Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 21

500 Yards

Percy had been shot almost fifteen minutes ago and had yet to regain consciousness. When he did, he was very disorientated. The last thing he remembered was the setting sun and the long shadows that fell onto the small road they had stopped on. It seemed like an innocent road; apparently it was directly in the middle of a firefight. As his eyes opened once more, he could barely make out the silhouettes that carried him in the dark. The rotating helicopter blades created a breeze that rustled his hair.

He couldn't feel anything and was tired. That changed when he was dropped onto the helicopter's floor. He lifted his hand up to count his fingers. Five were counted, and he noted that his vision was somewhat back to normal. Somehow he managed to recognize Wallace and Chen, but the man who knelt closest to him did not wear his Company's patch.

Pain returned when that man ripped into the bullet wound and managed to remove the offending object. Suddenly, Percy shot up and asked, "Why am I here?!"

"Sir, calm down," the medic said to him. "You've been shot. We're getting you to a hospital."

"It's just a gut wound. I've been shot before. Get me the hell off this thing and back on the ground! That is an order from a superior!" the Major said.

"I disregard that order, with all due respect, Major," the medic braved to say. "As a medical professional I have the right to overrule anything you say. It's in the best interest of you and your men if you get stitched up."

The helicopter's engine went silent. All eyes were on Chiang Sun, the man still in control of the helicopter. The medic rose to speak out. He was silenced when Wallace harshly pushed him down. Percy silently thanked them and then ordered, "Stitch me up here."

"Sir?" the medic questioned. "In a helicopter? Without anesthetics?"

"Do it!"

Outside of the helicopter, Riane cringed when she heard Percy's shouts of pain. Even though it was his own fault for being so stubborn, she still felt sorry for the amount of pain he must have felt as the medic stitched the bullet wound without any painkillers. It was too much to bear for Wallace, who had to excuse himself from the helicopter. They bumped into each other when she leaned in to take a photograph. No words were exchanged between the two of them.

Percy's situation wasn't the only drama unfolding. First, McGill's men were teetering between uncontrollable rage and horrible sorrow. It took all of their self-control to not rush into the forest and search for her. Secondly, Corporal Roo threw a fit that Chiang Sun had dropped an entire helicopter load full of suppressing gas into the forest. Lost out there was Boomerang, whom had been sent out as a scout. Skipper had to physically restrain Roo from barging into the helicopter.

"That damn c***k has it out for us!" he yelled. Skipper used as little force as possible when he held Roo back, but enough to prevent him from charging. "Just like every other slanted eyed bastard! And all of those big shots in their fancy hats and shined shoes! I'll go in there right now and kill him! I'll slit his throat open!"

"Corporal," Skipper's strict voice commanded. "Calm yourself down before I sit you down." Roo did as he was told; standing on his toes, it was obvious he was still very angry.

Wallace decided to step in. "Every man in our Company carries a gasmask. He's no different. As long as he can navigate away from the enemy, he should be fine."

"Boomerang doesn't carry a gasmask," Roo said. "The only thing he carries with him when he scouts is his knife."

"Then we'll have to go get him, and soon," Percy said. He had sat up to view the fight. Beside him, the medic shook his head at the carelessness of the Major. Percy's eyes glanced over the group that had retreated with him and saw that no one seemed worried. Only Riane gazed nervously at the fresh stitches on his stomach. Although, her eyes were just as focused on several other scars. How many battles had this young man seen?

Roo stepped forward and requested, "Major! Please allow me to accompany those who search for him!"

"No," was his immediate answer. "Your emotions are too strong right now. Skipper will go in your place. The rest of the team will be Chevalier, Specialist Taylor, and I."

Chen said, "With all due respect, Major, I advise you not to strain your body. Allow me to go with the team. You must rest."

Again, Percy could only say, "No." He explained, "It was my carelessness that caused me to get shot. If I hadn't been hit by amateur sniper fire, there would have been no reason for Chiang Sun to use the gas and Boomerang would have been safe. I will take responsibility for that. Chevalier authorized the use of gas in my absence, so he must bear some of the burden. Specialist Taylor did not stand up for his fellow squad member and assisted in launching the gas; Skipper must take responsibility for allowing his man into the combat zone without proper equipment. Now that you know my reasoning, do you still question my selections?"

"To be honest, only the selection of yourself, Major," Chen answered.

Percy nodded, "It's been noted."

Riane watched as the Major meticulously placed padding around the fresh wound. It had swollen up a considerable amount and was badly bruised. She could only imagine how bad it hurt. With every slight movement he made, Percy would wince; however, he continued through the motions of changing his clothes and preparing for combat. As he adjusted his collar, she braved to ask, "Major, can I accompany you?"

His answer did not reveal his personal opinion on the matter. "I don't have the authority – nor do I recognize any authority – that prevents freedom of the press. Do whatever you want," he said. He then ordered, "Specialist Taylor! Secure a gas mask on Miss McDermott!"

Royal wasted no time. Given an extra mask by Chen, he approached Riane and said, "Please excuse me. I want to ensure your safety, so if I touch you in a manner that's unbecoming of a gentleman, I apologize in advance."

