Rain
Copyright© 2010 by Patch0341
Chapter 6
Eric gasped searing, acrid air into his lungs. He opened his eyes to find a pristine, cloudless, blue sky marred by an ugly plume of black, roiling smoke. A dull thumping noise permeated through the ringing of a fire alarm, punctuated with a staccato beat that didn't seem to follow any particular rhythm.
"What the hell is Johnson listening to now?" Eric mused, "Why the fuck are we outside?"
Eric slowly turned his head to look around and quickly wished he hadn't. The contents of his stomach decided that they wanted their freedom once again and rocketed from his mouth. As he recovered, the fire alarm slowly faded and the sounds of a raging battle finally registered with his beleaguered brain.
"OH SHIT! MARTIN! FUCK! MARTIN! GET YOUR FUCKIN' ASS UP!"
"I know that voice," Eric thought, "why is it so far away though?"
"MARTIN YOU BETTER FIND A FUCKIN' WEAPON AND USE IT, YOU FUCKIN' ASSHOLE! GET UP, GOD DAMNIT!"
Dust and smoke clouded the air as dozens of bullets pinged and ricocheted around him. Eric looked curiously at the small man yelling into his face and reaching for his rifle.
"Gomez, that's his name," Eric thought through the fog in his head, "what the fuck is going on?"
A rifle was thrust into Eric's hands and he was dragged behind the smoldering wreckage of his HMMWV.
"ARE YOU OK?" Gomez yelled at him, over the din of the battle, his voice slowly becoming clearer.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" Eric yelled; his own voice strangely distorted.
"IED. THOSE FUCKERS WERE JUST WAITIN' FOR US; GUNNY IS GIVIN' US SOME COVER FIRE WITH THE MRAP. WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUTA HERE. NOW!" Gomez replied pointing back over his shoulder, before again leaning out from behind the destroyed vehicle and firing burst from his SAW.
"WHERE'S THE REST OF THE FIRE TEAM?" Eric asked, looking around for the first time. The front of his up-armored Humvee was a tangled mass of twisted steel, fiberglass and armored panels. The IED had torn off the armored turret, where Johnson was perched, and a bloody smear lead to the rear of the vehicle. The turret lay crumpled like a wadded up piece of paper about twenty feet from the truck. The passenger side was crumpled and burned, the front door completely ripped off its hinges. Blood coated the windshield and Eric thought he could discern a figure through the gore.
"The blast was concentrated on that side of the vehicle, that's why we're OK." Eric thought, while doing a quick functionality test on himself and his weapon. Other than some superficial cuts and scrapes they were both fine. He turkey-peeked over the vehicle and fired at the building where what seemed like hundreds of muzzle flashes were emanating from.
"DEAD. AND WE WILL BE TOO IF YOU DON'T MOVE YOUR ASS! C'MON, LET'S GO!"
Eric nodded and they ran for the safety of the convoy.
Eric bolted upright, his body taught and his eyes searching for nonexistent targets in the dark room. Sweat poured off his body as his hands gripped the cold steel of his pistol. After a few moments of panic, his breathing slowed and he began to relax. He dropped the pistol between his legs, held his head in his hands and sobbed.
He arose from his bed and donned his robe and slippers before walking to the study and staring at the scene that haunted his dreams. He turned from the room and silently roamed his house, as if searching for something.
Eric stood with his forehead against the glass, cold rain cascading down his body. The dark interior was a perfect mirror of his soul; empty, lifeless, a dark cave where he could hide forever. His tears melded with the rain and fell to the pavement. He had no idea how long he had been there, but the cave felt safe, and comfortable, if he could only get inside.
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