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Davie
He stood there looking at the body. It was the last of his platoon. That was it. It was just him and Skip that were left. Indy’s body looked cold as it lay before him, his body whiter than usual, his eyes open staring into emptiness. He wondered why in movies dead people always looked so peaceful. Eyes closed, body at rest. Indy didn’t look anything like that. Just the opposite in fact.
“Christ, you know he had a fiancée back home too?”
Davie looked behind him to see Skip. He was well built with brown eyes. Indy’s were blue.
“Poor girl owned a small bakery. She was gonna bake their goddamn wedding cake.”
Davie looked at the body in front of him and thought about his other comrades. Ole’ Faithful: bullet straight to the chest. Texas: poor sap stepped on a mine. Didn’t even notice what happened until he turned around and saw his left leg lying beside him.
Davie started to wonder how he would go. It seemed like everyday just took more from him.
“We better get moving, kid.” Said Skip as he grabbed him by the shoulder. No sense in staying here burying him. We might as well be digging our own graves if we do.”
They made their way through the mountains until they reached a small opening with an even smaller pond. They decided they would stop and make camp for the night. The mountains would hopefully contain the light from their fire.
He sat on the muddy ground, water reaching up to his battered shins. His back against a barely sustainable rock-wall. He felt an agonizing pain as he felt the sharp, ragged stones trying to penetrate his cold, exhausted flesh. Skip reached into his pocket and handed him a cigarette.
“No thanks, don’t smoke” he said.
“Bad for the heart right?” replied Skip, almost mockingly.
Davie nodded.
“Well so is this shit hole. But we ain’t dead yet.”
Davie looked around him, put his head against the rocks and closed his eyes.
