Four weeks. No days off. Twelve-hour rotations. Fights between friends. Between companies. Hope running on fumes.
That night, the Two-Five-Five sat around Scott — drenched, filthy, exhausted beyond words. One soldier finally asked it.
“Sarg … how long can we keep this up?”
Scott stared at the ground for a long time.
Then looked up.
“Till we die.”
The words hung heavy. He softened slightly.
“It’s a privilege to do what we do. This state is gone. Thousands are dead. And somehow this workload got placed in our hands.”
He stepped forward.
“We finally get to do what we signed up for.”
Silence.
Then one voice: “Hooah.”
Another. Then another. It built. Soon they were shouting, chest-bumping, beating their fists against their body armor. For the first time in days — they felt alive.
Then there was a knock.
“First Sergeant … there’s a man in a limo outside.”
Scott blinked. A limo. Parked beside the ambulance staging area.He walked toward it, exhausted and irritated. The door opened in a strange mechanical sweep. Scott smirked.
“So this is what rich people spend money on, huh?”
A man in a pristine suit stepped out.
“I have good news and bad news.”
Scott crossed his arms.
“Good news?”
“You go home tomorrow.”
For the first time in weeks, Scott’s face almost changed.
“Bad news?”
The man’s smile faded.
“When you get back … it isn’t the world you left. No power. No water. People fighting over food.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m the mayor of Nevada. And I’m telling you … it’s chaos.”
Scott didn’t blink.
“We’ll take our chances.”
The limo left.
Scott returned to Scayes, Long, and Adume’. “Formation,” he said quietly.
They echoed it. The company assembled.
“Good news,” Scott shouted. “We go home tomorrow.”
The eruption was immediate. He let them have it. After a minute he raised his hand.
“Bad news. Home isn’t home. No power. No water. Supplies are thin.”
Silence replaced celebration.
“You have the rest of the night off. Be ready to move.”
“COMPANY!”
“IRON WILL!”
“DISMISSED!”
As he walked away, he noticed the other company loading weapons into their LMTVs. Weapons. For what? Scott paused.Then shook it off.
“Finally,” he muttered.
“This weight comes off my shoulders.”
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t coming off. It was just changing shape.
Two A.M.
One of the soldiers forgot to turn his radio off and put it on charge.
After a long night of drinking, swapping stories, and reliving all the childish things they still wanted to do, exhaustion finally won. Some had more than a few beers. Some passed out where they fell. Others made it to their cots. Everything was supposed to be turned in tomorrow. They would leave promptly thereafter.
It was supposed to be a quiet night. Instead, at two a.m., a loud, irritating shriek tore through the second floor. The radio. It sat near the stairwell, screaming static and interference into the darkness. Ten soldiers nearby jolted awake.
Not the one who owned it.
By the time someone stumbled over to shut it off, voices broke through the distortion — speaking another language. Not English. Harsh. Urgent. Wind ripping through the transmission.
The ten men froze. They didn’t argue. They didn’t speculate.They went straight to wake their team leader. Three of them carried the radio to the acting First Sergeant — Jeffery Scott.They burst into his room.
“First Sergeant!” the team leader barked, shaking him hard.
Jeffery jolted upright, disoriented and angry. “It’s still dark— what in the—”
They didn’t explain. They just held the radio to his face. Jeffery lay there for half a second, bloodshot eyes narrowing as he listened. Static. Wind. Foreign voices.
He was on his feet in an instant. He ran outside. Other soldiers were already moving. The company across the way was grabbing M4s from the LMTVs. Boots hit gravel. Metal clanked. No one was joking anymore.
Jeffery looked up. In the faint darkness, he saw the last silhouettes of aircraft flying low — too low — trying to land in the open fields behind the cabins. His stomach dropped.
“GO WAKE EVERYONE UP! NOW!” he shouted, pointing violently toward the barracks.
He ran toward the other company’s First Sergeant, who had just stepped outside.
“We need your help,” Jeffery demanded.
The man rolled his eyes. “What, you idiots forget your weapons? Help yourselves.”
Jeffery didn’t bother responding. He was already moving.Weapons were distributed fast — three platoon sergeants handing rifles to their men. Some soldiers were still half-drunk. A few were loud.
“HEY!” Jeffery barked. “Shut up! From what I’ve gathered, it looks like we’re at war. Do you want the enemy to find us?”
Silence.
Instant.
