The Raiders and The Princess

by FIRE FLASH 3

Chapter VII: Point Of Views

Author's Note:

This is a more complicated chapter than any of the previous ones. I decided to change the aspect of the story so instead of focusing on the main characters, I wanted to focus on the suporting characters.

I hope it will please you, though there are a few (or a thousand) mistakes, but rest asured that I have a proofreader who is working on it but the corrected story will not be up since I want to give my proofreader's some time, and not stress him out.

Chapter VII

The sun slowly rose up into the sky, over Guadalcanal. The night had been filled with an eerie silence, broken by the sudden burst of rifle and machine gun fire. But still, in bunker N°127 the occasional sound of gun fire in the distance was enough to catch our attention. Well... most of us.

Lou and Twilight were still sleeping. He still hadn't moved his arm from her waist as he was holding her within his hug. I and the others smirked at each other, knowing full well what their reaction would be like. Though it was funny to see Lou sleeping with a member of the opposite sex, I will say this: I don't think I've seen Lou sleep like that since our arrival here.

Yes, we all have some good nights, but they rarely last more than a few hours. But this time, Lou was sleeping longer than any of us could hope for.

Maybe it was Twilight?

In the end, as the sun rose up above the jungle, we could see smoke on the horizon. It was only 5 am so me and the others left the shelter and made a dash for the coast. We stood there, on the beach where we had landed a month ago and starred out to sea. Many others were also starring out into the fiery abyss.

The smoke wasn't coming from the island, but the ocean. Far out to sea, we could see nothing but fire and smoke. Another convoy, carrying ammunition, medical supplies, reinforcements, ass-wipe and most importantly. Food. Now going up in flames.

The surface of the water was ablaze, oil and fuel flowing through the sea. We stood there for a few more minutes, our attention was no longer directed at the sinking ships, but the bodies washed up on the shore. Some people ran over to the bodies and began searching the bodies. Taking food, weapons, ammo, anything they could find. We didn't try and stop them.

No one did. Why should we stop someone trying to find stuff to make their lives easier? We slowly headed back to the camp, everyone was silent. No one made a sound.

To make a change of scenery, me and the others decided to cut through the airfield. Pilots were getting into their planes. Craters from the last shelling or bombardment littered the ground. The runway too had suffered the wrath of the Japanese Empire. Once we reached the camp, we made our way back to our shelter. Once there, we were greeted by the most adorable sight.

Lou was cuddling Twilight. His arms were wrapped around her and he was holding her tight against his chest. A content smile on his face. Twilight too.

They both seemed so calm and peaceful, but the war wasn't going to wait for peace. So we had no choice but to wake him.

I nudged him with my foot, his eyes shot open and he starred straight at me.

“Come on Sargent, cuddle time's over” I said in a soft tone. He looked at me in confusion, he then looked at the strange feeling he was getting in his arms. His eyes widened when he saw Twilight cuddled into him and slowly pulled his arms from around her barrel. We just smirked at him, finding the whole thing hilariously adorable.

He slowly stood up and glared at us. “Don't. Ever. Talk about this to anyone! Anyone!!” He hissed, we just saluted him in response, still smirking. He took a quick look around before pushing his way past us to do whatever First Sargents do.

We looked back down at Twilight who was still sleeping. We decided not to wake her, she was really tired after everything that had happened yesterday and... in a way... we still can't get over what had happened yesterday. The whole 'I really am a pony princess from another planet' still makes my head spin. Why these sort of things happen ONLY to us and not to the other squads is either a miracle or bad luck.

Five minutes latter Lou came back with a sewing kit. Twilight was still sleeping while we all sat down in the shelter. The others were doing there own thing, Lou was sitting next to Twilight. Sewing together the shirt she had ripped apart with her... wings. I was taking my rifle apart. A clean weapon is a combat ready weapon!

Outside, everything was quiet, there was no sound, no movement. Just... peace.

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Sitting there watching Lou sew up the shirt that Twiligth had destroyed was quite interesting. Lou always told us how important it was to know how to sew. And in a way, I guess he was right. We would always find ourselves in a situation where we would get our clothes ripped to shreds. And since we were refused replacement uniforms, we had rebuild our own.

But some wouldn't bother. Instead, they would strip the dead. Such as those men were doing this morning. I won't lie. We've all looted and stripped the dead.

