Kody Boye - Sunrise

You saved our lives, Dakota thought.

The commanding officer stepped forward and gestured the door open. “You boys have made quite the ruckus here,” the man said, stepping onto the bus. “I’ll have you aware that you’ll be strip-searched once you leave the bus.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said, standing. He pressed a hand to his forehead and saluted the officer. “Lance Corporal Steve Earnest at your service, sir.”

“A marine. Are you still active-duty?”

“No, sir. Haven’t been for three years.”

“Reason?”

“Injured on the battlefield.”

“I thank you for your service, Lance Corporal Earnest, though I don’t necessarily appreciate your sudden entry.” The man trained his eyes on Dakota and Ian. “Your friends?”

“Dakota Travis,” Dakota said.

“Ian Shaw,” Ian added.

“We came from up north,” Steve said. “We spent two days fortifying the bus to get us here.”

“Regardless, you brought a good amount of infected here with you. That I don’t appreciate. However…” the man paused, “since there’s no way I can safely remove you from this facility, I’ll allow you to stay. Please step off the bus and do as Private Roberts tells you to.”

“Yes sir,” Steve nodded.

Dakota stepped forward, careful not to brush against the officer, and made his way off the bus. Once outside, the lanky Private Roberts waited for Ian to remove himself from the vehicle before he instructed them to remove anything from their pockets, then to step forward and remove their clothing.

This is embarrassing. Dakota was already reminded of high school gym class the moment Steve stripped off his shirt. The ugly scar on his left arm stood out in stark contrast against his evenly-tanned skin, confirming his discharge from the marines with its presence alone. The man who’d stood next to Private Roberts the moment before now examined Steve’s body for bites or other wounds. Once he deemed Steve appropriate, he waved Dakota forward.

“One down without taking your shirt off,” the man chuckled, reaching forward to brush Dakota’s hair aside. “Blunt wound, sir.”

“I hit my head on the dashboard,” Dakota replied.

The military man smiled. Dakota stripped his shirt over his head, undid his belt, then let his pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of his underwear with a humble humility he would have never had in a similar situation.

“You’re good,” the man said, pressing a hand against Dakota’s shoulder. “My name’s Corporal Jamie Marks.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dakota said, surprised at the gentle squeeze the man offered. “I’m done then?”

“You are.” Jamie wagged a finger at Ian. His eyes immediately fell to the tattoos on his left arm. “How old’s the ink?”

“Couple of years. I had it touched up three or four months ago.”

“Nothing recent?”

“Nope.” Ian stripped his shirt off. His massive, muscled frame was nearly completely covered with tattoos on his left side.

“Anything we should know about you?”

“Other than that I was in a gang up until recently?” Ian asked. “No. Nothing at all.”

“Your pants and underwear, sir.”

Ian obliged. A swirling tribal tattoo adorned the skin on his right calf, but otherwise he had no tattoos on his lower body. Corporal Marks quickly scanned Ian’s body, taking careful note of the bruises on his side, then looked up at the bandage on his arm. “What is this?” the corporal asked.

“Gunshot wound. I got grazed yesterday.”

“May I see?”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Private Roberts came forward. He took a first-aid kit handed to him by another man in fatigues and opened it up, sliding the rubber gloves over his fingers. He made short work of the bandaging on Ian’s arm, then confirmed it to be a gunshot wound a moment later. “Just a glancing hit, like he said. It looks like the bullet only took off the top layer of skin.”

“He’s good then?” the leading officer asked.

“Yes sir. He is.”

He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back. “I want the three of you to know that this is a military operating base. My name is Sergeant Armstrong. You’ve already met Corporal Jamie Marks and Private Erik Roberts. These men here are deputies Derek Kirn and Donald Wills. You will obey any orders they give you, no questions asked.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said. Dakota and Ian offered the same reply.

“I’ll have you gentlemen know that you’ll each be given jobs based on your individual talents, which will be assigned by Corporal Marks when he finds fit. Until then, keep to yourselves and stay out of the first floor lobby, which is currently being used as our communications base. If you refuse to comply with any orders, you will be removed from the base—permanently. Understood?”

Dakota, Steve and Ian nodded. The sergeant, in turn, offered a curt nod, then turned and started for the entrance, leaving the three of them with the deputies and military men without another word.

“Everything will be fine,” Jamie said, clapping Steve, Ian and Dakota on the shoulder. “I’ll get the three of you into a room as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve said. “That was a brave thing to do.”

“No need to thank me.” Jamie turned his gaze on the gate, where a group of infected stood clawing at the chain-link fence. “Go on in, get some rest. Dinner’s at eighteen-hundred tonight.”

Dakota stepped into line with Steve and Ian as they made their way toward the door.

Before he entered the apartment building, he took one last look at the man who’d saved their lives.

“Pretty heavy shit back there,” Steve sighed, collapsing onto a cot in one of the spare rooms.

“No kiddin’,” Ian grunted, seating himself on his own bed.

“Your arm ok?” Dakota asked.

“It just stings a little, that’s all.”

“You did good back there,” Steve said, propping himself up on both elbows.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s just say I have a little more respect for you after all the shit we went through.”

“How long do you think it’ll be until someone comes up here to talk to us?” Dakota asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dunno,” Steve shrugged.

“You care if I confess something?”

“I don’t see why I would.”

“I don’t know.” Dakota paused. He looked from Steve, to Ian, then back again. It took him a moment to compose himself before spoke. “I get the feeling that we might not be wanted here.”

“It’s the military. We busted into a sanctioned facility without permission and dragged a shit-ton of infected with us. If I were them, I wouldn’t be happy with us either.”

“Besides,” Ian added. “It’s the same government bullshit as it always was.”

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked.

“Cops don’t like having to deal with stupid people, security guards don’t like having to deal with prisoners, the military doesn’t like having to protect civilians…you think they’re here because they want to be?”

“They’re probably not here because they want to be, in all actuality,” Steve said. He pushed himself forward and ran his hand through his hair.

“What about you, Steve?” Dakota asked. “I mean, what was it like in the marines? The atmosphere, having to work with people?”

“To tell you the truth,” Steve sighed, “I don’t blame them for being angry, especially the sergeant. Dealing with civilians, especially refugees, is never an easy thing, particularly when they’re so quick to act on impulse.”

“Like we did,” Dakota mumbled.

“Exactly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ian said. “We’re here. We might as well forget about it.”