Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and violence.
"Go go go! There's an enemy crew moving in!" John yelled at his SEAL platoon, motioning them towards a small, Afghanistan town. There were six of them. A well trained, hardened, well oiled fighting team from the SEAL team 6. John was their Sniper, but also the platoon leader for his services in past missions.
They moved through the town, being cautious around the windows and doors- just in case any enemies would be left in the town.
"Okay! Our objective is in the middle, near the square. Like a town hall, so to speak. Once we get there, you know your positions, and if anyone doesn't do their job I'll shoot you myself! NOW GO!" They shuffled off, double pacing towards the square. As of yet they hadn't met any resistance, but John knew that wouldn't last. The enemy may let them get holed up where they can see any in coming onslaught, but wouldn't let them be peaceful for long.
They climbed the dusty steps up to the town hall, and they moved out. Only two of them would stay in the town hall, one would go to the roof and the other three would take positions in the surrounding buildings. John grabbed the wooden handle to the door of the town hall and went to open it- and the SEAL beside him dropped after a loud shot rang out.
John watched him drop, his face plastered in a grimace that he couldn't get out of his head.
"Get to cover! They're here already!" He dived in the door, slamming it shut behind him- hoping his platoon could get to their designated spots. He crouched and smashed the glass out of a window with the butt of his M16-A4. He put the sites up to his eyes, peering out across the street- to where the shots rang from. He fired at an enemy standing there, watching him drop to the ground lifeless. He swore once, looking around for the steps. Spotting them, he ran to them. He went to step up when the door to the Town Hall came swinging open. Preparing for the worst John lifted his gun- but it was Ben, his second in command.
"Come on, we have to get to the roof. There's at least forty or more out there, we can't take them here." John didn't wait for a response, he began running up the steps with Ben close behind him. they got to the second floor- but there was no door to the roof.
"Fuck, what are we going to do now?" Ben was out of breath, and his words came off as edgy.
"Let's duck in this bedroom, maybe climb out the window and get to the building next door." John tried the door nob- but it was locked. He grunted and slammed his shoulder into it, falling as the door came crashing down. He went to raise up, when he noticed a girl curled up on the bed.
He pointed his gun and commanded her to move, but she didn't budge besides a gentle rocking. He walked to her, and he could smell the blood that had been coming from her mouth, and her nose, and every other hole. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and her greasy black hair was stuck to her face with blood. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn't help her now. He went to move past her, but she reached up and grabbed his wrist. He jerked away and looked at her, and the girl started crying.
"It's going to be okay, kid. We'll help you." he went to pick her up, then noticed something in her right hand.
"You're going to die, you know," her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. She pulled the pin of the grenade and began to laugh at John, as if her own suicide was enough to pay a debt. He looked at Ben, his heart pounding, and tried to tell him to run, but it was too late.
And John awoke, his heart pounding in his chest, sweat beading down his flushed face, his hands grasping the bed sheets. just another nightmare, just a nightmare. Or so he thought.