Snippet #1665533

All Sage remembered was pure white noise pumping through everything, then silence. Was this death? No... This hurt too much. He opened his eyes and realized he was in the middle of a nightmare. Fire and metal, torn and twisted all around him, and a sharp pain all over. He looked down at his old shrapnel wound from his first outing and grimaced. The damn thing had split again. Worse than that was the slimy black and nasty yellow that grew within it. He tore off a shred of his pants and tied it around the arm. He looked around. Where was he? Ah yes, the plane.

Sage racked his mind, trying to remember why he was sent here. The mission, he thought. But surely that didn't matter anymore, at least for now. Sage removed himself from the wreckage, trying to hold his gorge. The dead were everywhere. Sure, he'd seen, even killed people during his post, but nothing was this torn and shredded. Kids, too. Damn. Shaking his head, he circled the wreckage before finding the cargo hold. Kicking in the already torn locked door, he searched for a plain bag with the maple leaf on it. Bingo. He carefully removed the bag, and dumped its contents onto the hot sand. First aid, water, food, a black combat knife and his trusty Canadian Army scoped Timberwolf spilled to the dirt. He gathered the things he wanted into a backpack, hid the knife on his belf, and slung the rifle over his shoulder. Kneeling down, he dropped a few iodine drops into the infected cut. Shit. That burns.

Suddenly, he heard a low groan. Ducking behind the large black bag he had pulled out, he watched as a survivor lifted himself up from the wreckage, looked around and left. The man looked injured, but he couldn't trust anyone yet. This could have been an attack to stop his mission. Anything was possible. He waited until the stranger was almost out of sight, and then he started his own trek, following the stranger along the road.