0710 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 15 AUGUST 2106.
PESHAWAR, PAKISTAN.
THIRTEEN MINUTES LED TO THE EXPLOSION.
The building shook as a metallic groan ripped through the support beams. They all heard it. It was so loud that it was no doubt an object that slammed into the building—and with the current scenery of Peshawar—a missile had hit the building. At the front of the group slowly descending, Jacob looked out the window next to him. Ashes, debris, and shattered glass falling beside the building. His hazel eyes widened as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
“Green, keep it moving!” Oliver said from the top of the stairs. If the building had been hit, there was a chance that the floors above them could collapse if the main structure had been rupture. He pressed his men to get out of the building—not only to recce ground zero—but to get out of the hot zone.
Punching his rifle through the threshold of the emergency exit, Jacob rushed to the rear entryway of the apartment complex. He only stopped at the aluminum door as the other Rangers corralled around him, and with one swift push, he pushed the locking mechanism in and moved it a half foot before it stopped from sudden resistance.
“Jammed?” Sergeant Malkovich asked as he kept his rifle trained on the open door. Their position was exposed.
“Use the key, sergeant.” Jacob chirped.
As the PFC stepped aside covering Malkovich, the NCO stepped forward readying himself to kick open the door. Throwing his boot where the bold was on the door, the metal sheet snapped open, and the sergeant stepped aside letting the Rangers through.
“Clear, right!” Jacob shouted.
“Clear, left!” Simon followed up.
“Clear!” The others agreed as they stepped into an alleyway.
To say that they didn’t encounter anyone in the alleyway behind the building was accurate; however, this place was not empty. Occupied by corpses, they painted the pavement in a deep red. Jacob and Anthony gagged as they forced themselves to not look at the object that had blocked the door.
Oliver had silently sent his fireteam to set up a perimeter around them as he investigated why they had stopped. Slowly becoming disoriented by the fierce smell that emanated from behind the door, he took a knee in front of a body that was desecrated.
The subject mentioned was resting against the door. What laid before them was believed to be a result of the end of a torturing session or some form of psychological warfare; it was unbelievable, but such is war. Whomever was killed had his guts ripped out and strung around him. Pulps of red stained the asphalt, and it was as if someone had cut open the body and neatly folded their insides, out.
“Holy shit. He couldn’t have died more than a few hours ago.” Anthony commented as he eyed the maggots feasting on the scattered body parts.
“What the fuck is this?” Andrew kicked the ground.
“I think I’m going to be sick. Is that an SSG operative?” Jacob asked steading himself on a wall with a grim look plastered on his face.
“Don’t look at it for now. Once we’re out of here take some deep breaths,” Mike said gently as he stood in front of the body that the private was staring at. Just behind the boy, he watched as maggots climbed all over the caved-in face of a soldier that was long dead. “Captain, we need to go. If those D-Boys or the Pakistanis are alive, they won’t last another minute under fire.”
Oliver lowered his head and let out a quick breath. He looked past the corpses seeing a melting shard of glass on a railing above the alleyway, “Let’s go, Mike on point.”
“Watch your back. We’re walking into hostile territory,” Mike warned as he took point. He kept a steady pace, his mind going back to the corpses. Though it wouldn’t stay, the sergeant’s mind wondered to the questioning act of killing. He had long gotten past the questions of whether it was good or bad, or whether it was necessary. Only now could he question all the decisions he had made in his life. It was odd, such questions only now bothered to appear in one of the worst fights he had yet to be in. This is going to get me killed. Mike told himself, and he was right, this was distracting him and would eventually lead to him making a fatal mistake if he kept on this train of thought.
Being a leader wasn’t something that came natural to the brown-haired man—he and fifty others had entered a special training program for new sergeants and yet here he was, one out of the seven that passed the class and was thrown into Ranger School at Fort Bragg. Even with the new age of training, he was still susceptible to a bullet. And here, it was the last place where he could afford to be careless. The other’s relied on him to not die.
