Two Soldiers

Chapter One: An Unlikely Friend

An artillery strike blew most of Charlie's team to smithereens. The counter strike into Russian territory had been brutal, soldiers were sent to the slaughter on both sides. Charlie grabbed his only remaining member of his team, Caleb Stilinski, by his arm and pulled him out of the foxhole and into the thick woods to their left. Bullets from Russian machine gun emplacements ripped up the dirt around them. There was no use in firing back, the Russians were dug in deep and had been waiting for them. As they entered the cover of the trees their surroundings got much darker.  Charlie and Caleb both took cover behind a few larger rocks to regain themselves.

"How much ammo do you have?" Charlie asked, out of breath and shaking.

"Three mags, plus my sidearm. You?"

"Two mags, one grenade and a smoke."

"We've gotta make it back to the main force and regroup." Caleb suggested.

"We'll never make it, they're probably surrounding us right now." Charlie took a quick look around. "Our best bet is to head a little further into the woods, hunker down in those buildings we passed and wait for backup. The 27th division wasn't that far behind."

"Alright, top off your rifle. Let's get ready to move."

"You lead, I've got rear."

"Copy." Caleb replied.

Caleb stood up, leading the way to the half destroyed abandoned building that their squad passed earlier that day with Charlie covering his rear. They rushed through the trees as more and more adrenaline pumped through their veins each second. Bullets started shredding the terrain around them, Russian soldiers were right behind them, hunting them down like dogs. They were outnumber one to ten. 

A burst of rounds tore through Caleb back and collapsed on the ground in front of him. In response Charlie turned and fired only one shot, hitting the Russian shooter directly in the throat. The Russian flew hard on his back as he began to choke on his own blood.  Bullets still firing all around them, Charlie grabbed Caleb and dragged him behind a cluster on downed trees and logs. Charlie tried to help but there was little he could do.

"You gotta go." Caleb said. "I'll buy you as much time as possible."

"No! We don't leave anyone behind!" Charlie yelled over the gunfire.

"I can't move and i'm gonna die anyways." Charlie fired a few rounds back at the Russian's. He thought he saw one of them get hit, but couldn't tell through all of the foliage. "Go. I'll hold them off." Charlie stayed knelt down next to Caleb. "Go!"

Charlie finally stood up and began running as Caleb opened fire at the Russians hidden in the brush. Charlie was almost at a full sprint when one bullet ripped straight through his calf and another tore right through his lower left abdomen. He fell full force into the ground, rolling a few feet after he hit the dirt. Charlie emptied his mag into the surrounding trees where the bullets came from. "Fuck." He uttered as he ejected his magazine and loaded his last one. He stood up and began moving as fast as he could, which was only a portion of how fast he was previously running. 

He limped all the way to the crumbling buildings he and his team passed just a few hours ago. He entered the third building from the front, he half-assed cleared it and collapsed in a corner. He held his gun up at the door entrance when suddenly the gunfire in the distance stopped. Which meant Caleb was dead. Charlie was the last man left in his squad. He took off his helmet, goggles and pulled down his balaclava, revealing his dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He lowered his rifle and checked his gunshot wounds. 

Charlie had stretched the wounds by running and increased the bleeding. His calf was manageable, but not his abdomen. If he didn't stop the bleeding, he would die in a few hours. The bullet to his calf had gone straight through but the one in his lower left abdomen was still inside him. He knew he couldn't stay still. The rest of the Russians in the woods were hunting him. He needed a plan and he had one. Charlie climbed to the second floor of the crumbling, concrete building slowly. He took cover just outside a window as the Russian soldiers were making their way towards him.