Ghost: A Call of Duty Fan Fiction

Chapter 2

Author's Note: Hey readers! This is going to feature Ghost without his mask! Hope I did the fans justice!
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Ghost woke up in a dimly lit room. A hard mattress was underneath him. The room smelled musty, but he could make out the smells of cooking, of sweat and disinfectant. His shoulder throbbed. The bedding felt scratchy and rough on his skin. He could hear the distant sound of a television. Not all houses had them in this area. He went to rub his eyes, and realized his mask was gone. He looked and saw his clothes folded on the floor beside the mattress. He heard a door open and craned his head slightly, seeing the kid come into the room. The kid said one word in English before lapsing back into Farsi.
"Awake!" he exclaimed, and rushed over to the other side of the room. Ghost sat up, wincing in pain. He had to use every bit of strength to keep his body up as the kid rummaged through something. The kid grabbed what appeared to be a box, and returned to Ghost.
"Here." he said. Ghost took the box carefully and opened the flap. Tea bags. Oh, the kid figured out he was British and knew people from England liked tea. Good work, kid. He set the box down. He looked down and saw his shoulder had been bandaged. The boy noticed this and went back into the other room, coming back holding a small piece of metal.
"Bullet was in you."
"Did your mum take it out?"
The kid looked confused. Maybe he didn't know enough to understand. The door opened and a woman stepped in. Her face was covered, but she seemed young.
"I'm sorry if my brother is bothering you." Her English was stilted, but clear.
"Don't worry, I needed the company."
"Farid, go to the kitchen." The woman said to the boy. Farid walked into the next room.

"My name's Amina."she said softly. "What are you doing all alone in the middle of nowhere? Are you lost? Do you need help?"
"Yes. No! Yes? I'll...I guess I'll explain everything later."

Amina left the room and came back with a plate. She sat it in front of Ghost.
"You need to eat."
Ghost looked at it; rice and beans. He could smell some kind of spice; cumin, and maybe turmeric. He picked up the spoon.
"I'm sorry." Amina continued. "I hope you feel better soon."
"Where is your family?" he asked, taking a bite of the rice and beans. The spices exploded across his taste buds.

"My parents died a few years ago. It's just Farid and me. Don't worry about the other villagers; nobody comes out this way."
She paused.
"Why are you wearing a military uniform? You're a soldier yourself?"
Ghost looked up from his meal.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Amina sighed. He wondered if she understood him.
"Alright." Amina glanced at him. A scarf covered most of her face, but Ghost couldn't help but notice that she had the most beautiful green eyes. They were piercing and intense.
"If you need anything, you call me. I'll tell Farid. He'll get you anything you want. Now, finish eating. You look very hungry."
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After eating, they talked for a while. Amina told him about her life growing up in the village. She was too young to remember the first time the Taliban had been pushed out, but she remembered the short years of going to school; learning English, wondering about the world outside her village. Her parents had been modern; wanting their daughter to have a future, their young son to know peace. It hadn't lasted, though.

"Do you have a family back in England?" Amina asked.

Ghost didn't know how to answer that. What could he tell her?
"I did..." He said. Amina didn't ask anything else. She picked up the dishes and left the room. After she left, Ghost stood painfully. He was still in his fatigue pants, and an old t-shirt had been pulled on over him. His boots were by the bed. He saw a bathroom, and walked in. Amina's family must have been lucky, there was a sink and shower. He figured there must be an outhouse. He looked in the mirror, feeling weird without his mask. Amina must have washed his face; his camo makeup was gone. A few scars were etched on his face; old battles still there. He went back to the mattress, feeling drained. He knew he couldn't stay here long, but he was thankful to still be alive. Thankful that someone had saved him.