After serving his country overseas for a decade, being in Iraq and Afghanistan during active war, 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬. Staff Sergeant Nathan Grimes finds himself on the front lines yet again. This time however, was diff...
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Sweat beads from my forehead trickled down the side of my face adding to the current list of frustrations. As if my body heat being trapped under this burlap sack wasn't bad enough.
"Where are you taking him?" Earlier I heard someone call the man speaking Caesar.
The voice to my left answered. "Figured we'd toss him in one of his friend's old rooms."
"No. Check his dog tag. See which one we're in the presence of." The old western feel to his voice already irritated me.
Not willing to go out without raising hell, at the slight tug around my neck I threw myself forward cracking my skull against the unknown town goony standing across from me. I heard a grunt of exhaust from the ground after a loud thug. Just as quickly, I was reprehended by being socked in the ribs with the receiver to my own assault rifle.
I knew I was going to die. That's the only reason I wasn't seething from being taken down to my knees after another blow.
"Never underestimate a soldier. Especially not one who knows he has nothing left to lose." The one eyed man came forward. But he also made sure to leave space between us. They held my arms and now kept me in a headlock as well to approach me.
The glance at my tags sparked a smile to spread across his face. "Should've known. I've heard a lot about you, Staff Sergeant Nathan Grimes."
Mine however, pulled tighter as I cast down my head to coldly lock eyes with him.
"Let's see if you can live up to the hype." He turned to the man now back to his feet. "Get your last licks in. Then bring him to the alley."
Worth it.
"Piece of shit." The man hissed coming towards me with aggressive intent. His steel toe boot found its way to my stomach. Apparently he bit his own lip open because of me. I only assume since he spat a wad of blood ground before the second kick.
Even though there were three men total escorting me to the Alley, one however, kept dancing on my last nerve. I counted how many times he'd forcibly toss me out to stumble. Six— the number of his fingers I'd break if I got the chance.
With more men than bullets our efforts to take as much heat off the others as we could worked, just not how we had hoped. Daryl and I were surrounded just as Rick made it over the barrier.
"Fight, fight, fight." The roaring crowd chanted out in perfect harmony. Town's people used their bodies to form a tightly knit circle keeping us at in the center of their hatred.
The Governor had called us terrorists. Daryl was placed on his knees off to the side along side his brother, Merle. Our death sentence was signed when the Governor left our fate up to the people. I was fidgeting trying to break the restraints that bound my wrists behind my back as he spoke.
