Five Seconds

Ahmed sprinted hard toward the open window, his leg muscles straining with every stride. Sand flew on the wind as his feet stirred up the earth below him. Ahmed’s heart burned with a mix of determination and hatred. "Those soldiers will pay," he muttered to himself as he pulled the pin on the grenade. "They will pay, by Allah."

He tossed the grenade in the window and kept running as fast as his legs would carry him. Within seconds, his ears rang with the thunderous explosion behind him. Fire shot out each window and shrapnel flew out the open window and pelted the small shack across the dirt street. He fell to the ground, dazed. The hot, searing wind licked at his arms and face. His head still dazed, he screamed in muffled jubilation.

……………………………

Sergeant Chuck Friolli rested on a rickety chair five feet from an open window. Sweat poured from his brow as he removed his helmet. Sand stuck to everything – his hair, his face, his equipment. The slight breeze from the window lapped at the beads of sweat and Chuck sighed in relief, even with the air being hot and arid.

His two friends and fellow marines stood nearby. Private “Little Sammy” Smith stood just behind him, reviewing pictures of an occupant of the house long since departed. Private Frank Booso stood by the doorway. He held the radio to his ear and was just about to hit the mic to contact command headquarters. At the top of each hour they were required to check in. Booso caught a glimpse of something that flew in the window.

(First Two Seconds) What was that? Frank thought. A bird? No. That’s not it. His eyes fixated on the object as it passed behind the Sgt. What the hell?... He took a couple steps forward for a closer look.

Little Sammy stood perusing pictures on the wall. They were old and tattered and printed on yellowing paper. One showed an Arab woman in a full black burqa standing in front of this building. Another showed what appeared to be her three sons and a daughter. The sons sifted through some rubble while the daughter also in full burqa stood nearby watching them. I wonder what destroyed that house? He wondered.

Sgt. Friolli sat exhausted on the chair. He’d just ordered the private to radio HQ. His mind turned toward the most recent letter received from his wife. She said she was going to the doctor’s today, and may have a surprise to tell him, but wanted to send this letter before she went. I think she already knows, He thought. She’s gotta be pregnant with our second child. Darla, why did you have to torture me?

(Third Second) Frank’s eyes fixed on the object as he anticipated it appearing on the other side of the chair that the Sgt. sat upon. There it was! {i|It’s a… then it hit the floor with a thud and then an unmistakable hard metallic sound on wood… {i|Grenade!

Sammy stood looking at the rubble in the picture. He recognized the way the rubble was laying. An artillery shell did this. Who were these boys? Then he felt a vibration near his left boot, and a heavy thud-like metallic sound filled the air. He glanced to where the sound originated.

Sgt. Friolli thought of Darla’s long hair and heavy set, and realized Booso’s steps, stare and eyes following something. His eyes started to get wide and then he heard the metallic thud fill the air. Where was that coming from? What the …?

(Fourth Second) “Grenade!” Frank screamed straining every vocal chord he had. His eyes glued to the round metal ball that clanked against the leg of a small wooden table to the left of Smith then spun in the dirt floor of the house. His eyes left the wriggling grenade and turned them toward the door. His legs felt heavy and immobile. My God I’ve got to get out of here! That things going to blow! Oh, sweet God. Noooo! His eyes lit upon the crude door pull made of some dirty rope. He turned and sprinted toward it.

Sammy searched for the object that ticked off the wooden leg of the table next to him. His muscles clenched and his eyes grew wide at Frank’s scream. He stopped looking for the now-known object. Holy, shit I’m right on top of it! I’ve got to get out now! Where? The window! If I can just make it in time. I can’t die… oh please Jesus… Not like this. Sammy pivoted his hips toward the window and shifted his weight to push off as hard as he could.

Friolli felt his limbs moved in slow motion. He watched Frank’s eyes – wide with a sudden shot of adrenaline – turn toward the door. Sgt. Friolli’s mind went numb as he lept from his chair and started toward the door to follow Frank’s lead. There’s not time. The grenade’s going to go off. Oh, Darla I can’t let this happen. Not now. Gotta get out now!

(Fifth Second) Booso took the three steps to the door. It felt like an eternity as he reached for the withered rope pull that served as the door’s handle. The total concentration upon it consumed him like it stood as the only thing left in his world. He gripped it tightly and pulled with all his might in his frantic state. Gotta get out! Get out of here damn it. Handle. Got to pull the handle and get out now! God no. It can’t end like this. The old rope ripped out of it’s hole and lay unbelievably in the palm of his hand. Noooooo! We can’t get out. I can’t get… He turned incredulous toward Friolli.

Sammy pushed off with all his might and lunged toward the window. At least seven feet away he estimated. Gotta make it before this thing goes off. Holy hell… this is gonna be close. His mind counted the steps as he felt his legs move beneath him, as if somehow detached from him. He felt the breeze from the window as he approached.

Friolli was only two steps behind Frank as he saw him frantically rush to the door. How did this happen? We have to get out! Come on Frank what are you doing what’s the problem, open the door you asshole, open it now!! Frank turned slightly toward the Sgt. and Friolli spotted the old rope handle in his hand and glanced at the door. Too late, Frank and then looked in his eyes. He knew too.


The flash and thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Friolli took the brunt of it as the shrapnel ripped through him. His body tossed like a rag-doll against the wall. A gaping bloody hole lay where his left lung should have been.

Booso caught one piece in his face. He screamed in agony as he stumbled around a few moments with his hands cupping his blood spattered right eye socket. The burning pain enveloped him and he crumpled to the ground and fell across Friolli's lifeless body.

The explosion threw Sammy's torso against the window frame and he slumped just inside the house. His legs torn asunder from his body. His cheeks striped with crimson blood trails. He clung to life. Just needed another half second. He lay there dazed and bleeding. He lifted his eyes and saw Booso slumped over Friolli’s bloodied remains near the door. Sammy’s life ebbed away and he thought for a moment of his mother. She stood dressed in her favorite blue skirt and white blouse with her arms stretched out before her. He yearned to reach out and feel the warmth of her embrace once again.

“I’m sorry, mom.” He sucked in a few ragged breaths as the smoke clouded his last sight of the dirt street. Flames licked at the soldier's mangled stumps. The smell of charred flesh ravaged his nostrils and Sammy succumbed with his final death rattle exhale.

…………………………………………

The brutality of the enemy was evident upon viewing the charred remains of the soldier. Not only was he killed, but the cut open body was dragged through the streets in bloody trails that were attacked by gnats and flies. They not only ate the flesh, but also consumed the precious moisture contained in the blood. The scene was almost too sickening for the corpsman to digest. He reached down and read the bloodied dog tags. “Frank Booso” they read. The corpsman shook his head, as anger welled up inside him. “Bastards.” He muttered.

He ambled about the small town, hoping to find something, anything that resembled the small squad of marines who were assigned to this detail. His hopes were fading with the discovery of Booso’s body. The others had to be close by – He hoped alive.

He kept searching the small buildings, and stopped short of a small burned out house. The telltale charcoal around the window frame and the handle-less door, told the corpsman just how bad of a fire it was. He approached with caution.

The charred door swung open with a slight push to reveal Sgt. Friolli’s broken burned and bloody body. The house smelled strongly of smoke and a few fiery embers hissed and spit a swirl of smoke. The corpsman viewed the scene in disgust as his eyes lit upon Sammy. The anger burned heavily within him. No matter how many times he'd seen death, it still shocked him.

He felt his teeth clench. “They will pay. They will pay, by God.”