Flash Fiction: Bridge

The job was almost over.

The Skulls Mercenaries would collect yet another feather in their cap. Having never failed a mission, we were tasked with guarding the train. Rather, we were tasked with guarding the precious cargo on it.

The journey had been long and intense. Two days of shooting and being shot at. There were many injuries, but not one casualty. My men were the toughest soldiers out there, my personal picks. They would never fail.

This was it, the last bridge to the tunnel, and a heavy pay day.

That was the plan, until the bridge blew up..

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Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 7th December 2018