Scarlett Johansson | One-Shots (1)

⚠️ Killed in Action Pt. 2

Warning: angst
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Callie:
BOOM!

All of a sudden, everything goes white and there's a loud ringing in my ears. Everything goes muffled around me but I can tell there's yelling and crying.

"Sergeant Atwood!" I hear my muffled name being called. "Atwood!" I hear it again, this time louder. "Ma'am, we need to get out!" The ringing in my ears fades and everything around me slowly becomes clear. I roll over from laying on my stomach where the blast threw me to one of my platoon soldiers standing next to me.

He leans down and reaches his hand out to help me up. I groan, my head is pounding and my whole body aches, but take his hand. I'm almost fully standing when suddenly, there's an ear-piercing whoosh above us followed by an incredible boom. The next thing I know, the building we're in is coming crashing down on top of us. Large chunks of cement, bricks, and rocks crumble down but I can't escape so I'm forced to crouch under a nearby desk and pray nothing kills me.

-

Days. I've been laying under a giant hunk of cement for days. Next to my pile of rubble, the platoon soldier of mine who was trying to help. His bloody, dead body. I used half of my strength to attempt to get out from under the cement but I quickly found that my leg is being crushed so even if I could get out, my leg would be stuck. The other half of my strength is being used to call for literally anyone through my radio or just by yelling out. The air-raid stopped just a little while ago. It's quiet except for some distant cries and buildings continuing to crumble. The world around me is darkened by black smoke and red-orange fires. It's way too hot and my head is spinning.

"Diaz... Smith... Anyone..." I finally give up on calling for help. I have to accept it. I'm going to die here. I'm never going to see my beautiful wife again. Damn, I shouldn't have told her I'd be back. I can't make those promises.

Just when I'm giving up, I hear a truck's engine and a man's voice that I recognize through a megaphone. They're calling for survivors. Their survivors, of course. And I am one of theirs and I have survived, barely.

"Hey! Aye!" I yell as loud as I can in the direction of the men. "Help!"

I almost start to bawl my eyes out when I hear them come over to me. "Sergeant Atwood?"

"Yes. I'm stuck. My leg- I'm pretty sure it's being crushed. I've been here for almost a week. Get me out," I order strictly with what air I have left in me.

"Right away." The four men in the Humvee scramble out and surround my cement chunk. They work together to lift the block and I can't help but yell out in pain, as much as I try to hold it in. It takes them a few long minutes to free me but when I am, it feels so good but hurts so bad.

I attempt to get up but my lower left leg is all fucked up. It's bleeding and I'm sure the bone is somewhat crushed. I groan and fall back into my position. Not in the mood to be the stubborn dick I usually am, I give in and allow the soldiers to help me. The second I sit down in the Humvee, everything goes black.

-

"Sergeant Atwood, glad to see you're awake," a young male army medic greets me as I gradually open my eyes. I instinctively scan the room but I don't immediately recognize where I am. All I know is I'm in some sort of shitty hospital room. The bed I'm lying in isn't that comfortable and my lower left leg is wrapped tightly in stiff bandages. I'm extremely groggy, confused.

"Where the hell am I? What happened?" I question the man with the name tag of John.

"Air-raid. Do you remember anything?" He responds as two more officers enter the room.