"You all right?" Jake called out.
"Y-yeah," Alex stammered, "Just a little shell-shocked."
Too afraid to remove his helmet, Alex reached up to feel at the divot left behind by the bullet. He found it pretty quickly, running his fingers across the warm, coarse groove imprinted in his helmet.
"Fu-uck!" Alex groaned, "Spent half a grand on this damn thing, now it's gonna cost fuck-tons more just to fix it!"
"Dude, come on," Jake said, unconcerned with Alex's mood, "We'll just get to the Cordon and fix it there."
"Did you not fucking hear me?" Alex shouted, "I sank two months of pay on this shit, how do you think I'll afford to fix it?"
"I don't know!" Jake yelled back, "But these fuckers will kill us if we don't get out of here, so let's get the fuck out and get to the village!"
Alex clenched his teeth, grumbling while he rubbed his helmet as though his own head was shot.
"Fuck the military," Alex muttered as he wrapped his M4's sling around his arm, "Let's get the Hell out of here."
Keeping their heads low, Jake and Alex slinked away from the tree they'd ducked behind and fell into the tunnel behind them. As the Ukranian army's shouts drew away, so too did the sunlight as the American boys disappeared into the Zone.
Moisture met their skin, sinking into Jake's hardened face and Alex's offended grimace. They didn't need to walk for too long before the strums of a guitar met their ears, followed by the sound of crackling fire and mutters of all-too-relaxed Stakers who had just met the Zone.