Sniper Team Falcon: The Final Battle

Two soldiers reminisce about their past while on the plane ride to their next mission.

      I'll never forget those eyes. It wasn't the first time I had thought this either. Everytime i looked into Chris's eyes I remembered how I had never seen any like them: brown but with a tint of yellow that looks as if the sun had gleamed upon them for several seconds. The only ones that have the same yellow are my own, but that's only on special days.

      Today was one of those days.

      "Just like old times, huh buddy?" I asked Chris. This was one of my favorite sayings.

      "Of course, remember that time we got trapped in the African jungle?" Chris and I loved to bring up memories that made us laugh. "You know, where you saved my life like a hundred times?" Typical Chris, always putting himself down. But I know I couldn't have done it without him, and that's all that matters.

      "Oh yeah, we capped that general after that one. Fun stuff. Nice shot by the way."

      "Nick, you're the one who told me the wind was blowing gallons to the right. Without that detailed description, I never would've hit him!" Chris grinned. We both knew that "gallons" is about as least descriptive as you can get, especially when it comes to distance! But we had been saying crazy stuff like that since we were in high school.

      "Yeah, yeah. Well it was all you that helped cover those advancing soldiers on the night of the Mist Invasion. I told you where like 5 people were. You slaughtered 15! You were proing I up!" I smiled this time, Chris just smiled back, shook his head, and faced forward.

      "We all have our good days and our bad days," Chris said absentmidedly.  I could tell his mind was elsewhere. Following his example, I started to daydream myself. I thought about this girl I used to know, she was such a good friend. She usually took up the majority of my mind. Then out of no where, I thought of something else.

      "What if Abdalla could see us now!?" we both exclaimed at the...same...exact...time. This was expected for us, and Chris knew the proper response: "Never speak of this again!" he said half-laughing.

      Chris recorded our conversation in his pocket-sized journal. He loved updating his journal. Once he was finished, he handed it to me for inspection. I smiled and nodded my approval.

      Unfortunately, our fun was broken by the sound of bullets grazing the underbelly of our plane. "Corporal Millder!" I yelled to the pilot. "Is everything alright?"

      "I'm afraid not Captains!" came the yell from the cockpit. "All four engines got it good that time. I'm getting out of here!" He ran from the cockpit, grabbed a parachute that was laying on the floor, strapped it on, and then jumped out of the plane.

      That was my parachute.

      "Nick" came Chris's voice, I knew he had realized the same thing. "That slicker wasn't American, he betrayed us. Make sure you take care of him when you get to the bottom."

      I quickly jumped out of my seat. As I did however, the journal fell to the floor. I absently sboved it into my bag and focused on what I was saying to my best friend, "But Chris---" 

      Chris was already grabbing his own parachute from the floor and walking toward me. "You heard me," he said gently. Far too gently.

      With the momentary distraction, Chris swiftly buckled his parachute onto my bag and wrapped it around my back in one swift motion. I quickly moved to divert him, but something stopped me: those sun-glazed eyes focusing on me.

      As I stared into him, I could feel my own eyes start swelling with tears and see that his were shiny with the same salty substance. He was actually planning on staying behind! "Chris--" I began again, just to be cut off by his held up hand.

      "Marry Rachel for me Nick, I want you to be happy."

      "Bro, I'm not leaving here without you!"

      But it was too late for that. Chris, with the legendary speed of a cobra, grabbed me with both hands and made his way to the door. The last hint of him that I felt was battle-hardened hands pushing then releasing my chest as Chris shoved me out of the plane. "For me Nick! For me!" he repeated in a Godly voice.

      Then I was freefalling in the open air. Watching my best friend shrink into a speck, and then finally disappear.

      I landed easily, my adrenaline already going and knife drawn. I had seen Milder's parachute on my way down and had aimed for it. I quickly unbuckled my gear and sprinted to his crumpled body. Being unexperienced in paratrooping, he had broken his leg on the landing. I knelt beside him and put my face close to his to make sure he wouldn't miss the last words he would ever hear. "My best friend is dead, and it's all becasue of you." I muttered it slowly and fiercely and on the last word I slowly shoved my razor-sharp blade into his chest. I watched the life leave his eyes. Those were eyes I could forget.

      It was starting to set in as I made my way back to my gear. My best friend is gone. I thought it over and over again but I could just never imagine a world without Chris. Without those jokes, those laughs, even without those eyes.  I collapsed on my gear and wept for what seemed like an eternity. Once I figured i had the strength, I started to look for the radio to contact the HQ and fill them in. However, as i was searching for it, I found something else. Something I had recently shoved in my bag.

      Chris's pocket-sized journal.

Reviews

[Crifa]

Aiight aiight. I loved it. Easily the best saga ever. You just made it 48374867754x more pro. Thank you Nick for writing something so amazing.