Chaos

aren’t just driving around in the middle of the day and so, hopefully, it will give notice to anyone there that I am quite human. I can’t label whatever these “things” are. To me, there is human, these “things”, and the dead.

I pull the gate the rest of the way open, walk back to the Jeep, and put away the tools. Climbing back in, I start slowly up the road keeping to the middle. As I drive forward, more of the road that was hidden by the bend appears and I see bodies lying both on the road and alongside it. Warily, I drive to the bend and stop before reaching the first body. The road continues to a set of checkpoints similar to double-sized toll booths that are connected together by a single, overhead roof; the inbound lanes split into several ones; each to a booth. The traffic barricades are down in the lanes. One lane curves off to the right to a visitor center with a small parking lot in front. There is an exit lane passing by the security point but it is blocked by a Humvee. I see the silhouettes of more Humvees parked behind the booths.

A few bodies lie on the ground; from here all of the way up to the checkpoint and scattered throughout the area. I look for any sign of movement but see nothing but the tip of the trees bending in the breeze. With the engine running, I step out slowly and take another step or two away from the Jeep with my arms raised fully expecting a call from a bullhorn, a warning shot, something. Nothing. Keeping my arms up, I step next to the first body noticing several bullet wounds in the chest, abdomen, and legs. The skin has turned that reddish color. Putting my arms down, I survey the area for a few moments before heading back to the Jeep.

Climbing in, I drive slowly toward the checkpoint weaving slightly to avoid the bodies, each one with a sunburned look. All of them have bullet wounds of some sort; some whole, others with a limb or face or most of a head missing. I can feel my stomach clinch as I approach. Parking about twenty feet from the booths, I notice a black boot sticking out of one of the booth doors with the toes pointed skyward. My vision past the checkpoint is blocked by the Humvees parked lengthwise across the road. I step out into the shadow of the booths cast by a sun still low in the sky and notice just a hint of an odor in the air; like the beginning of milk souring.

Still not knowing what to expect or if there are any security personnel about, I leave my gun holstered. An armed person with a weapon ready will bring about a supersonic, steel-core bee quicker than one without a weapon in hand. I haven’t been stung to this point and am looking to keep it that way. Edging slowly in a circular fashion up to the booth with the boot sticking out, I notice shell casings on the ground around the booth and behind it. Reaching the open door and stepping up to the opening, my heart jumps up a notch at the same time as a twist of nausea grips my stomach.

Lying before me, stretched across the booth, is what must have been one of the base security personnel. It is absolutely unidentifiable as to what gender it once was. The pants and left shirt sleeve are completely shredded revealing devastation beneath. The skin and most tissue have been removed from the arms, legs, and face leaving behind only bits of tissue, tendons, and dried blood still clinging to the bone. Dried blood lays everywhere with shell casings littering the floor. The right arm, from the elbow down, lies close to the body with the still intact portion of the sleeve surrounding it; the hand still gripping a Beretta 9mm pistol with the slide back and locked open signaling an empty chamber and magazine. The right leg is completely missing from the knee down. The only intact portion of uniform is a combat vest still attached to the torso and the boot pointing skyward at my feet. Small bits of intestines and organs poke out between the pelvic bones.

What a mess, I think and notice the stock and lower half of an M-4 poking out from under a small desk. Hmmm, that will come in handy as will the combat vest but removing the vest won’t be pretty.

I step away from the door, duck under the barricade, and edge to the rear of the booth toward the Humvees. The ground behind the booths is covered with shell casings to the point where there isn’t really much pavement to be seen below them. Four Humvees have been parked front to back across the lanes with driver sides toward me and open and machine guns on top angled skyward. I walk to the front of one and look further into the base. The scene before me transfixes in my mind.

The ground is littered with bodies. Bodies are piled upon each other forming walls and mounds in places right up to the Humvees themselves. Some lie singly between mounds, the bodies decreasing in number the farther away I look. Holy shit; there are easily over a hundred of them. Maybe hundreds. I guess I know where that smell is coming from, I think looking around for any sign of movement or any form of mankind. Nothing greets me but a multitude of crows hopping on the ground amongst the bodies.

