Page 8 of Proof Of Life

“Looks like a dry hole,” I report into my headset.

It grows so quiet you can hear a pin drop, and I figure they must have hit the back stairs. Brandt and I move through the narrow halls, with me clearing rooms on the left and him on the right, working in tandem to sweep the first floor. I see nothing, not even debris. Perhaps they haven’t moved in yet. Before we leave, we’ll make sure there is nothing left of this building for them to move into.

A click echoes through the headset, and every muscle in my body tenses as I recognize the sound. Moving on autopilot, we duck into the janitor's closet. The force of Brandt’s solid body crashing into me from behind knocks the breath from me as I hit the gravel floor face first.

“Frag out,” someone screams into the mic, their voice so loud in my ear it bounces around inside my head, and I brace for the inevitable explosion.

I scramble to cover Brandt’s body with mine, rolling over him to protect him from falling debris. Time stops, even though it continues to move. The sound of wood splintering like sheets of paper fills my headset. The force of the blast reverberates through my body, shaking my bones and teeth until they rattle. I can taste the dust and debris in my mouth. Brandt shouts in my ear and through my headset, so that I hear and feel him everywhere. Nothing exists but my fear and his body and voice. The smell of burning wood and chemicals fills the air like a toxic cologne. It’s the scent of death and destruction.

“Sharp! Boom!” My call goes unanswered as my fear mounts. “Rosie!”

Two more explosions in rapid succession shake the entire building, and I can hear the creaking and cracking of it breaking apart, preparing to bury us in its rubble. The floor beneath us becomes a weapon as gravel tears through my fatigues, imbedding into my skin. The impact of the blast forces us apart, throwing my body several feet away from his, and I land in a broken heap. Chunks of the ceiling come crashing down on our bodies, the walls cave in.

The pain is blinding, and almost too much to bear, and then I–

It’s dark.

And cold.

So dark, I can’t see.

But I can feel the chill seeping deep into my bones.

The icy cold makes my body feel numb.

My limbs feel heavy and sluggish, as if I’m underwater.

Am I swimming?

I must be under the water, deep in the ocean, where the sunlight doesn’t reach, where it’s cold and dark.

The pressure is closing in on me.

That’s why my head hurts.

The throbbing beats against my skull, a slow, steady rhythm in sync with my heartbeat.

But… There's no water in the desert.

We’re stationed miles from the ocean.

Why would I be swimming?

If I could just get my–

I’m burning alive.

Cell by cell, every molecule and atom in my body is evaporating under the relentless, scorching inferno that consumes me.

The heat from the core of my body is spreading through my veins like wildfire, making my limbs tingle.

Why did he leave me for dead in the middle of the desert?

The sun is going to bleach my bones as white as the rocks.

Reminds me of that time Brandt and I took four days’ leave in Cancun.

I burned my skin so red I couldn’t even get laid because I was in so much pain and discomfort.

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