Ghosts of the Past (A Call Of Duty: Ghosts Fanfiction)

Chapter Eleven

The pain in my wrist was relentless as I sat at the bottom of the trap hours later. My eyes stung from tears pressing to break free, yet I distracted myself from doing so by glaring at the muddy stone wall. The clothes from earlier were filthy and crusty from mud, my hair and face showing signs of a little mud as well. 

    "How could you be so stupid?" I threw a fistful of mud at the wall. 

    I'd followed Rorke right into a trap like a lost little puppy. Any soldier, no matter their experience, could've seen that coming. How was it then that I hadn't? How had I managed to let my guard down so easily?

    Merrick would've been so incredibly disappointed. Keegan's icy gaze glared at me through my mind, his lips saying a nasty remark about rookies, inexperience, and not paying attention to surroundings. Kick shook his head in disappointment while Hesh stood silently, arms crossed. His pine green eyes were full of hopelessness. 

    They were all depending on my success. Without it, they'd be unaware of the danger of what Rorke was building. And while little time had gone into me, the Ghosts would have just wasted more, precious moments on a failure. 

    I refused to let them down. 

    Standing, I walked forward until I could feel the rippled wall of the hole. There were grooves for climbing yet nothing for direct scaling. I walked along the circular area, feeling the shallower and deeper grooves of the carved stone. The shallower parts made a perfect T in comparison to the walls. 

    I repositioned myself in the center of the trap, releasing my broken wrist from the comfort of my body. In careful motions, I spread out like a T until I could touch three parts of the circle. My wrist screeched in pain as I began to walk up the sides of the hole, mud caking my hands and stone scratching at my palms.

    Halfway up, a loud rumble startled my focused mind. I released my stance and fell flat onto my back. Mud flew up from the splatter and a hot wave of sickness washed over me as my wrist made impact with the ground. I let out a groan of utter pain, watching the helicopter fly past unaware. 

    In frustration, I began again. Climbing the deep, mucky trap wasn't easy, but I managed to get high enough to swing my right leg up and around one of the lateral bars put in place, the back of my knee a decent hook. I used my good hand to grab a second one, pulling myself up. 

    Quivering, I slipped my smaller, flatter body through one of the gaps in the bars and used it to sit. I acknowledged my surroundings, Keegan's constant nagging of that ringing in my dizzy head. No one was directly around, yet searchlights were positioned throughout the area for security. While it was night, the place was still bustling.

    I crawled to the side, free of the suffocating death hole at last, and let out a shaky breath. "Fuck this place." 

    My heart was a jackhammer in my chest as I crouched and proceeded forward. Barefoot and muddy, I used the occasional tree or bush as a hiding place. The grassy areas were a shock to my tender feet and I was worried I'd be leaving a mud trail at some spots. As long as I moved consistently I doubted I'd be spotted. 

    My general target was an armory. With as many weapons I'd seen the first time touring, I didn't think it'd be hard to find one. Once armed, I knew it'd be easier to try and fight my way to a secure position. A room with comms would be helpful for getting ahold of the Ghosts. 

    "You two circle around by The Hole...commander wants to make sure the prisoner is secure..." 

    I let out a low breath and crouched deeper into a set of leafy bushes as the two ordered soldiers passed less than two feet away. Their conversation faded behind me as they headed to check on where I should have been. In a fluster, I crawled out of the bushes and tried to continue on to the nearest building.