First things first, this story was written well before the attacks in Paris. If things get worse with all that I will probably delete this story because it hits to close to reality. Also sorry this is so short. Motivation is lacking.
Pewds pov.
I ran.
Not towards the bunker, but towards Mark. I wasn't going to leave him like this. I couldn't let myself. I ran faster then I ever had in my life as I took shot after shot at the surrounding enemy. I heard bullets speed past me and I notice a small stinging in my arm and side. I don't care. I keep running.
My aim has never been this good. I hit everything I targeted.
When I finally reached him, I saw his chest rise and fall ever so slightly. He's alive! At least at the moment.
I honestly have no idea what gave me the strength to the lift the larger man, but whatever it is, it's enough. I throw him over my shoulder and keep him steady with one hand. He lets out a pained groan but I just have to ignore it. I hear one of the men shout for back up but I kept running. I started to close in on the bunker.
10 meters.
7 meters.
5 meters.
2 meters.
I jump and land next to entrance just as it was opening and shut it behind me.
"Open the door!" I half shout-half sob.
I hit the open button to the shared door and went back to my unconscious friend. I started to pound at his chest. I have to keep his heart pumping. Keep his lungs working.
I vaguely hear people rush into the room, shouting both our names. But I don't acknowledge them. I just pump at his chest and let out my silent sobs. I am torn away as a trauma team starts to work him. I just stare. Ken turns me to face him and winces.
"Jesus Felix! What happened out there?!" He motions to my arm and hip and I start to feel a burning sensation. I look down and see holes about the size of my thumb in my flesh.
I look back at Ken with wide, frightened eyes, before my vision fades and I crumple to the ground.
Cry pov.
After a few hours of self pity and hatred, I hear my phone go off. I grab it harshly and push the answer button so hard I think I cracked my phone. "Mr. Terry?" A woman asked.
"That's me." I say.
"This is corporal McField. I am the commanding officer for the training facility stationed in Brighton." The woman had an unreadable tone and it worried me to no end. "Im calling in regards to your husband."
"Is Felix ok?" I ask.
"He'll be fine." She says and I sigh. He's ok. He's going to be ok.
"Can I speak to him?"
"I'm afraid he isn't really in any condition to speak."
My heart sank and I started to shake again. "W-what do you mean?"
"The base was attacked this morning and your husband and another soldier where forced to fight their way to a bunker separately from the rest of the troops. He is alive but has lost a lot of blood due to several bullet holes. He is resting right now but as soon as he is strong enough, we will have him call you."
I close my eyes. He's alive. He's hurt, but alive. "Ok thank you."
"Sir?" She asks as I go to hang up.
"Yes?"
"I would just like to tell you that I hold your husband in the highest respect. He saved another man out there today."
I smile softly. That sounded like Felix. "Thank you ma'am." I say and hang up.
