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by Kilo Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1343630
Just a brief encounter.

         Fragmentation grenades are antipersonnel weapons, designed to be thrown into a formation of enemy personnel.  The term ‘fragmentation’ refers to the grenades use of fragments, ball bearings or the grenades outer skin in some designs, to further its kill radius.  Fragmentation grenades have been essentially the same since the advent of the grenade, requiring a fuse, an explosive element, and some material to form shrapnel upon the devices detonation.  Most are lethal to anyone within six meters and will inflict injuries on any persons up to fifteen meters.
         In this case the grenade was expertly placed to the dismay of two privates and a corporal in Private McKay’s squad.  In the confines of a commercial building’s hallway none of them had a chance to escape.  Being only eight meters from the device when it went off caused Private McKay to temporarily go deaf.  The bodies of his squad saved him by absorbing a hefty amount of shrapnel.  Only a second, however, after the explosion ripped the hallway a hail of gunfire opened up from the end of it.  Already on his ass from the explosion, McKay tried to stand and return fire.  The action went against every instinct on his body but, training broke instinct.  When he tried to rise McKay felt a red hot pain shoot through his leg and, again, fell on his back.  This did not stop him from gripping his rifle and returning fire.  Nowhere in his conscious was the idea that this might be his death, nowhere was any thought that resembled anything of dismay or finality, all there was in his world were those devils at the end of that hallway and his trigger.  Had he had presence of mind Private McKay would have known that, there where he lay firing at an unseen enemy he was doomed, but there he would not stay.  From behind him he heard another rifle firing in the same direction as his and felt the rounds pass him.  He had forgotten about his remaining squad, but they had not forgotten him.  A hand abruptly grabbed the gear straps and dragged him into a nearby office.  After he heard the ‘click’ of an empty magazine, he dropped the rifle and cursed the bitch that called six clips standard gear. 
         Upon entering the room,  Squad Sergeant Cooper kicked the door closed, pulled the private all the way to the outer wall and collapsed next to him holding his rifle aimed at the door.  Cooper only had seven rounds left.  Both men were breathing heavily waiting for the hounds of war to kick down the door and descend on them, but after ten full seconds neither soldier heard any sounds of movement or anything suggesting a pursuit.  McKay allowed himself to relax a bit and as soon as he did he felt the pain in his ankle surge back to the surface.  His fellow soldier’s bodies had not stopped all the shrapnel, there was a jagged piece of metal sticking out of his ankle.
         Cooper’s fifth private had survived the grenade but not the gunfire that followed so now Sergeant. Cooper and  Private McKay were all that remained of their six man squad.  Cooper looked over to his last remaining squad member, he looked wrecked.  Cooper followed the man’s eyes and saw why.  Must hurt like a bitch, Cooper thought, poor bastard, and we’re not halfway out of this one and that was something he knew.  Cooper dropped this rifle and pulled his sidearm, McKay did the same.  “Fuck this war,”  McKay said hoarsely.
         “Oorah, Marine.”
© Copyright 2007 Kilo (mr.cornelius at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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