Battle Scars

The lucky ones where dead.

Today's battle had been particularly violent, the Medic noted as he scurried about the battle field. From solider to solider, he applied his trained eye. He'd been doing this long enough to recognize a worthless case when he saw it. Unfortunately, he didn't have any ammunition for mercy killings to spare today so he had to work with the screams in the background.

"I'm fine!" He could hear them begging. "Let me go home!"

The Medic shut his eyes trying to regain his center. He looked down at the bleary eyed solider at his feet. The Medic smiled softly and reached into his bag for cordazine to stable the man's injuries.

The solider was gasping and snarling. "Gonna kill me, too? You're working for them huh?"

The Medic paused with his needle and re-inspected the fallen soldier's arm. An ugly gash along his forearm was leaking greenish yellow ooze, the all too familiar sign of Chin'wa contamination.

The Medic put away his supplies.

Another hopeless case then. Bastard would probably attack the Medic if he stayed any longer as the poison in his system fueled his misguided rage.

He shrugged and sighed. "Guess so."

He kicked the man in the head with his steel toed boots. "Filthy Chin'wa." He murmured darkly before moving on.

There weren't many to save. The lucky ones had died quickly. He hugged his bag close to his hip as he walked along the dusty red field. They'd been fighting this war for over a year now, and he was all too familiar with a Chin'wa attack. Only last week, a small group of them had swarmed where the Medic and his team. It was an even matched battle, and luckily the Medic lived with only a few battle scars.

The Chin'wa were know for their vicious attacks with murky motivations. The tall green soldiers with the reptilian skin were taller than anyone else he knew. They had small silver wings that seemed to be made of gossamer that they kept flat against their backs. Their barbarism was evidenced by the venom in their veins. When they weren't poisoning the country side with filth and destruction they were poisoning the hearts of men with their savage claws. One swipe, one bite-it didn't take much to infect a man. And once he was- may God have mercy on those poor souls nearby.

The Medic stopped when he saw the battered lieutenant several feet ahead. A soft smile played on his lips, and he scratched his arm idly. He walked forward hurriedly, happy to find someone he could help.

He bent down and did a quick examination of the man. Fever bright eyes locked with the medic's. "Relax son," the Medic said as he wrapped the man's leg in bandages, "it's gonna be alright."

With his skilled touch he inserted his needle into the jumpy soldier's arm. The Medic patted his shoulder and repeated, "You're gonna be alright."

"Th-th-thanks." The solider murmured weakly, his head rolling from side to side. The Medic stood up and looked at his handiwork, proud to chalk up another life saved as he moved on.

Behind him, the soldier's twitching ceased as did his heart beat.

The Medic kept walking, bending over the hurt and beaten doing as much as he could to give them life. Bandages, shots, he allotted as much as he could spare to save lives. Behind him was a trail of corpses from his work. As he reached the end of the field, one of his companions who was lucky enough to be walking stopped him. "Hey, were you able to save anyone today?"

"Of course, Eric." The Medic gestured to his almost empty bag. "I've been working my ass off."

Eric pointed to the field. "Then how come no one else is getting up? We don't have time for this shit, supplies and troops are low."

The Medic clenched his teeth. "Maybe if you guys actually tried fighting with strategy we wouldn't have so many casualties."

Eric glared at him. "Something's off with you. You ain't been right since we got attacked last week."

Eric reached out to take his arm. The Medic yanked it back and shoved his fist into his satchel. "No. How could you say that?" He withdrew his scalpel, and before Eric could blink, he plunged it down on the other man's neck, twisting it viciously.

Blood spattered across his face as his hissed. "Damnit, you've been working for them haven't you?"

Eric's lips moved, choking on words, as he silently screamed in blood falling to his knees.

"Haven't you!" The Medic screamed.

Eric didn't move at his feet. The Medic surveyed the tattered campground that was packing itself up. The scattered soldiers were preparing to march. The Medic knew he couldn't allow that, this place was to rotted. Too many good souls could be hurt if he let the contamination spread.

He threw down his medial bag and looked down at Eric. The Medic thanked his lucky stars that he'd found out before he'd become one of them. He pulled Eric's semi-automatic gun from his holster and checked that is was fully loaded.

Soldiers were starting to come closer to him now, and see if he had brought anyone back from the battlefield. They wanted news of survivors, but all that had survived was his hatred for the Chin'wa.

He was trained to recognize the signs of madness and he knew when someone was to far gone.

He raised his gun and prepared to fire.


"Sir," the lieutenant looked up from his clipboard, "news from the battle field. We're loosing the battle against…"

"I know, son." the general cut him off sharply. "We'll just have to send out for troops."

He ripped the clipboard from the lieutenant and glared at it. The general signed it and looked up. "We'll have the filthy Chin'wa beaten soon, no worries."

"Yes sir." The lieutenant sighed.

As he left he muttered darkly, "If we can beat this madness first."

.:the end:.