Stepping through the empty, death-filled streets, the Rangers had slowed. The day had been chaotic, and time had begun to catch up to the tired men as they continued their trek to the target building. It would’ve been a short journey, yet as Mike continued to mumble to himself lost in his own thoughts his fellow Rangers had become alerted by a familiar noise.
“Hind! Hind!”
Simon shouted as he pointed to the sky. A Russian designed helicopter gunship was rapidly approaching their position, though they didn’t know if it was friend or foe. Up above the thumping of the rotor blades against the wind sharpened Mike’s mind as he instantly began to step away from the open street they were about to approach. His eyes flashed over a set of carcasses that were once functioning ATVs, LAVs, and APCs. He knew that they were inside of a kill zone that was regularly patrolled by attack helicopters.
“Is that friendly, I can’t see an IFF!” Anthony shouted as the helicopter grew closer.
“Move into that building!” Andrew bellowed as he and the others broke into a sprint. Malkovich took the lead as he threw his body into the shut door making it slam open with a loud thud. The sergeant instantly snapped his rifle up as the others followed behind him and swept the room of an apparent shop, they had made entry into.
Scanning the room through the sights of the rifles the room seemed empty, nothing more than pots and pans was strung about and a counter that hinted that the group had entered some small-time café. Moving to the opposite side of the shop, Mike began to inspect a nearby corridor, he waited for someone to provide backup. As the rest of the Rangers piled into over, they all waited in the foyer as the beats of the helicopter blades flew over them and disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
Mike slowed his breath as he looked through his rifle scope at a nearby table, “Alright. The Hind’s gone—”
“Zanadakeh—” A door from behind the counter had slammed open as an old man walked out raising a handgun at Mike. Hearing screams behind him they were all drowned out as gunshots erupted within the shop. The filter within his headphones attempted to lower the noise that ripped passed him—within mere inches—and as a failsafe it disabled the microphone leaving him with normal ballistic earmuffs. Mike felt his body fall against the wall next to him as he saw Simon pressing the advantage. He had been the first to react and engage, and now he repeatedly pulled the trigger of his M-5 firing seven bullets as the hostile’s body tore spreading bright pink blood on the floor and the door behind him.
As the Rangers silently moved into the doorway, stepping into the pile of blood from the now deceased man. They posted themselves at each possible firing point as Mike stumbled onto the drywall next to him. He rested his helmet against the wall that was peppered with entry wounds from the bullets fired.
“—We need to clear the rest of this building,” Mike heard Corporal Conner’s voice as his ear protection reactivated the built-in microphone. “Sarge! Hey, look at me!”
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He raised a hand stopping the medic, “I’m fine, Doc.”
“Nope, you’re not.” Conner frowned at the man.
“My boy hit?” Oliver placed a hand on the taller sergeant’s shoulder.
“No, sir.”
Oliver hummed gently, “Malkovich, Jacob, Anthony, Mike. Clear the hallway. We have the rest.”
“Fuck.” Mike moved with the three waiting by the hall. The heat that was beating down on the shop only seemed to be amplified by the stuffy environment and the lack of air conditioning, he considered himself lucky that he had yet to run out of water in his hydration pack or had a hole in his head.
As they cleared each room, Mike was always last in the stack, Jacob told him that he wouldn’t be taking point for a good while. His boots were muffled on the carpet below his feet and now he walked just behind Sergeant Malkovich. Jacob and Anthony waited out in the hallway as the two-sergeant stopped moving in the last room. Mike was glad they excused themselves as if they didn’t, he would have told them to get out. Stepping on shard of shattered glass, the result of an explosion some unknown time ago, Mike quietly shifted within the small room. Behind him, Sergeant Malkovich noticed his counterpart’s movements, he questioned if Sergeant Randall was in a delirious state since he was disoriented by his near-death experience. Together, they remained silent with the confines of the small, dusty room where tattered clothes and destroyed clothes remained in place. Spotting a small frog plushie on the ground, Mike knelt and picked it up cradling the oddly intact plus.
