“You know the smoke really does a number on your lungs”

He says to me as I just barely regain my ability to hear.

Reading about war time events never really did justice to the pure mind fuck of an attack. You know what? Forget mind fuck, it’s more of an sight, hearing and smell fuck. Your eyes go bright white and then little black spots dance around until you’re nauseous. Your hearing sounds exactly how would think and the smells, the damn smells. The combusted chemicals do so much more damage than this cigarette.

“I wish they would’ve just killed me so I wouldn’t have to listen to you talk about my health man”

A barrage of copper tipped ammunition slams off the cinder blocks above my head.

I look at the brand new hole in my favorite hidey hole. The sun burns my eyes as it peers into the bunker for the first time in a quarter of a century. It must be winter, the light has that bright white hue to it that you only ever notice in the winter.

I look over at the man. Now he’s screaming at me to cover him. I glance around and drop to my knees to look for a weapon, any weapon. I imagine that I look like Velma from that old cartoon did when she dropped her glasses.

I feel the distinct cool metal of a rifle and scramble to bring it to my fingers.

“Fine fine”, I ramble as I reload the rifle in my hand and proceed to throw lead in the general detection that the ringing in my ears is coming from. The smell fuck comes back as the smell of sulfur and gunpowder fills my nose. “Clear!”

Together we snake around fallen pieces of rubble and debris from the car bomb that had gracefully driven itself through the south wall.

Looking left and right we dead sprint down the cellar stairs bringing us down the path to our back up plan… a barely running 2002 Honda civic submerged in 6 inches of grey water.

“I never thought we would be using the piss missile”

“Always thought whatever caused us to use the backup plan would’ve killed us by now”

“Shut up man, you know how much work I put into this. You have any idea how hard it was to find a radiator that hadn’t already been looted?”

He desperately tries to turn over the engine which seems to need more TLC than I initially anticipated. Too bad this wasn’t the time for a new air freshener.

The engine clunks…

Thumps…

And finally turns over

Black smoke fills the tunnel and begins to sting my eyes. “Book it!”, I scream just as I begin notice the man limping down the stairs towards us. His figure becoming more distinct in the smoke filled room.

He appears to be carrying some sort of improvised rocket launcher. The weight on his shoulder makes every step he takes look uneven, like he has a peg leg or something. I look to the man next to me to make a joke about pirates.

And just then, I remember. His name is Steven and he’s my best friend. And we are about to die.

Now that’s a mind fuck.