I'll Make It Back:

Chapter One

The School House

The building lay in ruin, what was once a school house a place of learning filled with books and desks is now a charred, splintered and burned husk of its former glory. Its second floor sheared off by a stray mortar, its westward wall half gone, its books and desks gone and replaced with now empty ammo bins scattered every which way along with scorch marks on the floor were small makeshift camp fires once sat. Other than the light streaming through the hole in what was once the floor of the second story, only small streams of light shot from between the boards over the windows. Another blast near bye shook the small lone surviving room sending dust up everywhere. As the tremors form the blasts ceased everything returned to silence the only sound being the crunch of gravel under the shoes of a figure as he limped through the large hole in the wall.

He had shouldered another unmoving figure, while in the other hand he held out a pistol, scanning around the room until he was sure that the room was devoid of life he slumped first his comrade them himself against the wall. His duster laid spread out around him burned and frayed on the edges with the assorted tares and bullet holes giving it a seasoned look. His pants once jeans were indistinguishable from the dirt of which he now sat on, his button up shirt was stained with blood sweat and tears, that along with his leather cowboy hat made him look like he belonged in a corn field instead of a war zone. He let out a long sigh he threw his gun to the side the tarnished and worn stylized B on the side glinting on one of the tin beams of light. He continued with labored breaths as he removed his duster t reveal a old fashion holster strapped across his chest glinting with knives and e clips, which he also removed throwing it to the side.

Next he began to unbutton his shirt to revel a set of Maverick riding armor its black paint chipped and worn from the many battles it had been with it, for a moment he stared at what had been a constant companion for him through this whole ordeal, but with labored breath he removed it placing it next to him. Under it laid a sweat covered brown short sleeve t-shirt, with his labor done he lay back against the wall and stared up at the creamy blue sky that peeked through the hole in the ceiling. He let himself drift away from the battles, the death, and the noise to a peaceful place in a field many miles away next to a babbling brook in the shade under a sycamore tree.