The team travelled without incident for what seemed longer than two hours and found a suitable area to hole up for the day. They broke up, each finding a small cranny or crevice from which they had a good view for their watch, but hidden enough for their rest time. Devin was paired with Collin and Aral with Carrie, both wedged into their little nests as the sky was starting to turn pink.

Carrie set the stock of her M16 in the crook where her thigh met her hip, and leaned back. She still had trouble finding a position that didn’t hurt her bruises, but she finally found a compromise. She could still scan a little area and see Collin’s nest, she quietly said to Aral to her left, “Go to sleep.”

“I’ve never seen the sky like that.” He was in awe of the sun rising. He’d only seen the night sky lit up by flying killing machines, search lights and plasma cannons.

“It’s the way we should be living. We weren’t meant to live underground, by night. We were meant to see this everyday.” She watched his eyes lit by the sun that she’d started growing up running and playing under. The sun he’d spent only a couple of years with, years he didn’t even remember. “We should go to sleep.”

She knew it’d be hard for him to tear his eyes away from the growing brightness. Her first daytime above ground after the years in the tunnels was an amazing experience. Eventually, he curled up on himself and fell asleep, and once he was asleep she was able to quickly doze off.
Collin had ordered the sleep schedule then watched his team climb up into positions for the day and settle in. He noted Crow and Symms were asleep almost immediately, but that Carrie had to talk Aral down before both of their heads nodded. He planned to let Devin sleep the full day; puppies weren’t conditioned yet for that long of a haul.

He sat quietly with his thoughts, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. He didn’t like being out in the day, he felt open and exposed. He’d only spent three days out in the open in a hole and he didn’t relish the thought of ever doing it again. At least in a bunker or a warren you weren’t left sitting watch by yourself like this. It allowed you to think too much on your own without a buddy to talk with. It let you to dwell on things you might want to leave alone.

He preferred the fight; in a fight it was mostly instinct. It also let you burn off the pain you felt, so when you did think about things you believed you’d done something. When you thought of your parents hauled off to die in the camps, you think maybe you killed enough to make up for that. Or perhaps the HK you blew up one night was equal to the one that vaporized your little brother many years ago. But, it never added up.
Carrie was fortunate that fatigue and her injuries brought dreamless sleep so that when a rock tossed by Crow woke her she did not startle. She nodded her awareness and started her watch.

She was used to sitting quietly for long stints, and many times during the day. Sniper-scouts frequently did day missions because Skynet didn’t expect them. She would often lay with her rifle in a crevice or under a slab quietly for hours. It was a solitary existence even with her spotter, because they didn’t converse more than necessary to avoid detection.

At first times like this used to lead to her thinking of what if her family had never come here for that Motocross rally for Chris, if she’d given more of her food to Molly would she have been stronger, or what Tennessee was like now. Now she usually just thought of things like if increasing the powder in the load of her rounds would kill machines better or just kill her.

Today, with Aral at her side, she started thinking of Chris and Molly. She stretched and dug into her pocket and pulled out the cat figure. She rolled it around in her fingers a couple of times then put it back in her pocket and resumed scanning the horizon as the sun went down.
The plaque read, “In Memory of Those Who Gave Their Lives on Omaha Beach June 6, 1944”. Carrie brushed her hand across it in ritual as she passed the marker; it was polished bright from the reverence given by many soldiers’ passage. The bronze statue which had stood over it had toppled many years before, but it still stood sentry for the entrance to the tunnel which led to Omaha Base.

The first sentry station was met after walking a short maze of tunnels with Carrie pointing out the hidden markers directing the correct path to follow. When challenged Collin countered, “Sergeant Wall reporting with my team, transferring from Liberty Base.”

“We’ve been expecting you. Messenger came yesterday. Please, report to Captain Barber when you get to the end. Welcome to Omaha.” The sentry looked past Collin, and smiled “Hey, Porter, welcome back.”

“Good to be back”, she smiled back and took a proffered hand, and was unexpectedly pulled in close.

“Sorry to hear about Bradley and everybody,” he said as he squeezed her elbow.

“Yeah, thanks.” She shrugged, and was happy he hadn’t hugged her.

As they moved on, Collin turned his head, “Who’s that?”
-----

Omaha Base seemed palatial compared to most others. Because it was an underground parking garage, it had high ceilings, unheard of in the tunnels and other bases. Makeshift rooms were made up of half walls of scrounged plywood, drywall or furniture, so it had the feel of an old office building with cubicles. It still had the half lit dimness of the tunnels to conserve energy, though, lit by fluorescent fixtures that hung down from above. Some, after living in the tight tunnels, could get a feeling of agoraphobia coming to Omaha. Carrie liked Omaha Base and detested the tunnels, just like she liked being out during the day, contrary to most her brethren.

Level One wasn’t too busy, as patrols were out, but as the night wore on intel would be coming in and things might get crazy. The team leaned against the scrounged plywood that made up the wall to Captain Barber’s office. They had shucked their packs and weapons, happy to be lightened of their load.

While they waited they watched soldiers passing and the newcomers took in the new surroundings. Several people greeted Carrie warmly and welcomed her back. One tall, lean soldier carrying a clipboard looked up and stopped short, “Carrie! You’re back”, he beamed.

“Davies, hi”, she replied “Wall, do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he waved with his hand.

She led Davies over to an opposite wall, “I didn’t know if you were coming back here,” he frowned, “I’m sorry about the team.”

She shrugged, looking down, “It happens,” she knew she’d be having this conversation many times in the next few days.

He stepped in closer, eyeing her bruises “God, you’re beat up,” his hand ran down her arm lifting it up to look closer, “You OK?”

