Young Writers Society

Victoria

The sounds of war died down, and the wounded came in to be treated. I could now sit up without passing out, so I grabbed some crutches and left. There was no need for me to take up a bunk someone else needed.
Walking to th where a plane was landed, I heard Bettina talking on her radio.
""Hey, whoever's listening, I need one more person up here. It's not desperate but it's necessary."

I grabbed the other line, paused for a moment, and picked up.
"It's Victoria. If you don't mind having a cripple, I'd be glad to join you."
At least I could do something besides sit around and make bombs all day. I grabbed an electric crossbow and waited for an answer.

Bettina:

The raid... it wasn't a raid, it was a full out battle. One of my planes went down and two lives taken. It wasn't like we never knew casualties, just we had underestimated the defence of New York.

My plane, doubling as a carrier for wounded... or dead... had made at least 5 journeys two and from the field. A head count told us we were missing at least 3 more people but it would be impossible to find them now that night had fallen. Anthony looked shell shocked, and he had a right to be. He thought we were just going for supplies.

I saw Alex under a tree, carving in a few more notches. I went over and sat by him. He turned and somewhat acknowledged me. Company was comforting but I just wanted to sink into an ocean of warm water and just stay there, blind, deaf, feelingless to the world.

Tomorrow was going to be rough. The ones who made it through the night would be treated, the equipment rechecked, our ammo supply built up again, and then we'd go through the whole procedure again.

Victoria

The plane took off. "Dammit!" I yelled. Nobody had room for a cripple. There was nothing I could do. I kicked the ground with my bad leg, and my eyesight twisted. My wound dripped- just one drop at first, but then more, until it was a torrent."Oh f***.F***,f***,f***!" I screamed. I collapsed on the ground, clutching my leg and muttering incoherently to myself. If I died this time, I deserved it.I was a stupid, careless idiot. I grasped numbly for my crossbow, and sent an arrow flying towards camp. Hopefully it wouldn't hit someone, and it would hit the ground. Then somebody could trace it back to me. I put my hand to my leg and it came back crimson. Red,red,red. And then I passed out, again.

*sorry if it's a bit long*

Anthony

When Anthony woke up, he was lying on a bunk. He supposed this was where he was going to live from now on, and that someone had moved him while he slept, to make room for others. He sat up, and saw an arrow lying on the floor; he did a double take. An arrow? This was a modern war, with guns, not bows and arrows. He looked over to the door and saw that it was open, swinging in the wind. Somebody must have shot it into the building by accident, and he ought to go and return it.

He stood up with a sigh, and picked up the arrow. He took another look at his bunk so as not forget which one it was, then walked out into the night.

The air was cool, though not altogether quiet. People were moaning in their sleep, and some were still being treated. Anthony pitied the 'medics'. As he looked around though, he could see no-one holding a bow. He was beginning to wonder if the arrow had been dropped earlier. Seeing Bettina and Alex sitting by a tree, he headed over.

Bettina looked up, but Alex seemed absorbed in his task of carving notches.

"Um, Bettina," Anthony said holding out the arrow. "I found this by my bunk. I don't know whose it is, but I want to give it back..."

Bettina studied the arrow in front of her.

"That's Victoria's!" she exclaimed. "But why would she be shooting at night? Unless..." she jumped up, snatched the arrow from Anthony and ran off. Now that she had moved, Anthony could see that she had been sitting in front of some carvings. Moving forwards, he inspected them. They were names. Edward Devon was the last one, but looking up, he recognized another.

Jake Krine.

Jake had lived in the same village as him. Edward had been inseparable from him. They always did everything together, and Anthony hadn't been surprised that they had set off to join the Vipers together. Knowing that Edwards name was on that list, he suspected that it was a list of the dead. It made sense that the two boys had been together, that they had both been next to that landmine..

Anthony turned away firmly and headed back to his bunk so that he could sleep some more - he was still exhausted. He didn't want to stay thinking about dead people; it would only make him depressed.

