Young Writers Society

Bettina:

Sasha laughed again and gave them to me. "Anthony... look these up on the flight map." I chucked a map back at him and he opened it up quickly.

"Um... due North for another 6 miles." He said weakly. I nodded. The kid had map skills I had to give him that.

"Sasha, were should I wait?" He gave me a description and an order to double as a carrier for injured.

"Okay... thanks Anthony, I get a bit stressed during operations this tough." I gave him a slight smile. "A bit." I heard him mutter under his breath.

"I should have got someone else on here too." I said to myself. "Hey, whoever's listening, I need one more person up here. It's not desperate but it's necessary." I heard a pause on the other line.

Sasha

Sasha, who had the radio communications for Regan’s group, heard Bettina’s message with some interest. He’d been up in the plane a couple times before and had rather liked it, in the same way people like huge roller coasters.

“Hey, Regan?” he called up to the head of the group.

“Yeah?”

“Bettina needs another person in the air. Can I do it?”

Regan shrugged. “Just don’t get yourself blown up, Kozlov.”

“Sure thing,” he chuckled as he pushed transmit button.

“I’ll go up,” He said into the speaker. “Just tell me how. We’re already a quarter of the way to the target.”

Bettina:

"When we get to Base 2, you can board. I don't need you now." I said. "I have some low flying to do, so over and out."

"Over." He answered.

"Anthony, this is gonna be a bit rocky." I swerved out of the way of a few trees and I could hear him hit the side of the plane. I bit down on my tongue as I barely missed a few more trees.

"Okay, I've reached base 2, stats?" I said as I reached the ground on another dirt runway. My poor plane.

"We're on our way, the equipment transport will be coming in a minute or so, so meet that, then the rest of your fleet will be coming in." I smiled at this. Two more of my "flock" were coming and we'd have a formation set for the raid.

I heard the equipment transport roar into the clearing. Surprising, Paige stepped out of the drivers side. "Hey, ya ready to set up?" She asked. She looked considerably better.

"Not yet, I'm waiting for my flock and Regan should be here in a few minutes as well."

"Some para troupers volunteered for this ya know." Paige said casually.

"Don't let them do that. Two people died last time we tried para troupers and it's just not worth it."

Regan's jeep pulled into the clearing and I could hear many more on their way.

Alex

Alex jumped out of the Jeep and kissed the ground. Next time he'd walk, the suspension in the Jeep really sucked. Muttering to himself about four door saloons he gave the Jeep it a goodbye kick. He got a metallic groan in reply. The wind was battering his face and on the runway three battered planes where lining up for takeoff. The wind was throwing up huge amounts of dust and that combined with the steady whine of the propellers He looked over to were the assembled Vipers where getting the final pep talk from Regan. He limped over and hoped he hadn't missed too much. He didn't like the grim look on her face. But at least it wasn't the place and scared look on the face of the grunts handling the home made landmines.

"We're going in low and fast, until we hit the suburbs. We're going to stop and drop of our pet sniper and RPG's. Then we taxi through the streets until we reach the church. After our people have taken out the perimeter we charge in guns blazing until team two gets to the ammo store. From there it's simple, chuck in a bomb and run like hell until we get to the planes. After that it's Bettina and her crew's job." Regan's voice was surprisingly calm. "Hope you haven't got any questions. Because quite honestly I don't care! Get your butts in those planes people move in T Minus 1"!!!

Sasha

Sasha jumped out of the passenger side of the jeep.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Who ordered an extra airman?” Without waiting for an answer, he crossed over to where Bettina stood and bowed theatrically.

“Ah, I believe it was you who requested my services, Madam Bettina.” She rolled her eyes.

Anthony

Anthony watched with interest as the Vipers assembled into groups, and started to jogging to the north west. Regan was watching them all with a mix of hostility, sadness, anger, and pity.

"Ah, I believe it was you who requested my serves, Madame Bettina," he had Sasha say. He started climbing in as Regan approached.

"You ready?" she asked. Bettina nodded, looking at Regan carefully.

"We need to go now," she said. Regan nodded.

"I know... it's just, when I think that not all of them will make it. People are going to die, and I can't help it. Well, I give the orders and they follow them. And if they don't, then they'll probably get killed anyway." she broke off suddenly. "Anyway, get your ass's out of here and do your job!" she stepped away as Bettina saluted.

"Yes ma'm,"

"And one more thing... don't go and get yourselves blown up. Oh, and keep the kid safe."

