Paint Me Saved ✓ Book 1

Prologue: Days of future

Kunduz Province, Afghanistan

November 2015

Leonardo

My eyelids flickered at the blazing orange sky, adjusting to the rain of wooden splinters. The arid desert air added to the dehydrated lament of my mouth. Powerful shockwaves resonated from a nearby machine gun. The rattles of shell casings hammered at the sides of my temples, their metallic scent invading my lungs. The taste of wet earth, of grit and soot, wasn't as harsh as was the coppery tang of blood in my mouth.

Our canteens were empty hours ago. The only water we could smell was when grenades dug into the deeper core of the sunbaked earth, dredging up the moistened surface.

I turned around, scoping the militant firing post, all of which remained was a gray mushroom cloud, seeping into the nearby areas like the vicious tentacles of a sea monster. Counter firing ceased. There was no movement, no heat signatures either.

I dragged my body out of the barricaded trench. The uninhabited wasteland replayed our warfare - an echoing rendition of our victory, thrumming for miles in every direction. I slid off the dirt-paved slope. My right index finger hovered over the trigger while my left arm rose in the air, signaling my comrades.

"Can you see anyone?" Ishfaq asked, scrunching his face while lowering a set of binoculars.

Ishfaq - an Afghan soldier who accompanied our troops - wasn't my first preference for a translator. He hated our military operation in his country and it took me a while to understand his detest - we also were intruders. Somewhere between sharing what little space we had in our bunker and listening to him sing for us, he became a part of our team.

"I see nothing," I croaked. "Come down."

I turned around and saw a man with arms aloft in a gesture of surrender. He emerged from behind the corner of a dilapidated wall and waved a blood-soaked handkerchief. He limped towards us, muttering.

"No shoot...please."

"Civilian," I shouted.

Chanting to himself as he approached, the man gave me a good look at his missing front tooth. His venous arms clutched the sides of his vest, unidentifiable bodily fluids seeped through his tattered shalwar kameez. With pain dancing across his face, he waved his hands and head in tandem.

"Don't worry," I said, slinging the rifle in front of him. "You are safe."

He froze, muttering louder in a foreign language while ripping his sweater vest open. Red and green wires ran around a tattered belt. A red taped box with a digital display flashed time.

10 seconds.

9 seconds.

"Cover," I shouted. "Suicide bomber!"

My feet fired up, reflexes coming to my aid. My arms retrieved my weapon, finger pulling the trigger. Bullets riddled the grim reaper yet still, he dashed towards me.

He wrapped his arms around me, strength in his grip I didn't account for. I shoved him harder, draining bullets into his gut. His smile remained etched - a last mock.

Boom.

That day, sound travelled faster than light.

~

Hope you liked this action-filled beginning.

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