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This is roughneck two-zero-one.

The airhorn sounded and for a brief moment I panicked. For a brief moment I was frozen in place. People scrambled around me, huffing and puffing. Diving behind whatever was closest. Sprinting forward. Gunfire crackled immediately from the distance. I pulled my gun to my chest and rushed for the nearest barricade. They had all gone further up the field from me. Closer to the battle. I peeked around the wooden wall. People sprinted and slid across the grass to get behind barriers and inside bunkers. I crouched down low and ran for the next barrier. And the next. When the barrels I was hiding behind stopped resonating with the plunking of enemy fire, I peeked out again.

And raised my gun, and fired.

Paintball was actually pretty damn fun. I admit, readily, that I wasn't particularly optimistic about the whole event when we started out. A large amount of college girls coupled with a significant number of clearly experienced players who had also decided to go paintballing that day. And then a couple who were clearly prepared to take out some bitches with their extreme guns. And then this Boba Fett-esque guy--who liked Ben Folds--standing off to the side looking menacing.

And of course, my fire team of protagonists.

As we loaded our weapons and prepared our gear, I sized up the opposition. "Don't take this seriously," Ashley said of the Women in Medicine paintball excursion. "They're just out here to have fun and goof off." "I know." I said. I thought back to the words of advice my dad had given me before I left.

"Remember: what's the most important thing?" He asked. I thought for a second. "...Have fun?" I asked. I knew better than that. "Winning." He said. "Keep your head down, gun up, move fast, and take every shot you get." "Alright," I said.

In the distance, gunfire erupted and women screamed. I could hear a man's voice yelling orders, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I opened my eyes. Under a gray sky, the battle raged. I looked out the window of our bunker to see the dead filing down the path. I'd been in their numbers twice already, and had no intention of joining them a last time. A fallen teammate glanced over at us with somber eyes, his gun held in the air. "Let's push." John said. And with that, we left our fort and jumped into the riverbed.

Through the brush we could see our allies slowly converging on the last enemy stronghold, a series of forts at the top of the hill. We moved quickly over the rocks and through the weeds until we reached our teammates. We took a knee on opposite sides of the path and got briefed. Our leader fired a couple of shots and turned to us. "They're in those far buildings--" Shots rang out before he could finish, sending him diving for brush cover. In the distance I could see the would-be snipers, poking their guns over the top of their fort--blind firing. I crept forward and squeezed off suppressive fire. The man turned to us again. "You aren't going to kill anything from back here, move up!" But all I heard was: C'mon you apes, you wanna live forever?

And I put my head down, pulled my gun up, sprinted for the next barricade, and pulled the trigger.

Comments

Unknown said…
Brilliant!! :) Loved the advice from your dad. Wanna know if you made him proud, or got shot accidentally by your ur own team mates!!
May 13, 2010 at 1:55 AM
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