Note: This is a follow-on story to another original “Delta” classic.  We recommend you read that as well.

Delta was lying on his back on the table, his face fraught with emotion and veiled confusion.  He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the scene around him.  At least two PJs were hovering over him and holding him down.  Before he had any time to react, he had been rushed off the range on the back of the ATV and laid on the table in the team locker room, his Glock and extra magazines still on his belt.

People were rushing back and forth across the room, and the blood could be seen as it seeped through his tan shirt.  His face was ashen with worry, as the people in the room shouted various calls for medical attention.  The entire room was bustling and clamoring with noise.


“Does he have a last will?”


“Is he going to make it?”

Someone ran over to the table with a pair of shears and cut quickly through Delta’s shirt.  Another PJ stood ready to remove the object lodged near his upper chest cavity.  Delta remained motionless on the table, wincing as he took in the scene around him.  With tremendous care and exaggeration, the PJ prepped the instrument and told Delta to brace himself for the pain to follow.  Delta grimaced in anticipation, waiting for the worst to be over.