Jake gripped his stomach tightly again as a fresh wave of pain rushed through his abdomen. He allowed himself another cautioned glance down to see the extent of the damage the explosion had caused.

From his gut down past his legs he was coated in his thick blood. He had lost so much, Jake wasn’t quite sure how he was still alive. But he was alive, and now, amidst the cacophonous riot of ordinance blasts and the rhythmic percussion of machine gun fire, Jake needed to get some help, or he wouldn’t last much longer.

Far off down the dusty city street, Jake could see Lieutenant Hanson. He was slumped over, obviously dead. But he had the communication system still strapped to his back. Jake could call for support. All he had to do was get himself over to the equipment. He judged it to be about fifty yards away.

He tossed himself down to the ground and a fresh blast of pain shot through him. Clutching his gut, he ignored it and dug his fingers into the soil, dragging his wounded body inches.

Just fifty yards.