Don't chase the rabbit
It had only been a few seconds after someone broke an otherwise peaceful day on base by shouting that there was mortar fire incoming. She barely had the time to glance up a the sky to see the thing coming down fast before she turned around to run and get right the fuck out of there unless she wanted to get hit by the fucking thing. Or so she tried to, before her boot connected with a rock half-buried in the sand and sent her face first into the ground.
But after the sound of the impact, there was nothing. Nothing else except the sound of some yelling to get the fuck away and the feeling of dirt and sand sprinkling on her.
I'm not fucking dead. I should be fucking dead.
She opened her eyes, her head whipping around to find the fucking mortar just sticking right out of the sand a few feet away. A dud. It was a fucking dud.
Suddenly, her body was jerked back by someone pulling her away and up onto her feet. Looking up, she recognized them as one of the medics was one of the people who examined her and the others after their vehicle ran over an IED (where the worst injury were only broken bones suffered by a few, much to his amazement) the previous week. muttering several obscenities under her breath as she used the shemagh around her neck to wipe the dirt from her face.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I...I'm fine. Just a little shaken, but I'm good."
She looked back up at him as he let out a laugh, a look of disbelief plastered on his face, "I can't believe your fucking luck this week, Hayes. Fuckin' A."