A protruding tree root ripped Brent's pants and jabbed his thigh, drawing a thin line of blood.
D. K. Wall:He bit back the urge to cry out, forcing himself to continue crawling across the ground toward the enemy. He couldn't show weakness in front of his squad nor did he want the enemy to hear their approach.
D. K. Wall:The indignity was par for the course that day. He had started the morning by oversleeping. Being the last one in line for the shower meant an icy start, thanks to the dearth of hot water.
D. K. Wall:By the time he arrived for breakfast, he found only an empty milk jug on the counter, a dribble of coffee remaining in the pot, and a single cold hash brown patty.
D. K. Wall:He toasted it to crispy perfection only to discover the ketchup bottle missing from its shelf in the refrigerator door. Washing the dry hash down with a swig of chilly coffee, he raced out the door to the rendezvous point.
D. K. Wall:The enthusiasm at the beginning of the war had waned as the summer heat built and their numbers dwindled. Too many grew tired of the fighting and returned to girlfriends, parties, and all the other trappings of civilian life.
D. K. Wall:Maybe the defectors were right. They called the war silly, childish, unnecessary. They sued for peace and laid down their arms, moving on with their lives. Cowards.
D. K. Wall:In the early days, the victories had come easily as they took advantage of their enemy's inexperience. They caught them out in the open and surprised them with swift assaults swooping in and wreaking havoc.
D. K. Wall:Before their targets recovered enough to return fire, Brent's team would pull back and rearm, only to do it all over again. Some days they would hit them three or four times.
D. K. Wall:But, Noah had proved to be a worthy opponent, much craftier than Brent had expected. Noah had planned and executed a late June intrusion that resulted in the theft of numerous weapons from Brent's stash.
D. K. Wall:The rebels, now better equipped, set a mid July trap. Brent's assault team didn't know what was happening when they found themselves outflanked and outgunned. Those purloined goods packed a punch.
D. K. Wall:Then just last week, a surprise raid caught Brent and his remaining companions flat footed, unarmed, and defenseless. Their flagging morale collapsed and all but a few surrendered.
D. K. Wall:That wasn't an option for Brent. This conflict was personal. They had to press forward even if today's mission was severely undermanned with just the three of them.
D. K. Wall:Derek was big and solidly built. Strong but slow in both physical speed and mental acuity. Whatever his shortcomings, he didn't lack loyalty. He was in it until the end, victory or defeat. He liked the fighting too much to quit.
D. K. Wall:Timmy was different. The little guy had surprised Brent by lasting this long, but there he stood, whining about the same thing every day. Couldn't they just call him Tim and not Timmy?
D. K. Wall:But what was the fun of that? Ribbing each other promoted camaraderie. Credit where it was due though, Timmy had made it clear he would rather be in the air conditioning playing video games, but he showed up every morning anyway.
D. K. Wall:Things had been quiet for several days as Noah and his gorillas vanished during the daylight hours. Brent and his depleted group scoped their usual lairs, but they sat vacant and unused.
D. K. Wall:Apparently, Noah had found a secret den. No one knew where their refuge was or at least no one admitted knowledge. Brent suspected Noah had sympathizers among the civilians. People always rooted for the underdog.
D. K. Wall:In a stroke of luck though, his team caught Noah and crew unawares yesterday. The skirmish was brief. Neither side inflicted significant casualties before Noah led his team in a hasty retreat.
D. K. Wall:On a hunch, Brent followed them. Alone. A dangerous and foolhardy move if he had been caught, but they never noticed.
D. K. Wall:Deep into the woods, he watched them disappear into a ravine. He slid on his belly to the edge and peered down. They set on logs at the base nursing their wounds. Hidden, yes, but vulnerable to an attack from above.
D. K. Wall:Brent slipped away and informed his band about the discovery. They debated attacking that day, But the hour was late. They let them think their location remained a secret overnight.
D. K. Wall:The entire summer had been building to this last day, a final epic battle. Brent wanted to be ready.
D. K. Wall:By letting them settle in certain of their secrecy, Brent could launch the final offensive when they least expected it. Now, the moment loomed as they crept toward their foes.
D. K. Wall:Ignoring his injured leg, Brent dug his fingers deep into the dirt and pulled his body along the uneven forest floor. He kept his focus trained on the edge of the ravine 20 yards ahead.
