500 Miles

One

Song for this Chapter is:

When I'm Gone- 3 Doors Down

"So hold me when I'm here, right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared and love me when I'm gone
Everything I am and everything in me
Wants to be the one you wanted me to be"

*Ophelia's POV*

"Scarlatti, can you pass me a clip?"  Stark asks. I laugh, rolling my eyes as I grab an extra magazine from my bag.

"You mean a mag? Yeah, I need 7.62, you got?" I say, tossing him the magazine. He raises an eyebrow at me, catching the mag, and tossing one of 7.62 rounds back. "Just testing you." I catch it and tuck it safely away into my bag. "We should probably get what we can from this run and then leave, guys. It's getting more and more dangerous for us to stay." I say. I zip my bag and shoulder it, shifting so it bounces familiarly between my shoulder blades. The patrol group looks at me expectantly as Rodriguez comes out of the office and counts us.

"Four? Got it. I agree, Scarlatti. We need to go, sooner rather than later. I'll run it by the others when we get back." He says, shouldering his own pack. I grab my gun and give him a curt nod.

"Sounds good, drill. Should we head out?" Rodriguez nods, and quickly finds Sumrall and Rabelista. He says something to them quietly, and heads for the door.

"Come on, guys." He says, opening the door. The patrol follows him down the stairs, flashlights on as we navigate through the debris on the stairs. Beside me, Harper slips and curses quietly. "Let's go. We can hit up Alpha today. No need for us to go too far." Rodriguez says, taking a sharp right at the bottom of the stairwell and going inside the battalion building. We move quietly through the hallway, guns at the low-ready, and safeties off. When we reach the double doors at the end of the hallway, Rodriguez holds up a fist, signalling for us to halt.

"Okay guys. We picked through these pretty well, but this time, we're going to look through the wall lockers, okay?" He says in a low voice. We nod. "Scarlatti, you direct. Let's see how you do."

I shyly step forward beside Rodriguez, and lower my weapon, mentally preparing my speech. "Alright guys. We'll sweep bay by bay, starting from the top and working our way down. That's fourth to first, okay? We're looking for flashlights, batteries, any first aid supplies, things of that nature. Of course, medication is good too. Advil, ibuprofen, benadryl, the works. I don't care what happens, do not enter a bay alone. Two will go in to do a primary clear, once they give the signal the rest will go in, yes? Be as efficient as possible, guys." I say, before taking a step back.  I'm thankful the hallway is partially shadowed so no one can see me blush. I've covered my own speech, and part of Rod's.

"Sorry, drill." I say quietly, so only he can hear me. He chuckles. "Don't be, Spaghetti. You know your shit. No need to be sorry about that." He says. He gives us a hand signal.

"File formation. Harper, Marks, you're primary. Stark and Price will follow up. Scarlatti, you're with me, we'll clear the office." He says. We nod in agreement, and move outside as a single line, with Rodriguez covering behind us. Quickly, quietly, we move to the stairwell leading to the bays and go up, making sure the doors are closed fully as we go. We make it up the four flights of stairs in under a minute, and are quick to clear fourth bay.

Rodriguez and I move to the office and with a quick nod, he kicks the door open and we rush in. It's clear, and I check the bathroom to be safe. The smell of decomposition fills my nose, and I hear a faint groan behind me. I shine my flashlight around the small room, pausing briefly on the cabinet, before the body on the floor. "It's Drill Sergeant Dutton." I say, fighting down the nausea. The corpse doesn't move, and I take a brief second to say a prayer of thanks. "The flu must have gotten her."