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

- EIGHT -

I woke up to the dim lighting of dawn. My entire body felt like it'd been thrown from a cliff—and I reminded myself it almost had been. I stretched on the hard ground, feeling the stiffness of my muscles loosen and yawn in relief. 

    Peering across to where Ghost had been posted last night, I saw the earth was barren. There was no sign he'd been there and the realization made me push myself up more abruptly. 

    Great going, you slept in and he left you to die. 

    I ignored my intrusive thoughts as I tenderly stood up. My ankle was swelling and throbbing with the sudden blood flow that came with standing. My head also spun in protest.

    My thoughts started to go wild with the what-ifs and the questioning. Had my outburst of history been too much last night? Did he just get impatient and leave? Did something happen to him in the middle of the night? 

    "You're wasting energy." 

    To the deep, throaty British voice I spun around from pacing back and forth. The broad soldier held two shapes in his left arm, his rifle slung in the right one. I tried to hide my relief by sucking on my lower lip. 

    "Sorry," I spoke as he came closer. "What are those?" 

    "Something to eat."

    I grabbed both of the fruit-like objects when he offered. "How do you know we can eat them?"

    Ghost was quiet for a moment. "I always make sure to know the area I'm going." 

    Wise, smart. I nodded and then carefully bit into the brown food. It had the texture of a pear but a color like a potato. The flavor was rather bland. But it was sustenance.

    "Let's move," Ghost didn't say anything further as he took the lead. "There's a way to go up ahead."

    His form was again twice the size of my own, if not three times. His broad, uniform-covered shoulders were straight and solid as he walked. He held his weapon semi-ready as we started off, his head moving as he scanned the area.

    I finished the rather filling food and found myself feeling a bit stronger compared to the night before. My feet were still aching and very dirty being bare, but I kept my jaw clamped on that matter. I still felt beyond gritty and gross, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before I could find fresh clothes, wash up, and clean up my wounds—as long as I survived. 

    As we traveled in silence, I took careful movements to try and rub dirt off my face and arms. I wanted to pick at the dried blood on my face and arm, but I didn't want to cause more bleeding. Instead, I tried to tidy up my clothes, tattered and torn as they were. 

    The huge soldier in front of me slowed as we came to a blockade—a tree that was growing off the side of the sheer face on our right, hanging off the cliff to our left. The earth beneath it was cracked and crumbled, showing that the weight of the trunk was overbearing on the rock. 

    Ghost cautiously swung a leg over, large enough to reach the other side of the solid ground; he was able to avoid the potential hazard beneath the tree. He turned, setting his gun to the side, to face me. 

    "Come on." 

    I sucked in a breath, glancing over the edge to see how far the rest of the sheer cliff went. The valley below looked blurry with how far down it was. The thought of falling again made me shudder in fright as I stepped back to lean against the wall of uneven rock. 

    "That won't help you," Ghost sounded impatient, firm.

    I looked at him wildly. "I-I can't clear that like you did. What if it doesn't hold?"