Wings of Honor: Tales of Pyrrhia

Chapter 5: First Contact

I wish I could've slept soundly, but such luxuries I couldn't afford anymore.
I was back in Nijmegen, a bridge too far for me and my scruffy squad to take. I've been down this street too many times before, I could already sense what was going to happen. I ordered my browning into the only position that I knew guaranteed their safety. I have played through this scenario so many times before, I knew exactly where to put my men. No one was going to die here today.
Right on the clock, the Nazi Gunner opened up. I ducked behind my impervious cover, fear all but gone in the face of knowledge. I knew he couldn't hit me, but the cracks and suppression he laid down still held me. I saw my fellow squad mates cowering, I knew their faces, and I knew exactly what to say.
"Keep it together! Come on! Airborne!"
I felt a wave of discipline and motivation surge through them, each recalling their training and own strength. They all cried out "Airborne!" As they charged the enemy position and silenced that gun.
Now it was quiet again, save for battle sounds in other nearby sectors. But then I heard an unknown voice behind me.
"What happened? Where am I?"
I looked back to see Corporal Williams, looking dazed and confused. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"You're in Nijmegen Corporal, you're a member of the Airborne. We just came across an enemy patrol, that's all."
I don't remember this happening before, but I reacted as I really would. I was turning back to tend to my men, Williams still in sight, when I heard the voice say again.
"An enemy patrol? That was not like any patrol I've ever seen."
I stopped dead in my tracks. Williams' lips were still, and the others were too far away to hear this clearly.
"Wait a minute. Corporal, are you talking to me?" The man frowned and shook his head in confusion.
"No? Then who is?"
Just then, out the corner of my eye, something stirred. It was a big something, taking cover in a shattered building.
What the hell is that? A tank? How'd I miss a tank?
I signaled for the men who assaulted, already on the other side, to rally, advancing on the structure. As quietly as we could, we hugged the walls. Peering in a window, whatever this was, it was big and purplish-black, like blackout curtains. But someone sprinkled flour, mason dust, or something onto the fabric. There was someone in here, I had that feeling. I held position at the corner overlooking a large gaping hole in the building.
"Thunder!" I called out, seeing if it were friend or foe. I heard a faint whisper. It sounded like English.
"Thunder!" I tried again. Please don't make me shoot you. I thought to myself as I readied a grenade, pulling out the pin. I gripped the heavy steel ball, weighing whether I should toss it. This never happened before in my scenarios.
Suddenly, I was yanked backwards, like something had torn me from my sleep.

I woke with a start on my makeshift cot. I grasped my rifle, there was something here. Someone was messing with me.
"Who's there?" I called out into my empty tent.
Nothing but silence responded.
"Rossem, I swear to God if that's you, I'll fillet you and put you up to dry!"
Nothing. No one stirred.
I got up and out, partly in combat uniform, pants, and a shirt. I shrugged on my jacket, and my duty belt, fastening my splint with rope. I opened the rough canvas cover to the foggy morning, the birds sung sweetly, but that did not put me at ease. Someone, or rather, something, was here.
I don't know how, I don't know why, I just know that this isn't normal. Then again, foreseeing your plane going down isn't normal either. That same feeling.
I had to be on guard, the next big thing could kill me or my men. I did a quick sweep of the camp. There were no tracks outside of our own. Our combat boots drawing ridges in the damp soil. I took a deep breath, letting the moist air remind me of the good days at home. Days when I'd be up early and rested, visiting Grandpa, and having the whole day to myself.
Suddenly, there was rustling in the forest. I unslung my rifle and charged it in a single motion.
"Thunder!"
Whatever was there kept coming.
"Flash! Flash!"
Private Gossing emerged from the forest, running up to me.
"Gossing, you look like you saw a ghost." He about fell into my arms. "SITREP."
He heaved, out of breath.
"The plane lieutenant!"
I looked at him with a confused expression.
"What about the plane?"
"I went over there... to see if I could find my baby's picture... it's... it's on the beach."
He could barely make out a sentence.
"The beach?" I asked.
"Like... fully on the beach! Not where we landed... drag marks."
"Okay, head back to camp, have some water. I'll head out there to go check it out. Tell Kish to send Travers and McManis up with me!"
I marched in double time to the crash site. Dogging trees and carving my way through the brush.
What did he mean the plane was dragged? A C-47 is too damn heavy to be dragged. Maybe the tide deposited it? But Gossing said it was on the beach, like fully on the beach, with drag marks?
My mind whirled in so many directions, trying to find a logical conclusion, until I came across the plane again.
Sure enough, it was beached far inland, way out of the reach of any tide. Then I heard something rustle. I went to ground, hoping my black jacket provided some camouflage in the brush. I pulled my rifle in close, keeping it clean while I reconned from afar.
There were several puncture marks along the fuselage. Way too big even for the hailstorm. They looked more like bite marks. A huge animal- no. A bunch of huge animals decided to drag my plane onto the beach. But why?
A few seconds later, I found what these animals looked like. A huge, white... what I can only describe as... as a dragon, landed before the plane. A smaller dragon, festooned in pink and yellow that made my eyes hurt looking at it. A tan, sandy-colored dragon, who somehow had an earring on. A sea foam green dragon, who was partly hidden behind the plane. And finally, a purple-black, more dark olive-green dragon. Wait, I recognized something about this one.
Its wings!
They were purplish-black and speckled white! That dream.
It wasn't my imagination, it was you!
Suddenly, its head whipped around towards me. I pushed my face into the dirt, hoping my black hair would break up my silhouette and not give away my position.
Shit!
"What was that?"
My eyes widened. No way. I did not just hear it talk right now.
"Moon? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I thought I heard something."
Shoot. They also speak English. Maybe I can reason with them.
The black dragon, Moon apparently, kept looking around. I stayed as still as I could, observing.
If I moved, they would probably see me. If the wind shifted, they'd probably smell me. I'm not the most sanitary of persons, but at least I don't live in a sewer. I hushed my breathing, trying not to snort dust as well. A sneeze very well might kill me.
"So, what do you want to do?" The sand-colored dragon asked.
"We should do another search." The white one said with a commanding voice. "It got dark quickly, we can do better when it's bright out."
"Yeah, especially if the scavenger is small." A young voice peeped up, coming from the Valentine's Day dragon. "I can't wait to see him! Do you think he'll be my friend? I can take him on flights together, and read him all my scrolls. Oh! I can't wait to meet him!"
The young dragon bounded up and down, posing herself like a happy dog ready to pounce. I must admit, her happy energy caused me to smile.
Suddenly, a snap! Everyone turned towards the noise.
Ohhhh shit. McManis and Travers!
What else could I do but become a distraction? I hopped up, taking off towards the sound, running as fast as I could manage. I felt my presence being acknowledged in alarm, like my days sabotaging in Tunisia. This feeling, this sick feeling of death looming and adrenaline pumping with no reinforcements. When you had to get out of there, YOU HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE. I spotted two dark figures in the trees.
"Get out of here! We've been spotted! SCATTER!"
My men took off running. I doubled back to lead our chasers away. I dodged around the trees, forcing the weight of my gear and rifle around the dark obstacles. I heard lots of rustling, heavy footsteps, and the woosh of wings. I didn't let myself look back, Keeping my eyes forward and watching for forward threats.