I walk along the line of Humvees, looking inside each one. More shell casings lie thick on the floors of each one with dried blood spattered throughout; reminiscent of the security booth. I do a quick check inside each to see if the mounted guns have any ammo left. No luck. I do find an ammo can sitting in the driver side floorboard of the second Humvee. Opening it up, I see it is about half full of 5.56mm rounds. I pull it out and follow along the line. Coming to the last Humvee, I reach into the driver’s compartment, and turn the start switch to the right. A moment later, the orange light comes on letting me know the glow plugs are warm. Very nice, the battery still works. I jump in, set the ammo can in the floor next to me, and turn the starter switch over. The engine cranks over and comes to life after a few revolutions. Way cool. Looking at the gauges, everything seems to be working fine and plenty of fuel. I close the door and do that wonderful three-point turn a few times until I can steer clear of the other vehicles. I drive the Humvee up over the curb and grass, park beside the Jeep and shut it down. I look and listen to see if my antics have drawn any attention. One more thing to do, I think sighing heavily and not looking forward to it.

I walk back to the booth and step inside trying my best to ignore the carnage within. I reach down, grab the black, plastic M-4 stock, and pull it to me. The bolt is back. I remove the magazine and find it empty as suspected. I slide the magazine back in and bend down to the separated arm and hand to pick up the pistol but the hand doesn’t want to let go just yet. I am able to pry the forefinger out of the trigger guard. I then look to the combat vest still secured to the body and see a couple of magazines poking out of their compartments. I take the carbine and pistol out and look on the ground beside the Humvees. Ah, there we go, I think strolling over to them. Several empty magazines lie on the ground by the front wheels. I should have noticed that before.

Gathering everything up, I walk to the front and set everything in the passenger side of the Humvee. Oh crap, I have to get back to the kids, I think closing the passenger door. Otherwise, I may find they have actually driven back to the house. Looking at my watch, I see 0820. I have been here about twenty minutes. Time to get back and then finish up here. I drive the Jeep back to the gate and see them standing on the side of the road as I round the bend. I wanted to bring the Humvee just to see the expressions on their faces but I could also see them jumping in the car and taking off thinking security forces were approaching. That would be great fun; chasing them all of the way back to the house and starting the trek over.

“There’s no one manning the gates,” I tell them after arriving back. “I parked a Humvee at the gate and we can transfer the stuff from the car into it and drive that instead.”

“Do I get to drive it?” Robert asks with a not too well concealed grin.

“No, I’ll drive it and you take the Jeep,” I answer as he hangs his head in mock disappointment. Well, he pretends the mock part but I know he really does want to drive it.

“Let’s head up as before. Watch the road, there are some bodies lying on it but you can maneuver around them.”

We get back into our vehicles and proceed through the gate slowly park where I had before. “Dad, there’s other ones we can drive,” Robert says nodding over to the parked Humvees.

“What!? And leave my Jeep just sitting here. I don’t think so,” I reply and take a step toward the booths.

“But,” he starts but stops immediately as my head whips around toward him, not completing the rest of his sentence. “Okay, Dad.”

“You guys unload the stuff in the Honda into the back of the Humvee. I’ll be right back.”

Back at the booth with the corpse lying in it, I step inside. I don’t really want to go through with this and consider leaving the vest there, but it will come in handy. If this were a fighter base or I had time to find the security detachment building, I could easily find another, but you take what you can get. I bend down by the side of the body and keep my eyes focused on the vest as much as possible. This is not going to be easy to get off just by pulling the arms through so I take my folding blade out and snap it open. The upper arms are being held onto the shoulder by tendons, the muscle structure, and skin in back. I pull the left socket bone away and slice my knife through the tissue setting the arm bones away from the body. I do the same to the right side with my stomach