The comment caused Wallace to snicker; the laughter was loud enough that Percy could hear it from inside the helicopter. He wanted to make a smartass remark to the Warrant Officer but couldn't muster the energy. Even though he tried his best to hide it, the burning sensation in his gut was near crippling. He wondered if his body would even survive the trek through the forest. It didn't matter, though, because he had a responsibility that he could not merely hand over to another leader. For the first time in a long time, he secured a helmet on his head, his gasmask was airtight, and he had to use a gun other than his officer's pistol.

The impact of stepping out of the helicopter jolted his entire body. It felt as though a sledge hammer smashed into his stomach and he had to force away fatigue that had instantly settled. He clicked his headset and said, "Captain Ross. Give me the location of Corporal W.G. King and McGill."

It took a moment for her to respond. This was because she was still on the phone with Ethan. "Major," she said, "I regret to inform you, but Corporal McGill's transponder is no longer working."

His breathing halted and the pain in his gut increased tenfold. He shook away any misgivings he felt and said, "We'll find her at sunrise, then. Where is Corporal King?"

"From your location, about fifteen hundred yards to the northeast," she said.

"Thankfully, not too far," Wallace said.

"It's been almost twenty minutes since he moved from his current location," she informed them.

"Thank you, Captain," Percy said. He turned to his men and said, "We'll use minimal radio communication. Chevalier, when we reach fifteen hundred yards, check the status of his transponder. That will be the most use of electronics we should use, just in case they try to hack us."

With that last order, Percy moved out. No second was wasted; he sprinted at full force away from his men and into the brush. He knelt about ten yards away and waited patiently for the rest to catch up. The force of kneeling and getting back up again was brutal. He felt as though it was only a matter of time before his abs simply ripped in half due to the pressure. This routine of sprinting and stopping continued for the length of a football field.

Wallace pulled up beside him and slowly sneaked forward. He knew that Percy had stopped a bit longer than normal to catch his breath; the Warrant Officer wanted to give his friend time to do so. He motioned for Royal and Skipper to spread out a bit more. It was possible the enemy had gasmasks, also. If that was the case, then they could still be anywhere in the area. He didn't want his men to bunch up and become easy targets. Besides, he also wanted to find McGill and Jordan, who could have been anywhere.

Riane was the only person to not move away from Percy. Her hands were free; she had attached her camera to the helmet they provided her, a trick Jordan had used many times. Every second was forever preserved as a video, even the moments of silence. Such moments were rare, and even at that particular time, the quiet was broken by the Major. His heavy breathing was clouding her ears and an occasional groan of pain cut through the air. Still, he got up and pushed on. It was quite inspiring to her.

Fortunately, she was athletic enough to keep up with the group. Skipper refused to let her travel behind them, so he had taken the rear out of default. Wallace had stayed at Percy's right side, which meant Royal took the left. As they kept about fifteen yards between each other, they managed to cover a fair bit of ground. No matter where Percy turned, everyone faithfully stayed within a respectable distance, just in case he threw up any hand signs.

It proved to be important. After traveling about five hundred yards, Percy suddenly threw up his hand. Riane didn't understand, but followed whatever movements Percy made. He halted abruptly, knelt, and then suddenly disappeared against the ground. The other men did the same; she wasn't far behind in copying their movements. There was about a ten foot difference between her and the Major, whom she could no longer see. She wanted to crawl up to him, to feel at least a little protected, but figured it was wiser to stay motionless.

Movement behind her caused her to freeze. Skipper crawled low and tight against the ground until he was practically on top of her. With his mouth right next to her face, he advised, "Stay still." She didn't disobey. Against the dark she strained her eyes, yet saw nothing. She decided it would be better to just do as she was told.

A hand popped up from the grass. Royal caught the sight of it and did his best to make out the quick orders. As much as he loved Skipper, he wondered why the Sergeant felt the need to wear black gloves, which were almost invisible in the dark. The Major's bright white ones would be preferred. Still, he threw his hand up to signal he had received the order.

Silently, he tossed his rifle over his back and secured the strap. A trembling hand gripped the handle of his knife. Months of training were designed to prepare him for moments like this, but sneaking up to a dummy was much different than doing it to a real person, even if that dummy had some resemblance of an artificial intelligence. Still, he knew that using stealth would keep them safe and would allow them easier access to their missing comrades.

He stood up and sprinted faster than he ever had before. Suddenly, he dropped again and disappeared. Riane could only catch his silhouette for a brief second. Against the ground, he had to hold his breath; not a foot away, the enemy was crouched low as it observed something on the ground. Royal's hand went back to his knife and he slowly began to pull it out. Hesitation forced his hand to halt, however, and he didn't attack right away.

"Come on, Royal," Wallace urged quietly from his position. Truly, he felt sorry for the youngster. Killing a man with a missile from a hundred miles away was emotionless; shooting a man from a hundred feet away was near effortless; to slit a man's throat and ease his dying body to the cold ground was the most difficult task one could undertake.