“Have you seen anything like this before?” Mike suddenly broke the silence as he looked at Malkovich from the corner of his eye.
“Yes, I’m afraid I have.” Malkovich breathed lightly as he stepped over to a nearby closet and opened revealing nothing but clothes and spare blankets and pillows. “It was back when I was in the 3rd Armored Company in Tasmania.”
“God knows what happened to these people when this shit-show began.” Letting the frog plush fall to the dust covered floor, Mike stood up as he patted his gloved hands together.
“Were you able to catch a few hours of sleep earlier?” Malkovich knew staying on this conversation wouldn’t be beneficial.
The sergeant paused a moment, “Yes.” He answered wearily.
Malkovich simply sagged his shoulders. He turned his head to hide the tired expression in his eyes, and he was thankful for the half-face mask he wore over his face. Before Mike could comment on the silence, Malkovich interrupted him, “Let’s go,” he said as he walked out of the room leaving a very concerned and confused sergeant behind in the destroyed room. Mike soon followed, and as he walked back into the shop a conversation had brewed between Lieutenant Andrew, Baker, and Oliver.
“We don’t have any idea what the status of the SSG is. Our contact with the TOC has been cut off and the options we have are limited.” Andrew opened.
Baker seemed conflicted, “Our current objective should be to confirm the death of the target then get-the-fuck-out. We need to figure out what happened and get a report back to base, apart from seeing if our guys are alive, nothing else matters.”
His opinion had been voice. It grew the concern of the Rangers, but nothing was said in return.
“This place could act as a safe house in the event we fall back from the target building. Captain, we’re leaving this up to you.” Sergeant Malkovich added putting the decision on the captain who had remained silent throughout the conversation.
“I don’t want to get stuck in between what is clearly a rebellion against the government of Pakistan, and I don’t know what the Russians had planned in the event that the US failed its response.” Oliver said firmly making the final call, “We’ll check the target building, and if we’re lucky enough we’ll find any survivors of either team. Priority is the evacuation of Peshawar. If we find anyone, we’ll move back to the vehicles and go to rally point Hotel. The 1st ID should be there to provide aid in the evacuation. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this the right way. Any objections?”
No one made any attempt of resistance. They had all silently agreed with the plan that was thrown together hastily, and all were willing to throw their lives to make sure any of their own made it out alive. “Take the street across.” Oliver said as he stepped towards the doorway only stepping back to allow someone else to take point. He hated it, he wanted to lead from the front again, but doctrine had changed since 2098.
Walking under the heat of the sun, each Ranger was beginning to see the resulting fatigue that had formed over the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t uncommon for the men within the battalions to go days without proper sleep, and luckily their adjustment to such a harsh lifestyle kept them on their toes and aware of their surroundings: flocks of bird flew overheard in between the distant cries of gunshots and helicopters maneuvering throughout the tight-packed skies. Bullet holes, blast shadows, and destroyed vehicles littered the grounds the birds flew above, and the men traversed. Passing by a destroyed American Stryker Mark V, Oliver directed his men to investigate the wreckage, and fortunately all the doors were open and no bodies or lose tear were found.
“Hope they made it out in one piece.” Lieutenant Andrew whispered watching as his visor displayed the identity of the unit that the beasts belonged to.
“I wouldn’t doubt they did.” Mike responded keeping a healthy amount of optimism. He kept his carbine in the low-ready and he glanced towards the men ahead of him. The bolder ones, Oliver, Baker, Malkovich and Anthony pressed forward through the ghost town not bothering to spare a glance to the myriad of bodies and destruction that laid all around.
No matter what branch, no matter what unit, there would always be those looking to lead from the front and get into the thick of the danger. Mike himself was somewhere in the middle; he was both frightened by the sight of war, yet he wasn’t one to succumb to fear during a mission, he had a responsibility to get all his men home safe, something he had took from the legacy of his current captain.
