The Greene Effect - REWRITE!!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - KNOCKING THEM ALL OUT

Amelia Greene -

Three O'clock came quicker than I anticipated. I had to rush to get to Pierson on time, fearing his reaction if I was late.

Aiello told me to be safe as I ran off. I know he's not overreacting; the simple task of making sure homes weren't occupied has proven to be deadly. We've lost two men already to surprise ambushes.

But I'm not going with just any soldier; Pierson waits for me, leaning against the side of the Jeep, adjusting his watch. He keeps it remarkably clean, and the polished metal glints in the sun.

"Sir," I greet, hiding my winded tone. He says nothing and nods, physically telling me to get into the passenger seat.

I climb in, sinking into the leather seats whilst he starts it up. I continue to admire the shininess of his watch, and take subtle notice of the scarring on his hand. Looking at my own, I can see ours are not too different.

Most people have a story behind each of their scars. I don't even remember when I was marked with my first gift from the war. But some of us do; I wonder what stories he has.

The veins in his arms and hand flex as he turns the tough steering wheel. His gun is tucked between us, standing and resting on his shoulder. He fills up a lot more of his seat than I do mine.

The drive is silent and somewhat lengthy. Each journey in and out of the base is heavily monitored and security is tight; explaining the extra patrols on our schedule. Pierson doesn't have to explain himself much around here so it's an easy way out.

However, once we're out of sight from the base, an uneasy tension grows. Both of our eyes scan the buildings, decimated and coated with a layer of grey dust, for any possible movement. This is quite literally Kraut country and they could be anywhere.

It's been a hell of a fight getting in here and I know we won't be forced out without one, either. Once we get an idea of how many neighborhoods around us are truly abandoned, we'll have an estimate on how safe we are.

The two of us pretend not to notice the other occasional glances. Pierson has on that stoic look that never says what he's thinking; I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. What kind of expression do I always hold?

"We have two blocks to go through today," he finally speaks once we near our desired location, "far as we know, there's been little movement out here. Up north, different story. Don't plan to head out there without backup. South is a ghetto - recently abandoned."

I raise my eyebrow. "Hm? How does that look?"

The flex of his jaw tells me all I need to know. "Let's just say I feel sorry for whoever had to live there." There are many possibilities and none have a happy outcome. Another anxious topic is knowing that the further we get into Germany, the better we'll understand the horrors of this war. We keep hearing stories from the Pacific that sound like a horror film, only worse.

It always gets worse.

The Jeep slows to a stop. I hop down as he does, watching the machine raise from the weight difference. He takes a quick scan of the residential area, before waving for me to follow him.

These look like townhomes. Redbrick peeks through shattered glass and debris. Something rocked these streets and forced countless families to flee. It's an intensely sad feeling, being here.

"Stay alert and quiet. I'll go in first and you come in behind slowly. I'll make our prescience known and as soon as I do ready your weapon. Understand?"