"Oh God!" says Sargent Johnson. "We shouldn't have gone out on that patrol. Like Scott said, we knew it was dangerous. We should have been working on getting the hell out of this town and getting the turtle back!"
Corporal Scott says, "We gotta find the Colonel! If those bastards harmed him I'm gonna frag the whole bunch of those low-life scum!!"
Corporal Berry says, "Hey, let's not jump to conclusions, maybe our guys are hostages. Maybe we can negotiate. Maybe...
I cut Berry off and say, "Maybe you should look down the road over by those telephone poles."
"Fuck!" says Sargent Johnson.
We hop into the Jeep and race to the area where all of our eyes remained fixed. Sergent Johnson slams the brakes and we all jump out in precision and take defensive positions.
Like macabre nutcracker soldiers hanging on the Christmas tree, Colonel Martins and the other six men from our patrol are hanging from the neck from the telephone poles nearby. Some show signs of torture. Colonel Martins body was particularly brutalized and a live wire was placed in his pants, his body still smoking.
I notice Colonel Martins and the other men from the company's ghosts cycling near the pole. They seem intent on harming the cycling ghosts of the rebels who died storming the camp. The ghostly rebels are chanting "Murders, Rapists, Cowards!!"
I disable the electrical power running to the telephone poles. We manage to remove the bodies of our fallen comrades, Corporal Scott insisting on retrieving the body of the Colonel himself. When the bodies are all on the ground we look for something to dig graves but all we find is one broken spade. We did however have a chainsaw. We decide instead to cremate the bodies. We created a bier from the telephone poles and placed the bodies on them with some loose kindling and broken pieces of lumber.
Sargent Johnson starts a prayer. "Dear Lord, soldiers know when they enlist that they may have to give up their lives in service to their nation. These men were brave. They followed their orders and did what they could in service to it. Please forgive them their sins and take them to be with you in loving compassion. Amen."
Corporals Scott and Berry toss a can of gasoline on the bodies and then Corporal Scott tosses his lighter onto the bier and we all stand back to watch for a moment in silence.
"Miracle Man, you were a fucking rebel. I can see that now! You should have been interned with these other scumbag traitors!" says Col. Martins.
I turn to the sound of the voice and Col. Martins throws a mean phantasmal right hook straight to my jaw. I go down like a rock.
Sargent Johnson sees me go down and asks, "You okay Miracle Man? Hey, I know seeing our men die like that is a bad scene, but pull yourself together. We are going to need to be strong if we are going to survive this."
Col. Martins says, "That's what I like to see Miracle Man, a traitor that can take a beating. Oh this is gonna be fun. How the hell you manage to look like you are living Miracle Man? No matter, one order Uncle Sam gave me I never had a problem with was harsh interrogation. You gonna talk Miracle Man? Sure as Scarlett Johansson is one fine piece of ass I hope you aint gonna talk because I am going to love water boarding your ass!"
Col. Martins puts his hand on my neck and pulls me up and just as fast I clench his arm and drain his essence. Within a second, his angry, self-righteous sermon is ended.
Sargent Johnson asks, "You look a little strange Miracle Man, you need some water? We got some back in the Jeep."
I say, "Thanks Johnson, you are a good man. I'm going to walk off for a moment and clear my head."
Johnson says, "That's not a good idea, the rebels are still near."
I say, "I will only be gone a moment. Please, go load up the Jeep and when you are ready I will be back. I am confident I can find our lost turtle."
Johnson says, "Okay, well you've already performed miracles, so I guess I can grant you a few minutes to pull yourself together."
"Thanks!" I say.
Sargent Johnson, now in charge, puts an end to the funeral and orders Corporals Berry and Scott to grab everything that is still useful and load it into the Jeep. Johnson joins them in the effort.
Making haste, I rush toward the scene of the battle between my ghostly comrades and the fallen rebels. For some strange reason the ghosts all seem to gravitate back toward the prison camp. I find my former comrades circling the rebels like a pack of wolves circling an injured elk, knowing that the end of the conflict is near. Silent and without warning I embrace each of these soldiers in a deadly hug, absorbing the soldier's essence before he can scream out a warning to his remaining ghostly comrades. The rebels let out a cheer in unison as the last of the soldiers fall to my essence draining clutch. A few moments later and the last of the cheers, turned screams have ended.