Sasha

Sasha sighed and rubbed his aching forehead. When the plane had jostled violently from the aftershock of an explosion, he had banged his head rather sharply on the side of the cabin’s window. It did not help that the butt of his Uzi, which he had been using while on board the plane, had rammed into his stomach at the same time.

He wandered around, looking for wounded he could help. He wasn’t technically a medic, but he had a steady hand and had learned several basic medical procedures. Many of the injured Vipers had already been treated, but there were always a few who wanted to tough it out. He began checking the various bunk houses to see if any of the more stubborn Vipers were hiding out there.

It was then he found Paige. Her leg was bleeding badly, and a large piece of shrapnel was imbedded deep in her thigh. He winced. It looked deep, and painful at that. She would need to be desensitized before anyone could remove it. Why is it, he wondered, that we always have the best weapons available, but not a single drop of painkiller? He decided to take it up with Regan the next chance he could.

“Need a hand?” He asked. Paige sighed and looked up.

“Yeah,” she said. Sasha crossed over and crouched down beside the bunk. He whistled.

“What did that? It’s pretty impressive.”

*Regan*

I got up two hours after I had fallen asleep. I knew that I had oblegations that I had to fufill.

I helped dig a few graves while others built coffins. We put the brave men and women to rest. One of my good friends had been killed, shot by a Chink, a Chink who was able to get away.

After the funerals, I walked into the woods to be alone for a while. I found a stump by a little creek and sat down. I looked into the water for a little while before the tears came. I cried for a long time, for everyone that I had loved that I had lost. I had lost my mother, my father, two of my brothers, and my best friends. I had lost Cory. It seemed like this damned war had cost me everything, and I still had more to loose. I knew it.

I wasn't sure how long i'd been sitting by that creek, but suddenly, two strong arms went around me. I moved to see who it was, but whoever it was just held me tighter and let me cry in their arms.

***********
Any guy think they could handle Regan?

Paige:

“What did that? It’s pretty impressive.”

I lent back and winced. "I set off another bomb, didn't I?" I muttered.

Sasha winced as he inspected the wound. He sighed and stood up. I knew it was bad...

"You're going to need a drink or two," he said and left the room.

I glared at the door and sat up again. Yeah, a drink or two when I'd promised not to drink... Lovely.

"Like I didn't know that," I muttered.

Sasha

Sasha hurried to the base’s stash of ‘medical supplies’. Alcohol, bandages, rods that could be used for cauterizing wounds… all of it there, and all of it fairly primitive. But, as far as the Vipers were concerned, it got the job done. Sasha grabbed the nearest bottle he could find, several bandages, and a piece of leather for Paige to bite down on if she needed to. If anything else was needed, he would come back later.

Returning to the bunker, he poured Paige several shots of strong liquor. This was slightly out of usual Viper method. Normally, a patient who needed to be desensitized would just be given the whole bottle, and left to gulp down as much as they could before a painful procedure began. But Sasha was reluctant to give Paige more alcohol than was strictly required. It was bad enough that she was going to be drinking when she was trying to quit, but it would be even worse if she had a whole bottle at her disposal.

“Right,” he said, watching as Paige drained the glass. “We’re going to wait a few minutes for that to set in. Then we’ll see if you need any more. Once you’re completely sauced, I’ll give you this to bite down on,” he held up the leather, “and yank the shrapnel out. Got that?”

Paige:

I put the glass down and took the leather from Sasha. I nodded. I was already dreading this. I'd had a drink and already I was craving the whole damn bottle. I lent back on my elbows and waited for the alcohol to set in. It took a few minutes and two more drinks before I felt tipsy enough.

"Alright," I muttered and nodded. It was time for the darn metal to come out.

"This will hurt," Sasha told me.

I snorted. "Don't you think I know?"

Sasha shook his head and placed a hand on my thigh, right next to the shrapnel...and then he yanked on it. I cried out as I felt the metal come free, biting down on the leather to stop myself from screaming as Sasha poured alcohol over the wound and got to work cauterizing the it.

