Natalya's head jerked up. She stared blankly at Yorick, trying to process what he'd said.
The loops. It hadn't started over. Sam was dead, blood melting the old, frozen snow, skin still warm against her knuckles, and the moment was stretching on and on because the loop wasn't starting over.
"Pizdet," she bit out hoarsely, starting to pull key pieces of Sam's gear off of him- flashbangs, extra clips, guns, knives, and shoved them into pouches and straps on her own uniform. Her tears didn't stop and her hands didn't steady, but she managed it anyway.
"Go," she told Yorick, standing but not all the way, keeping crouched, which made it harder to move through the deep snow. They had to get close to the shadow of the ridge and go around it, away from where the sniper's might have a view. She pushed him along, breaths coming harsh in her throat, only the cold air keeping her lungs too dry to sob.
"I no will let you die," she said, although who she was saying it to, exactly, or to what end was a little up in the air.
"I will not." She dragged him into the shadow of the ridge and held them both against an icy slab of granite, still for a moment, before she gestured at him to stay put and ventured a few feet out into the open snow. She pulled up her rifle and saw someone looking back at her from the other end of the box canyon. She could see them smirking.
"Yorick-!" she started, turning back to him, when the landmine went off and everything was, again, pain and blistering white which turned into the snow on a hillside, among drifts and heavily-laden trees. There was a low concrete building half buried in the stuff in the small box canyon below her.
It took everything in her not to scream. She rolled onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her molars together as hard as she could.
This is not a nightmare. This is a ring of hell. There is no waking up from this. There is only going through it.
She had to think it through, and quickly. She wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure she could move. The fear was paralyzing.
There is only going through it. You have to go through it. Get up. Get up! She clutched her rifle more tightly to her chest, feeling the muscles of her arms and legs and stomach and shoulders knot and wind tighter.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-09-17 04:27 am (UTC)The loops. It hadn't started over. Sam was dead, blood melting the old, frozen snow, skin still warm against her knuckles, and the moment was stretching on and on because the loop wasn't starting over.
"Pizdet," she bit out hoarsely, starting to pull key pieces of Sam's gear off of him- flashbangs, extra clips, guns, knives, and shoved them into pouches and straps on her own uniform. Her tears didn't stop and her hands didn't steady, but she managed it anyway.
"Go," she told Yorick, standing but not all the way, keeping crouched, which made it harder to move through the deep snow. They had to get close to the shadow of the ridge and go around it, away from where the sniper's might have a view. She pushed him along, breaths coming harsh in her throat, only the cold air keeping her lungs too dry to sob.
"I no will let you die," she said, although who she was saying it to, exactly, or to what end was a little up in the air.
"I will not." She dragged him into the shadow of the ridge and held them both against an icy slab of granite, still for a moment, before she gestured at him to stay put and ventured a few feet out into the open snow. She pulled up her rifle and saw someone looking back at her from the other end of the box canyon. She could see them smirking.
"Yorick-!" she started, turning back to him, when the landmine went off and everything was, again, pain and blistering white which turned into the snow on a hillside, among drifts and heavily-laden trees. There was a low concrete building half buried in the stuff in the small box canyon below her.
It took everything in her not to scream. She rolled onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her molars together as hard as she could.
This is not a nightmare. This is a ring of hell. There is no waking up from this. There is only going through it.
She had to think it through, and quickly. She wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure she could move. The fear was paralyzing.
There is only going through it. You have to go through it. Get up. Get up! She clutched her rifle more tightly to her chest, feeling the muscles of her arms and legs and stomach and shoulders knot and wind tighter.
Get up. Get up.
She didn't move.