LBV. He had only 200 rounds left and 6 russian grenades aswell as his bayonet. He reached back into the grenade box and pulled out one more grenade which he places in the pocket of his BDU pants.

He decided to stock pile the remaining grenades and the two AK-74 and the girls boots under the bed. He brought them down and placed them under it secretly he looked about the room for anything else that might be useful. He found the box of matches next to the oil lamps and the cloth sack of tea. He tucked the tea and the matches into a ziplock back and stowed it in his ruck sack.

he looked at the old wooden rack of black and green glass bottles and decided to grab one. He wrapped his old sweat rack aroung it to offer it some padding with his ruck sack. He remembered he needed to fill both of the two qaurt canteens on his ruck and the two 1 qaurts on his pistol belt as soon as he could.

He climbed up the ladder shrugged his shoulders saddened by what had occured. He decided it was time to leave this secret place of hospitality. Then he remembered the lonely RDG5 in his BDU pocket. He sat on the floor of the stone building and looked about he had policed up everything that hadn't been there before.

He reached into his pocket and produced the grenade. He stared at the small green ball of death in his hand. With his left hand he pulled the pin. His right hand clenched the spoon tightly. This kept the grenades fuze from igniting. He dropped the pin down the hole into the secret room were it would not be seen. Then he layed grenade on the stone floor carefully covering it with his hand to keep the spoon depressed. He lowered the wooden lid of the trap door onto the grenade and spoon to keep it depressed. He very slowly and carefully removed his hand from the grenade. The wooden lid was pushing down on the spoon causing the small green fruit of doom to lye dormant at least for the time being.

That is of course until whom ever had the fortune to lift the trap door, to the secret room. Who ever unknowingly tempted fate would be rended to pieces by its hundres of hot whiring fragments. Torn asunder and burst by its concussive explosion. That is how the soldier felt when he thought of Brygida and Anka.

Hopefully some Russian straggler would find a sudden and horrible death. He felt someone that someone should die to make up for the lives of these two women. He also felt ashamed that Anka had saved his life by smashing the skull of the Russian soldier, but he was not able to save her life when her scull was smashed to pieces by uncaring rubble.

The whole situation made the soldier very sad and so he decided he needed to leave this place. He carefully piled more bits of wood, scraps and boards back on top of the trap door methodically arranging them to look as if they were placed there haphazardly each bit better concealing the danger that lay beneath it.

He stood up and turned around looking carefully at his deadly work of art. He Walked down the corridor and decided to take a careful look around the village.
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