Black and Green (Part 3)

Black:
   Colonel Marsh had always believed he was stronger than the circumstances around him. It was due to that way of thinking that he'd been able to last through the years of war and loss that had torn through his country, destroyed his family, and left him with nothing more than his position and the will to fight. He did not see himself as weak or a coward, even so when he opened his eyes again and heard the cries of the monsters surrounding him, he wished he would die. He wished it with such terrible desperation that if he'd had a knife to hand, and if he could have moved his hands, he wouldn't have hesitated to slash his own throat.
   Pain had became a solid force in his body, so heavy that it crushed the air from his lungs. He could taste pain in his mouth, a bitter metal like rusted iron. He knew there was no escape from it except death. Even unconsciousness could only last so long--as he was already well aware--and it was not long enough.
   He couldn't move himself. When they had first taken him, one of them had bitten him and filled him with paralytic, leaving him only enough power to breathe and open his eyes. One of the creatures came closer. Its foul breath spilled over his face as it crawled onto his bloodied chest. Four feet sank sharp points sank into his flesh, digging into bone and reaching for his heart. A rough tongue scoured the side of his face like steel wool.
   He tried not to scream, but he didn't have the strength to hold it back for long. The sound only seemed to drive them into a frenzy. Another came, fixing itself to his arm. One latched onto his broken leg.
   A shot crashed through the air. It took Marsh a moment to recognize the sound through the pain. The creature on his chest disappeared. Several more shots rang out. He lost count as his head filled with the thunder of gunfire. Then silence.
   He heard footsteps moving closer through the blanket of dead leaves, branches and refuse. The man who appeared at the corner of his vision wore tattered green, so weathered and worn it appeared mostly brown. He waited for the last bullet, the one that would end his misery, but it didn't come. Instead, the younger man leaned closer. Blood darkened the left side of his face and stiffened his hair. Chill fingers probed at his throat and felt at the ragged edges of the bite in his shoulder. Then touched the torn lapel of his jacket.
   "Colonel," the hoarse voice said, thoughtfully. "I should leave you here." The young man shook his head and shifted his gaze to something Marsh couldn't see. After a moment, he went back to his study of Marsh, searching through the colonel's pockets until he came up with the waterproof map marked for troop placements. Marsh almost groaned. If the man realized what he was looking at, the entire operation would be in danger, and if the operation failed, they would be on the cusp of losing the war as well.