The mud under Connathan's feet sucked him into the ground with every step. He was exhausted. He had no idea what made his legs go up and forward through the thick black layer of mud. "Where are we going...?" He thought. The front lines were a living hell hole. Nothing but mud, blood and a shit ton of walking. Seven hours had passed until James called a break for everyone. "Alright take a half hour rest!" He shouted from the front of the line. Connathan fell to his knees in relief, he quickly grabbed his satchel for water and drank half of it. He let out a sigh as he put it back in the pack. There was a lot of conversation going on amongst the men. Some spoke of death, others of life. But most complained about toe blisters. Connathan noticed one man sitting alone from all the others. He showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever. He just looked down at the ground with an angry expression. Connathan went to talk to him. "Yo." He said. The man made no movement nor reaction. James noticed what was going on, and walked over. He was about ten yards when Connathan went to offer a drink to the man, "Wait Connathan stop!" James yelled. Connathan put his hand out to the man, and before he knew it was flat on his back with a knife to his throat. "What do you want huh?" The man asked, James came from behind him and pulled the knife from his hand. He began to make hand movements to the man, and a slight nod came from him in response. The man helped Connathan to his feet. Connathan looked down at him, the man was no more then a sixteen year-old boy, and was no more than five foot five. "What is it you were offering me?" He asked. Connathan showed him the water jug, and handed it to him. The man looked at it, and gave a short nod of rejection towards the offer. "You need that more than I do I assure you." He pushed it away and walked off. James came up to Connathan."You alright kid?" He said, "You took a rough fall there." he added. "I'm fine." He replied. James could tell by the expression on Connathan's face that he wondered who the man who knocked him down was. "His name is Roy Strecken, sergeant of this platoon." He explained. "Sergeant? How the hell is h-" He was cut off to the sound of a gun fire and a man scream. Every one got down, and layed flat. Another shot went by and killed another man. Then the sound of another gun rang out. One of their own men. No shot's returned from the distance. The man was dead. "Sniper?" Connathan asked James. "Yup." He replied, "A marksman about two-hundred yards from here." He added. "How do you know?" He asked. Suddenly Roy walked by with a sniper rifle over his shoulder. "Roy told me." He answered with a grin. "I see why he's sergeant now." He thought. "Why did he throw me though?" He asked James. "He has some personal space issues, he was in prison half his life so, he never hesitates to let anyone know when to back off." James replied. "C'mon we have to keep moving, that sniper could mean a lot more trouble for us later. He added.
Another brutal march through the mud came. A full twelve hours of it. By nightfall everyman including Roy was ready to drop. "We walked almost an entire day for fuck's sake." one of the men complained. "And we'll be doin' it again tomorrow lad." James called to him. Every man groaned at that thought. Roy sat next to Connathan, "Sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to go that far. I just like my space." He said. "No problem, it's ok." Connathan replied. "You're pretty tough for your age." He added. Roy glared at him, Connathan was suprised at how intimidating he looked. His face wasn't as young looking as any other sixteen year-old. He looked more like he was in his twenties. "Ok, relax." He said with his hand out to protect his face. Roy just laughed at him.
They set up camp for the night, and got into pairs for bunking. Connathan went with Roy. They threw their bags into the camp and laid down in the dirt piles that substituted as bedding. "How long you been in the military?" Roy asked Connathan. "I just got in here, I was part of the mercenary force outside in Vancouver, I got moved to the front a few days ago." He replied. "I see." Roy responded. "Where are comin' from Roy?" Connathan asked. "I'm from New Brunswick, I came from a prison there, as punishment for my crime they sent me to war. If I survive then I am released. If not, I go to Heaven." He answered. Roy began to laugh, "Anyone you want me to say hi to up there?" He asked with a smile. Connathan laughed at that remark. Then he began to think about his parents. He was six years old when he saw his house come crashing down on them. The memory made him shiver, he didn't know anything about them. All he actually had was the compliments he got from the people who knew his parents. "You look just like your Father they'd tell me." He thought to himself "You have your Mother's eyes." He thought. "Say hi to my parents for me." He said.
