The dry heat of the desert was making him dizzy. He’d been out here for three hours already, on a fool’s quest. The animosity he felt kept switching between the weather gods and the man who had sent him on this particular run.
It was supposed to be an easy snatch and grab. However, the general forgot to mention that he would need to get past a squadron of heavily armed terrorists first. He shook his head again at the faulty intel. After radioing in the new info, he was told to hold position and wait for orders. That was two hours ago.
The sun beat down on his back as he observed the camp. Somewhere in there was the hostage he was here to rescue. He had yet to see her, so she must be in one of the tents. As if his thoughts had summoned her, he saw her being dragged, kicking and screaming, from one of the tents. Her red hair and fair skin glowed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the darker features of her captors.
“Command, this is Alpha One Niner Seven. Target is being moved. Twenty-five reds visible. Please advise. Over.”
“Alpha One Niner Seven. Hold position. Repeat, hold position. Over.”
‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘they’re going to let her get moved.’ He sighed. Orders were orders. “Roger, WILCO. Out.”
Writing prompts: heat, dizzy, animosity