Abigail Ketner - Branded

Keegan shouts something, his eyes panicked. I can’t hear him over the hammering of guns and screaming, so I focus on his mouth. “Radio for backup!” He fends off another opponent, slicing his knife through the air and twisting it into the guard.

Sheldon moves to find the radio but gets tied up. I look around for Isaac, but he’s already moved forward to set up the explosives in the main doorway. Despair seeps into my bones like venom as I search for the radio. And then I spot her.

Veronica lies on her side, her face fearful as she holds out the radio. She opens her mouth to speak, but blood trickles out. I duck under a punch, and take it from her. My opponent slashes with his knife, barely missing my torso, and Zeus takes him down. He digs his teeth into his hand with a vicious bite and frees the knife. I pick it up in a flash, and stick the guard in the neck with it.

The screaming and blasts of gunfire unnerve me, and my hands shake under the duress of combat. I fiddle with the buttons, hitting them all while yelling for backup. Everything sounds muffled. I can’t hear myself think, let alone what I say or what the person on the other side replies.

I drop the radio when another explosion blows out half the wall with a loud boom . People stumble over the side, and I leap to grab Keegan’s arm as he begins to slip over the side. He pulls himself upright just in time to see Sheldon plummet over the wall with his adversary. The cement barrier lining the walkway is gutted with twisted pieces of barbed wire dangling over the side.

This isn’t good. I yank Keegan’s jacket before he can fixate on the spot where Sheldon used to be. His eyes snap to my face with unbridled fury. He grabs my arm and the rest of our small group advances under a hailstorm of bullets. With three hundred yards to go, I begin hoping we can pull this off. My eyes can’t help but take in our surroundings as we run.

The sun breaches the horizon, reflecting off the metal roofs of the houses and bringing a clear view of the Hole with it. Smoke billows over the buildings like dark fingers reaching toward the sky to escape the carnage. I grimace at the smell of charred flesh and my eyes burn fiercely. I wipe them with my sleeve. Through the haze, I view the stark outline of the hospital and wonder how the assault on the training center is going.

I trip over a body riddled with holes and keep going. Come on, Isaac. Come on. Come on and blow the doors .

The large main doors of the commander’s residence blow open with a deafening blast that makes the wall beneath us quiver. Rocks and cement rain down on us like hail. Dust mixed with smoke makes sight impossible.

I pull my jacket over my face to breathe. Minutes pass, but they might as well be days. We continue sprinting toward the entrance as bullets zip over our heads. No doubt, the guards will reinforce their lines soon.

I glance back and see more of the rebels have arrived to support us, and relief sweeps through me. They got my call.

As we storm the entrance, I notice Sutton off to my right. The hope within me continues to build. I’m breathless from carrying guns and inhaling mouthfuls of thick dust. If Sutton made it, then Cole should be here too.

“They knew we were coming,” Keegan shouts to Sutton over the war waging behind us.

“Part of the assault wasn’t timed properly. Didn’t happen fast enough—gave them time to figure it out.” Sutton’s voice is raw and his words scratch out.

“Where’s everybody?” I try yelling to make myself heard.

“All communication was cut off.” Sutton’s face is covered with a mask of dirt, but I can still see his worried eyes and thinned lips. The gun strapped to him doesn’t look natural after being used to seeing him in scrubs.

Our group and Sutton’s group break off to search the compound for the commander. We head left down a wide path toward the commander’s quarters and Sutton’s group heads right toward the main control room. Knowing we’ll rendezvous in the middle gives me confidence. If we, or they, don’t show up, we’ll go looking for each other. The darkness inside swallows us whole as the temperature drops.

I follow Keegan, the new point man, into the abyss of a hallway. The cement construction smothers almost all light from the outside. Staying close to Keegan, we hug the wall on the left side, keeping our weapons readily available. It reminds me of playing hide-and-seek in the woods with him. But this is for keeps . I focus on breathing and strain my eyes, seeing dark shapes in the hall. The black plays with my mind, but I keep going because this is what we trained for.

Keegan abruptly stops, and I smack into him as Zeus almost bowls me over. Bending down, Keegan points to a delicate, thin wire stretched across the hall. A tripwire . This place is trapped. Nausea and fear climb up my insides, but I push them back down. I point it out to the person behind me as I step over it.

About a hundred feet past the wire and around the first corner, they wait for us. Little, glowing red dots from their guns light up the wall in front of Keegan and then a barrage of gunfire blitzes us.

I return fire with the others, but we’re pinned down. A thunderous explosion resounds from behind and I’m blown forward in a violent motion. Debris smashes into me midair, and I land on my side. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented.

I feel the warmth of Zeus’s tongue licking my face, trying to rouse me. Mass chaos ensues around us, but I can’t see anything, so I pull Zeus close. Everything echoes around in my head, bouncing off the insides of my skull. Despite the constant chattering of guns, screaming, and moaning, I feel around with my hands and army crawl toward where I believe the wall is. Or was. Though my adrenaline is juiced up, I feel nagging pain.

Are my legs still attached? I reach down and feel that my pant legs from the knee down were torn away in the blast. My fingers feel slick and bloody from cuts I know I have. I don’t know where my gun landed. It was ripped from my hands in the blast.

“Keegan! Keegan!” I shout through the darkness and deafening shots. I hope he’s alive.

A hand grabs mine from out of nowhere. It’s sweaty and rough and squeezes mine tight. When it lets go, I feel confused. Should I stay along the wall or grab it again? Then it roughly pulls me through a doorway and my shoulder smacks the right side of the frame. Clenching my teeth, I scramble against the wall and cover my head with my arms. Then a small light, like a book reading light, flips on and I see Keegan crouching across from me. He looks awful. His face bleeds with multiple cuts, and he’s covered in a mix of dust and residue. Yet, he seems concerned about me and does a quick inventory.

“You all right?” His eyes travel from my head to my feet as if he is taking a mental tally of all my injuries.

I shake my head and shout, “I can’t understand.” I cover my ears. “I can’t hear.”

“Are you all right?” he shouts.

I nod, yes. “Still kicking.” My eyes roam the room.

It’s a storage room of some sort, with collapsed racks of cleaning solvents and towels.

“Where’s your gun?”

I shrug.

He hands me a .9mm Glock but keeps his M16. I have no idea how he held on to it.

“Where’re the others?” I draw in as many deep breaths as I can in an attempt to clear my head of the dizziness. I rest with my hands on my knees and look at him as he stands up.

Now it’s his turn to shrug. “Can you keep up?” He pulls a towel from one of the racks, causing a clatter of noise, and then wipes his face with it. His hand holds out another for me. The salt and grime from the Hole ooze off my face.