Philosophicaly, it's a necessity. That means that it is necessary to strip the corpses to find ammo, clothes and food to survive. the same goes for water, it is necessary to drink water to live. It's hard to understand what goes on, and I bet that people back home can't even imagine what goes on here. As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing else we can do. We respect the dead, but when pushed to the extreme, we don't always have a choice.

When I look back on those moments, I... I get this... You get this feeling of... guilt. You know?
You understand that, right? Right?

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Understand? What is there to understand? When you see all those corpses in the water, the picture is given to you. People who drowned after having been victim to some sort of maratime disaster. Strange... I sometimes wonder what goes through the heads of those poor people, what are their thoughts? What are their final moments like? Do they suffer? But in the end... no one realy cares, especialy the officers!

All they do is write a letter with an explenation as to how their son or daughter died. 'Died as heroes' do you realy believe that? How can you believe what someone writes to you?

Guess I must be the lucky one. Being the youngest of the groop, I don't have to deal with the letters to the families, all I have to do is drag the bodies to the pile. But... In the end, can you realy blame them? I mean... those officers. I know that Lou isn't an officer... yet, but when you see him pulling the tags from our dead. You can see this look of heartache as he rips away the identity of what used to be friends of ours.

I looked back at Twilight. It's hard to imagine that we only discovered the truth about her yesterday and that we had accepted it so quickly. I guess we're just...

Family.

I slowly got up and headed out of the crampt shelter. No matter how safe you feel in that hole in the ground, after a while the need for fresh air beggins to play in your mind. As I stepped outside, my vision was blured by the sunlight that struck my face.

Above, a clear blue sky with no clouds. It was as if I'd just gotten home from school on a lovely summers day. The air entered my nose and exited through my mouth. The air was sweet and fresh, nothing bad contained within.

And... I don't know why... But I began to walk away from the shelter. I slowly began to walk away from home. My mind was turning. There were no clear thoughts going through my head, just flashes of my past. Slowly each one began to slow down until it landed on one particular scene where I was taking a walk with my mum. The jungle slowly began to meld with that flashback.

Except... this wasn't a flashback nor was it a dream. Its October 1926, I am 4 years old and I've just started going to school. And here we are, me and my mum walking along the dirt track that leads to our house. She's swinging her arms as am I in unison.

I look up at her, her auburn curls glisten in the sunlight. She looks down at me, her eyes radiate the most beautiful brown, and yet, the love and kindness of the motherly love she holds for me. We continue to walk, the house is coming into view . We're laughing, me and her.

We're laughing with joy. She looks back up at the horizon, in the distance... I can see my father. He's crouched down, his arms wide open. I'm ready. I'm ready to run the fatest I can to be in his arms. I'm about to run, but my mum stops me. Instead, she kneels down in front of me and she looks at me dead in the eyes. But this time, its different. Her eyes don't radiate the same motherly love as they did only moment before. Instead, they show fear.

Fear? Fear of what?

She beggins to open her mouth and she beggins to shake me. She looks even more distressed and she beggins to yell.

“TAKE COVER!!!!!!!”

The world beggins to change. Reality soon beggins to take over. In front of me, the face that belonged to my mother is now blured. Everything is blured, but its all coming back in to view.

I can now see, it's no longer my mother who's shaking me, instead, its a man wearing khaki clothing. He's wearing a helmet and he's shaking me violently. He appears to be in his early twenties and he's yelling at me. Screaming at me. 'Get down' 'Get the fuck down'. I was still lost and confused. I'm trying to get a look at my surroundings while the guy keeps pushing me back.

A whistling sound fills the air. I'm no longer able to tell if it is only in my head or is it real. Suddenly, there's this defening explosion and this gust of wind that blows me and the guy into the air.

We crash in some sort of ditch or trench the. I'm lying on my right side and my back hurts, burt as I look up I can see this other guy lying on his left side. Facing me.

He looks up at me, and I can tell he's worst off than me. Blood beggins to fill the trench in which we're taking shelter. The sky was no longer the blue it had been earlier. Now it was dark. Dark with planes. And all I can do is pray, and hope I make it out alive.

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A few minutes after Tomy left the shelter, I suddenly began to feel crampt and a horrible need to get off my ass and stand straight up. So, taking one last look at Mark, Lou and Twilight, I left.

