The Hunt

Here's one that originally posted ten years ago in a "100 word" challenge, and was later re-written to a "250 word" challenge. Neither seemed to make a particular splash but I liked it and it still seems like a good time to republish.

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Charlie7 ran toward the small copse of trees under heavy machinegun fire. Delta3 returned covering fire on the machinegun position to give him a chance. Now that the crew knew there were two of them, they’d be sending mortar rounds. Delta3 gritted his teeth for the mad dash he’d have to make through the hail of screaming metal to the small ditch Charlie7 had found. As he rose to sprint for it, he caught the flash out of the corner of his eye.

Shit.

Delta3 floppped back behind the the log and belly-crawled toward the colorful flash. A boobytrap? No. It was perfect. He carefully picked up the iridescent oval, marvelling at how close he’d come to missing it altogether.

"Found one, huh?" Charlie7 radioed.

"Yeah," said Delta3, carefully storing it away.  “Gonna need some cover fire on that machinegun.”

Charlie7 lit up the machinegun nest, and Delta3 sprinted, rolling to a stop next to Charlie7.  A quick check — no, he hadn’t been hit, although he didn’t know how.

“You didn’t damage it, did you? Let’s see it."Delta3 gently pulled out the ovoid, which he now saw had hieroglyphics snaking across the surface. It glittered in the fading light.

“Beautiful,” said Charlie7 unabashedly.

“Yeah, almost worth it,” said Delta3 as he put it back into its basket. He pushed himself further down into the ditch as the “Wump! Wump! Wump!” of the daisy-cutter mortars launching clenched his stomach.

“Damn,” he said, “these Easter Egg hunts get rougher every year."