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Part 4 of 4 
The SEAL Team charged the remaining Russian guards.  They drew their fighting Kbars and dashed across the dirt area and slammed into the guards running at full throttle.  Erisi decided to get the leader of the enemy group.  Guy Moytolla noticed something odd when he saw a woman charged at him.  He turned to face the threat that was hurtling herself at him.  He stood to one side and produced a Glock 9mm and a boot sheath knife.  The female slashed at the figure and knocked the gun to the floor.  He attempted to stab the figure but she threw her knife at the strange man’s face.  He jumped backward, but not before the Kbar connected with his arm, cutting it to the bone and a little higher.  The man screamed a blood curling scream and clutched his arm.  The SEAL team had cut the Russians to ribbons.  Leftennant Dirk Pitt had grabbed one of the fallen Russian’s weapons and opened fire on the remaining guards that were wounded who had fallen out of the fight.
 He saw an unmoving figure on the ground that had long hair.  He ran over to the immobile figure and slowly turned her over.  “Oh, my God!  Mara’s Dead!” His face twisted with anguish.  Erisi looked up and lost her advantage.  The man had flipped her over and grabbed his Glock.  “In the words of The Offspring: Goodbye my friend you messed up again,” but the talk cost him his life.  A wounded Peewee also had grabbed an AK-74 and began to pump the man full of lead.  Then, 12 UH-60 SeaHawk helicopters landed in the field and captured the remaining guards.  “Well Erisi, it always seems you wind up with dead men either on you or around you,” chuckled the admiral, “Need a hand up?”
 “Sure, thanks.”  But just as he pulled her up he whipped out a Kbar and stabbed her to death.  The SEAL team saw this and turned their guns on him.  Then, the admiral was beamed up onto the USS Wild Karrade  and the USS Tyrranic’s fighters began to decimate the entire compound.  The SEALs began to run but they were gunned down by the F-17s.
 

Voice of the Patriots Word Find

H E A V E A G R E A T S S U R
B M X A N N O Y I N G O M I S
E L R A L O U D X L C C A R E
V C U X G X F Z J I G H A U S
D N G E W G F S A W C R C O S
W P U R P L E L J G W Z P F A
S H T Z V A S R N M G I L H L
E W I L P T R I A I O O C O G
B B C N U L L T I T U X L Z U
I J Y D Y L D I W H I S T L E
W A I J O Y I O F M W N D J M
Q E U R P U R P L E P A G E W
S A N I M A L L O V E R V D V
N T D X H L L A B T E K S A B
T H D L T F A N X I O U S Z Q

 
ANIMALLOVER ANNOYING ANXIOUS
BASKETBALL BLUEPART EXAGGERATING
GLASSES HFOUR IIII
LOUD PURPLE PURPLEPAGE
ROLLINGCHAIR SOCIALSTUDIES WHINY
WHISTLE 
__ __ __ __   __   __ __ __ __ __   __ __ __ __ __ __ 
 

 
 
 
 
 

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 From My Window

by Declan G.

From my window

The naked trees
grope desperately
for the sky,
gnarled fingers
reaching, helpless 
for something
just out of reach.

From my window

The everlasting struggle
continues, though the limbs become
frostbitten, brittle,
and break.

From my window

They are veiled
in lacy green gloves
but remain humble
even in their elegance

From my window

The harsh wind
begrudges the trees
their only bursts
of splendor and glory,
gradually stealing them away
only to place these treasures
(once obtained-unwanted)
just beneath the trees who,
more loyal than even the superior humans,
remain focused
on their mission.

From my window

What is the goal of this worthy mission?
“A thing.  No......  An idea”
the trees whisper,
“that humans have long lost.”