Lion Heart

Awake

The deafening mid-day sun beats down on my barely open eyes, I roll my head sideways as I lie there; a dusty afghan road stretches before me, buildings on either side surrounded by high walls. Small thirsty plants sprout from the base of the wall and reach skyward, everything tinted with orange dust. No movement, no sound - nothing. I don't feel pain anymore, just a dull ache. The air is thick and difficult to breathe. Silently a cat hobbles out of an alley, it's pale ginger and white coat partly crimson and matted on its shoulder. It pauses and looks my way. In that moment it crosses my mind that it had come to save me, but it carries on, as silently as it came, disappearing down another alley. I'm alone again. My head rolls back, my eyes lose focus and start to close, but I keep them open - I'm not finished yet.

I lift my left hand to reveal a crimson blemish, lodged in my gut, but I just put my hand back on it and leave it be, for it isn't the biggest challenge I've got to face. The surreal feeling has faded a little, granting the clarity of mind to question my situation. How did I get here? How did I get hurt? Where is everyone?

I sit up on my right arm, roll over, and bring my knees underneath me. I step my right leg in front of me and in one push, hoist myself onto my feet, clutching for the wall. My feet shuffling, step by painful step - the only sound in the blaze of the peak sun. I start to hobble towards the alley that the cat disappeared down. I turn the corner; the alley is easily wide enough to fit a vehicle down - it's more like a road. Four storey buildings stand tall on either side, and a crumpled, blackened wreck meets my eyes. That must have been the vehicle I was in, so where the hell is everyone?

I drag myself to the front of the wreck - no sign. It's too quiet. There are no bodies in the jeep; it's like my squad and I were never in there. I hold onto the door frame and shuffle to the rear window, where I could clearly see a large blast hole in the back right corner. The front left door was open. Air floods up my nose as some recollection of the incident comes to me. That was my seat, the front left, furthest from the blast. Apart from the buckled wreak of the blasted door, the other doors were open too, and there were drag marks coming from them, like something heavy was dragged out...

Upon closer inspection, the occupant of the crumpled rear seat couldn't have survived the blast, as only a severed left arm remains. I pull my head from the window and turn round to throw up. Nothing comes, but the retching shock of the sudden change is beginning to sink in.

That's when I hear it: a half choked cough which sounded unnervingly like "help", coming from somewhere nearby. I spin 180, looking for the source of the sound, only to be blinded by dizzy fog which sends me crashing to the ground. Before I know what's happened, I'm on my feet again, clutching my stomach which now throbs in great waves of pain. I hear it again, left, it's on my left. I hobble around the bonnet of the jeep and grope for the wall, turning left. There it is again, this time behind me. I turn and hobble back past the jeep. The explosion has knocked through a section of wall, and something had been dragged through it. I turn through the hole and see it, a pair of legs, and as I edge in further, not five metres away, a person, propped up against the other side of the wall.

Skully.

"Here," he chokes, although his expression is not one of delight at the prospect of being saved, rather grim infact. He doesn't even look at me. Something is wrong.

I start to limp towards him, only to be halted by a weak but stern warning, "No, Stop, don't come closer."

"Skully, you need help." It hurts when I talk and my voice is breaking but I try to hide it, I try to cover up my pain, stay strong. I start towards him again. This time he does not object, worse, his face screws up, tears making tracks through the dust on his face.

"I don't want you to see me like this," he sobs, his voice choked by painful tears, his breath shallow and gasping. 

"It's OK-"

"OK? You think this is OK? Blown up in some fucked up place nobody's heard of, nobody for god knows how many miles around, this is not OK." More tears roll down his face, there's a long pause as he coughs and struggles to breathe through the fluid in his throat. His head is layed back and hasn't changed position since I found him, "I just wanna see my mum and dad, I just miss them so much."

 I sat down next to him, I'm his only link to his past and only hope for a future. "Listen, we're getting out of here, I'll make sure of it." By words disappear in the heat of the sun. He doesn't respond "Look at me". He turns his head with all of his strength. "I'll get you out, that's a promise."

That's when I notice it.

"I'm not going anywhere..." The colour has faded faded from what's left of his face, his eyes fixated on mine, a grim expression turns down the corners of his mouth. His cheek bone can be seen through the horrific burn down his left face, and he cradles the bleeding stump of his left arm with his right, blood staining his shirt.

His arm. Lying on the back seat.

He's stopped crying now, just staring straight ahead. His breathing is shallow and his eyes are glassy. The wind offers no relief from the unrelenting heat, neither does the solitary thirsty cloud that floats by, oblivious to the world below.

The silence grows louder, his breathing quieter, until eventually the silence is so loud I can no longer hear his pain.

Skully doesn't move.

I reach an arm out and shake his shoulder, "Skully."

Nothing

"Skully, come on man!"

I'm shaking him frantically, tears rolling down my neck, "Skully, I promised... I promised." A great rolling fog blinds me, totally disorienting me. The ground rushes up to meet my face and a warm but pained feeling passes over me, casting me so far from the world I am no longer aware of it's existence.