Thel' Vadamee
Audio Log #13- Recovery
Since Cryptid and the Wolves dragged me back to a med unit, I had been laying in bed, recovering. Several more attempts had been made on my life. The CO insisted that a guard be posted at the entrance of the med tent, but I didn't trust my life to some GI. I had begun sleeping with a knife under my pillow, and after more gas attacks, an oxygen tank. After the medics bandaged me up, I donned my armor once again. That too, I had begun sleeping in. I trusted no one, and was always wary. The flashbacks had stopped, possibly due to the intense stress I was under. Hopefully, it stayed that way. Man, I can't wait to get out in the field again, miles away from everything except those I trust. Anything would be better than this living hell I was in. Wait. What was that? There was a noise outside.
A masked face peered around the corner; I threw one of my knives. The face ducked back at the last second, as the knife ripped a hole in the far side of the tent. "Come on and finish it, you bastard!" i yelled, hatred and fury dripping from my voice. I heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. Thus it went, night after night. I hardly slept anymore, with sounds from the camp waking me up, heart pounding. I could not live like this for long...
Several weeks later...
Finally, I was back in action. After several days of attacks, a trio of old Silent Wolves veterans stood vigil over me, switching off every few hours. I then had a chance to rest, feeling safe. The attacker didn't show up, given the presence of the armed men. And it paid off. Now, I was back on my feet , and preparing my belongings to leave the infirmary. I still had an ugly scar where the bullet penetrated, and the wound twinged every now and again. But I would be all right. I strapped on my armor, and threw on my pack. I gave it a quick, weight-settling jostle, and began to head out of the door. And then, I saw a grenade, standard USDF issue, minus the pin, roll towards my feet...
Audio Log #13- Recovery
Since Cryptid and the Wolves dragged me back to a med unit, I had been laying in bed, recovering. Several more attempts had been made on my life. The CO insisted that a guard be posted at the entrance of the med tent, but I didn't trust my life to some GI. I had begun sleeping with a knife under my pillow, and after more gas attacks, an oxygen tank. After the medics bandaged me up, I donned my armor once again. That too, I had begun sleeping in. I trusted no one, and was always wary. The flashbacks had stopped, possibly due to the intense stress I was under. Hopefully, it stayed that way. Man, I can't wait to get out in the field again, miles away from everything except those I trust. Anything would be better than this living hell I was in. Wait. What was that? There was a noise outside.
A masked face peered around the corner; I threw one of my knives. The face ducked back at the last second, as the knife ripped a hole in the far side of the tent. "Come on and finish it, you bastard!" i yelled, hatred and fury dripping from my voice. I heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. Thus it went, night after night. I hardly slept anymore, with sounds from the camp waking me up, heart pounding. I could not live like this for long...
Several weeks later...
Finally, I was back in action. After several days of attacks, a trio of old Silent Wolves veterans stood vigil over me, switching off every few hours. I then had a chance to rest, feeling safe. The attacker didn't show up, given the presence of the armed men. And it paid off. Now, I was back on my feet , and preparing my belongings to leave the infirmary. I still had an ugly scar where the bullet penetrated, and the wound twinged every now and again. But I would be all right. I strapped on my armor, and threw on my pack. I gave it a quick, weight-settling jostle, and began to head out of the door. And then, I saw a grenade, standard USDF issue, minus the pin, roll towards my feet...