The next morning came to the sound of gunfire. "Wake up! Get up!" Men called from around the camp. Connathan grabbed his jacket and the rifles, Roy grabbed the packs, and they both dived out of the tent. The minute they set foot out, they were confronted by a Barbarian swords man, he lunged at Connathan, but in the blink of an eye was on the ground with his own sword in his throat with Roy standing over him. "Let's move!" Roy yelled. They both ran through the chaos of the morning, side by side. They ran towards the forest that was to the left of the camp. "We should be safer in there!" Roy implied. Connathan gave a quick nod in response. They entered the forest. They were in the midst of a gathering of large trees when Roy grabbed Connathan and slammed him against the ground. "Get down asshole." He said, no more than ten yard away from them was James. He had two pistols in his hands and was fighting off Barbarians. He dodged and shot at them, managing to get three of the seven until he was thrown to the ground. Connathan drew his rifle, but Roy pushed it down. "No, he's done." Roy said. As he finished his sentence James made a cry of pain, and with that, he was dead. Connathan stared at the Barbarians, he was angry, but had no idea how to act. He just sat there, and watched them leave the body. "Let's keep moving, keep your gun ready." Roy told him, he patted him on the shoulder and they started moving through the dense forest. They hid themselves in the thick of the wood til everything had calmed down near the campsite. Just like them a few other men did the same. They moved back into the camp and gathered whatever they could that remained. "Alright, how many do we have left?" Roy said to himself as he began counting the number of men that remained from the attack. "We had eighty." Connathan told. "Well now we have twenty-seven." Roy said with a rather low tone in his voice. He sat down, and pulled a flare out of his bag. He lit it immediately and set it down in the centre of the reckage. "Let's start moving boys!" Roy called. The men looked at him in anger, they were all tired from the chaos of the morning. "You move your ass on track kid, we ain't moving." one of the soldiers called. Roy walked over to him, and just like he did to Connathan. Showed who was the leader. "Alright you motherfucking saps I said move!" He yelled out. Each man got into line and began following Roy. Connathan marched next to him. The next morning came to the sound of gunfire. "Wake up! Get up!" Men called from around the camp. Connathan grabbed his jacket and the rifles, Roy grabbed the packs, and they both dived out of the tent. The minute they set foot out, they were confronted by a Barbarian swords man, he lunged at Connathan, but in the blink of an eye was on the ground with his own sword in his throat with Roy standing over him. "Let's move!" Roy yelled. They both ran through the chaos of the morning, side by side. They ran towards the forest that was to the left of the camp. "We should be safer in there!" Roy implied. Connathan gave a quick nod in response. They entered the forest. They were in the midst of a gathering of large trees when Roy grabbed Connathan and slammed him against the ground. "Get down asshole." He said, no more than ten yard away from them was James. He had two pistols in his hands and was fighting off Barbarians. He dodged and shot at them, managing to get three of the seven until he was thrown to the ground. Connathan drew his rifle, but Roy pushed it down. "No, he's done." Roy said. As he finished his sentence James made a cry of pain, and with that, he was dead. Connathan stared at the Barbarians, he was angry, but had no idea how to act. He just sat there, and watched them leave the body. "Let's keep moving, keep your gun ready." Roy told him, he patted him on the shoulder and they started moving through the dense forest. They hid themselves in the thick of the wood til everything had calmed down near the campsite. Just like them a few other men did the same. They moved back into the camp and gathered whatever they could that remained. "Alright, how many do we have left?" Roy said to himself as he began counting the number of men that remained from the attack. "We had eighty." Connathan told. "Well now we have twenty-seven." Roy said with a rather low tone in his voice. He sat down, and pulled a flare out of his bag. He lit it immediately and set it down in the centre of the reckage. "Let's start moving boys!" Roy called. The men looked at him in anger, they were all tired from the chaos of the morning. "You move your ass on track kid, we ain't moving." one of the soldiers called. Roy walked over to him, and just like he did to Connathan. Showed who was the leader. "Alright you motherfucking saps I said move!" He yelled out. Each man got into line and began following Roy. Connathan marched next to him.
