Lone Survivor: The next step

A sunny day in the Afghanistan forests. A four-man Navy SEAL surveillance team has been discovered by an elderly goat herder with a bulky satellite phone and two children, one in his teens. Also the one who tried to flee, but was duly taken down by Matthew "Axe" Axelson, the team's ginger bearded sonar technician. Now the team, led by Michael "Murph" Murphy, stood in a close circle, their prisoners in the middle, scanning their surroundings and pondering their next step move.

"The way I see it, we got three options," Murphy started, "One, we let 'em go, hike up, might be found in less than an hour; two, we tie 'em up, hike out, roll the dice. We'll probably get eaten by fuckin' wolves, or freeze to death."

The other two members, sniper Marcus Lutrell and communications specialist Danny Dietz, along with Axe, digest this information in silence, all waiting for the final and probably the least desired option.

"Three; we terminate the compromise."

The men glanced at each other, before shooting looks on their prisoners, who didn't flinch, matching up to their eyes. The elderly man muttered out something in his native language. Which fell to deaf American ears.

Marcus was already shaking his head as if he knew what his buddies were thinking of. Axe had his head down, half his face blocked out by the shadow from his military sun cap.

"Shah's down there, we let them go, we're lettin' him go; mission fails," he said grimly.

(Ahmad Shah happens to be their target in the surveillance mission) (duh)

Again, the team looked at each other, contemplating their decisions. Obviously, Marcus felt against having to kill the villagers.

"No Mikey, I don't like it," Marcus replied, eyes on his squad leader. "I don't fuckin' like it at all."

I don't like it at allz.

"What are you gonna do, we're gonna kill 'em, huh? Okay we kill 'em, okay, right then what? Fuckin' bury 'em? They get found, then what?"

Axe had his eyes fixed on his brother, unconvinced. "And then what?"

Marcus shifted focus to him.

"You know then what!"

"What do you think, this shit's gonna be private, huh? It's gonna be out there for the whole fuckin' world. C-N-N, okay! SEALs kill kids, that's the fuckin' story for everyone."

"It's nobody's fuckin' business what we do up here," Danny cut in.

Jangan nosy. 

"We do what we do-what we have to do. This is the fuckin' Navy, and you're the fuckin' boss, so you make the fuckin' call, sir!" he continued, with the right emphasis at the right words.

Axe had turned away and stared down the mountain, before facing his team again.

"Shah killed twenty Marines last week. Twenty."

This captured the attention of the team, including Marcus.

"We let him go, twenty more will die next week-forty more the week after that. Our job is to stop Shah. Why do these men have the right to dictate how we do our job?"

"Rules of engagement says we cannot touch them," Marcus replied.

"I understand. And I don't care."

They didn't break stares.

"I care about you."

"I care about you. I care about you, and I care about you," Axe said, taking his time to personally address Marcus, Danny and Mike.

"I don't want your mom seein' your head-your decapitated head-on Al-Jazeera," he continued, holding out a clenched fist as if to hold up a decapitated head by its hair.

Your decapitated head, guys.

"That is Shah."

"I don't see it that way," Marcus muttered, shaking his head and looking away into the distance.

The goats bleat in reply.

"Where do you think he's running to? 200 friends down there," Axe insisted.

"We got guys in Leavenworth doin' twenty for taking home trophy guns. What do you think they're gonna do for fuckin' two kids and an old fuckin' man?!"

No Leavenworth pls.

Leavenworth, Kansas was home to the US military detention barracks, a maximum security prison they'd be sent to for military offences. Like bringing back enemy weapons as trophies, as mentioned by Marcus. And probably killing two unarmed civillians, and an elderly goat herder armed with a herd of goats. Also affectionately mentioned by Marcus.

"Fuckin' look at them, man," Danny muttered, his eyes fixed on the teenage Afghan. The boy was staring hard at the ground, his face red with anger. And blood. And hatred.

Resentment and disgust.

Danny's face turned to one of resentment and subtle disgust.

"They fuckin' hate us."

I hate Americans. 

"Look, that's not a kid-that's a soldier," Axe said,"that's Death; look at Death!"

"We can't do it," Marcus persisted.

"Look at that soldier!"

"They are unarmed prisoners," Marcus said, his voice slower but firm and unwavering.

"And the second that they run down there, we got two hundred hajis on our backs!'

Marcus now realised Axe wasn't about to change his mind anytime soon.

"Tie em' up; Tie em' up, let's get the fuck out of here," Marcus suddenly said, desperate for any other solution.

"We can't just fuckin' leave em', let' em go!" Danny retorted.

"I thought you were standing by, waiting for your fuckin' orders!" Marcus barked at him.

"I am standing by waiting for my fuckin' orders."

"What do you think that radio's for?" Axe asked Marcus. Rhetorically, I think.

"They're not callin' Domino's Pizza," he said, annoyed at that Marcus wouldn't go for the more logical-the more easier option.

"I know what the fuckin' radio's for," Marcus said.

"That radio's fuckin' Tali, bro!" Danny barked, ignoring Marcus.

"That's a cellphone-to the Taliban!" Axe repeated his point about the satellite phone the elderly man had.

"So you just think this will just be our lil' secret, huh?"

Axe shifted his gaze to the teenage boy.

"That's a warrior," he acknowledged with a nod.

"Schwack 'em!"

(thoughts of survival in Afghan language)

The old man was now staring intently at Axe, trying to piece together what kind of fate the white soldier wanted for him and his boys. These Americans seem to be in a very heated argument, and he had no idea why. Though, after hearing that, he glanced at Marcus worriedly- as if he knew what was coming.

"We cannot do that," Marcus stressed, this time his eyes straight at Axe's.

"This is a soft compromise," Axe replied in similarly firm fashion, his voice louder.

"You wanna go to Leavenworth?!"

"We don't know how many fuckin' hajis they have down there, man!" Danny exclaimed. Of the three, he was certainly the most unsettled by the whole situation.

"Don't let him influence you," Marcus said, turning to Mike, who had been quietly uninvolved in the whole discussio argument.

Or at least that was what it was. The whole discussion descended into a flurry of words, and vulgarities, and more vulgarities.

"Marcus, I'm just sayin'-"
"Look at that child-"
"Make up your fuckin' mind-"
"That is fuckin' Shah-"
"And don't let him influence you!"
"Schwack 'em."
"It's your fuckin' call I ain't fuckin' votin'-"



"This is not a vote," Mike firmly cut in, stepping into view, after extensive anonymity.

Michael Murphy stamps his authority on the team

"This is what we're gonna do."


Mike had the attention of his team, and the prisoners as well.


"This op is compromised," he declared.

 "So we're gonna pack up-everything. We're gonna cut 'em loose-and we're gonna make this peak," he continued.

"And when we make this peak, you're gonna get comms up," he said, referring to his communications specialist. Danny didn't flinch.

Danny not flinching(lol)

"And when you get these comms up, we're gonna call for extract-and we're goin' home."


The team voiced their affirmatives, one by one. It's not the most ideal solution, but under the circumstances, it will have to do.


Only Axe nodded with a tinge of resentment.

"Roger."