The air was sweet and fresh, the sky was blue and there was this sense of calmness in the air. The need to move my legs finaly pushed me to start to walking away from the shelter. As I walked, my mind began to run wild as I thought back on my life. The reasons for why I was here. I still remember when I ran away from the training base and hid in a public toilet. It cost them 1$50 to get me out.

Was I realy worth 1$50?

In the end, if I wasn't here, then someone else would. I'd rather not think about it, but for some reason I couldn't help. It was as if something was making me have these thoughts. Finaly, mind went into dream land. And I was lost within my memories.

I couldn't see what was going outside in the real world. I was back home, listening to the radio it was December but I don't remember the date or the year. Me and my dad were listening to the lunch time baseball match. The fire is going, and I'm sat on the old armchair in the corner near the door that leads to the Kitchen. My dad is smoking his pipe like he usualy does.

My mum walks past the door, she says that she's going to check the letter box. The presenter on the radio keeps on yelling out what's happening on the field. Detailed descriptions of what each player is doing.

A strange smell enters the room, something I can't describe and yet I knew exactly what it was. The smell is weak so I decide to ignore it.

The sound of the door opening broke me out of my trance. My mum walks in and puts the post down on the island unit. A newspaper under her arm. She left the room probably to check on the dinner. The radio continues playing, I can hear the crowd chearing in the background.

I suddenly hear my mum gasp loudly in shock, before she comes running into the room with a panicked look on her face.

“Honey, honey look at what's in the paper!” She says, nearly in a fit. Before we can ask her what's wrong the radio brakes up and before coming to a new presentor.

“We interupt this program to bring you the latest update. An attck has been made against the US naval base at Pear Harbor, Hawai President Roosvelt has just anounced...” The rest of the program faded as the room fell silent.

I now knew what this memory was. It was the day that my dad enlisted me in the Marine Corp. All I can do is look around at my family, my mum is frozen in shock so I turn my attention to dad. He's looking at the ground but his gaze slowly rises to meet mine. And he stares at me.

“Help me sort out the wounded will you Private!”

My mind slowly began to awake from its trip into... I rub my eyes and took a look around me. All around me are bodies, corpses and wounded. Another guy... a medic is looking up at me and he has confused look on his face.

“Are you deaf? Can you please help me get these men sorted for preOP” He says, I shake my head clear and nod. I don't say anything, I just... get on knees and pull the stretcher up and cary one wounded guy into the MASH. I'm taken into the operartion room and all I can see are people. People all over the place, some are on tables and others are standing around them. A doctor yells at me to get a mask on. Put I didn'ty hear that part instantly. All I can hear are people screaming, pleading for help.

I bring the wounded man up to a table before I place him upon it. At that moment, a medic ushers me out of the door. I'm now left outside in the preOP area. With nothing to do, I beggin to leave the room.

“hey... help” A croaked voice pleads. I look around and see this guy, in his early Twenties. Both his legs are gone and he appears to be bleeding. I rush over to him and beggin to apply pressure to the wound.

“Hey... are you alright?” I ask, he doesn't reply. He only looks at me with lost and confused eyes. “Are you okay...” still nothing. It was as if he had just lost the ability to speak.

A medic comes rushing in, I was about to stop him and ask for some help, but he doesn't stop. Another medic comes rushing through “Hey could you get some----” But he pays no attention. He continues on his way, as if we weren't realy there. All I can do is look back at the wounded man. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out. So I take his hand and hold it tight. I don't say anything to him.

So I sat there, by his side as medics ran past us in every direction like... we were never really there.

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I have no idea of why I left the bunker. The cramp feeling I was getting behind my back or the severe lack of breathable air. Either way, I now found myself walking away from home. No real destination in mind. Since I left, I had seen no sign of Mark or Tomy.

Around me, men were running about as if there had been something worth seeing. An Allied cruiser perhaps? Maybe the ABDACOM fleet has finaly gotten through the blockade? Or is it a transport vessel? Carrying the supplies that we sooo desperately need.

Those thoughts ran around my head, the thought of one last transport carrying the last of the food, water, medical supplies and ammo that we would ever get, before... slowly... making way back to the safety of territorial waters. The pleas of thousands of Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Officers, Medics... Raiders gone unoticed as the ship fled into the night. Leaving us there. On that beach, as the japanese patrol boats approached the shore, guns blazing.

I don't realy know why, but I suddenly found myself walking towards the ocean. Like some sort of force was pulling me towards the beach.

As if... there were sirens calling for me. Luring me within their trap with their beautiful song. Woven within the air.