Carrie stiffened, glanced over at the team, “Yeah,”

He leaned in close, “You’ll meet me after shift?”

She leaned away and crossed her arms, “Davies, I’m tired. I just walked for 2 nights and slept in a hole over day”.

“Soon?” He brushed her hair behind her ears.

Collin took in Omaha Base as a whole and pondered its differences to every other tunnel and base he’d been in. Carrie was right, people were friendly here, and she seemed well liked. He wondered if it was because the openness of the surroundings made it seem as if the earth was not crushing you.

As they waited, the blonde headed man who stopped seemed very happy to see Carrie; however Collin noted she didn’t introduce him. Collin couldn’t ignore Symms’ and Crow’s banter.

“Oooh, looks like he already has permission to touch her.” Crow murmured.

“I thought she didn’t have a fella,” Symms commented.

“Looks like he thinks he has a girl,” Crow countered. “Oooh, permission denied! He’s lucky he’s not against the wall!”

“You guys shut the fuck up”, Collin muttered to them as Carrie crossed back over to them. It was obvious she wouldn’t take the joking well.

“Sergeant Wall”, a lieutenant stepped out of the office, “I’m Lieutenant Ferdinand. Captain Barber will be busy for a while. Return at 08:00 for debriefing. You will be billeted where Bradley’s squad was previously. Porter, welcome back.”

“Yes, sir”, Collin responded.

They shouldered their packs and Carrie led them down to Level Four of her old familiar home. She was grateful that most people were out, because she needed to deal with the off kilter feeling she had before she faced more old friends. She was returning home, to the same bed, same sounds and smells, but with people she barely knew.

She turned a corner made by an old filing cabinet and a bookshelf and entered a room walled by pegboard, with eight stained mattresses on the floor. “Here it is. Home, Sweet, Home.” She went to a mattress in the far corner, dropped her pack onto it and hung her rifle from a peg on the wall. She wistfully noted where her old one had hung previously. “Aral, here next to me. Hang up your rifle here.”

Crow whistled, “Wow, nice digs. No muck!”

Everyone else looked around, then chose a pad. Collin was across from Carrie with Devin next to him, and thankfully the jokers were farthest away next to the entrance. When they got more team members they would fill in the other spaces. They started unloading their packs into the rare, but welcome, storage of scavenged bookshelves. Collin stood and eyed the penciled mural of a rampant lion on the concrete wall, “Was that your unit’s crest?”

“Yeah, it was”, she unconsciously rubbed her tattooed back. He now figured what Crow had spied the other evening.

“Hunh, ours is a Manticore, essentially like a winged lion.” And, he pulled up his right pant leg and showed her the black tattoo on his calf.

“I see,” she nodded, and quickly changed the subject; “The latrines are located on the southwest corner, potable water on the northwest and washing water on the northeast. Rec and chow are on Level Six”.

“Washing water?” Symms asked incredulously, “Things are different here!”

“Yes, please make use of it”, Carrie responded dryly, “Oh, Wall, Barber’s pretty straight and narrow so you’ll want to be crisp for your debriefing.”

“You’ll be with me”, he informed her.

“OK, then I guess I’ll be crisp, too”, she quipped. -----

“Aral, first thing you should do when you come in is clean your rifle. If it gets dirty it won’t work properly. But, you didn’t fire it, so just wipe it down.” Carrie wanted to get him into the ritual of taking care of his gear.

Normally she would have come straight in and started on her rifle. She wouldn’t have eaten, said hello to anyone, possibly even dressed a wound, she would have cleaned her weapon. However, things were in disarray right now and she felt she’d been negligent. She would need to get back into routine, so she took care of business.

She hadn’t had an M16 in years, however the duty was ingrained into her and she was quickly finished with her task. She gave it a final wipe down with a rag, laid it in front of her and studied it for a minute. She pulled the plastic cat toy from her pocket and just noticed how some of the red was wearing off the dress it wore. She pried open the ring from her XM500 which was still attached to it, and then worked it into the ring that attached the sling to the stock. The rifle felt like hers now.
Collin ran a rod down the bore of his rifle ignoring the jabber of Symms and Crow as they also took to the task of weapons maintenance. Even with their chatter, it was quiet here and his thoughts turned inward.

Collin was highly impressed with the set up of Omaha’s sleeping quarters. He’d heard stories, but he’d always thought they were overblown. Not that Omaha was Shangri La, but dry beat tunnel muck any day of the week, and places to stow your gear was gravy on top of that.

This place was so different than the hardscrabble existence of the other places he’d been in. He thought of Carrie’s warning of Captain Barber’s discipline and thought maybe that’s why this place was unique. At first glance, it appeared well run and it seemed to turn out good people.

He finished with his cleaning and racked his rifle. Carrie was doing a good job taking over Aral as she showed him the ropes as she cleaned her rifle. He had appreciated her reluctance in taking over, but her performance showed that she was taking on her responsibilities without hesitation. He watched with curiosity as she pulled out the little doll that the armorer had returned to her. She would tell him some day when she was ready, he figured.

“I’m ready for some food,” he finally broke the quiet in the corner.

Carrie looked up from her weapon, “Level Six should have something cold right now. I think I’ll take some rack time, and take my boots off for the first time in three days.”

‘I’ll have Aral bring something back for you,” he said. He was just noticing the dark rings under her eyes; they probably mirrored everyone else’s in the room. “Then we’ll all take some sleep before you and I have to meet the Captain”.

“Sounds like a plan,” she responded as she started unlacing her boots.

Chap. IV: Hot Fight

Chap VI: Hot Body