Alan woke from his nightmares, cradling his bat in his arms. He sat upright in the tent, breathing quickly, sweat on his brow. He didn’t get much sleep these days, but this night had been particularly brutal. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he threw on some clothes and equipped himself with his bat and pack and made his way out from the tent. 
When he heard he was going on the mission, he hadn’t been excited. Alan wasn’t a combatant, nor a real survivor. Although he was glad to be alive, he still questioned whether or not things would get any better. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alive if things stayed the way they were. These sort of melancholy thoughts weren’t unusual to Alan, though he knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that before he went off. He hadn’t left the camp in quite some time, and fear was creeping upon him.
He quickly spotted Connor and a few other soldiers grouped up. They seemed ready to go. He glanced at their various firearms. He had never shot one before. He knew all that could happen when someone inexperienced fired one, and he didn’t want to risk it. He looked up at Connor. “Morning.” He said quietly. “I’m ready to go. I think.”