The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-47-

The sun is bright, shining down on us with a blinding celestial glow, and yet the heat it brings is little to none.  Its pale light bathes the grassy landscape around us as we move to our next destination, but it doesn't stop a shiver from rippling down my spine.  I'm still cold, and the quiet town looming in the distance does anything but soothe my anxious trembles.

We've been migrating toward the bridges since dawn.  As soon as the tangerine sun rose up over the hills, bleeding the morning sky with brilliant hues of butterscotch, lilac, and sapphire, we gathered our belongings and hopped on the nearest tank to the bridges.  Now it's nearing midday, and this little town is the only thing that's between us and our destination.

Here's hoping we can move through it without any trouble.

I sit atop one of the many Sherman tanks rumbling down the dirt road.  Mikey, Jon, and Dallon are with me, all the while the rest of our company either rides on the other tanks or walks alongside them.

Frank is one of the latter.  He strolls beside our tank with one of the other ground commanders, weapon in hand and wits about him.  Every so often he spares a glance back at me, his face alight with a sly smirk and the occasional wink.  And every time, I can't swallow a peculiar sensation bubbling deep in the pit of my stomach.  I'm not quite sure why.

The tanks approach the outskirts of town, slowly staggering to a stop as the commander near Frank ventures out in front of us.  His footsteps stir up loose dust on the road, billowing out into the air behind him.  I'm not entirely sure what he's doing, but it's making me nervous.  He's exposed out there, and the town before us is far too silent for my liking.

Frank saunters back to the side of the tank, absentmindedly tapping his knuckles on the metal as he stares out at the commander.  "He's getting a little antsy, huh?"  he remarks with a smirk, sparing a glance up at the four of us.  "I never thought anyone would be so eager to start a gunfight."

"He's making me anxious,"  Mikey says, voicing my thoughts exactly.  "We don't know if that town is safe or not.  What if there's an ambush?"

"I'll get his attention,"  Jon cuts in, his tone cool and nonchalant.  He dramatically clears his throat and cups his hands around his mouth, his loud voice ringing through the still air around us.  "Hey!  Commander!"

The commander turns around just as a silent bullet strikes him in the back of the neck; he crumples to the dusty road in an instant, crimson blood spurting from his throat.

Oh no.

Everything goes to absolute hell in a matter of seconds.  A spray of bullets pings off the tanks, echoing in my ears and stopping my heart inside my chest.  People scream, yell, shout at the top of their lungs to take cover because there's a sniper firing at us from the town.  I see everyone else scramble for the safety of the ditch, so that's where I go, every single nerve in my body wired up and ready to fight.

Ready to hide from the ambush that my gut warned me about.

The ditch overflows with frantic soldiers in a heartbeat, all pressing themselves against the dirt to avoid the bullets whizzing overhead.  Frenzied yells pound inside my skull.  Paralyzing fear pumps through my veins.  I can't move, can't even turn my head to see what's going on above me.  Time slows to molasses, and I can't stop it.  I can't stop it.

I'm never going to be able to leave this godforsaken ditch.

Frank topples down next to me, a small cry of pain escaping his throat as he hits the ground.  His hazel eyes are wide and glinting with pure terror, his skin sickly pale as he hastily turns to grab my arms.  "Gerard!"  he exclaims over the deafening noise, his grip on me deathlike.  "They're telling us to move forward!  Take a group and head for that barn!  Serpent Company's gonna meet us there!"