I soon found myself on the same beach we had 'visited' this morning. The corpses were still arrinving on the late morning tide. I stood there, staring out to sea. I could see, in the distance, the smoke from last night's burning transports. The thought I had had earlier came back into mind. I suddenly began to dream about the sirens... luring these poor sailors into the path of a japanese torpedo. Their songs filling these mens mind with peace and hope for an early trip home.

I guess coming home in a box counts as a quck journey. But even for these men, there was no way home, they were tricked into a gamble with death and an eraly trip home.

And now! They would have to wait like the rest of us.

I continued my walk up along the beach, these thoughts still going through my head. There were even more corpses wached up on the sand on the beach towards Kakombona village.

I dared not venture to far since the Kakombona was still out of our reach.

After a few minutes, I saw this big lump of reckage. A mound of twisted metal. And... inside was man. His body was caught in between the wall of the wreck and what looked like the remains of gard rail. I approached to get a better look. I don't know what made me want to take a better look. Why would I want to look at this guy more than anyother on this beach?

The sailor appeared to be in his early twenties, maybe even his late teens. His eyes were closed, he layed outstreched with his right arm outstreched above his head while his left arm followed the length of his body. He didn't appear to have suffered any injuries, but drowning doesn't leave a blood stain. Though I was expecting his stomach to be bloated.

I was just about to search him when... suddenly, his eyes shot open. He suddenly began chocking out all the sea water that he must have swallowed. I sat in the sand, my thoughts lost as I sat there in confusion.

The man was alive.

I was sure he was dead, but what did I base myself upon? My medical knoledge? Or the knoledge of fairy tales? In effect, this man had cheated death himself. But I could tell he was in a bad way. So I got back onto my knees and began clearing everything out.

“Are you ok, kid?” I asked, but I received no answer. I guessed he was still in shock, but he was making no noise. No mumbling, no murmuring, not a sound aside from the chocking now and again.

“Hold on, I'm gonna get you outta there” I reassured him, but I still got no reply. Grabbing my shovel, I began bashing the rail that was pinning him down. There was a loud 'CLANG!!' as the rail fell loose. I pulled him out before the structure could collapse on top of him.

We both layed there... on our backs, on the beach. I was panting heavily, but he appeared to be as calm as could be. He wasn't shaking with fear as you would expect. Instead, he was relatively calm. I got up and asked again if he was ok. Again, no answer.

My first conclusion was that he must have been mute. But my first concern was to get him back to the MASH.

So... I slowly got up. Knelt down with my back facing him, as I took both his arms and put them over my shoulder. I slowly got up. The young sailor drapped over my back with his arms around my neck while I held his legs.

And, with that... We slowly began to make our way back to where I had entered the beach. Seconds later...

The air raid siren.

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Dust and dirt was falling all around us. The result of countless explosion leaving us bleeding from our ears. And yet, here I was. In an air raid trench with a guy who looked to be my age or older and who was bleeding out in front of me.

I crawled my way over to him. He was still looking at me with worried eyes. An open wound in the abdomen region left me doing everything I could to try and stop the bleeding.

Around me, pilots, marines, soldiers, doctors were running around in all directions. I saw one pilot try to get into his plane before a hail of bullet struck him and he fell of his plane. Another guy ran to a 50cal in the trench oposite to ours. He wasted no time pulling back the bolt before unleashing his fury upon the attacking war birds.

I turned my attention back to the guy who had saved my life. The pool of blood had now reached my knees and was still going. I tried to do what they taught me back in boot camp: apply pressure.

But as soon as I began to aplly pressure above the wound, more blood came pouring out from all the other sides. Realising I was doing more bad than good, I released the pressure. I stood up slightly before yelling: “Medic! MEDIC!!” But no one could here me over the sound of explosions and the motors of hundreds of planes flying over head.

So I turned my attention back to my companion and was relatively surprised to see that he didn't have a pained expression. He seemed quite calm, in fact. There was no longer that fear in his eyes that had once been there.

I looked back to see a plane crossing the path between me and the other guy with caliber. The plane lined itself up, checked its flaps, opened the throttle before releasing the brakes and zooming off into the air.

Further away, another plane attempted to do the same thing. But this time, a japanese fighter closed up behind him. Four parallel rows of rain like impacts in the ground followed the plane before coming into contact.

