Fallen Angels

Chapter Thirteen

The American looked over at the Hispanic man, who nodded. He then looked back at me. 

"The names Ronald Carson, first battalion, seventy fifth rangers." The Hispanic walked towards me, handing me my pistol back. He then looked at Carson, spoke some Spanish, then looked back at me. Carson started speaking. 

"He is Marcelo Acosta. Are you from the POW camp?" POW camp? The Chinese must've been using the capital as their main POW transfer. That would explain the scars on the two men's bodies. Maybe they thought I was a POW because I had the scars as well...

"No, my plane was shot down over El Alto. I have been trying to get east ever since." 

"Do you even know what's there?" Carson said. I shook my head.

"They have intense patrols all over the north and eastern sides of the city. Your even heading the wrong direction." He pointed to the left of me. I must've been heading north. I was just about to start walking again before Acosta stopped me. He started speaking more illegible Spanish.

"You can't get through the patrols. You better stay here with us." Carson said. I looked at him, then at Acosta. I nodded. 

"Alright, I will stay the night. After that, I'm going." Carson smiled. 

"Great. Come, before the patrols spot us." 

We walked down an alley for several minutes, crossing streets and evetually reaching a small dead end. There were a bunch of taller buildings that hadn't been hit by the bombers, providing cover. There were a few soldiers here, some of whom had wounds and make shift casts. I walked over to one of them. He had a cast covering his lower leg with a large bloodstain in the area where his ankle would be. There was another cast holding his right arm in place. He stared at me, his eyes watching my every move, both of which were bloodshot. 

Carson soon walked over beside me, kneeling.

"What's his name?" I said. 

"Fredrick. Fredrick Carson. He's my brother." A brother? You usually don't get that in war. 

"Him and I were in the same division, patrolling the boats crossing Lake Titicaca when we came under an ambush. Bombers flew through the skies and infantry launched an attack on us. The Chinese weren't able to push us back, though, and our leader ordered us to charge. Lead us into a fucking trap. Most of us were killed, those who surrendered were sent to the POW camps here. Fredrick and I escaped, but soldiers were onto us."

Carson began to cry slightly, but maintained his tone of voice. 

"We ducked into one of the buildings and the Chinese threw in a grenade. Fredrick took most of the blast and it blew shrapnel into his leg and almost tore off his arm."

I didn't even think there were any infantry attacking when the bombers came. Shit, this war is stupid. Makes people blind. This commander was stupid, too. He attacked when he should have been holding the lake. 

"I managed to drag my brother away before the Chinese took the building. I evetually met Marcelo and he brought us here. There were a lot more people here, back then. We patched them up and sent them along. We never hear from them again, your fighters coming in and bombing were the only signs of US forces we have seen."

Shit, we had been bombing POW camps! Those lights within the buildings weren't civilians, they werw prisons! Someone had to notify the colonel. 

"I need to leave." I said. I stood up before Carson pushed me back down. 

"No! The Chinese will kill you! They have patrols all over the eastern and northern ends!"

"Yeah, but they are looking the other direction! They want to know if we launch a stealth attack, not a POW escape!" Carson sighed. 

"Fine, if your not wounded, I don't see a reason to keep you here. I will figure out you best way to escape tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I need to leave now!" 

"No! It is way to risky! You will get yourself killed!"

The yelling shocked a bunch of birds within the area, flying off. We both stopped yelling to make sure we hadn't alerted any Chinese forces. Marcelo walked over to us, but didn't talk. He just stared. After a few seconds, we continued in a lower tone of voice.

"The Chinese will be much more aware at night. Searchlights are everywhere and tanks loom the streets." Carson said.

"And a helicopter will see me in daylight. I need to leave when the night is young."

"The night is not young. It will be oh-four-hundred soon, and you won't even be outside the city by five." 

He had a point. If I left now, the day will be on me within a few hours. I had to stay here, or at least get a little closer to the border.

"Then I will get as far as I can." I said. Marcelo started speaking Spanish to Carson, who spoke back to Marcelo, and making a small conversation between the two. Finally, Carson looked back at me and started talking English again.

"You need to rest. Come on." He signaled to me to come with him. Without waiting for a response, he started walking away. I thought about it. I had gone throw a lot the past day, and I really did need to sleep. I needed to sleep...

Carson led me in a building with two other soldiers, both wounded and sleeping. He had a sheet of blankets stacked under a desk. He took them and rest them in straight rectangles on the ground. I laid down on it, pulling the covers over me. The ground was hard and cold, definitly something you shouldn't sleep on. It was good enough, though, have to survive with anything and everything you get.

"Night." Carson said as he left the room. 

I needed to leave this city. I would sleep first, but I needed to leave straight afterwards. I pondered what I would do after all this, but it was soon overcome by the need for sleep. 

I fell asleep a few minutes after Carson left.