morning activity of people heading off on various assignments and errands are non-existent. A little further away from the TOC and the body of the soldier in the road, a figure steps out from a building ahead and into the roadway. The small group freezes into place, ready for anything that may come. Stopping in the road, the figure ahead looks anxiously to the left and right before sighting the group. Appearing startled by the sight of her group of five, the figure walks warily toward them, tensed and ready to run. Lynn turns her head over her shoulder and tells everyone to remain in place.
As the figure draws near, Lynn observes the wariness and tension from the fatigue-clad soldier. “Identify yourself,” Lynn calls out once the soldier closes in to where they can hear without her broadcasting their location. The tension visibly leaves the soldier as she replies back, “Corporal Horace.”
“You’re the first ones I’ve seen today, Sergeant,” Horace replies as she steps up to the group.
She then relates her story of the night prior detailing how she headed out to the latrine in the middle of the night and was chased repeatedly until taking refuge in one of the buildings for the night. She was over by zone 2 and listened all night to the shrieks, howls, and apparent running gunfights with the sounds of the gunfire dying around 0200. Watching from the windows of her building, she saw several other soldiers attacked and taken down,
Heading over to the camp armory, the group encounters more bodies of soldiers and civilian contractors laying in the sand in various positions but looking like the first body they encountered to some degree or another; bones stripped mostly to the skin.
“What in the world could or would do this?” Taylor asks quietly as they pass two more bodies lying in the warming desert sun, not really expecting an answer.
As with the first soldier she encountered, Lynn removes a dog tag from each one adding them to the growing number in her pocket.
“I don’t know but we’re going to have to assume the camp has been overrun at this point,” Lynn replies noting the very distinct lack of people or the noises normally associated with a large group of people assembled in one place.
Stepping around the corner of a building and onto the roadway leading to the armory, Lynn sees a larger group standing in the roadway in front of the armory a short ways ahead. She signals the others with her to hold up, not knowing if the group ahead is friendly or not, and draws to a stop with the rest of the group behind her.
“I think we should head between the buildings here,” she says pointing back in the direction they came and a pathway leading between them, “until we can get closer and find out their disposition.”
Retracing their steps, still unseen by the larger group, they turn left and walk down the pathway, keeping the buildings between them and the other group. As they draw closer, the sound of voices begins to penetrate the mostly silent area. They squat behind the building directly across from where the others have gathered.
“What do you think, Sergeant Connell?” Drescoll asks quietly as they all gather in a circle.
“I don’t recall hearing any of those affected ones speaking and they’re not attacking each other, so I think we’re going to have to assume they’re okay,” she says squatting in the shadow of the building. “I’ll go out and make contact. The rest of you stay here. Sergeant Drescoll, keep an eye on what happens. If it goes bad, get out of here. If we become separated, the rally point will be the TOC. Everyone clear?”
“You got it,” Drescoll responds. The rest of the small group gathered around her answer with a quiet “Yes, Sergeant.”
Lynn stands up and brushes some not-so-imaginary sand from her fatigues, more from an anticipatory action and readying herself to step into an unknown, and steps around the corner heading towards the front of the building, watching the group ahead for any reaction. There are about twenty soldiers gathered in front of the armory in a semi-circular fashion centering their attention on another solider. For the most part, their backs are to her and her approach.
Lynn walks out from the shadow of the building and into the bright morning sun beating down upon this barren part of the world. Stopping momentarily to let her eyes adjust, she sees one of the soldiers closer to the central figure as he turns in her direction and notices her. He immediately turns back toward the central figure and starts speaking, pointing in her direction, the exact words not quite reaching her ears.
All eyes turn on her as one, the open end of the semi-circle reorienting so that it is now facing her. “Approach and identify yourself,” the central figure states.
“Sergeant Connell,” Lynn responds feeling relieved as some of the tension inside her releases.
She walks toward the group. As she approaches, she notices that the group is a mix of enlisted personnel and NCO’s. She recognizes the short, slightly overweight central figure as Major Bannerman. Walking across the roadway, she steps up to him and salutes.
“I have another small group with me, sir,” she says as Major Bannerman returns her salute and she motions them out.
As her small group walks out from their location and into the roadway, Major Bannerman says, “We were just going to draw weapons and gear and head over to the TOC.”
“I just came from there, sir. We haven’t been able to make contact with anyone else on base nor with anyone on the outside. We haven’t encountered anyone else this morning with the exception of Corporal Horace here. Lots of bodies though.”
“We haven’t either ,Sergeant. We’ll form a temporary unit comprising of those with us until we can get in contact and help arrives. Sergeant Connell, you’re now my First Sergeant. Let’s arm up and head over to the TOC,” Bannerman says.
“Yes, sir,” Lynn responds. “Sergeant Drescoll, draw your weapon, then take seven with you who can drive and bring eight Humvees back here. The rest of you will draw your weapons and start bringing ammo out, stacking it in front.”
The handles on the double steel doors leading into the large tan armory building are warm to the touch as Lynn pulls the left door open. Cool air from the dimmed interior rushes out and brushes against her. The concrete floor of the small entrance room is lit only by the light streaming in from the now open door. Stepping into the room, Lynn looks to the right wall and, finding the light switch, flicks the bank of lights to the on position. The fluorescent lights hanging from the false ceiling of the convex building come to life, flickering momentarily before flooding the room. To the immediate left and right of the entrance, offices show through glass panels set into the walls with their doors open. A short distance on the other side of the room, another small room sits behind a wire enclosure with another set of double steel doors leading into the back of the building next to it.
“Private, check those doors,” Lynn says pointing at the other steel doors as others come into the room. “I’ll see if I can find the checkout sheet.”
Stepping to a door leading into the caged area, Lynn tests the door, surprisingly finding it unlocked and opens it. “The doors are locked, Sergeant Connell,” the Private says, checking the doors leading into the armory proper as Lynn steps into the caged room.
Rummaging through the small area, she finds several sets of keys. Pocketing those, she then finds a clipboard and several sheets of paper. Standing close to the wire and addressing the group within the entrance room, she says, “Okay, listen up everyone. When you draw your weapon and gear, I want your name, unit, serial number, and the serial number of your weapon on the first sheet. When we start bringing the ammo out, I want quantity and type on the second sheet. We’ll enter in groups of five. Is that clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, First Sergeant” resounds in the room. With clipboard in hand, Lynn moves towards the steel doors leading into the armory proper. Testing various keys, she eventually finds the right one and unlocks the doors. Swinging them outward and bracing them open, she looks inside. The large room appears to run the remaining length of the building but is shrouded in darkness, lit only to a depth of about the first fifteen feet from the doors. A bank of light switches sits against the wall to her left.
“You five in with me,” she says to the first five behind her and reaches over to the switches, flicking them upward.
The sound of relays closing echo in the room from front to back. The lights come on in a sequential fashion, ‘chunk, chunk, chunk, chunk,’ spreading light into the room in stages as banks of large, hanging lights come on inside the warehouse.
A loud shriek sounds to her immediate right. Whipping her head in that direction, she is in time to witness something large slam into one of the soldiers who accompanied her into the room. The soldier is knocked from his
