I have a little selection for any who would like to peruse. Warning to any who might this is a war story, and as such has gore. This section does not have copious amounts of said gore but it has enough. Any opinions would be welcome, I do love to hear what people think. Again, caution to any who do not like reading about blood or the like, as this will probably not be your cup of tea. There is no other items that need to be mentioned, just the violence and gore bit.
Sergeant Benjamin Cole bounced around like a rag doll in a dusty beat up Humvee as he drove along the rutted road, Highway to Hell blaring out the open windows. One of his soldiers sat in the passenger seat tapping on the dash along with the song, and the roof gunner air guitared along with the song, singing along loudly. And out of tune. Very out of tune. The passenger rapped his fist on the metal roof, shaking his head and laughing.
“Jim, shut up. You're waking the dead, and that's never good out here. Too many of em to wake.”
“Yeah sure Tony, but my singin' ain't that bad. I think it's your dash drummin' that's waking em.”
“Yeah, blame it on anything but you eh Jim?”
“Both of you shut it, we got reports of contacts about a click out from our current location.” Sergeant Cole barked out to his men, shutting off the music.
“Aw, sarge. Come on, let's introduce some taste into their lives,” Jim Wales pleaded.
“The only taste I want you to be introducing is .50 cal SLAP ammo son.”
“Sarge, I like the way you think.” The audible clacking of the M2 Browning bolt echoed in the now silent Humvee.
“You want me ready to rock and roll sarge?” Tony Briggs said, his hands already gripping the XM8 at his side.
“Always do Briggs, load up and get ready to take point when we roll.” Wales was swiveling around the open roof hatch, watching for targets when the round tore through the armor and flesh of his shoulder.
“I'm hit!” he screamed, blood pumping from the ragged hole that had been punched clean through his ceramic shoulder plates. Cole swerved his Humvee off the dirt road and behind the cover of several large burnt trees.
“Briggs, get the med kit and see to hit!” Cole was already holding the XM8 and out the door as the last words left his mouth.
“Hold on Jim, you're gonna be fine. Can you feel the painkillers kicking in, they should be pumping into your system right now. This might hurt a bit even with that though, it's gonna burn. I ain't gonna lie bud, it's gonna hurt a whole lot, so I need you to give me a Hoorah when it starts to hurt. Got it?”
“Yeah Tony. Do you think sarge is gonna be pissed that I bled all over the seats...HOOOOORAAAAAAH!” The shout was long, and loud, and very frightening, ringing through the trees.
Cole was kneeling behind some burnt and fallen trees, watching carefully through the digital readout in his helmet. He had never liked in and tore the helmet off, the cool air fresh on his sweat drenched face. The new armor system had never been comfortable, but it was sure good for protection. He still didn't like it, and being able to see with his own eyes and use intuition was a better than a computer thinking for him. He sighted down the XM8 scope, letting the cross hairs rest on a large form striding from the trees. A single shot echoed and a blood splash and the figure fell, hard. Cole sighted along the tree line until the next one was in view. They still hadn't seen him, and this one was looking around. Cole let the cross hairs settle over the mans nose, or what he assumed to be such, and squeezed one round again. The bullet tore through flesh and sent up a gout of matter, Cole would never be sure what it was made of. He never knew what that goop was that came from a head shot, but it sure was interesting to guess. Bullets tearing up the burnt wood alerted him that they had found him, and tore his thoughts away from that goop, however reluctantly. Bullets tore through the flimsy cover and he cursed himself for not thinking of better cover. Glancing around told him there was none, so he sprinted back to the Humvee.
“How is he Briggs?”
“In it something bad, but we get him to the base in the next while and he'll be fit again in a couple of weeks. Did you get any?”
“Yeah, two, but it won't mean much when the rest get to us. Get on the gun, we've gotta move.” Cole was in the drivers seat and Briggs swinging the gun to bear.
“Hang on to your cookies ladies, it's gonna be a bumpy ride. We ain't going backwards, we're punching forwards!” Cole gunned the Humvee and skidding tires launched mud in the air, the Humvee took off into the brush. Branches cracked across the windshield, and across Briggs hunched back. The Humvee roared on, blasting through small trees and bushes that had grown out since the Fire Teams had cleared the road. Then suddenly they were gone, and the road stretched out ahead. Dust flew out behind spinning tires and the Humvee took off. Gunfire pinged off the “hillbilly armor” and Briggs opened fire with the roof gun. 50 caliber bullets tore apart the vegetation, and the genetics lining the road.
Cole drove on, bullets spiderwebbing the windshield and boring into the seats and dash. One nicked his shoulder pad, and another blasted through Briggs leg. Blood smeared the floor and poured out onto Cole's shoulder. The whole Humvee was slick with it, the iron tang filling his mouth and nostrils. Briggs was still firing, blood running down the inside of his armor and helmet. He had been hit more than once, but he was pushing through the pain. His suits computer was already filling his system with adrenaline and painkillers. The fourth bullet hit the left side of his face, Briggs never knew he was dead. Cole knew, he saw Briggs jolt and slide into the Humvee from the roof hatch, his helmet was shattered on one side, that goop oozing out the hole.
Cole knew he was hit too, but his helmet being off meant no computer was injecting him with painkillers and adrenaline. He had to drive, he could still save Wales at least. Glancing back he realized the error in that. Wales was dead, his chest plate had been removed and he had been sitting against the back door. Bullet holes riddled his torso and head, blood covering everything. Cole's vision was fuzzy, and he couldn't see the road anymore. The base couldn't be much farther, and at least the gunfire had stopped. He hadn't even noticed that. The base had to be near. Where was it? Cole tried to concentrate but the steering wheel kept pulling to right. Right up ahead, it had to be. Cole's foot fell on the gas too heavily and the Humvee careened off the road. Cole never saw the tree that it crashed into, he had passed out long before it even came near.
That's pages 1 to 3 and a bit. I actually also meant to ask, what are the general guidelines for a chapter length? Like on my computer, double spaced 12 point font, each chapter I write seems so long at 4 to 5 pages. But then I went back and it seems too short. Is it like personal preference or should there be some sort of general rule?
Oh, and this actually does have a lot to do with the plot of the story, reading it now by itself it doesn't seem to have much to do with anything but it does
.
.
.