22 Chapter 22: Shattered Possibilities, Part 1

The icy mud seeped into my uniform as I lay prone, my eyes scanning the glowing forest for any sign of the Saucers. I tried not to think about the mosquitos that had laid their eggs in the slop, or whatever passed for mosquitos on Tartaros. I signaled for the squad to move forward. I could see Sergeant Rossi out of the corner of my eye. The tendons bulged on the back of his ruddy neck, as if he was some sort of doll woven from rope. He low-crawled through the gunked-up leaves, his legs wiggling like a lanky pollywog. The urge to giggle jumped to my throat. It happens sometimes, the laughter swells up in me and wants to explode, but I can't let it.

God is watching.

I buried my face against my jacket, and burst out laughing. I could feel Rossi glaring back at me from below those thin lines he calls eyebrows. I don't care, because there's no way me chuckling with my mouth jammed against my muck-covered arm could be louder than the sound of a man belly crawling through this slop.