GUTS

the clam before the strom?

THE SCREAMS WON'T STOP, THE sun won't shine and all Omar has to his name are his best pair of medic overalls, a shard of mirror to reaffirm his existence once in a while and his sanity which was yet, slowly slipping out of his cold, sweaty hands.

When a gunshot, louder than the rest and too close to comfort echoes into the room they were in, Claudia shakes Omar out of his morbid reverie.

"Let's go please, we have no time!" She saiys in a hushed, guarded voice to which Omar nods meekly too. It's clear she is struggling not to let her true emotions slip out.

The floor shakes in response to some bomb or missile and they, the five survivors stagger on their feet.

"Now, now!" Claudia repeats, grabbing Omar's hand and making a break for it.

They were in the infantry division, tending to the new influx of injured soldiers as best as they can, not knowing one of them has been tracked down to their base. All they were met by was a rain of bullets tearing the base apart.

Thank heavens Claudia and Omar stayed right there in the bunker and not the main stronghold where the bloodshed prevailed. Now they must save their own heads.

They may be soldiers who fight for their fatherland with a first aid box but they are also ordinary people. Minus the metahuman that is Omar anyways.

"Quick, we are almost at the hanger," echoes some guy Omar think is named Lionel. He is a surgeon himself and just like the others barely gets along with Omar. Claudia is the only one he cares about.

Lionel continues, "the ORV is just about the corner. And specially for the medical unit. See what happens when we fight with for our rights?"

Another bomb blast in a distance but still worryingly close. The building is coming apart bit by bit.

Claudia raises a brow. "You mean the budget actually favored us? We have something to ourselves."

"Yep. And it's ours alone."

"Sleek," says the third guy. Omar notices this one is an actual soldier but looks too young to carry an AK-47. "Can't wait to ride on this baby." He rubs his hands together in anticipation, his dark bangs sweeping his long lashes.

"Woah woah, not so fast young man." Lionel opens his hands and against the boy's chest. "You, aren't coming with us?"

"What, why?" Claudia and the boy echoes together."

"He's a soldier who is meant to be in the battlefield and not cowering away like the rest of us."

"Please!" Boy pleads.

"He is just a kid," Omar states with a dirty look on his face.

"--who is meant to die for our beloved country. Mind you, we medics are here getting the treatment we don't deserve enough to--"

Omar's eardrums bounce against his head and in that moment, he closes his eyes and braces his head. All in slow motion, Claudia and three others throw themselves to the ground.

He has been talking to Lionel, staring into his gruff face but what remains now is a fleshy gash ripping his head in two. His eyes hang from the sockets and he makes one final sound before dropping to the floor like a sack of rice.

Omar turns to the back, the traffic lights in his head flash red and his feet holds the ground tighter.

There is a man few feet from them. He is wearing the enemy's uniform which in a way complements the array of scars on his face. Cocking the shotgun on his shoulder with a vampire grin on his face, he aims at the boy soldier.