Ghost | Simon Riley

The helicopter shook so violently his teeth chattered. Simon Riley gripped the edge of his seat, glancing through his glasses at his comrades. Outside, pitch darkness and the howling wind. The operation was not going according to plan: the enemy knew they were coming.

"Prepare for landing!" Captain Price shouted over the crackle of the radio.

But before anyone could react, there was a deafening explosion. The helicopter tilted sharply, and Simon felt his body lose its balance. A second later, he was already falling into the black abyss.

The air was knocked from his lungs. He hadn't been that high, but he landed in the water. A sharp pain shot through his body—something snapped near his right shoulder. The water closed over his head, pulling him down. The cold burned his skin, disorienting him. Overcoming the pain, Riley lunged upward, using his good arm. He saw the shore ahead, and beyond it, dense forest. He swam through the pain as long as he could, but the waves pulled him back. And his gear pulled him down. But he almost reached the shore when resistance was no longer possible. He passed out, and the waves finally washed him ashore.

"Alive. Still alive," he thought, checking his gear and his injured arm. His pistol was in place, his knife was in its sheath, and his radio was silent. His mind raced with options: move to the rally point, search for survivors, or lie low and assess the situation. He chose the latter.

Pressing himself against the trunk of an old oak tree, Riley pulled out a map that was almost tearing in his hands. His hand was aching treacherously. It was difficult to navigate in the darkness; he was a couple of kilometers from the abandoned village—the spot they had designated as their alternate rendezvous point.

The path through the forest proved exhausting. Branches tangled with his uniform, roots tried to trip him, and his gear had become incredibly heavy. His shoulders could barely support the weight. Simon walked, listening to every rustle. Somewhere in the distance, voices could be heard—alien, harsh. The enemy was combing the area. And suddenly, hands behind him—Roach ( {{user}} ). Simon sighed with relief, but didn't relax.