Perspective: Jamsey

As Cormac started telling his little story, Jamsey leaned back against a tree and let his mind relax for the first time in the last 4 hours. This kind of work was hard. Given a choice he would have much preferred an organised raid like the one that was being described in such detail by the teams scout.

It was kind of funny in a way, in spite of having been part of the group that was being described he had never heard Cormac's account of what had happened. To be honest when the subject had come up in the past it had always degenerated to gales of laughter. Any time he recalled the look of disgust and horror on his friends face when it was covered in the brains of that woman. Black humour? Perhaps, but wasn't that the very best kind? Look death in the eye and comment on her dress sense?

Jamsey shook himself, he didn't like getting into all that philosophical crap, best to leave that to the smart arses like Cormac.

Then as he was beginning to get a real appreciation for the comfort this particular tree the Captain called softly
"Cormac, time to move out." Jamsey stood as well and shifted his pack into a comfortable position before assuming his position at point on the line. Then, precisely two minutes after Cormac had left, he set out following the approximate directions agreed upon earlier when they had planned the days search pattern.

A veteran of many black operations, Jamsey's mind immediately became more alert as they entered the unknown. Unconsciously he tried to reach his senses out as far as possible to discern any threat to the team. He would be very glad when this mission was over, but until then it would get his undivided attention.

It was hard to watch everything at once. The trees loomed in close, blocking of his view of anything further than an arms length in front of him. Apparently the magic types were unable to do their sensing stuff through a combination of everything being so vibrantly alive and wanting to eat them. After an encounter that had occurred earlier in this expedition he was well aware that the next vine that he pushed out of the way, could well be a snake. The faint noise he could hear was probably another herd (they were that damned big) of mosquitoes. His paranoia working overtime Jamsey's body retained that relaxed state of readiness that was so important in his line of work.

Perhaps an hour later everything changed. One instant he was looking at the area ahead picking the best path to avoid a rather large spider web that had been strung between several of the larger trees. The next he was diving forward and bringing his weapon to bear on the source of a disturbance behind him. As he turned in the air his brain registered that the sound had been the gurgling scream of a man with holes in his chest. No target. Landing heavily on the decaying carpet of leaves that had so conveniently deadened footfalls for the week he had been in this god forsaken place he heard the muffled sound of suppressed weapon fire. Still no target. The jarring and pain from impact did little to stop him from aiming his weapon at the area from which the gunfire originated. The next step in his response however was interrupted by the actions of a gunman who, although originally thrown by such a fast reaction, had adeptly adjusted his aim. Bullets smashed into his arm and weapon rendering both effectively useless. A second burst caught Jamsey full in the torso, wreaking havoc with the internal workings of his body. A third was concentrated in the general vicinity of his head and were enough to finish the work and him.

Weeks of nothing and in less than two seconds Jamsey and his companions were dead.