Chapter 2 base camp
I took his dog tag, which was drenched in blood, and continued my walk back to base. I walked about 8 clicks before I was picked up by a rebel transportation truck. It was a huge van with 2 benches installed in the back that stretched the length of the van. There was an M249 light machine gun mounted on the top. The walls on the inside of the van were lined with sheets of Kevlar. The outside was painted a basic forest green camo and had the rebel flag painted on the side. It was a picture of the United States on fire. The tires were off-road tires that you would generally see on a truck. The rebels have about 500 of these vehicles with more being made.
I opened the back of the van to see five or six soldiers who look like they’ve been through hell. One of them was my sister Madison. She was leaning on her Remington 700 sniper rifle; she looked up as I opened the van and exclaimed, “Cullen! You survived! We didn’t think you made it out of the firefight! Where did you go?” “I’ll explain later”, I said, “but I need to rest.” I climbed in and took a seat next to a rebel wearing an old russian gas mask and holding a Mossberg pump-action shotgun. He had shotgun shells all the way down his vest. “So they hit you guys with gas too huh?” I asked Madison. “They dropped canisters in every direction within a 10 mile radius, we all got hit.” Madison replied. “We lost a lot of guys out there today.” said the masked man sitting next to me.
"Who is this guy?" I asked with my thumb extended towards him. The man pulled off his mask to reveal that it was in fact Briggs, a good friend of mine. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me, even with the mask." He let out a small chuckle under his breath. Although he chuckled I could see that there was a great sadness resting on his conscious. That doesn’t surprise me though; it’s hard to find any happiness in today’s world.
Nobody said anything the rest of the ride back. Three of the soldiers had fallen asleep and I was starting to doze. Outside we could here mortars and machine gun fire but none of us were fit to do any fighting now. The attack was 3 days ago; I haven’t slept since 2 days before then. Not only that but for two and a half days, it was straight combat the last half of the third day I spent sitting in the crumbled building. My ears are still ringing from the bombs and machine guns fired over the last 3 days. The guy across from me lit up a cigarette and held them up pointed at me. He gave a half cocked look as if to say, “You want one?” I merely nodded and took a cigarette. He held up a lit Zippo and I leaned forward, touching the cigarette to the fire. I sat back and he closed his Zippo and put it away. I inhaled and blew out the smoke in a constant stream; I then paused and said, “Some war huh?” “Yea” he replied in a winded voice.
We pulled up to a chain link fence with two armed guards standing in front of it. The van stopped and one of the guards walked over to the driver side window. They chatted for a bit then the guard gave a wave and the gate opened. The van pulled in and found an empty spot in the parking lot. The back opened and we all climbed out. We were at forward base Flatiron Crossing Mall. I took one last puff of the cigarette and flicked it. I walked past two more guards into the former Macys. I walked through the store past rows and rows of cots. The soldiers there were sitting around talking, sleeping, and playing cards. I passed a man who was crying, holding a picture of a young blonde woman and a young boy no older than four. I exited the store on the other side and walked for a while to the Dick’s sporting goods.
There was a huge counter set up blocking off the entrance. I walked up the counter and set my backpack on it. I rang the bell and Joshua Foster, the munitions expert and dealer, poked his head around the corner, “Two seconds.” he said. He walked over to the counter and set the Mini Uzi he was working on down. “What can I do you for Captain?” he asked. “Well,” I started, “I have two Beretta 9mms and a ton of 9mm ammo, I have some 7.62s, and I came across a US army issued gas mask.” “Wow,” he began, “you can have just about anything you want for the money these items rack up.” “Okay then I will take some .223s and some .45s, I’ll take a forest camo cover for my Kevlar helmet, and I will take an m203 under-barreled grenade launcher.” “Jeez is that it?” he asked. “No,” I said, “I also need some frags.”
