Wicked (MaskedMexican)

Chapter 7 - The Mines

~Ohm's POV~

There was no way to know this path wasn't stable. I barely got to know the other path was I stable days before the mission. At least this is what I've been attempting on convincing myself of after having walked my feet off.

A small light in the distance instantly perks me up after having dragged my bruised feet through most of the tunnels. Quickly I step over in the direction and sigh in relief the moment the area of light floods the area. Glancing around there is nothing around but dirt, a single tent, a random pick axe sticking out of a mound of dirt, and, my favorite, oil lamps bolted onto the walls lighting the area. I'm a bit shocked that the oil is still working, or maybe up until this point the creatures thought it wouldn't be good to keep them all up and running, which would imply I'm closer to creature territory. Taking a deep and shaky breath I suddenly wish I had just kept the radio. No, if I had it I'd have kept it with the minority rather than the real group, 5 of the 6 people. And they needed the light more, as I don't think any of them even thought to bring a lighter or would think to use it, not trying to put my soldiers down but it's very true.

Curiously, I head over to the tent and crawl close to the entrance and find the inside holding a sleeping bag and a small book. Even more curious, I pick at the book and wipe off the cover, uncovering a small copy of the bible. I sigh and toss it back inside. Of course I'd find a bible here. The miners who worked here were probably very religious and terrified when they were being raided by the creatures. Hiding out in small tents like this one must have been their last resort. Stepping back I glance around before finding another light down a tunnel and reluctantly follow it, readying my gun for the moment a creature pokes out and just unloads on me. Instead, there's only an every silence which strangely enough, makes me feel better. Silence does, after all, means that there isn't some wild gun fight going on meaning the creatures are still here. The lights all glow, lighting the completely blank ground and thin layer of sand over the entire tunnel. Escaping into the tunnels I finally find a larger area, lamps all lighting up the very large room with mining carts everywhere and rails leading off in different directions. I was expecting running into an area like this after I had been following the lights for hours. I decide this is a good place to sleep for the night and duck into a small tunnel and sit down. The feeling of relief and extreme relaxation completely overwhelms me and calms my throbbing feet.

Glancing down at my feet I notice they really are bruised. I should have taken several breaks but I was so focused on finding the group again that I was just hurrying down in a random direction. I don't even know where I am any longer I'm coordination with the map. Supposedly there were several paths I could have gone down, but from flashing the light only every once in a while, the restrictions could have caused me to miss any paths breaking into two paths. Taking a deep breath I shake my head and lay down, feeling the exhaustion overtake me. I have to calm down, that's the only way you ever stay alive in these situations. Just stay calm. With one last sigh I open my eyes again and stair at the ground, several feet away from me bearing worn down tracks that seem more likely to give me splinters with a simple touch. Come to think of it I didn't even know what splinters were before I had come to base, and oh my first encounter was confusing. I find my entire mood lifting and my mouth stretching to a smile when I recall the moment Gassy yelled at me for sliding down the cheap wood. He had completely labeled me as a brat who doesn't even know what splinters were and asked me if I had ever taken one step out of the house and gym. In a way he was complimenting me for having done good exercise while also degrading me for my lack of life experiences.

The part that warms me up even in this cold place is the memory that Gassy had yelled at me for so long, just to keep us busy talking while he was dragging me to the clinic to get the splinter pulled out. Although we're supposedly tough soldiers and all, it seems like our captain is very concerned with the conditions of his soldiers. Despite this he always pushes us to the edge then drowns in guilt afterwards when he realizes he just pushed us too hard. Rather than finding this annoying I've found it admirable, for this man who is supposed to not even give a shit about the recruits does give a shit and pushes them to the limit. While he has a poor judgement on exactly where this limit is, it is a very reliable method to weed out those not committed soldiers and polishes the ones with high potential. My own performance as a recruit, I think it'd be impossible to be where I am today without Gassy's harsh training. Gassy continually tries to convince me that I've always been very good at training and practice I highly doubt I would have become so good at my work without his help. He just enjoys flooding me in compliments when he can because I do half of his fucking work for him, not that I can deny him to help him with his work.