I get off a few short bursts, not managing a kill, just a few wounded. Then my gun jams. Before I can free it, mortar fire hits all around me, and I have to eat dirt. Flames seem to spring up everywhere.

Fire behind me, to my left, and to my right. Cut off from my regiment, I stand alone with a jammed AK-47 in my Batman-covered Hanes to defend a few women and a goat from the invaders.

Twelve of them come at me. One from each division, judging by the uniforms.

I pull the pin on my last grenade, count, and throw it. They dive, I dive, we all dive for cover. Nothing happens. One of them laughs as they get up. He picks up the grenade, and heaves it into a nearby burning comm shack, where it explodes, knocking us all back down.

Nobody is hurt by the blast, but the women are screaming behind me as the invaders approach. The Kalashnikov is still jammed. I think about all the kids I've burned to the Idol, but he's deserted me now.

The goat butts me from behind, and breaks for freedom. As he heads into the enemy ahead, one of them throws a matzoh ball. The goat is distracted - the tall guy in Benjamin's Division throws a satchel charge around the goat's neck and swats it off in the direction of what's left of Abdul's Terrorist Camp.

One of the women, a joygirl I recognize, is screaming something about this all being Rahab's fault. I don't dig what she means, but no time for that now - the charge is beginning. The guy wearing the colors of Dan's Brigade is grinning like a thief. I throw down my rifle, and grab for my CZ. I realize my belt, like my uniform, was in the room burning so beautifully to my right. I throw up my hands, but the grin just gets bigger and the Uzi comes up. I remember now my face was on TV a few years back after we torched that hospital in Tel Aviv. I have a sinking feeling surrender is not an option...

Last updated: 2 Apr 1994

Copyright 1989, 1994 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved.

This article may be freely distributed via computer network or other electronic media, or printed out from such media, for personal use only. Any non-personal (ie, commercial) use of this article voids the warranty which prevents my wasting hundreds, if not thousands, of yours and my dollars in lawsuits. Commercial copy permission may be granted if, in the author's sole opinion, other usage of this article is for purposes the author holds near and dear to his heart and/or wallet. For such permission, contact the author via email at roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] or via mail at the address below. Appearing in person at the author's residence during daylight hours for a personal audience is also permitted, provided no weapons are brought along. This notice contains no MSG, sugar, artificial sweeteners, sunlight, air, or other known carcinogenic substances or energy forms.

This copyright may be freely used, distributed and modified subject to the conditions noted above in the preceeding paragraph.