Jacob was one of the men that had a difficult time keeping his composer. “Keep it together.” He said that over-and-over seemingly to distract himself and clam his rattled nerves. By all accounts this was the PFC’s first deployment, and by extension his first time acting in an active combat arena. Mike wanted to watch out for the young private. He wanted to make sure that if anything, Jacob and the others would return to the homeland in one piece.
“Target building, eighty meters, front.” Malkovich adjusted the magnification of his rifle scope as he stared across the large street that separated them from ground zero.
“No clear way to get there,” Anthony observed. He released the tube on his grenade launched and slipped a high explosive shell inside.
Oliver nodded as he looked at the street, “Stick to the perimeter, then cross when were in front of it.”
Their boots echoed in the empty streets. The weight of their gear pressed upon their backs as they soon reached the target building in complete silence. There they stood on the hot asphalt and looked upon the wreckage and destruction that had occurred over the span of eight minutes.
Laying under the sun’s rays, the squadron of Pakistani SSG, ten to be exact, laid dead. Their bodies were riddled with bullet holes and their blood had spilt onto the asphalt and dried creating a purple-red hue.
“Hey, weren’t there supposed to be eighteen of them?” Andrew asked breaking the uneasy silence.
“Something like that,” A light cough came from Jacob as he resisted the churning in his stomach.
Andrew walked over to one of the bodies that had slumped against a street barricade. He lifted the body towards the ground and his face grimaced at the sight of the bullet that had made the SSG operator’s face unrecognizable. “Farid Ahmed. He was the officer in charge for the SSG.” He said placing the dog tag back on the body’s chest.
“No joy with getting them out alive,” Conner said grimacing at the mutilated bodies.
“We need to check the building.” Oliver ordered as he directed the Rangers at the rear entrance of the building away from any prying eyes, “Target Brutus and the others could very well still be in play.
“Roger that sir, Mike, cover down with team 2, we’re going to get a cordon started around the southwest side,” Andrew ordered as he turned around with the rest of team 1.
One by one the Rangers walked slowly towards the caved-in building. The entire roof and the second floor had been turned into mere ruble only to crater into the main foyer. The main entrance was completely covered by debris and the stench of death, gunpowder, and explosive residue emanated from the building.
Mike held his breath.
He could already feel the tension of someone watching them. The nerve had been triggered since they left the outer cordon; looking up and seeing the shinning sun reflecting into his eyes made him feel unnerved. It’s summer, he tried to find a reason.
As he stood in the open it was like he could see something looking at him from the building.
Blinking once he woke up in a void of white.
Blinking twice he stood in front of his sister.
It was a long time ago, when her hair still reached past her shoulders, and he would spend hours braiding them. She was a child then.
Kneeling and reaching out his hand, his sister gently placed her own on top. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she was pulled into a hug by her “younger” brother. They were in a small house in the middle of America. It was their old home, long before their mother died. He could still smell the few cookies they were able to make, and the warm interior felt harsh as a cold wind flowed into the room. Looking towards the ceiling, he saw a shard of glass sitting above his sister.
Blinking once more his sister was how he remembered her. Her left arm was missing, and her brunette hair had been cut to her shoulders.
Behind her stood a man in a suit. He looked at him, his face indistinguishable from any emotions Mike felt.
“Dad?”
Publicly Available Information: Breach—A look behind the glass:
Using Satellites and on ground radars, the United States and its allies use a complex and highly advance system to establish communications with both governmental and civilian devices. With the Advance Warfighter program established by a joint program developed by DARRPA and Boeing industries, the US military has unparalleled communications anywhere in the world.
During the Renaissance of 2100 a magmatic spike caused researchers to investigate a block of communications in Syria. The anomaly sent men and women to seek out this new untapped energy source, yet the investigations held nothing, and when the US Military began to impede further ventures due to possibly compromising communication assets, the Advance Warfighter program slowly shifted to counter-intelligence capabilities for the everyday servicemember.