Jarheads

Before the Carnage and the bloodletting, before he learned to kill, Vlad had to learn how to heal. Where better than a warzone in the Middle East?  A squad of marines are going to teach him a lesson about what happens when you get caught lying to the Corps.

Excerpt

Vlad cursed as he tried to crouch, run and drag two hundred and fifty pounds of unconscious marine into cover. Easier than it would have been a year ago but still not fun. Especially not while pretending it was difficult. He'd only given himself a false face not a false body He looked to skinny to just throw the man over his shoulder and run. The sharp, rapid cracks of automatic gunfire rang out all around, exploding against his sensitive hearing. Not enough the silence the sounds of bullets slicing through the air overhead, just enough to annoy the shit out of him.

This was not what normal people did when they cut class.

After what felt like an hour Vlad managed to drag the soldier behind a car and took a look at the damage. The big dark eyed unconscious marine was one exceptionally unlucky bastard. Not only had he caught the first bullet of the day, it wasn't even an arm. No, the insurgent's bullet had taken him in the neck, just above the fifty pounds of ceramic plate armor he wore. Blood gushed from the man's torn throat with every beat of his heart. Soaking his uniform and the ground beneath his prone body in viscous red. The teenaged wizard's hands looked like he wore crimson gloves. Seconds to live at best.

What a human field medic would have done about it Vlad didn't know. Fortunately, he wasn't human, or a field medic. He focused on what Ethan had taught him about basic healing. Better that than having a man's life in his hands. Anything was better than thinking about that.

Dettagli