Nathan Jones - Determination

And finally he got the less than fantastic news that, given how chaotic the situation was, his squad was on their own getting through the scrub oak. But at least once they’d managed that, and reached the safety of the canyon, the soldiers Davis was sending would be able to help them.

Until then they were on their own.

Trev looked around at his three remaining team members, Rick, Alice, and Rob Jonas. They were all watching him with pale faces, waiting for the signal to go. With a deep breath he scrabbled in one of his flak jacket’s pockets, pulling out the flashbang grenade he’d brought all the way from Michigan. The one he’d taken from the soldier in the internment camp.

“On three, we close our eyes and cover our ears,” he whispered, not just for his team but into the radio. Hopefully if Davis and Vernon’s people were in line of sight they’d also hear the warning. He didn’t want to accidentally blind his own side.

After a moment he received a quiet acknowledgement from Tom, so he lifted his goggles away from his eyes, the others following suit. Once they were as ready as they were going to be he slowly counted down, pulled the pin, waited what felt like way too long, and lobbed the grenade as high as he could into the air ahead of them.

As soon as it left his hand Trev crouched down and squeezed his eyes shut, slamming his hands over his ears. He wasn’t sure if his earbuds’ noise protection would help with something like this, but he wasn’t about to risk it.

Long seconds later brilliant white light pierced his eyelids and he heard an oddly muted sharp thunderclap. The air around him shivered for just a moment, then as quick as they’d come the noise and light vanished.

All around him blockheads shrieked in surprise and pain, but Trev ignored them. He was already on his feet, goggles slammed back down over his eyes, picking his way as quickly as he dared through the thicket without sounding like a herd of buffalo. It took most of his concentration just choosing his steps and twisting his body, navigating through the snarl of roots and branches so he wouldn’t get caught.

When he could snatch a moment he searched the night around them for signs of the enemy, but so far none were visible. He didn’t hear them either. Hopefully that was because they weren’t making a sound, not because his earbuds were impairing his hearing.

Had they done it? Had they gotten past the blockheads while the enemy soldiers were still stunned by the flashbang? It didn’t feel like they’d gone very far, even though the seconds ticked by like minutes. Each careful step seemed to take an eternity.

To his relief they found a spot where the thicket gave way to evergreen shrubs, spaced close enough together that he had to push through branches on either side to slip past. But compared to the scrub oak it felt like walking through feather dusters.

It was a more friendly place to travel, which meant the enemy might think so as well.

Trev continued forward warily, doing his best not to make a sound. He hadn’t heard a gunshot for a long time now, and the night around him was eerily silent. He heard a few snaps and crashes among the dense underbrush somewhere to the east, but nothing close enough to be alarming. He only hoped that noise didn’t mean danger for Tom.

He had no idea where the other team was, or the blockheads who’d ambushed them in the thicket. He didn’t even know where the pursuing survivors of the blockhead patrol and the ambushers from the north were, other than somewhere behind him. He felt alone, even with his team following close behind and enemies likely a stone’s throw away. And all he had to do to find them was make the slightest noise and get shot, with friendly fire just as likely as enemy fire if Tom’s team was nearby.

And thank goodness for that, since it was why the gunshots had stopped. Nobody could see each other in the tangle, and no one wanted to risk a shot without the certainty of an enemy in their sights, for fear of hitting a friend as much as of any return fire they might draw. If they were smart they’d probably even avoid taking the shot then.

His squad was possibly trapped between hammer and anvil with the blockheads ahead and behind. But that also meant the enemy would be doubly wary of incorrectly identifying a target, firing, and accidentally hitting one of their own with a bullet.

Nobody wanted to make the first move and get shot, or run the risk of shooting a friend. But the thicket wouldn’t go on forever, and even if everyone stayed quiet Trev wasn’t sure this uneasy silence would last. Eventually someone would start shooting again, and then all bets were off.

It turned out that his caution wasn’t enough. Trev barely had time to respond, caught almost entirely off guard, as a rustling among the branches to his right became the blurry shape of a soldier lunging towards him.

He spun, raising his weapon protectively to block the butt of a rifle coming for his face, but for once his reflexes weren’t enough. He only managed to partially deflect the blow, and then a noise like glass breaking underwater filled his head and his vision went red tinged with black.

His rifle and goggles both went flying away. It was only by luck, or pure instinct, that he somehow managed to keep his feet beneath him as he reeled away from the impact. He kept backing away, desperately struggling to see in the sudden darkness. The stars swimming across his vision didn’t help. In spite of those obstacles he miraculously caught sight of his assailant’s weapon coming for him, just in time to awkwardly snatch at it.

This time Trev’s reflexes redeemed themselves, and against all odds his hand closed around the rifle stock and shoved it aside before it could connect. He held on like grim death as his enemy hissed what he was assumed was a curse and yanked at the weapon, trying to free it from his grip. In the next few seconds of frantic struggling he kept hold of it, at least long enough to fumble with his other hand and get a better hold farther down the barrel.

Around him he heard shouts, gunfire, and saw dark shapes struggling with each other among the branches. But he didn’t have time to worry about any of that as he fought back furiously, relieved he’d managed to react before getting his skull caved in by the surprise attack. The enemy soldier fought just as hard, struggling to retrieve his weapon so he could take another swing at Trev’s head. Together they heaved and stumbled their way through the closely spaced evergreens, each teetering on the verge of getting enough leverage to gain the upper hand.

But even though they’d found themselves in a life and death struggle neither one made any noise, aside from panting and the occasional grunt of effort. Trev was all too aware that any of the dark shapes around him could just as easily be an enemy as a friend, and he guessed his attacker had realized the same. That explained why the man had tried to cold cock Trev instead of just shooting him, which would’ve revealed his position and possibly even drawn friendly fire in the confusion.

There were a few times when Trev could’ve broken free and gone for the 1911 at his hip, but he didn’t dare for the same reason. Besides, as long as his enemy was willing to keep it hand to hand Trev was happy to play along. Even dazed and hurting he was still holding his own, and he was confident that he had the strength and speed to win this once he recovered his wits.

His opportunity came a few moments later, when one of his attempts to throw the blockhead off balance by abruptly changing from pushing on the rifle to pulling on it, or vice versa, finally paid off. The man stumbled on a root and started to go down, cursing, and Trev yanked the weapon free as his enemy scrambled to catch himself.