Emerging from the underground bunker, I got first sight of what many would deem a living hell. Everything was eerily quiet and time seemed to be at a standstill. Even after my 8 years of enlistment, the wasteland that was now in front of me was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Knowing that it was once a place I called home made it that much more difficult to look at. I was actively trying to wrap my head around it all as I had to step over all the casualties and debris, my combat boots kicked up large clouds of soot with each stride. I came across what was left of a mangled, burned up car that perished in the attack and sat on its scorched hood. I felt so overwhelmed, I hung my head and came to terms with the fact that the scenery before me would be devastating enough to move anyone to tears. Upon lifting my head I realized that I was staring at what was left of my base camp, in complete shambles even in comparison to the rest of the city that already looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic video game. Sitting here in the wake of all the devastation, a feeling of complete overpowering desperation and anger swept over me. My head became flooded with millions of thoughts and questions with each second that passed.
How did this happen?
Am I the only one left?
Is it over?
I rested my face in the palms of my hands; I didn't have any of the answers to these questions. For some reason,I couldn't even remember what had happened or who had done this, all that I knew is that whatever...or whoever did this sure as hell did its job. In the middle of being caught in my thoughts I heard a faint sound that was horrifyingly recognizable and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Someone was reloading their gun. I slid off the charred hood. Clink. My dog tags made contact at the most inconvenient time and I cursed under my breath. Realizing that I was lucky to even still have both of my tags on the chain, I decided that now wasn't the time to be worrying about that so I tightened my grip on my M-4 and readied myself. I knew that hiding behind a car with complete lack of visual would just end up getting me killed so I peered around the side of the car to hopefully get a better glimpse. Nothing. Checked the opposite side and still didn't see a thing. I knew I wasn't just hearing things because once you've been in as long as I have, that sound is unmistakable. Instantly your brain is going to work and sending epinephrine through your body. Adrenaline.
I braced myself, knees bent and ready. I had no intention of running, we don't do that. If there is anything to be proud of as a Marine its that we don't run from the fight, we run into it. I started walking out from behind the car, all of my senses were on high alert. It was somewhat hard to see that late in the evening, so I was left squinting. The sun had just set about an hour ago and the shadows that were cast by the few buildings that were actually still standing made it feel like I was in the midst of an eclipse. I proceeded a few hundred yards and made my way to the edge of what looked like the ruins of an old bank, some of its pillars still standing. With my back to the wall, I slowly looked around the corner and almost immediately felt a searing pain directly above my right eyebrow. I recoiled back to my original position and felt warmth rushing down my forehead, a bullet had grazed me and obviously whoever was behind that firing weapon was a good shot.
Looking to my right, I noticed a concrete barricade like the kind you'd see on a highway and knew I needed to be in a better spot than I was currently in. Quickly I pivoted myself and lunged, I could feel the bullets trailing my every move. I landed on nothing but rubble and with a quick survey of my immediate surroundings laid eyes on a pair of boots that were subsequently attached to a body which was covered in rocks and debris. I crawled over and did my best to clear everything off, unfortunately revealing a battered but familiar face. Lance Corporal Tobey Miller, he was in my unit. Good ol' boy that came from a farming family in Oklahoma but was set on a career in the Marines. With shaking hands I found his tags and took the extra one from the set, placing it on my own chain next to the two I still personally had. I had a grim feeling this wasn't going to be the last time I would be adding a tag. This was part of the job, and as much as I hated admitting it, it was also something that I had grown accustomed to. I had to keep going.
The gunfire had stopped and I assumed that that was only the case because whoever it was could no longer see me. Getting back into a crouch, I peeked over the top of the barrier and that was when I saw them off in the distance moving towards me. I caught glimpse of their patches and a wave of relief washed over me. Friendlies.
"HEY!" I screamed and shot my hand out above the barrier. That was possibly as informal as I could have been but with being in the middle of what held all the characteristics of a war zone, any ounce of care I had left for formalities was gone.
"Don't shoot!" It was hard to tell what made them pause, maybe it was because the person they were attempting to kill was actually trying to get their attention or the fact that I was speaking english but they held their fire. Slowly I stood up, arms raised and my rifle falling to my side.
"My name is Staff Sergeant Gloria Madison, I was stationed here in Detroit but as you can see, hell rose from the depths at some point." A tall, broad-shouldered man took a step forward, saluting me, an expected and silently-demanded gesture in this line of work . Trailing behind him was a woman, comparably smaller in size, she copied her comrades actions and exchanged a salute with me as well. Finally the man spoke.
"I'm Lance Corporal Rankin. My helicopter had engine failure and we were forced to land, which we did safely but there was a combat unit that was set up on a nearby rooftop, I lost my entire unit before we were able to successfully stop the enemy fire..." he pulled his chain out from under his uniform collar. His four fallen comrades' secondary tags dangling beside his own.
"...Once I was able to get my bearings, I went inside to make sure that there weren't any more hostiles and came across Alturez here," he nodded towards the woman who was surveying all the damage around her. "She was beaten and bloodied, God only knows how long they had her hostage in there but I was able to find a med kit and fixed her up. Nothing too serious aside from quite a few lacerations and what seems to be a broken nose."
"One of the lucky ones, huh?" I asked in disbelief.
"Without a doubt..."
Alturez joined Rankin and I once more, He and I continued our conversation. From time to time I looked over at her and I could tell something was wrong. I just knew it. She would shuffle her feet a little and shift her body weight from one leg to the other; she glanced over my shoulders about every 3 seconds, her brows would furrow and then she'd come back into focus. I was curious and started to worry.
"Alturez, what's going on? If you need to say something, then speak up." Her eyes focused back on me and she started to open her mouth to speak when a bullet flew past me, mere inches from my ear.
Shit.