Royal was shaking too hard to feel confident he could get a good cut. He had never been so close to a killer before. Between the time the order was issued and the time it was carried out was much longer than Skipper had wanted, but he refused to berate the youngster. There was confidence amongst those who surrounded him that Royal would become a good Sergeant one day.

Royal knew this, and coupled with knowing they had to get through this enemy to find Boomerang, he pushed forward. The knife was removed from its sheath and he eased his way to his feet. One step, two steps, three small steps and he was at the man's back. It took not two seconds for Royal to grab the man's chin, pull him back, expose the neck from his uniform, and press his blade against the enemy's skin. After that, it was all instinct from so many times of practice; the angle, how hard to press, and the knowing sign of perfection.

Carefully, he lowered the man's body as the blood flowed out. The knife that had previously only been used to cut rope now had its first blood stain. Still shaking and almost unable to stand, Royal sheathed his blade. Patiently, he waited for Percy and the others to catch up to him.

Skipper was the first to reach him. The veteran Sergeant grabbed Royal by the shoulder and ripped him away. The combination of fear and anxiousness had made Royal lightheaded. This left the body of the deceased to Wallace and Percy; the two of them saw it for only a brief second before they caught the sight of another body. Wallace rolled it over and heaved a sigh of relief when he didn't recognize the person.

He checked the man's pulse. "He's still alive," he said. Percy made a motion to speak, but realized his voice was caught. His injury had slowed him too much. Wallace noticed this. "Chen, meet us at Percy's location and take his spot," he said.

"Belay that order," Percy's heavy voice cut through the radio. "And the next time one of you assholes questions my authority, I'll shoot you."

Riane didn't hear much of their conversation. Her eyes were focused on the gapping trench that had been carved into the dead man's neck. It looked almost like an extra, toothless jaw had been surgically added to his throat. The completely inner workings of his neck were now exposed for her to observe. Despite being a disgusting sight, it did not disgust her. That fact scared her; was she already desensitized? Wasn't this why America had gotten to this point?

Movement in the brush to their left forced them all to crouch down. A voice heaved through a mask, "Please, don't shoot."

"Jordan," Percy said, immediately recognizing the voice. He was the first to lower his gun. Using the last of his strength, he stood and moved towards the sound of Jordan's voice. When he got close, he saw the man on the ground, the last of his energy exhausted; he tightly had one arm wrapped around McGill, who clenched her lower leg. Both of them were covered in blood.

The moon had pierced through the tree tops and casted Percy's shadow over the injured couple. The sudden darkness caused Jordan to look up. Through his damaged mask, he could make out Percy's silhouette. He managed to let out a small chuckle and say, "I'm so glad to see you. She needs medical attention."

Overcome with exhaustion and a lack of proper oxygen, Jordan lost consciousness. Instantly Percy was knelt at his side; Wallace and the others joined him. Skipper felt McGill's leg where she was wounded. He observed, "This is badly broken. Your ankle seems to be twisted, too."

"I'm sorry, Major," McGill said through her mask. His hand grabbed it and felt for cracks. There was none, and he relaxed a little. "We were ambushed and I had left my gun inside the helicopter. Those damned Green Berets just left us."

"Are you injured anywhere else?" he asked. She shook her head. That was all the questions he had. For the last time that night he pushed his body to the limit; he forced himself to pick up Jordan's body and managed to keep him balanced on his back. He then ordered, "Skipper, grab the Corporal. Chevalier, continue forward with Taylor. I leave Boomerang up to you."

Again he sprinted off as fast as he could. Skipper swooped up McGill and was quick to follow. Riane was right behind them; having seen Jordan collapse she was worried about his safety. This left Wallace and Royal to themselves. They both were worried that Percy would exhaust himself long before the five hundred yard journey was finished.

However, Percy didn't let up his speed once. Somehow he had switched off his pain sensors and pounded against the ground. It was difficult for Riane to keep up with the two soldiers, but she didn't feel like being left alone to die in the forest, either. So in the end, all five of them barreled out of the brush and into the opening that was guarded by Percy's men in an unrefined fashion.

Percy fell to his knees as soon as he knew he was with his men again. With Jordan's weight pressing against his back, he ended up face first in the dirt. Skipper was able to ease McGill down and rest properly. The sight of their Major sprawled out on the ground with an unconscious body on top of him caused everyone to rush.

First, they ripped Jordan off without much care of his injuries. This infuriated Percy who managed to wheeze out a lashing to his men. "He's injured! Treat him with care you damn clowns! Careful!" he barked. Then, they carefully turned Percy over and helped him to his feet. "Check his injuries! I want a report now!"

The medic that had treated Percy was still there. The Green Beret removed Jordan's gasmask and checked his breathing. Afterwards, he poked and prodded every part of his body. His report was quick, "He'll need oxygen – soon. He's broken six or seven ribs. He has a concussion. We have to get him to a hospital!"

Percy nodded. "Please do," he requested. Suddenly, he swayed. Unable to regain his balance, he ended up back on his knees. When his men tried to pick him up again, he waved them off. "Let me rest," he ordered.