Jax ran away

Strong whistling in my ear made me deaf for what was happening around me. It hurt, but I had to move. Jax was missing.

I ran like a cockroach from spot to spot in between the craters and tall yellow grass. I was wounded, I bled and I don’t know where my helmet was nor did I care to fetch it. I had to find Lieutenant Jax. He must be here somewhere. I saw him dash out toward the enemy, but he didn’t come back. My platoon followed me with their weapons ready for a clash.

I used my sleeve to wipe the sweat and dust off of my face because it burned my eyes. I coughed and twitched my head around.

“Jax! Jax! Where are you!” I shouted, and the whistle from above fell a few meters away and an explosion elevated the dirt in the air, formed a cloud and started raining over me.

“Shut up you jerk! They can hear you screaming, you idiot!” Our machine gun bearer scouted and grabbed his helmet before another projectile detonated.

“Fuck. We are going to die for this asshole?” Another soldier replied from the tall grass and the platoon moved towards me.

“Jax! Jax! Jaaaax!” I continued jumping over the lumps of dirt, dead soldiers and fought the whistling in my head.

A saw something move in the grass and I dashed for it. Just when I arrived at the spot, an enemy soldier rose his rifle at me, breathed out and fell back to the ground. He never rose again. At his side, where he was. Jax, all covered in dirt, blood dripping from his mouth, five enemy soldiers dead around him.

“Jax, you motherfucker.” I broke in tears and kneeled down when two of my friends came to my sides and took rifling positions.

Jax whimpered, breathed heavily with his tongue out, his ears knocked down. I took off my jacket, laid it on the ground and rolled Jax on it. He was heavy, yet I picked him up, turned around and started running back. My friends followed me in the rain of dust that only became thicker and thicker to the point I couldn’t see right. I even didn’t bother to look where I am headed, I bowed my head and brought Jax’s mug into my chest. He must survive.

His nozzle was wet, that is a good sign, but his breath was shallow and eyes sad like he would cry. I cared him in long steps, ran over the rough terrain until I reached the safe zone. I smacked our medic and ordered him to help Jax, and the poor boy had to do something. Jax was hurt, so we called med-evac and a chopper came to pick us up.

When people asked me what happened there, I couldn’t tell. My memories were vague.

Vague

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