Sentir

I wipe the layer of dirt, blood, and sweat from my eyes as I jam another clip into the M16 cradled between my biceps. Even as the excess sediment is cast away, a red film envelops everything in my sight. Charlie ambushed my unit 4 miles South of our target, but when I gaze through the scarlet haze into Charlie's eyes, all I sense is fear. All I see as my rifle sings its deadly song is fodder to satisfy my thirst. All I know as my left hand reaches for the bowie in the sheath on my right forearm is the joy that follows with a fallen foe. My body is a cult offering sacrifices to please the unquenchable god that is my appetite. I faintly hear Animal Mother scream my name but he sounds miles away. Momentarily I contemplate how he got so separated from the unit. That flicker of conciousness is cast aside and my standard issue Colt .45 finds itself clutched in my right hand. The red turns crimson, a dark blood-like taint that blankets my vision. Charlie screams and falls at my command. Fire bites into my side and chest as if Cerberus himself has acknowledged me a worthy adversary and accepted my challenge. The damp mud dampens my fall, it cushions my head as the crimson film drains away. I twist my lips into a small smile and gaze at the clear blue sky, prepared to make the treacherous climb to the great above.