Behind The Mask (Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 [2022] Fanfiction)

- FIVE -

The journey up the mountain was simply put an ass-kicking for myself. I'd always thought of myself as in shape and decently energetic but the travel was slow and agonizing. I knew not all of it was because of physicality though; there were heavy emotions dragging me down too.

    The sun was rising in the sky by the time I'd reached the top of the hill and dropped back down into a valley of sorts. The terrain continued to get more rocky and my bare feet were protesting with blisters and scrapes; the bright pink polish Kelsey had pushed me to get during a spa day at the resort was stronger than my own will and was a sharp contrast to the dirt building up. I continued down the valley in hopes it would lead back down into society and further from those after me.

    My empty stomach was achy and obnoxious whenever I had to duck around outcroppings. I didn't dare try any of the berries I'd spotted because I didn't know shit about them. Already I was close to death and I didn't want to push luck further. 

    "You're kidding," I growled to myself as I watched the land slope to a cliff.

    It made sense that mountain ranges in Mexico would be rockier and cliff-like. It didn't make sense that it went against my travels and possible survival. As I neared the edge, wind howled at my dry skin of the face and forced my eyes to squint. I licked my bottom lip once, finding it between my teeth as I bit nervously. 

    I didn't dare try to go back the way I'd come. With the amount of firepower and manpower the night before I knew the people after me wouldn't stop without proof of my dead body. For whatever reason my continued existence meant doom to their operations—though I could have cared less about anything having to do with their safehouse, Hassan, or the Hispanic lady. 

    As I continued down a makeshift path along the cliffside, I recognized I was heading east. How many possible miles I'd gone was unknown, but I did understand direction was step one. Any society I knew of, like the resort, was south. Heading deeper into the mountains was either going to be death or survival. There were no gray areas in these parts. 

    The pathway I made started to narrow the closer I got to the rocky cliffs and uneven ground. Grass, dirt, and rocks made the scenery bland. Besides the river curving through the rough mountains below, there wasn't anything to take in. 

    They still would have loved the ziplines though. 

    I swallowed my dry throat, angry my head had once again gone to my friends. Being alone and lost in the middle of nowhere didn't help wandering or unwanted thoughts. I didn't know how to handle the losses nor the graphic memories besides letting them intrude whenever they pleased.

    My ankle was swelling and persisted on leaving a limp in my stride, but I tried to ignore it. I knew my blonde hair was ruffled and my clothes were extremely tattered. Mascara was dried like the blood from the wound on my left arm too. I probably looked like some wild, homeless woman. 

   While homeless wasn't the most accurate word to describe what I was outside of the situation at hand, it fit now. Before the trip I'd been moving in with my grandparents—an unanticipated and rushed move of all things. They were the only two who knew of my general whereabouts and who I'd gone with. They didn't have technology so I knew any contacting would have to be direct phone line or knocking on their door; no one would try to reach me, realize something was up, and then let them know....except for maybe one person and I didn't want to think of him.