Alexander Polawski
Location: Outside Eden, Golf Course: 8 treeline --> 7 treeline
Skills:Navigation x2
Everything was hot and wet; the napalm dropped on the village, sticking to every surface it could and burning with an evil intensity; the humid jungle that surrounded the village on all sides, clinging to your skin; the blood pouring out of wounds of the soldiers littering the battlefield; the sweat rolling down the radio-operators forehead. Everything, except the cold grip of the M1911, tightly clutched with his sweaty fingers. If anything could be described as Hell, this had to be it. Except the cold sensation of the gun was similar to the cold...of his feet.
Feet were wet, yes, but not cold in Soth-East Asia in the middle of combat during the summer.
His eyes shut tight, shut open and tight again a few times before remaining open. Alexander was back to where he was before; where he had to be. Resting his head in his hand for a few moments, Alexander had to take deep breaths. The flashbacks, they were returning at an alarming frequency, like when he...he had lost Her...No, he had to keep going.
Alexander looked across the open grounds of the gold course in front of him, his vision still hazy after...That. The patches of snow and ice littered the whole field. It was no wonder he'd fallen over as he did, especially without any spikes on his boots. But slow and surely, as the fog lifted from his eyes, he saw it; a path! He saw what he believed to be a few patches where the snow was thinning enough to be stepped through without slipping. He hoped so at least, because he had already wasted enough time sitting on his bum in that treeline.
He made a run for it. Axe still wielded in his hand, he took the first running steps out of the treeline and onto the snowy golf course. He had the path visualized before him, and did his best to place his running feet within said path. And it finally paid off. As he moved across the open ground between the two treelines, he saw another icy patch where he would certainly have slipped if he'd just made a straight sprint. But he had little time to celebrate his little victory, as he continued his run until he finally stood in the treeline at 7.
The treeline was similar in nature to what the old vet had just ran from, except that he didn't fall flat on his ass. To his surprise, the snowy ground covered up no underbrush or malignent forces that grabbed his feet in order to halt him. The only things that were holding him back there, were the trees themselves and Alexander's heavy breaths; he was far from being in great shape. But Gramps kept up his pace, pushing through the 7 treeline and coming to westward edge of it. In front of him was a similar landscape to what he had just traversed, but much bigger. Perhaps two or three times as wide.
"...great..." Alexander muttered under his breaths, giving the open grounds a good look like before. As he scanned the grounds, he thought briefly that he perhaps had learned something useful back in 'Nam after all?
Alexander began to run, turning left and right as he saw which path would allow him to keep up the pace without falling. With every step he took, his heart beat faster of fear of taking a wrong step or being spotted by Eden. That, and him still being out of breath. The longer distance didn't help in that regard either. But Mugsy made it! Alexander leaned up against a tree as he tried to catch his breath, when he heard it; the sound of war. In the distance, muffled by the surrounding trees, he heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion. Had it been any other day, he would have tried to get the hell out of dodge, but this time Alexander smiled.
"Give them hell, Kiwi." Alexander whispered, slowly getting back his breath as he tried to get back on track.
Now to find Thana and Thalia, and raise some Hell themselves.
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FourtyTwo
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