In that moment, everything slowed down. Sparks eminated from the rear of the plane as the bullets came into contact with its frame. About twenty meters behind was the persuing aircraft. I don't know what type of plane though I assumed it was a fighter. I could tell there was no escape for the other plane. The bullets ripped through the wing that was to my right hand side, and since he was facing me, that would make it its left wing.

The wing simply blew off tearing a massive pieces of shrapnel with it. The plane didn't explode. It just skided on its side before coming to a halt. There was no massive fire ball, only the frightened young pilot who scrambled from the open canapy and jumped into a trench with some guys who were manning another 50cal.

I looked back down at my wounded friend. He was still looking up at me with an eased look. Again, I called out for medic. Again, nothing.

“I'm gonna find you a medic! I'll be right back” I yeld to him over the explosions. He still didn't answer but just as a I was about to leave him, he grabbed my arm. He shook his head, still holding my arm with his left hand.

Right at that moment, a bomb landed right into the path I was about to in. I looked back at the man. How did he know?

It was true that it was a mystery as to how the man knew the bomb was going to land there! Unless I was jumping to the wrong conclusion and that he just wanted me to stay with him and that the bomb was just a coicidence.

He pointed up at the sky before pointing at himself, then at me. I didn't realy understand, so I gave him a confused look. But that didn't stop him from pulling me down next to him.

So here I was, lying in next to a man who was bleeding out. Looking up at the sky. And in that moment... I began to talk to him. I don't know why but I suddenly found myself telling him my entire life story of how I got here. What I used to do before. What my life was like back home and different everything was since I got here.

And I didn't stop, it was as if something was making me tell this guy everything for no particular reason. But in those moments in that trench, I made myself a silent companion to help me get through the life I was now living.

Even though he was mute, he just... he... It was as if he was counslling me on what to do next with a silent voice. And so I continued telling my brother in arms a dose of my bad luck.

XXXXXXXXX

It must have mean ten minutes since I found this poor wounded kid who was lying on a stretcher and who was ignored by every passing medic. And the air raid siren had long since sounded off through out the camp.

I saw an ambulance arrive with a back full of wounded. One man was plced next to us, his left arm was missing such as his left leg. The man I was with looked at them then turned his attention to me. He seemed worried to see all these men that were lying dead around us. Another medic came running in with a handful of seringes.

Another was carrying a box full bandages. Though with everything that was going on, I was about to go and help with triage. But the man beside me held my arm tight as if it were some sort of relic. A lost saint.

So I stayed there, with him. He smiled but still didn't say a word. I don't know how long I stayed there with him but it must have been hours. After a while I began to feel strange again. The same feeling that had enveloped me when I left the shelter. And... for some reason, I went along with it.

I suddenly found myself talking to the young soldier. I was lying on my back next to him, with medics and doctors running past us. More and more wounded arriving by the minute, and here I was... telling my life's story to a man who probably didn't care. Allthough I didn't get that impression since I found that he seemed to appreciate my autobiography by giving me gentle nudges on my shoulder as if he was telling me to go on.

And so I did. With the worse of the daily bombardement happening only half a mile away, I told my story to the poor young soldier of which I still didn't know his name.

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For my part, I was still walking down the beach in the direction of the entrance I had taken to get here. I couldn't remember where it was exactly, but I did know that the trees would be cleared and there would be loads of crates, boxes, tents, tables, footlockers... and all that.

I passed by the corpses I had seen before I found this guy who was clinging desperately to my back.

My feet drudged through the sand as I stagered under the unbarable heat that had now fallen over the Island. I guessed that the temperature had now attained the eighty 35-40 °C, and I was sweating through my shirt. My Johnson was in my left hand while I was using my right to hold the man I just found stable. But for some reason I was unable to make out any tents or crates or american soldiers on the shore. Why oh why did I go on this walk again? There was no answer for that question as I came to a halt, looking both ways, not being able to remember which way I came from. I tried to pick out any land marks I could remember, but I did have, as Lou would say: “La tête dans la Lune”.

Taking deep breaths, I kept looking down both lengths of the beach. Then it struck me that I was going the wrong way since I remembered turning left before going down the beach, which meant that... All I had to do was face the jungle and turn left.

So there I was again, walking down the beach. ...Or was it up the beach? I didn't care. I was way to thirsty.

