Chương 2: Chapter 2
At times like this, Richer was grateful for the training that allowed him to slide his gun to his shoulder. His mind spun as adrenaline rushed through his system. With shaking hands, Richer aimed his gun in the direction the attack came from. Nothing. Silence, broken only by the cries of the wounded, overtook the jungle. Panicked, Richer peered about, but was left with nothing. The trees crowded together, and any holes were plugged by the endless vines and foliage. As expected of the home field advantage, he thought grimly. The jungle dutifully hid all traces of the Vietcong.
Richer suppressed his wild breathing and forced himself to calm down. Suddenly, something grabbed his leg, nearly tearing a scream from his cracked lips. Whipping about, he was startled to see the hand of the soldier he carried to the clearing gripping his ankle. Blood stained the grass behind him, evidence of his hasty crawl.
"Please, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" the man muttered in a frenzy.
His bloodshot eyes rolled wildly in fear. Richer felt chills scatter down his spine.
"No, don't!" he fiercely whispered, but it was too late.
The soldier surged to his feet, apparently ignorant of his previously crippling injury. Richer stretched his hand out to him, but the man broke past him and stumbled through the forest. Richer squeezed his eyes shut as gunfire erupted in the woods once more.
The soldier screamed, arms flailing. Abruptly, his scream cut off into a cough, and blood spurted from his lips. Three ragged holes in his uniform became the epicenter for the spreading blood. A final pain stricken scream escaped his mouth, and he collapsed to the ground.
Richer turned away from the gruesome sight, fully aware he might be next. His body shook from a fresh rush of adrenaline and fear. It was fortunate there wasn't a mirror nearby, as he suspected his eyes looked no different than that man's.
Their shaken squad finally received orders. Disengage as quickly as possible, and head to more favorable ground. Richer faintly recalled another squad deployed not far from where they were pinned down. If they could only survive until reinforcements arrived, there might be hope.
Almost as one, the soldiers clenched their fists and rose up. Gunfire bit at their heels as they ran and occasionally took an opportunity to return fire. Richer's heart beat even faster as he crashed through the underbrush, desperate to escape the crossfire. Suddenly, an explosion blasted through the jungle, the shock waves came from his left, throwing him off balance. Grasping at some of the ever present vines, he managed to recover his balance
Before Richer could process the situation, he stepped on a flat rock, only to hear a sharp click. Paralyzed, he glanced down. His foot, along with the underbrush, failed to conceal the metallic glint of a land mine. His foot pressed firmly down on the trigger.
"What? No!" he cried in despair, unable to believe the situation.
Sweat coursed down his shaking body, but fortunately, he didn't have long to suffer. The incoming rain of bullets soon reached his location, and he was struck several times. In shock, Richer barely felt any pain, but the impact knocked him off the mine. He didn't even have time for a last thought before the explosion claimed whatever was left of his ragged body.
Darkness surrounded him, bringing about an uncomfortable cold. The feelings of pain and the tremble of fear were gone, but something still felt off. He slowly awoke, lost in memories of his death. Soon after, he rubbed his eyes, blinded by the hard white lights around him. His mind was groggy. Where was he? What had happened? He was in the jungle, fighting the Vietcong. There had been an ambush. The landmine.
He heard a voice state, "Fear levels are normal. It's as though he wasn't in the middle of one of the worst wars in history. However, immersion rates are close to 70%. Identity confusion likely. Without the system suppression, he would have been gone.
Faces appeared around him. A middle aged woman looked at him with… irritation?
"Who are you?" she asked sharply.
"Private Richer Nielson," he instinctively replied.
She looked at him for a second, apparently waiting for something. Feeling unsure, Richer looked around. The others in the room looked at him, expressions ranging from surprise to disappointment. His gaze skipped past the glass display case, reminiscent of a coffin, holding a soldier missing his leg. Although poorly preserved, it looked like… him. It finally settled on the woman, once more. At that moment, his head started to hurt as new details began to emerge.
"No wait, that's not right," he muttered, clutching his head.
The woman nodded, still silent.
"Kinson Virin," he said after a long pause.
"Welcome back. Unfortunately, this was your last chance to control your ability and lead the evaluation. While you'll have to wait for the evaluation's official results to be sure, I'll let you know it's rather unlikely you'll still be considered for the program.
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