Page 24 of Redemption
I could spend minutes, and hours, and years of my life mapping out the contours of her face. The wonder and devotion I have for her as my fingertips trail down her smooth skin takes my breath away. But that’s ok, I don’t need to breathe. Not when she’s the only thing I need to survive.
Not when a soft press of my lips to her plump, luscious flesh lights me up inside, and a sweep of her tongue against mine gives me life everlasting.
My hands drift, slowly feathering down her sides, allowing me to memorize every dip and rise of her body. She is beauty incarnate. Aphrodite herself. And I’m just a lowly acolyte, worshiping her amidst her eternal glory.
Our naked bodies meld together. No beginning or end in sight.
A thrust of my hips fills every gap in our souls as we find the rhythm of our madness for one another. The purple, gem-stoned necklace I gifted her—my soul in tangible form—safely harbored between our writhing bodies.
Love.
This is love.
This is....
Just a dream. I know it’s just a dream. A reality lost to the unforgivable hands of time, while I continue to survive the daily, ruthless grind, festering in my self-imposed agony and consumed with the regret and remorse of a choice I was too arrogant and naïve to make. But, through the fading memory, I force my mind to linger there in the darkness a moment longer. To see her face again for a single second more. To—
*BAM*
“GET THE FUCK UP! NOW, MARINES! UP! UP! UP! MOVE YOUR ASSES! LET’S GO!” The door to my newly adopted barracks room caves in as Gunny Diaz steps through, asserting his commanding tone before the sun even peeks its rays over the horizon. His voice echoes with resolving strength as he flips my mattress over, depositing my groggy ass on theground at his feet. “Wake up, Cruz! The shit just hit the fan and you’ve been tasked with helping me get the rest of this platoon up and moving. Get everyone staged out front in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?!” I mumble, my eyes squinting at his blurry form as I rush and stumble over to my closet, grabbing my cammies and throwing my uniform on as quickly as I can.
After all the hullabaloo yesterday, we got word to officially move back into the barracks: the military version of a college dorm room. I was lucky enough to already have extra sets of uniforms and PT gear staged here prior to the shutdown; however, the cramped space, thin walls, and overall agitation at everything are not exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep. After a few hours of frustrated restlessness, knowing I’d have to get up early and work the entire day, I was officially fed up and decided to pop a few melatonin and a swig of NyQuil in the hopes I’d actually sleep through the night.
I instantly regret it.
“Ain’t got no more time to give than that, Cruz. The entire battalion needs to muster up and head on over to the parade deck swift, quick, and in a hurry. Let’s go, Cruz! Move your ass! Base has officially been compromised, and we’ve been tasked with taking out the trash.”
“Trash?”
Fucking hell, brain. Work for me.
I stare back, confused as hell as I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t say any more than that, however, as he turns and heads back out the room to kick down more doors and rouse the rest of us, his voice booming as he covers the distance as quickly as he’s able.
Ok, then. Time to get to work...
I finally get the stupid pant leg over my one foot before falling to the ground trying to get the other one on. “Motherfucking cocksucker... work for me, you son of a bitch!” I finally get my clothing—and legs—to cooperate and successfully pull my own pants over my own ass.
Like a big boy.
I manage to throw on my boots and find a green t-shirt and my cami blouse as I leave my room, buttoning it up as I race up the stairs to the next floor.
The barracks decks are in an absolute frenzy with everyone racing out of their rooms to join with the rest of the platoon down on the ground. But as requested, the barracks are emptied, and everyone is, begrudgingly yet anxiously, in formation within the allotted fifteen minutes, dressed and equipped with our battle gear and weapons.
“OORAH MARINES!”
“RAH GUNNERY SERGEANT!” We all shout in response.
“We have awoken this morning to a new nation. The virus has evolved and knows no boundaries. It’s here and with a fucking vengeance. The southern half of base has already been overrun with infection, and those within its grasp are swiftly turning into—what can only be described as—cannibalistic entities at an unprecedented rate. They are dangerous, they are many, and they are fucking hungry to turn you into whatever the fuck they are as well.
“But we are the dogs of war! Hungrier than ever!
“We will prepare ourselves, this morning, to take down the infected in any way necessary. This includes deadly force. Wehave been cleared by Congress, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and the DOD to act as needed to eliminate the threat.
“As of less than an hour ago, the enemy has breached our gates and is headed this way. The Viral War has found us, gentlemen! Now’s not the time to run. It is time to fight! To do our duty and protect those who cannot protect themselves! Our mission is to take out every single infected individual by any means necessary. Your gas masks may be an essential key to winning this mission. Be sure to use them, for it may be the only thing keeping you from turning into one ofthem.
“Last intel we received stated the current line of defense is being held at Court House Bay, fifteen miles away. At this time, we will rendezvous with 2ndBattalion 9thMarines and proceed as a collective unit, acting as a secondary line of defense against the insurgence, ready to meet our enemy on the main road leading south if the other units are unsuccessful in holding them back.
