Seasons - Ghost X Soap

Chapter 2: Summer

February 13, 2023
Outback Australia
38°C / 100.4°F

One moment they were shivering through a cold snap sweeping across England that rivalled the arctic winds of Siberia, the next they were blasted by the brutal heat of the great Australian Outback. It felt like setting foot on another planet entirely. A thoroughly cursed planet where the horizon shimmered with silver mirages and each lungful of the searing air felt like inhaling fire.

"Creepin' Jesus," Soap said, pressing himself back into the shadowy confines of the cargo bay, trying to escape the scorching wind and red dust whipping into the idling aircraft. "How bad is it out there, LT?"

"Not very. Thirty-eight degrees." Ghost adjusted his gear with practiced efficiency, tugging tan fabric over every bit of exposed skin.

"Not very?" Soap repeated, horrified. "Then what bloody counts as bad?"

"Will go above forty during peak hours."

"Dear lord," Gaz muttered from beside Soap, also glued to the shade while there was still some to be found. "Thought I'd be glad to be out of the water for once, but not like this."

"What in the Heavenly Father's name are we even doing here," Soap hissed.

The RAAF troops filing past them snickered. Soap caught scraps of their conversation and laughter as they milled about outside. There was many a snide comment about the motley crew of foreign guests on their month-long joint training exercise: the Brits, the Canadians, the few poor Norwegians and Swedes unlucky enough to specialise in the niche fields that warranted their presence here. There were Indonesian and New Zealand forces present too, but the Aussies preferred to bully the ones not from their neighbourhood. There was already a betting pool on which of them would collapse under the sun first. Soap glared at them all.

Ghost slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. "You'll want to cover up, or you'll burn. Keeps the flies off too."

Soap was already sweating under his helmet, but he tugged his neck gaiter over his nose, grimacing as the heavy fabric stuck to his skin. He eyed the extra scarf Ghost wore, wide enough to span his shoulders, and wondered if he'd regret not bringing something like that.

"All right, boys," Price said, striding over from where he'd been talking to the pilot. "Hope you've put your sunscreen on. Let's go."

Of course, being a captain with Very Important Duties meant that Price got to stand under a nice shaded gazebo with cool drinks, watching through binoculars and drones while the rest of them ran wargames under the unforgiving desert sun. Soap cursed him out under his breath as he scrambled to set his charge, fingers slipping in sweat and dust.

"Three, two, one—execute!" he yelled, turning his face away as the explosive breached the door.

The team rushed in, Gaz taking point again, CQB skills sharp as ever. Ghost went next, firing with deadly accuracy into the dusty corners of the open-air shoot house, simunitions splattering the Blue Team combatants with scarlet paint before they could react. Soap followed with the rest of the squad—Diver, Shogun, Zero, Aztec, Hawk—troopers and sergeants with enough exceptional deeds under their belts to earn them a place in the 141. Soap didn't know them well, but he didn't need to—they were as good as they came, clearing rooms with ruthless efficiency, skirting around traps and ambushes like they'd personally watched Blue Team lay them out.

Together, they secured the maze-like compound and rescued their grinning 'hostages' in record time. Their defeated opponents slunk away, grumbling, while Price muttered rough praise through the comms. Easy as pie.

Said pie would taste sweeter if only it wasn't so bloody hot.

It was far from Soap's first time working under conditions like these, but that didn't make it any less miserable. A whole week in, and he had yet to see a single speck of cloud in the painfully blue sky. His head pounded, his eyes stung, and his throat was always parched no matter how much water he guzzled. Nobody had gotten heatstroke...yet. But the betting pool was only growing. The Aussies were convinced someone was going to get the silver bullet by day ten.