Both companies merged and broke into groups of ten. Orders were given quickly. Formations assigned. Movement paths set.They crouched low and ran. Some had to stop to vomit. After nearly a mile, they halted near housing units and thick brush. Bushes shifted ahead.
Everyone dropped into position. Jeffery could see it clearly — rows of soldiers, weapons raised, waiting. For a split second, pride washed over him. Then fear.
His hands trembled from the adrenaline. Ten men dropped.Forward. Backward. No warning. No one fired. No one breathed. Three shadowy figures stepped out of the brush. Then more. Shapes appearing and disappearing like smoke. Another soldier fell.
That was when Jeffery knew. They were not ready for this.
“Fall back!” he shouted.
They moved carefully at first.
Then ten more fell.
Muffled shots cracked through the dark — so suppressed they barely made a sound. All Jeffery could see were faint flashes, like fireflies — only brighter.
“FALL BACK NOW!” he roared.
Chaos entered every soldier’s heart at once. They ran. Jeffery ran with them, weapon in hand, unable to tell who was his and who wasn’t in the darkness. His heart pounded against his ribs.
Is this the day I die?
Outside, it was a war zone.
Inside, something strange happened.
Calm.
Moments stretched. Time slowed. This wasn’t how he wanted to die. But it would be fitting. A soldier nearly collided with him. Jeffery grabbed him and shoved him in the right direction, pointing where to run. He couldn’t speak. His throat wouldn’t work. Scayes caught up behind them.
Then Scayes fell hard. Jeffery turned to help him.
“RUN, YOU FREAKIN’ IDIOT! RUN!” Scayes screamed.
It tore at Jeffery’s chest to leave him. But he did. A split-second decision. One he would have to live with. Bodies lay scattered behind him. He jumped over two of his own men. He burst into the clearing near the vehicles.
No one else in sight.
He ran for a HMMWV. Two soldiers burst from the woods behind him.
“First Sergeant! What do we do?”
“Get in! NOW!”
Three more appeared. Two others ran toward the barracks. A faint squeak. One dropped mid-stride. Another squeak. The second collapsed in the doorway.
“Scott! Scott! Wait for me!” Scayes shouted, breath ragged.
Jeffery slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. The others piled in. Scayes barely made it, slamming the door as Jeffery peeled out. He didn’t look back.
Shadowy figures appeared briefly under a flickering light pole. Muzzle flashes sparked. Bullets ricocheted off the armored body. One round punched through. The passenger jerked — hit multiple times in the chest.
Three more rounds tore through metal. Adume’s team leader screamed, clutching his stomach. Jeffery didn’t stop. If he stopped, they died. Tunnel vision swallowed him whole. The engine roared. Screams blurred. Gunfire muffled into nothing.
He drove.
And drove.
He didn’t realize dawn had begun to break until pale light crept across the sky. He crossed state lines without remembering when. He finally pulled into a gas station. He stepped out, dusted himself off, and began pumping diesel.
“Scayes, you alright?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah … I’m fine. You?”
Jeffery nodded faintly. Then he noticed it.
People had carved a clear path through the parking lot so the HMMWV could pull in. Faces stared. Desperation in their eyes.Murmurs started. He opened the passenger door.
“Specialist Donn. Wake up.”
No response. Jeffery shoved him harder.
Donn’s body rolled slightly. Dried blood cracked. More seeped out. Jeffery stepped back slowly. The click of the fuel nozzle echoed loudly in his ears. Inside the vehicle, Scayes began punching the dashboard over and over.
“Scayes. Calm down. Everyone’s looking at us. Enough.”
The murmuring grew louder.
“What happened?”
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“Why aren’t you helping?”
Jeffery’s mind replayed everything in a flash. The planes.The shadows. The bodies. He hung the nozzle up mid-pump. Got in.Drove off.
Twenty minutes down the road, it broke him. Jeffery slammed the steering wheel. Punched the roof. “I LOST EVERYBODY! WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?! HOW DID I MAKE IT?! WHY? WHY?! THEY’RE ALL GONE! ALL OF THEM! IT’S MY FAULT! I SHOULD’VE DIED WITH MY MEN! WHY, GOD?! HOW DID I SURVIVE THAT?!”
The vehicle swerved. Scayes exploded too.
“I DON’T KNOW, SCOTT! I DON’T KNOW! HOW DID THOSE BULLETS MISS US AND HIT EVERYONE ELSE?! WE WERE RIGHT THERE!”
Jeffery screamed until his throat burned. Then he went quiet.They both did. No more words. Just numbness.