This Isn't The End (Original Short)

He didn't remember the shell exploding. Didn't feel the explosion take his arm and legs below the knee. He didn't remember the trip to the hospital. He did remember the ride, the cold beach, the sounds of the machine guns like drums in the air.

He remembered his rifle kicking in his hands, the clip's 'Ping' as it flew out before his eyes, telling him he'd spent that one dry. He didn't know if he'd hit anything or anyone, but he was trying. The training they gave him only took him so far and the fear was heavy in his veins, fueling him to run through the foamy surf turning more and more red with each passing moment. The giant steel crosses on the beach meant to overturn tanks provided him with minimal cover from the enemies heavy fire blanketing the beach. He adjusted his helmet to take a look at how far he was from the bunkers that had been created from the shells falling periodically on the black sand. He was far and his uniform was heavy from the water he had to wade through. Although he was grateful for the opportunity, most of his squad had been hit heavy and the back of the transport was red with their remains.

With the decision fresh and pulsing in his mind he ignored the steel behind him's constant ringing from rounds and ran, towards his captain and the remainder of his squad. The leather strap under his chin bit and chaffed his skin, but he ignored it. Bullets flew through the air and at him, some bright orange, like lethal fireflies screaming at speeds too fast for him to comprehend. His boot caught something and he fell face first, tasting the black sand mixed with blood and salt water. He looked down at what could've tripped him up. What he saw would forever change him: Another soldier, ripped open, his entrails spilled. Thick, red blood ran down the beach towards the ocean. The man was no older than 18, the age of his brother, but where life should have been in those baby blue was nothing but pale death. The boy's skin was now pale and lacked pigment, his eyes were sunken and mouth hung open. Eyes stared at nothing, through the man that had tripped on his body, and into the sky and beyond.

Still shaking from the shock he stood up and ran again, trying to make it to the rest of his squad. That's when the shell hit. Percussive and heavy, right next to him. There was a moment of silence and clarity as he waited for what he knew was the next thing to come. Then it did. He was blinded and deafened. He knew pain should have ran through his body and driven insane by the intensity of it. But it never came. Nothing came. Nothing at all. Blackness and silence. Then his eyes opened. And hovering before his face was a blonde beauty with a big smile and gorgeous blue eyes. He could barely feel the gauze that was keeping him together. Then she noticed his eyes had opened and gave him a beaming smile, "Hi, there, my name is Nurse Nightingale. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."