“Well, this will cheer you up,” Lauren said and pointed at three photographs.

He looked down to find what appeared to be the remains of an enormous castle. The first shot was an aerial shot of the site, while the latter two had been taken from the valley floor. As judged by the state of the buildings nearer to the photographer, these shots had been taken from the ruins of some deserted town.

“Ruins are always good,” Tyler replied.

He noticed there was a picture in Lauren’s hand. Experience told him that this shot would end up being the proverbial smoking gun they were looking for. The one that would make him forget about that fateful mission and his phantom leg pain. Fat chance for that last bit!

“So what am I missing?” Tyler asked.

“See what?” Tyler asked in a distant voice.

Tyler always needed a minute to come back to his senses. He hated it when memories consumed him and became his reality. That also meant that his leg pain would return.

“It happened again?” Lauren asked. “Didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tyler replied before sitting down to take the weight off his leg.

As expected, his leg throbbed in pain, as though all those months spent in Germany recovering was all for naught. While it was said that time heals all wounds, his mind was not playing along.

“Sorry,” Tyler said, his voice strained from the pain.

“Wha—” Tyler whispered, unsure of when and where this was.

His mind was trapped between reality and back at the compound.  If it had not been for Lauren speaking to him, he might have remained in that state for hours.

“Do you see it?” Lauren repeated.

Lauren was a shapely buxom brunette that served as their technical adviser and operated the audio-visual equipment. At twenty-eight, she was the youngest of the group, and simultaneously the wisest. It took her all of five minutes to friend-zone them both on the spot.

“Oh shit,” Tyler said.

With time and distance working against him, he tried to make a run for it. Only to realise  that his leg was now at an unnatural angle. What the fuck is that thing?

“One,” Tyler counted, and considered reaching out for the grenade. No time! I need to get away from that thing!

“Two,” Tyler said, before he stood on his good leg.

He forgot that his other leg was broken and fell into an unplanned combat roll. Thank you, James T. Kirk!

“Three,” Tyler said upon reaching cover.

Unfortunately, he remained partially exposed. In the background, there came a loud whoosh that sounded a bit like a rocket launch.

“Four,” Tyler said.

He lay flat against the ground to minimise his profile. I hope this works!

“Five,” Tyler added.This time his count was bang on. The grenade’s blast was followed by searing hot pain. His exposed legs were torn up by shrapnel, but at least he was conscious. That means I’m alive? Right?

Tyler had been issued the light machine gun. Without hesitation, he emptied a two-hundred round box at them without hitting a thing. The barrel glowed red after he depressed the trigger, but this was not the time to worry about wear and tear on his weapon. Instead, he loaded another drum before spotting something.

They were not interested in him. Since they did not view him as a threat, that gave him some leeway, but without a plan… wait! Are those crates of grenades by the fuel point?

Tyler may have been a recent addition to the platoon, but he knew these were not the locals. These things could move from one side of the compound to the other in the blink of an eye. Not even the buffest of gym rats could throw a kitted-out infanteer across the compound, nor tear one limb from limb.

These things also knew exactly what they were doing. They took out the LT in the first strike and systematically dismantled the command-and-control structure of the platoon. Those remaining were panicked, disorganised, and unable to mount an effective defence.

They ordered Tyler’s platoon to take over a forward operating base. Orders came from high up the chain, and the LT was uneasy about it. Word was this site had been used by special ops. That would explain why there were no signs of it on the map.

Upon reaching the base, Tyler found it peculiar there were no sentries. As a precaution the platoon did advance to contact manoeuvres to secure the location. There was no one at the site. It was as though they all just walked off into the wastes. So, why was their gear, munitions, and heavy weapons left behind?

Throughout the ages, people sought reassurances that their life choices yielded some sort of reward. Perhaps a paradise for the good, while damning those who strayed. Unfortunately, as a soldier, he had seen things that made him question such beliefs.

Every time I close my eyes, I find myself back there…

While the basement also served as their makeshift studio, today they were here to lick their wounds. They spent a week investigating rumours surrounding an old farmhouse. Local legends supported by historical records confirmed there had been several gruesome murders in the home’s one-hundred-and-fifty-year history. Despite there being thousands of hours of footage, they came back with a big fat goose egg.

Die-hard fans of this genre were patient with them, there were limits. Bealzabook fans were by far the most fickle and they would drop off soon unless their luck improved. Other shows made mountains out of mole-hills, like turning a chair moving an eighth of an inch by itself into the incontrovertible proof of their being life after death. They had to be better than those other shows to draw in an audience.