D. K. Wall:A silent approach was crucial. Just out of sight and down that hill, the unsuspecting enemy lounged. Their voices floated up chattering and laughing, relaxed in their belief that their hideout was unknown.
D. K. Wall:As they neared the edge, Brent gave silent hand commands. He pointed at Derek and motioned with two fingers to simulate movement. He pointed to a spot at the edge of the ravine. Derek nodded his agreement, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
D. K. Wall:Brent repeated the commands to Timmy except he pointed at a spot about six feet to the left. Timmy rolled his eyes in response but moved in that direction, insubordinate, but he did what he was told.
D. K. Wall:Brent gripped his weapon and slid forward into the center position. The hidden chatter below them grew clearer. Brent knew each voice well. All six of them, chattering away, lighthearted, and easy.
D. K. Wall:They might have twice the number, but Brent's unit was older, wiser. Besides, they had surprise on their side. Not one of those voices carried a hint of the doom about to rain down on their heads.
D. K. Wall:When they were inches from the edge, shoulder to shoulder, brothers in arm gripping their weapons, Brent glanced at his compatriots' faces. Derek, confident, focused. Timmy, nervous, but determined.
D. K. Wall:Under Brent's steady command, they pulled themselves forward as one and looked down into the abyss, aiming their weapons. At an empty ditch.
D. K. Wall:Vacant logs set in a rough circle, seats for the enemy to relax. In the center was a boulder, a table of sorts, cluttered with soda bottles and a deck of playing cards. Despite no one in sight, the voices still rose from below.
D. K. Wall:That made no sense. They were there. They had to be. Brent searched frantically for a shoulder, a boot, the top of a head, anything, but nothing. Just voices bubbling up out of an empty hole in the ground.
D. K. Wall:And then Brent saw a cell phone weighing down the cards and knew they had tricked him. The sneaky Devil's had used it as a recorder and played their voices as a decoy, luring Brent and his squad to this exposed position.
D. K. Wall:That deception meant they were near, watching, waiting, preparing to counter attack. Brent opened his mouth to order a retreat but it was too late.
D. K. Wall:The first projectile hit Timmy square in the back, exploding right between his shoulder blades. His eyes widened in shock as he shrieked in surprise. The sickening liquid splattered Brent's face.
D. K. Wall:Panicked, Brent scanned the forest for their enemy as the bombs rained down around them. A few hit the ground harmlessly throwing up muddy debris. Most though connected with their targets, slamming into their bodies.
D. K. Wall:One caught Brent in his thigh, the very spot stabbed just moments earlier by a tree root. He rolled onto his back to shield himself and saw movement in the branches overhead. There they sat, grinning, laughing, launching their grenades.
D. K. Wall:He raised his weapon to defend himself, but a projectile slammed into his chest. He lost his grip as the gun clattered to the ground beside him.
D. K. Wall:Defenseless, he watched in horror as Noah balanced on a thick tree branch directly above him, reached into his backpack and withdrew a heinous tool.
D. K. Wall:With a maniacal grin, he flipped open the lid and aimed. At such a close range he couldn't miss, he nailed Brent in the center of his chest.
D. K. Wall:In disbelief, Brent touched the point of impact and raised his hand. A tacky red substance covered his finger. Shocked, he peered into the trees and asked, Is that mom's ketchup?
D. K. Wall:Brent's little brother shrieked with laughter and let the empty plastic bottle fall to the ground. Noah reached into the crevice of the branches and extracted a pair of waiting water balloons. The other five boys in the trees rearmed themselves in the same way.
D. K. Wall:Brent eyed the Super Soaker 6,000 lying on the ground beside him leaking its precious liquid. He knew he would never grab it in time. Even if he succeeded, the half empty tank wouldn't last long enough to escape.
D. K. Wall:Lying on his back, muddy, defeated, and covered in a thick layer of ketchup, Brent knew he deserved this moment.
D. K. Wall:It had all been his idea to start a water gun battle against his little brother and his pals as soon as the school ended for the summer. It had seemed so fun at the time, but Noah had outsmarted him.
D. K. Wall:He glanced first at Derek, then Timmy, and saw the resignation on their faces. It was time to surrender as honorably as possible. To accept the loss, to avoid a soaking.
D. K. Wall:He cleared his throat and summoned his most gracious voice. Good job, Noah. You guys win. It's over.
D. K. Wall:Noah's eyes twinkled. Oh, it ain't over, big bro, till I say so.
D. K. Wall:The balloons flew.