As I walked along the beach, I tried to make small talk with my companion. He wasn't lmuch of a talker but I did remind myself that he could be mute. Nevertheless, I continued telling this man my story of how I got here. I don't believe there was any reason for this. I just found it comforting, soothing to the soul.

It was almost as if something was making me tell those stories. An undiscribable force pulling all the words out of me. A monster hungry for words. It appetite not yet calmed even after the stories I was telling it earlier.

Monsters or not, I was still walking along the beach with a wounded man on my back and an insatiabledesire to tell him everything.

So I did. He never said a word during the entire trek back to where I had started. But as I continued telling my life to him... I... I began to feel a an undiscribable calm wash over me.

I don't know for how long I had been walking along that beach but, finaly, I made it back to the entrance to the shore line. There were a few marines positioned on either side of the gate way into hell but, after that, there was no one. Even with the presence of other people, it didn't stop me from continuing my tale.

I was now reaching the part when I was shipped out to New Zealand. Having the worst sea sickness of my life. He listened patiently to my tale with 'somewhat' great interest. And as we penetrated deeper into the jungle, in the direction of the camp, I began to go deeper into my story telling.

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My tale was coming to an end. It was exceptionaly long as I noticed that the air raid had dissipated into the sound of landing planes and marching of troops.

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I ended my story with a content sigh. It had lasted way longer than the thoughts I had had earlier before coming here. The chaos was still going on around me. The entire preOP area was full of wounded brought in from the airfield. But I didn't move. I layed there with my eyes closed but at peace.

But then...

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I then began to worry. I had just finished telling the man behind me about my thoughts and memories. The air raid siren had finished sounding and I was just coming into the camp with the man still on my back.

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I slowly relised that I could no longer here the man's breathing. I sat up slowly, turning to look at him. But I finaly noticed that he wasn't moving, nor was he breathing.

I began to shake him, believing that he had probably gone to sleep.

XXXXXXXXX

It wasn't so. No matter what I did, I got no respons. I tried adminastering CPR but he had an open wound. Blood spurted out of it in rapid succession. I called for a medic but I knew it was too late.

XXXXXXXX

So I stayed there, kneeling beside him. Tears running down my cheecks as I did everything humanly possible to get a respons from the boy. And beside all of this, life continued as usual with the deplacement of troops around me.

Not even looking at us.

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As if...

XXXXXXXXX

We were never realy there.

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The MASH was relatively quiet, only a few medics treating some men who now had bandages around their heads or other parts of their bodies. Even though I had escaped unscaved from the air raid, I could only feel sad by the sudden death of the man who had saved my life.

This man had been my soul mate and now he was gone. I had found no form of identification on him. I had found no dogtags or wallet on him. The only thing I had left form me to do, was to take him to where the rest of the dead go...

The pile.

As I approached the back of the MASH, I was surprised to see Mark and Jack there too. They seemed to be mourning the dead. But I could quickly tell that it went further than that. In front of them, were two men. They bared a strickingly good resemblance to the man I who saved me.

Both men were layed out, not on the pile. But on the ground, with their arms crossed and their eyes closed.

Mark and Jack turned to look at me holding my forever silent companion in my arms. I too, placed the man down next to the men who my friends had found. I crossed his arms and closed his eyes, getting back up and standing next to my friends.

They looked at me but never said a word. Then they both turned their attention back to the corpses layed out in front of them.

No words were said during the trip back home. Neither me or the others said a thing. I believe that we were all shocked about what had happened.

As we left the MASH, I told them about what happened. What happened when the man saved me from the bomb to the part where I had this... desire to tll him about my thoughts. I was extremely surprised to hear that they had had the same thing happen to them.

As they told me their story with the person who they had met, I suddenly began to realise the similarity in each of our tales. But for our sake, we dicided to keep this to our selves. There was no need to tell anyone about what happened, and yet... I think we all got this undiscribable need to try and find out who those men were.

In the end... there was nothing to find out. In this world of hate and war, anything, no matter how far fetched it may seem, is possible.

We reentered the shelter and found Lou sat there, still sewing up Twilights shirt. Twilight was awake and was wearing the other shirt Lou had brought back from the MASH.

“Ah! There you guy's are.” He said in a tone that motined a feeling of relief. “I was startig to get worried. So... where did you go?” He asked. I think we all wanted to tell him, me and the others all held back and Mark came out with the best answer any of us could give.

“We don't realy know.”

Comments

[OlDreaddy]

That's what I call a bad trip man.