A Dash of Scarlet In Paradise

APPROACHING NIRVANA

II

The sun was like a candle melting down. Marcus had already forgotten how beautiful the burning stars were. He ignored everything and became fully focused.

It was just that morning when Commander Bridge scolded Marcus for whistling during mission briefing. All had went by like a flash of light. Marcus never would have thought that he would actually miss his commander. To him, Bridge was no more than a prison guard, always there to catch the men misbehaving. Bridge probably felt the way his men saw him, but that didn't matter to him. After all, it was the same feeling he had when he trained under his former commander.

Marcus never would have realized that the 120 push-ups and sit-ups the drill sergeant made them do every morning at 5 on the lawn would ever come in handy for survival on the battlefield until then. After those painful exercises, the recruits would play a round of Black Jack and make up nicknames for their superiors, only until the captain interrupted and made each of them do an extra 100 push-ups for every nickname they came up with. Simply protocol.

What a pain in the ass, the words kept circling in Marcus' skull, though that moment he appreciated his daily training.

He snapped back to reality to find himself sitting on his arm, with minimal effort, he managed to pull himself back on his feet. A small seizure in Marcus' left leg caused him to collapse. It seems that he bruised himself during the impact.

A quick look around gave Marcus an understanding of the situation. And it wasn't good. Many of his comrades' bloody bodies slumped lifelessly beside downed helicopters and drop ships. Dozens of unused assault rifles rested on the wet grass.

At least they died a quick and painless death. Marcus thought to himself to comfort his agony, however it didn't help much. Slowly, he tried to get up again, this time with the help of the tree next to him. He grasped onto the bark and pulled his body straight up. Marcus felt like a puppet with no string, it was so difficult for him to move.

The sergeant was assigned to lead Rocket Squad on an extraction mission. They had to quietly infiltrate the conference center, take out all the enemy forces, and rescue the diplomats. Assuming they were still present at the center and hadn't been killed yet. The rest of the 57th Battalion was only acting as cover fire and a diversion, allowing Rocket Squad to enter more easily.

Only one member of Rocket Squad survived, the rest were either blown into oblivion during the drop sequence, or a bullet nailed their chests whilst they were on land.

Which way to go? The first question had already come to mind. Marcus noticed how most of the ships crashed in a similar position, with their noses pointing towards the dying sun. Knowing that the ships were headed there, he began to limp. Only for a couple of steps before the little voice in his head spoke again. Then he felt the dryness in his mouth.

If he became too dehydrated, he would lose the ability to think straight, and the ability to fight. It basically meant his doom. Right at that moment, Marcus discovered a small pool. But some thick soil collected horribly at the surface and caused the water the fog up.

"Eh...." Marcus gave a disgusted look. "I don't suppose I can drink that..."

There it was, the water Marcus needed, but contaminated with carcasses of dead insects and fallen leaves. His fingers dipped into the shallow side of the pool and extracted a small bit of water. It was utterly sickening. Marcus could slowly feel something coming up his throat.