Tales from the Foxhole

Rain

When it wasn't snowing in Coaiva, it was raining. Private Mueller had only seen the sun once since his deployment to Jade Cove and he was almost certain it was a fever dream.

His poncho was soaked all the way through, forfeiting him of its protection against the pelting drops. His boots were worse, his socks squelching with every step on the wet cobblestones. Not a single part of his body was dry. All of his equipment was waterlogged.

In short, Mueller hated patrol duty. His squad shuffled through the rubble of the once beautiful city along a pre-planned route. One that they, as well as every other squad in their platoon, had walked before.

They never found anything, of course. The Wardens were on the other side of the river, getting just as soaked as he was. At least, they had some protection, in their bunkers and buildings that still had roofs.

The sky lit up with a brilliant blue flash. Lightning. Great. Just what he needed to make his patrol all the more miserable. The iconic boom of thunder came almost instantly afterward.

One of the squad's replacements flinched. Mueller shook his head. But he said nothing. He'd been there once, but you didn't last long in Coaiva without knowing the difference between thunder and artillery.

"Sarge!" Called out another replacement, Mueller couldn't recall any of their names. "Can we please find somewhere to lie low!"

If it was just the rain, the Sarge would have berated the conscript for "being afraid of little drops." But the lightning made him pause. The Sarge was afraid of thunderstorms. For reasons that not even Mueller knew.

The Sarge nodded and pointed to a three-story building at the end of the street. "We'll take shelter there-"

There was another flash, followed by a boom. Mueller blinked at the light. At that moment, Sarge fell to the ground, a large hole where his heart should be.

Mueller and the others ran for cover. There was another flash of lightning, followed by a boom, and another soldier in his squad fell to the ground. Blood pooled around the two bodies.

"Where is he?!" One of the replacements called out.

Mueller didn't pay attention to her, he just stared at the body of his squad leader, the man who led him through the war, the one his whole squad depended on.

Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed much more rapidly. Each one more blood curling than the last.

Now Mueller understood why Sarge hated thunderstorms.