Chapter 1
Connor dived behind the barricade just as the bullet exploded over his head. Crouching, he rolled out from behind the wall of sandbags and brought his gun to his eye. He waited, expecting to hear the bang of a gun being fired in his direction, but it was silent. Expecting an ambush, Connor stooped low and carefully picked his way across the battlefield. Everything was eerily still and not a sound could be heard. Then, he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He snapped round and saw a grey, washed out building, and behind it, the tip of a shadow. Running to the adjacent wall, he pressed himself against it and began edging towards the corner. His heart felt like it was coming out of his chest, it was beating so hard. He was so close now he could hear him breathing. Just metres away. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath then launched himself round the corner, bellowing and holding up his gun. He saw a flash of colour, a grenade, coming straight for him! It was too late to duck, and in his mind Connor knew it was all over.
The water bomb hit him in the face and he felt a body dive into him. He spluttered as the two of them collapsed onto the dusty ground laughing.
" Hey that wasn't fair! No bombs. Where did you get that from anyway?"
Omar grinned and guiltily pointed to the newsagent a few yards down the street.
" I filled it up when you where cowering behing those bins, anyway, war's not fair. You gotta fight dirty to come out on top. And I won!" he laughed.
" I wasn't cowering! And you didn't win. It doesn't count. You cheated. Just wait till next time," Connor frowned and stalked off.
Omar snorted.
" Oh, you're so competitive. Just get over it!"
Connor kept walking, a couple of paces ahead of him.Omar jogged to catch up with him.
" I don't know why you get like this. You know you win nine times out of ten. You're much better than me. But you know what they say, all brawn and no brains!"
"Hey!"
Connor turned round and punched Omar and the arm, but now he was smiling too.
"Fine we're even, but next time you wont know what hit you. This brawn's gonna beat you to a pulp. And then see what good your brain does you. But anyway, I'm starving, fancy some sweets?"
"Sure," said Omar, happy that he'd got his best friend back on side.
There was a ding as they opened the door of the newsagent. On the left, there was a notice board, full of local ads.
They made their way over to the pick and mix section and began shovelling sweets in a bag.
" Are you sure we have enough for this?" Connor asked, loading a scoop up with jelly babies.
" If we dont I'm sure my dad will let us off"
Omar's parents owned the newsagents, and lived in a small flat above it. They had moved to England from Afghanistan five years before. It had become too dangerous for them to live there and so Omar's parents fled the country. Connor didn't know exactly why they left and Omar didn't remember much about it as he was only five at the time.
What he did know was that Omar was his best friend. And always would be, in Connors mind. They had hit it off straight away, on their first day of school and had been inseperable ever since.
Connor swept his floppy brown hair out of his eyes. He was tall for his age, and towered over Omar, who was very slight. Still, he wished he was even taller. And older. He wished so much to just skip eight years of his life so he could be eighteen and join the army. Ever since he was tiny, as long as he could remember. He'd had a fascination with guns, and weapons. And just the armed forces in general.
His dad was a pilot, and although he was just an ordinary airline pilot, still loved war craft. And flew them often at Panshanger airfield, a half an hour drive from their home in Barnet.
Arif, Omar's father came through the door behind the counter, carrying boxes of snickers, and Walkers crisps.
" Dad, we want these but I dont think we have enough money. Pleeeease can you let us off."
" You know what I've said about this son, but," he turned to Connor "since it's your birthday tomorrow I suppose I'll let you off this one time. But this is it mind you, no more freebies. You'll put me out of business!"
Omar winked at him and Connor laughed, plunging his hand into the bag and pulling out a hand full of jelly worms.
" So Connor, double digits tomorrow. Looking forward to being ten?"
By now his mouth was full of gummy worms so he could only nod. He swallowed and smiled.
" Definately, and I really hope I get that toy pistol I asked for. It's real size. And it even makes noises!"
At this he clicked an imaginary safety catch and began firing machine gun sounds around the shop. Omar's dad threw his hands up in the air and dived behind the counter.
The boys burst out laughing and Arif popped his head above the desk and began firing at them with a mars bar.
Connor looked at the clock on the wall. Five to six.
"I better go home, dinners at seven. Mum says you can come round at six tomorrow for my birthday tea all of you. I'll see you then. Bye."
" Yeah see you tomorrow," said Omar then jumped on his dad's back. Wrestling the mars bar from his grip and taking a bite, he ducked under his dad's arms and ran upstairs laughing.
The bell dinged again as the door swung shut behind him. He wished his dad was like Arif. Omar was always spending time with him. Connor's dad worked late hours, often being away for weeks at a time. And even when he was home, he spent all his time at the pub and sitting in his arm chair in front of the TV, barking orders at the rest of the family. At night when he lay in bed, he could hear his mother and father arguing in the kitchen. He didn't like the way his father treated his mother but still, he didn't want him to move away. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on looking forward to his birthday. He hoped his mother had made him a big cake.
Chapter 2
Seven years later
Connor had never been so cold in his life. It was six o'clock in the morning and he was trudging across a sodden field somewhere in Suffolk, grumbling to himself. The orienteering excercise had started an hour ago, and he was making slow progress. He had started off fine. The first two markers he had located easily, but now it was getting tough. He had never been good at this kind of excercise, he hated the slow, monotonous, boringness of it all. Reading the map, taking bearings, dragging himself through a foot of mud with a heavy pack on his back. At this rate, he wouldn't be back for hours.
He looked up and could see some of his fellow privates way ahead on the horizon. He was in for a rough time when he got back. His company were due to be sent away to fight soon and he was in danger of being left behind. Not because he was cowardly or unable to hold a gun. He was the best in the entire battalion at things like that. It was just navigating he had problems with.
He groaned as he realised he'd completely forgotten where he was going. He stopped to look at the map and discovered he had been walking the wrong way for almost half an hour, and it would now take him twice as long to reach the next marker. Scowling he turned the right way and set off. A large hill loomed out of the mist infront of him, and with a sinking feeling he knew he would have to climb it to get to the marker.
He put the map and compass in his pack with a sigh. He wouldn't need them until he reached the top. If he ever reached the top. His scowl turning to a wince, he dragged his burning calves up the hill.
An hour later he collapsed in an exhausted heap at the summit of the hill. He looked at his map. Only ten miles to go. Great. The time was now nine o'clock and he had covered three miles. He needed to get a move on. If he kept going at this speed, he definately wouldn't get back for dinner. And then he was in big trouble.
Ignoring his complaining muscles he pulled himself to his feet and set off again, pulling an energy bar out of his pocket as he went. Seeing more hills through the mist, he pushed his pace even harder. His face was now set in a permanent grimace.
" This is gonna hurt tomorrow," he muttered to himself.
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