Stolen Savior

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Author’s note: This is only the first half of the story. If you don’t like reading incomplete works, please find something else. I’m having trouble coming up with an exciting but plausible ending. I will post the rest when it’s ready.

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I hadn’t believed my sergeant when he told us time slows to a crawl in combat, but it really does. I clearly remember every bit of my seven-on-one firefight in Ramadi Iraq, down to the tenth of a second. Maybe even millisecond.

My initial burst hit the leader in the face, as an RPG rocket missed me by less than a foot. It blew up a car behind me as I fired again. I took at least five hits in only a few seconds, but kept on shooting. My 3-shot bursts were still deliberate and accurate, since most of the pain would come later. Somehow I had time to hope the armor plate in my vest would protect me. I wore my body armor, as usual, but some of the enemy used armor-piercing rounds.

My carbine clicked empty and I knew reloading with a broken arm would be far too slow. I dropped my weapon, reached for a frag, and pulled the pin with my teeth. New blasts of pain erupted in my knee and belly, but I was delighted at my accuracy and timing. My grenade exploded chest-high in midair, within a yard of two black-clad terrorists. A splatter of blood, an AK-74, and the severed al-Qaeda arm holding it flew across the street. I fell to the pavement, mortally wounded but satisfied.

Three surgeons and a crowd of nurses urgently tried to save me, but my body didn’t cooperate. If I hadn’t been shot half a block from the hospital’s rear entrance, I might not have made it that far. They lifted and slid me from the gurney to an OR table. Two very bright lights shone on me while they cut away my bloody uniform. I was in shock and instinctively tried to resist, when a nurse pulled the safety pin ring from mouth.

Despite the painkiller injections, I could still feel many gunshot wounds. Two in the right side of my chest weren’t too bad, and I barely noticed the five in my abdomen. The bullet that broke my left arm passed all the way through, but the wound still hurt quite a bit. The one that shattered my left kneecap and drove part of it into the cartilage between my upper and lower leg still hurt like a SONOFABITCH! I was also PISSED OFF that grenade fragments had grazed my chin and torn off my right ear. My cook time and throw were perfect, but I hadn’t ducked quickly enough.

The trauma team were giving me saline in my left arm and O negative in my right, but it was leaking out faster than they could put it in. I knew the blood I coughed out with every breath was a bad sign. Before I died, I needed to know. I gathered the bit of energy I had left and forced my mouth to work. “Did I get ‘em?” Through the din of doctors asking for tools, a female voice answered, “You took out all seven before they got their bomb to the hospital! You’re a hero…”

The doctor in charge loudly exclaimed, “We’re losing her! Put an O-neg I.O. in the left femur and large bore IV with Ringer’s in the right ankle!”

His order came too late. When my eyes closed for the last time, a monitor showed my blood pressure was down to 60 over 30. The last thing I heard was a high-pitched whine, as my heart stopped.

I wasn’t a person anymore. I didn’t have a body. I felt another formless something near me. I was at my funeral, watching it from above. A deep masculine voice said, “You deserve to see this.” He was Mars, the God of War.

I was amazed a US Army Major General was giving my eulogy, standing next to an Iraqi Regional Governor. My parents and little brother were sitting in the first row.

“Corporal Alexandra Cortez was only in the Army a year and a half, but her bravery will live on in the hearts of all those she saved. By order of the Presidents of both our countries, and on behalf of all the people of the Republic of Iraq and the United States of America, we are proud to posthumously award her a Purple Heart, the Iraqi Medal of Valor, and the Distinguished Service Cross.” A Captain saluted my coffin, then solemnly laid the medals on it.

The two-star made everyone’s eyes water, but lifted their spirits with, “We have lost a valued colleague and wonderful soldier, a beloved daughter, sister, or friend. Despite our grief, and despite the efforts of our enemies, heroes like her will ensure freedom prevails around the world…”

Only a moment later I was my civilian self again, wearing a nice forest green dress with a red sash. My hair was in long braids, as it had been before I joined the Army. I stood under a pear tree, facing a vineyard up the hill. Only a few steps away an orange fell from another tree. Across a wide field of grain was a sandy beach and calm sea. Mars said, “Welcome to Elysium. You’re one of the very few who deserve this. Existence here is comfortable and eternal. Many other great heroes will be happy to meet you. I will return shortly.”

I looked around at the beautiful scenery of the ancient farm and orchard.