Kevan Smith - Wind 2

“Movement.  T-men, squirters, could be locals.  Get Terp to ping ‘em.” “They’re coming around.”

Creeping a few inches, looking through the infra-red scope.  Two thermals moving behind the low cement wall heading for the well.

The first-time-out POG kneels, blasting at the wall end. 

Buckets fly. 

Diving out, covering the distance in seconds. 

Two small, mangled bodies in scarves lay still.

“How the fuck could we tell.” shouts POG hysterically.

Reaching down slowly, gently, his dinner-plate hands hold her tiny, frail, broken body out of the rubble.

“Sarge, you’re crying?”

Blinking away “Shut the-fuck-up dipshit, just wind in me eyes”.