John O'Brien - Chaos

Lynn looks over at Private Manning and is immediately at his side. Blood spurts from the gouge in his neck covering the floor around him and splashes on her fatigue pants. His entire neck, side of his face, and fatigues covering his shoulder are bathed in bright red blood. She drops her light and covers his wound with her hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood leaks out beneath her hand and through her fingers. Private Manning looks up widely at her and their eyes lock; his eyes are full of pain and a fear that his last moments are drawing near.

“It’s okay, Private. We stopped ‘em thanks to you,” she says keeping eye contact with him.

A slight smile crosses his ruined face as his body stiffens with a tremor and the life leaves his eyes; dimming them and glazing over. The blood that flowed beneath her hand stops and she reaches up to close his eyes.

Lynn looks up from her kneeling position towards Horace and Turnbull noticing Turnbull holding his left forearm. “Are you injured?” She asks.

“It bit me but it’s only superficial. I’ll be fine thanks to you, Sergeant,” he says looking at her with a smile of gratitude.

He lifts his hand from the wound and shows her. A bite mark that has penetrated the skin shows but the wound is not gouged out. Lynn gives a nod, turns her attention to Horace and says, “Get the med kit from the wall and dress that up.”

“Yes, Sergeant Connell,” Horace responds walking over to retrieve the med kit.

Taking bandages and tape from the inside, Horace wraps Turnbull’s arm. Private Turnbull then pulls his sleeve back down over the bandage. All three check their ammo, insert their last fresh magazine into their receivers, and gather up their empty mags, putting them into their pockets.

“What about Private Manning?” Horace asks as she pulls the flap over her pocket.

“We’ll clear the rest of the barracks, pick up my gear, and pick him up on the way out. I’ll lead in the middle. Corporal Horace, you are behind me on the right, Private Turnbull, behind me on the left. Same plan as before. Clear each cubicle on the way to the back,” Lynn says answering. “If we’re attacked, fall back side by side to the door. We don’t have enough ammo for a sustained assault like the last one.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they respond and quickly take their stations moving toward the rear of the building.

Bodies litter the corridor with barely any of the concrete floor showing underneath. They step over and between the bodies as they make their way back. The beating of her own heart sounds loudly in Lynn’s ears. The only other sounds are the breathing of the others and the soft step of their boots on the floor. Cubicles are cleared one by one but nothing rushes out to greet them as they head toward Lynn’s cubicle in the rear of the building.

Just before rounding the corner leading to her cubicle, Lynn picks up a faint rustling sound coming from within. Both Horace and Turnbull pick it up as well. Three lights and barrels move in unison, focusing on the opening. The bunk where Lynn’s sick roommate was the night before is empty. The bunk is unmade and blankets are rumpled on top of it. There is another shuffling sound from deeper within the small enclosure. She motions for the other two to remain in place and cover her while she side steps across the corridor opposite the opening keeping her light and weapon trained on the cubicle entrance. Crouched low, Lynn leans to her left bringing the entire cubicle into view.

She immediately picks up the cause of the sounds as her light catches on a figure against the back of the cubicle. In a flash, Lynn recognizes it as that of her roommate, who is turned away from her against the far metal wall. As soon as her light hits upon her roommate, the figure turns around quickly and, with a snarl and shriek, the gray blotchy figure launches toward Lynn. The building interior is once again lit with triple strobes and the sound of gunfire as Lynn depresses the trigger of her M-16, sending three projectiles out into the space between them. The three rounds converge upon the figure’s chest launching her backward and slamming her against the wall with a ringing thud. Her now ex-roommate topples to the side and, after knocking against the wall locker, slips slowly to the floor.

With the return of silence to the interior, Lynn retrieves her ready pack from her bunk and they head back to the front of the building with more dog tags added to the ones gathered in her almost full pocket. Shouldering their weapons, Horace and Turnbull pick up the body of Private Manning and they step out into the heat and light. The transition from the cooler and darker interior causes them to blink and an immediate sheen of sweat coats their skin. They set Manning’s body into the rear of the Humvee and, after replacing their depleted magazines from the ammo in the Humvee, they make their way to Horace’s barracks and then to Manning’s, encountering none of the creatures within either of them. Finished with gathering their ready packs, they return to the TOC.

They are the last detail back and meet up with the rest of the group. Each detail quickly shares their very similar stories. In all, they lost three soldiers and have two additional wounded counting the loss of Manning and Turnbull’s injury. However, they found six other very frightened and exhausted soldiers within the various barracks. Mounting the vehicles once again, the group heads over to the Intel shop gathering up and destroying the sensitive documents within. While there, they also try contacting other units within and outside of the camp with no success. Finishing, they then head across the camp to the small airstrip and control tower.

Driving out from between buildings lining the ramp serving the airstrip, they see the control tower off to one side adjacent to the ramp. The light gray concrete ramp is empty of aircraft but several ground carts and fuel trucks are parked neatly in front of one of the buildings. Several other Humvees are parked in various locations in front of other buildings. Bringing the small convoy to a halt on the ramp, Lynn gets out of her vehicle and studies the control tower.

It is a small portable tower; a cross between a smaller control tower and a glass enclosed RV hybrid. There is an outside metal walkway encircling it and it bristles with antennae pointing skyward from on top. It is mounted on top of five concrete-filled cargo containers with metal stairs running up the side to the top and the entrance. The stairs are similar to external fire escapes with the bottom portion able to be raised about ten feet off the ground. The entire structure is enclosed by a chain link fence in close approximation to the tower with razor wire encircling the top.

Lynn salutes Major Bannerman as he steps up. With the heat rising in waves off the concrete ramp, he returns her salute and looks toward the tower with her. “I think this will make an ideal defensible structure, sir,” she says. “We can hold out here for a number of days if needed and will make a logical destination for any arriving force. We’ll need to clear it first though.”

“Take whomever you need and clear it, Sergeant.”

Given the small nature of the tower, Lynn selects Horace and Turnbull as part of her team having already been in action with them and knowing their reliability under fire. She also selects Sergeant Drescoll to go with her. She details another group to provide security around the structure outside of the fenced area and the remaining soldiers to remain in place at their current location as a reaction team. With instructions in place, her team and the security detail load onto vehicles and drive slowly over to the tower line abreast. Stopping just outside the fence enclosing the tower, Lynn and the rest dismount. The security detail takes station around the fence and Lynn, along with her team, approach the gate leading inside.