Lost..

Their eyes scanned the landscape below them: there was only one path they could take…

Their eyes met, steady and abundant with confidence and valor and they knew their decision. It might be wrong, it may be unethical, but right now it was the only way they had. They could not look back, nor could they expect their team to get back together with them. All that had taken place was the past; they could not let it cloud their sight. These thoughts fresh in their minds, they moved on.

The team had been resting- their guns lay at their sides. Exhausted from walking the long hours in the humid climate, they had chosen to rest in the clearing. There was green all around; the leaves, the trees and even the sunlight. All of them had adapted to camouflage themselves in the uncultivated lush mess. The silence had been punctuated by the rare calling of the birds and all of them had eventually let off their guard, and it had been catastrophe.

The inhabiting cougars had been silent in their approach and the assault on the unsuspecting men was successful. Hunting in pairs, the wild cats had chased the men in different directions. They all had separated, mostly in pairs, and the outcome was not predictable. Now the two of them stood at the top of the peak, all alone; separated from their team, their guns-almost void of ammunition, and lost in the wilderness. And their destiny lay in front of them.

Ryan moved silently down the slope- a little too unique in a man of his dimension. Towering like a giant at 6 foot 8 inches, he wore his combat uniform-Seal Team fatigues-in his own style. His hands nimbly held the M4 Carbine and his eyes darted around attentively, searching for danger. His hair was cropped to an immensely minute size and he sported an intimidating scar on his face.

Following him closely was the smaller but complete opposite of Ryan moved noisily. A little porky and shorter in height, Salim moved as quickly as Ryan. Long hair, a tattoo and jewelry decorated his physique and his short hands held a submachine gun at the ready. His eyes were weary and his face appeared tired; his informal dressing was patched with blood which was flowing steadily from a cut on his forearm- he was in trouble, and he needed help.

The walk seemed inexhaustible. The couple kept walking endlessly without slowing down. They never looked back, nor did they once think of their comrades.

“Why can’t we stop and rest for awhile? I’m exhausted and I feel Allah will call me to him at anytime,” requested Salim in his accent.

“We are close to the town we had gone through. I have sighted my markings on some of the trees and I now know the way home. All we have to do is to call our comrades and wait for them,” replied the Seal Team Commander calmly.

“Why should we wait for them? We aren’t indebted to them then why should we help them?”

“It’s just ethics in our country. We will do as I say. We will go, and we will secure the village and then…we will wait,” Ryan concluded decisively.

They did not know what awaited them. Nor did they feel the pair of eyes intently gazing at them. All they saw when they reached the small community was the blood. Pieces of flesh lay scattered all around grotesquely; blood lay around in the form of graffiti; and the odor of fresh crime and murder made its way out of the setting. The two of them readied their weapons, unmoved by the uncouth image in front of their eyes. A sudden rustling in the bushes made Salim turn, opening up his rear to attack. This was the last movement he made. Ever again.