I ran.

I ran 'till my lungs felt like they were being stripped from inside my chest. I ran until my legs were aflame with fatigue and cuts and scrapes. I ran through an opening and through a river. I ran until the forest changed, and I dared to stop. I didn't hear them anymore. Then again, I couldn't hear anything, I was breathing so hard. I tried to let myself recover from that painful journey. White spots raced across my sight. My peripheral vision seemed to darken more, the shaded borders fading into black, losing some situational awareness. I bent over, heaving hard.
Suddenly, I heard a rustle. I shot back up, Un-slinging my rifle. I slowly scanned over the direction of the sound. My heart sank when I saw a golden hide with black circles separated from the dark green shrubary. A growl emanated from the wild cat.
Oh man.
I tried to fall back, but the cat trailed me slowly, coming into view, hissing and bearing his teeth.
Shit! I could shoot it, but those dragons chasing me would know I'm here. I could outrun them again. No way, I'm too exhausted.
I kept my rifle up, pointed at the angered jaguar.
Please man, I don't want to hurt you. Just don't hurt me. I'll go away, leave you be, just don't hurt me.
Then I tripped on something, sending me on my back. I heard a roar, and the cat launched. I regained my rifle and fired blindly. The cat flailed in the air. I was up again before he hit the ground. Shouldering my weapon, I let loose more rounds near him, kicking up dirt and sending the cat fleeing into the forest. I heard a larger, deeper roar from much closer than I'd like.
"Time-to-go." I exclaimed.
I charged forward into the thick jungle brush. I kept getting smacked by vines and flora. I let down my rifle and covered my face with my arms and hands, not slackening my advance. I couldn't see ahead of me, I hoped to God.
Please don't let me run into a tree. Please don't let me run into a tree.
Suddenly, I emerged into a clearing. It was small, but the sun shone here. I ducked back into the shadows along the border a little longer, barely avoiding a dragon-like shadow that raced over my clearing. I breathed a sigh of relief. I evaded them.
Taking inventory, I took out the magazine in my rifle. I estimated I didn't shoot any more than five rounds at that cat, I still had 2/3rds of my ammo left. I took out my mini emergency pack I always have on me. Unfurling the bandages and small dressings, only now did I notice the intense, stinging pain on my right foot, like it was on fire. I looked down to see the splint had misaligned. It no longer bypassed the force of walking around my foot and through my leg. I stifled my cry to move the splint back into position. With that, I could walk again with minimal pain.
I now tended to the open cuts I gathered. Dabbing them with a mini-shot of alcohol, the sting made me hiss. Once I tended to myself, I got my compass. I got my bearing with the sun, remembering what my scouts had told me. There was a rainforest East of the camp, beyond a river, which I passed. This looked like a rainforest as any. I knew the ocean was due south. Worst case, I could follow the ocean back to camp.
"Alright."
I got up, sucking in air at the pain, using my rifle as a crutch. I steeled myself to march.
I didn't take two steps forward when I heard a strange whistling. Something stabbed my left arm. I looked and saw a rather large wooden dart. I swiftly pulled it out. On the tip, there was some green liquid. I felt my left arm go numb.
"Tranquilizers. Nice..."
I fell limp. My vision faded to grey. I only heard the dull thud of my body impacting the soft brush. A resounding peace engulfed me.