Sasha

Sasha sighed, and tied a bandage tightly around the wound. It was clean, and the shrapnel was gone, but he was still worried about the shard’s effects on the muscle around it. There was also a chance that it could get infected, but he hoped against it. The cauterization had probably removed any threat of that.

Paige was lying with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and her hands gripping the side of the bunk.

“Hey,” he said, straightening up. Paige made no answer. “Hey,” he repeated, louder.

Paige mumbled something indistinguishable through the leather.

“You can take that out now,” Sasha said, trying to gently pull the leather from between her clenched teeth. “It’s done. The shrapnel’s out. C’mon, seriously.” Then Sasha groaned, half out of annoyance and half out of amusement. "C'mon, leggo of it, Paige."

Paige:

"C'mon, leggo of it, Paige." Sasha sounded half-amused now.

I let Sasha take the leather out and draped an arm over my eyes.

"Don't let me blow up a bomb again," I muttered then I moved my arm and sat up.

Sasha was still crouched beside the bed, medical supplies littered the floor beside him. I rubbed my temple, and looked down at the bandage wrapped around my left thigh.

"I feel sick," I whispered and I wasn't lying. My stomach was twisting around in an unnatural way. "Sasha," I said, looking up. "I don't think we should go on the next raid."

Sasha

Sasha blinked in surprise.

“Not go?” he said slowly. “Well, you’re not going anywhere soon, that’s for sure.” He stood and began to collect the various medical paraphernalia. “But as for me… well, I may have a word with Regan about the targets of our raids, but I don’t think I’ll stop going.” He winked at Paige. “At least, not until one of those Chinks gets me.”

Paige:

"You don't understand!" I called after him but he was already out the door. I sighed and fell back on my bunk. I couldn't laugh at his humour--this feeling of mine was too real.

I watched the door through slitted eyes for a moment then sat up again. I couldn't stay still for long.

Sasha

“You don’t understand!” Sasha heard Paige call after him as he shut the door. Shaking his head, he went to put the supplies up. He really hoped that Paige could get over this rough spot and back on track. But, in the meantime, he needed to find Regan.

Several minutes later, he was tapping on the door to Regan’s quarters. There was silence in the room beyond. He was half wondering if Regan was out when he heard her call through the door.

“Come in,” she said, and Sasha noticed that her voice was not as brisk as usual.
Regan was sitting upright, her face bearing its usual determined look. However, her eyes looked bloodshot, as if she had been crying.


Deciding not to point this out, Sasha pulled up a chair and sat across from Regan.

“Look…” he said, speaking off the top of his head, because, of course, he hadn’t thought of what to say beforehand. “I’ll be blunt.” Regan raised an eyebrow.

“Go on,” she said.

“We need new medical supplies. In case you haven’t noticed, ours suck. Why is it that we never raid enemy hospitals, or something? Or at least go to a drug store and buy a truck load of Tylenol. Seriously, man, our painkiller is booze, and we really don’t need more drunks around here.”

Paige:

I swung my legs over the edge of the bunk, wincing when my leg complained. I looked towards the door again. I could hear voices, was that Sasha and Regan?

I tried to stand up but my thigh gave out. I fell back down on the bed, biting my lip to stop myself from crying out.

I tried again and yanked myself upright, limping towards the door. I followed the voices until I found Regan and Sasha. Regan wasn't looking at the door and Sasha had his back to it.

"...it's not worth the risk, Regan. We need better pain killers." Regan seemed to consider this and then she looked up, straight at me. "Regan, we don't need any more drunks. I told you that, didn't I?"

"It's not worth it," I said. Startled, Sasha turned and stared at me. "It's not worth it," I repeated, holding onto the door frame to stop myself from falling over. "I know we need them, Regan, but it's just not worth it."

Regan sighed and looked away. "We still need the medical supplies."

"You're not supposed to be up," Sasha said as he stood up. He came over to me and slid an arm under one of mine. "Come on."

I let him lead me back to my bunk and sit me down. I looked down at the bandage around my thigh, frowning. I still felt slightly tipsy and glowered down at it. Sasha was right, we did need better medical supplies.