[ WP ] A soldier in the heat of battle suddenly hears a voice that says `` I am your child 's imaginary friend . They have sent me to protect you in your greatest time of need . ''

Disclaimer: I wrote this backwards, shit. 
 
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 He found himself crawling. He had left his M4 behind, knowing the weight would be useless in dragging his best friend. He held back tears, watching his childhood friend slowly die in front of him. Every time he had tried to grab for him, he would be greeted by the crack of gunfire. 
 
 He was the one who had talked him into enlisting in the first place, and when the world slowly fell...? He watched him reach his hand out for him. The Corporal just watched as Rob bled to death in front of him. He squirmed, coughing blood, rolling over in it, even. He just stared until he stopped moving. 
 
 He did n't care about who would get caught in the middle of it all. 
 
 `` Suppressing fuckin' fi-'' He would try to yell, only for a hand to grab him from behind. 
 
 `` No!'' Someone yelled, pushing him against the wall. A picture fell into his hand. `` If you go for him, you'll never see him again!'' 
 
 A picture of a brown-haired child, a blonde woman taking care of him. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt with aviators. He wore dog tags, and a black baseball cap reading, *Zombie Outbreak Response Team*. 
 
 `` Who the hell are you?!'' He would ask, being pressed against the wall. 
 
 `` Do n't you remember?! We prepared for this, Don! We trained together, every day! Every day in DayZ!'' He smiled patting him on the shoulder, `` Remember?! I'm the reason you joined! You created me!'' 
 
 He stopped, stammering. He watched in front of him, the man pulling his journal out of his pocket. 
 
 `` I'm here because you need to live!'' He said, smacking him across the face, `` People need to know who you are! There are no zombies, Don! But what there are, are bandits! Bandits trying to take food from these people! Remember why you became an Army Ranger?!'' 
 
 Stopping, he could only stammer, looking back out at the war zone, the dust kicking up. He teared up, looking over at his friend. `` I... I do n't want kill people,'' He told him, `` Who are you again?'' 
 
 `` I wrote you... We wrote you,'' He said, `` You do n't know it yet, but in that picture is your wife and son. I... You're better than this, Don. Corporal Paulsen, the world's going to go to hell soon, and you're the only person that can make it better. I can only write your story so much, but you're the one who can make the changes to make the person you truly are. He's dead. But people are going to need your experience.'' 
 
 `` Wri... Writer,'' He said, `` You're a writer, and...'' 
 
 The writer picked up the M4, and shoved it into his chest. 
 
 `` You're the only one who can make this change. Evac arrives in...'' 
 
 ``... ETA 20 minutes! Paulsen, get your ass on that fuckin'.50!'' 
 
 He looked around, confused with what had just happened. He knew him from childhood. He was the person who had always appeared in his dreams, a figure of sorts. This was first time he had ever talked to him. 
 
 Then he remembered. He was the friend who had always written stories and made him a better person through them. Standing up, he made a run for the US Army Hummer and got on the turret. 
 
 `` Suppressing fucking fire!'' He yelled, growling, `` You're all leaving in body bags!'' 
 
 The Filipino with the *Zombie Outbreak Response Team* baseball cap, nodded, watching as the Corporal opened fire on the insurgents in the Afghan desert. 
 
 `` Why'd you do it, mate?'' An English voice asked. 
 
 He stopped and sighed, giving a shrug at the question. 
 
 `` I guess... That's just how the story goes.''
