Survival

Posted on Thu May 19th, 2022 @ 1:54am by Lieutenant JG Damien Blackford

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Timeline: 2394
590 words - 1.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Lightning flickered in the sky overhead, illuminating the dense jungle and trees, followed seconds later by the ominous crack of thunder, the sound reverberating in the quiet trees. Rain cascaded down, the canopy of the trees doing very little to stop him from getting wet. His uniform clung to him, uncomfortably so, the straps of his backpack digging into his shoulders. The rain had thoroughly soaked into the fabric, making the already heavy bag, even heavier.

Damien sighed shakily as he walked slowly forward, stopping for a few seconds as lightning flashed again, looking around his surroundings. the torch in his hand sent out a feeble wave of light, illuminating a small patch in front of him. Stopping for a second, he reached his free hand up, removing the wet cap from his head, tucking it under his arm as he ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair. The rain had seeped through the thin material of the cap, soaking into his hair. Even now, he could feel tiny droplets of water running out of his hair and down his neck. Shaking his head, which did basically nothing, he wrung the cap out, drying it slightly for at least a few seconds, before replacing it on his head.

Kneeling down, he pulled the backpack off, letting out a small sigh of relief as the weight left his shoulders, giving him a temporary reprieve. Pulling the water bottle from its holder he shook it slightly. There wasn't much left. He should probably ration it. Sighing once more, he replaced it, before opening the backpack, and pulling out a small sheet of paper.

Huddling over it, trying his best to protect it from the rain, he unfolded it with shaking hands and looked down. Staring at a map of the forest he was currently in, he stared at the small green dot that signaled camp. Food, a tent, and, more importantly, warmth. The torrential downpour that had started within minutes of setting off from base camp earlier this evening hadn't let up. In fact, if possible, it had just gotten worse and worse. The water had now seeped through all layers of the uniform he was wearing, and into his bones. All he wanted right now was a warm fire, and somewhere to sleep.

When he'd started Survival training earlier this semester, his professor had warned the class that when the practical lessons came, they weren't going to be easy. The courses were designed to simulate the real thing as closely as possible. Granted, they could get out at any time. All they had to do was send up a flare, and they would be transported away to base camp. But, in doing so, they would earn a 0 on the test. And too many of them would mean flunking out.

Having occasionally scanned the sky, Damien had only seen one flare get up. He didn't know who it was, but he hoped the person was okay. The course was designed to be safe, but accidents happened all the time.

Glancing at his watch, he sighed again. He only had another hour or so to make it safely to the camp, or he'd have failed as well. Looking back down at the map, he quickly deduced his position, then plotted what should be the quickest, and easiest, path to take. Refolding the map, he stowed it carefully away, hauled the backpack back on, groaning at the weight that dropped onto his back once more, then grabbed his flashlight, and set off.

 

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