Scrapyard Ship
“He felt wetness on his back—the bullet had gone all the way through. He could feel the tingling of nanites already at work repairing the damage. The two Army Rangers were advancing up the hill faster than he’d expected and were now just several feet from him, rifles poised to take a shot.
One of the Rangers spoke into his comm unit. “We’ve got him. He’s alive, but he looks to be in critical condition with a round to the head. Confirmed. We’ll transport now,” the Ranger said, and moved to lift Jason. The Ranger’s face exploded into a bloody mess. He’d taken a round to the back of his head fired from an M4 rifle Billy had found, several yards down the mountain. Almost immediately, the second Ranger’s face disappeared—an almost identical headshot.
Crew from The Lilly arrived from the top of the ridge just moments later. Strong hands lifted Jason onto a stretcher and then headed back up the hillside. Billy was one of those who carried him.
“You look like crap, man,”
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