Blur

The gritty taste of sand was a rude wakeup call. The air was unbearably hot, and lacking moisture. The man opened his eyes. Through the unclear fog that was his vision, he saw that what little light there was in the small room reflected off the pale, sandstone walls. He heard a rapid series of popping noises. The sound was close, it was loud, yet it was somehow distant and muted. Gunshots, automatic weapon. He tried to fight through his throbbing headache to figure out what was going on. Forming a coherent thought was a step past impossible.

“Come on! You’re not hurt! Return fire!” Came a booming voice from behind. The man tried to turn to see, but was roughly grabbed by the arm and lifted to his feet before he could get a look at who did it. He was shoved to a glassless window, and a heavy weight was shoved into his arms. He looked down to see a large, metal object. A gun. Something in his mind clicked again. M249 light machine gun, SAW. He still wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be firing at, but he didn’t want to be shouted at again.

The man pressed himself against the window frame. He was held an inch or two away, and when he looked down he quickly learned why. There was a bulky vest that he hadn’t noticed before, pockets neatly arranged into rows on the outside of it. He barely recognized the color as being similar to the walls of the building he was in. They had some kind of pattern on them, made from small rectangular patches of color. When he tried to feel the fabric, he saw that his hands were covered by gloves, and he reached up and felt his head to find a helmet with some goggles strapped to it.

The familiar popping sound, the gunshots, became apparent again. This time they were more prevalent, despite the fact that they were further away. He spit out the sand, and pressed the…back? Stock, butt. Of the weapon to his chest without thinking. Some kind of muscle memory took over, and he quickly had the gun in a firing position. The man noticed something moving on the other side of the street, which was becoming more clear by the second. He squeezed the trigger, and an unending stream of flame erupted from the gun.