The last line was almost lost in the sound of the plane's engine as it spluttered and coughed, but Anthony still heard it. He was beginning to get annoyed with people calling him 'kid', and treating him like one too. He was fourteen, and while that might be two years younger than everyone else in the camp, he was not a child.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Sasha came and sat down next to him.

"Hey kiddo," he said.

Anthony ignored him as he focused on trying not to vomit as they took off again.

-_- No. Just, no.

*oh okay. Oh and sorry for posting on Scions account... i was accidentally logged in as my brother... it won't let me delete *

It's okay. Sasha just dosen't really talk like that.

Okay everyone, I was thinking that maybe instead of doing the whole battle that will probably make this thing die, I thiguht that we could kind of do a post- battle sort of thing. I'll try and make that post as soon as I can get to a real computer. If you want to wait for my post that's fine, or you can do it however you'd like

I was thinking that too. epic scenes like this do make storybooks die. The post battle things a great idea though!!!!

*Regan*

the battle field was something like that out of a horror film. Bodies were scattered all around you and almost as far as you you see. Some were moving but most were laying still.

I struggled to my feet. My legs shook and I almost fell, but I gritted my teeth and started assesing the damage. I walked around and found three Chinks, five Zillies, and two Gypsies who were still alive. I killed them quickly and went searching for the people on my team.

I radioed Marsh, a Viper who I had waiting in the forrest with a big truck to haul out our dead and wounded. He came out and we loaded everyone into the back. Most of our people were still alive. We had lost ten, but that was nothing compared to the two hundred we and other small rebel groups had taken out. Before we left the scene, we also gathered up as many weapons as we could manage. Finally, we made it back to base.

Everyone who had stayed behind helped get people out and into their bunks where they would be further treated for whatever wounds they had sustained. I managed to give the report and check up on everyone before I collapsed in my bunk.

Paige:

I limped back into base and sank down onto my bunk. My leg was killing me. I had set off another bomb and taken out a fair few Gypsies and several of our own. Thankfully none of our own had died because of me, they were just injured.... But a lot were dead and there wasn't much I could do about that.

I propped my leg up on my bed and inspected the wound. There was a large piece of shrapnel in my thigh and my lower leg had a few cuts and grazes on it--one of those grazes was from a bullet.

I sighed and pulled my boot off, wincing when my thigh protested. I dropped my boot and tried to see how deep the shrapnel had embedded itself in outer thigh of my left leg-I couldn't put any weight on it.

I winced and stopped touching the shrapnel. Okay, I definitely needed a drink before I removed this...and another pair of hands.

"Need a hand?" someone asked from the doorway. I sighed and looked up.

Anthony

Anthony barely made it out of the plane before he threw up. The sick tasted disgusting, but he felt better afterwards. He stood up straight and wiped his mouth. Maybe, he might have made it without throwing up if it hadn't been for the sight of the battlefield afterwards.

It had been all right in the action. Anthony had held his gun and fired, aiming at everyone who was an adult. The gun kicking in his had, the sound of the plane's engines, kids crying out battle cries and shrieking with pain, the satisfaction as a bullet hit it's target. It even scared him a little. At one point, he had even laughed as one of the enemy fell.

But looking at the aftermath... Anthony felt bile rising up in his throat again. He shook his head, as if to try and clear it. At least he hadn't been hurt, like most people. As this thought crossed his mind, he was aware that he had a thumping head ache. It was to be expected after the noise of the battle, he supposed. He reached up a hand and started massaging his head; he found that it usually helped. He staggered forwards, suddenly aware that he was exhausted. His right hand unclenched and opened, and there was a soft thud as the gun he had been holding fell to the ground. He made it to the living area before he collapsed against a sofa. All around him, other kids were doing the same, groaning as they started to treat their wounds. Anthony drew his legs up, laid his head on them, and before he knew it, was asleep.

Alex sat on his own by Paiges tree, with a serrated army knife in his hand. Now there where seventeen notches. His hand was making the eighteenth. The battle had been bloody, but the fireball when the ammo dump went up was impressive. He'd fired severn shots in th battle. Severn shots. Severn kills.

As always his mind was the only that hurt. No one saw him cry, no one saw the fear he held in check. Every time he pulled that trigger he felt pain. Every time he saw the enemy drop he cried for them. He knew that somewhere, someone would be crying because of him and he hated himself because of it.

He put his hands on his head and began to sob.