Blood on the Sand (Z Plan)

by Lerma, Mikhail

  They weren’t allowed down there because of exposed electric wires. It was feared the wires would make contact with the water, creating a deadly surprise for anyone unfortunate enough to be down there.

  On top of the foundation, a trailer had been parked, serving as a company MWR (moral, welfare, and recreation) building. Cale didn’t go in there often. Occasionally he’d go to get a tube of tooth paste or something, if he didn’t feel like riding the bus to the Post Exchange.

  Toward the back of this company area were the large maintenance tents. No one was there, so maintenance would have to wait till tomorrow.

  After the trucks were all locked up, and essential gear had been turned in and secured, the members of the convoy began the walk back to their living areas.

  Cale looked toward the north. He couldn’t see it now, but during daylight hours they could see the Ziggurat during their walk. It was an ancient pyramidal structure that was abandoned long ago. Normally, it was a tourist attraction, but given the war, tourism was down.

  “McGregor said 0800 for tomorrow, right?” Zach asked.

  “Yeah,” Cale replied.

  Most of the convoy commanders had their guys there at 0600. McGregor liked to let his guys sleep in a little bit.

  “Well, it’s only 2230. You up for some Halo?”

  “I dunno. I’m feeling a little Halo-ed out right now.”

  “I suppose that’s just as well. I should really call my wife,” Zach said.

  “Let’s just hope the internet and the phones are back up,” Cale said.

  Of course they were disappointed when they got to their room. It had been almost two weeks since either of them had spoken to their spouses. Cale lay on his bed, unhappy with their current predicament. Zach flicked on the television, and sat in his flimsy blue camping chair. Cale waited for the day he would just fall through it when he went to sit in it. The news was on before Zach changed the channel.

  “Wait. Go back,” Cale urged. “I think I just heard something.”

  Zach flipped it back.

  “….reports of this disease have been traced to a village in Africa. Despite best efforts, this epidemic has spread rapidly. Reports of illness have been reported as far away as Los Angeles and New York.”

  Across the bottom of the screen, a banner listed other cities with reported possible incidences. The list included Tokyo, Hong Kong, Sydney, London, Moscow, and Paris, as well as other areas where there were major hubs of transport.

  The woman anchor went on.

  “So far scientists have no way of knowing the gestation period of this disease. However, symptoms include cold sweats, nausea, vomiting of blood, cramps, and hypothermia. If you encounter anyone who may be infected, or a carrier, it is urgent you distance yourself immediately, and contact local authorities. Do not attempt to render aid. Victims of the disease are delusional; some are even reacting violently to aid attempts.”

  “Nice. That’s exactly what we wanted to hear,” Zach said.

  “I wonder if that’s why communications are down,” Cale exclaimed.

  “More than likely. Africa is only a hop, skip, and a jump from here.” Zach replied.

  “Could that also be the reason people are all driving north?” Cale asked.

  “Probably,” Zach stated, “just trying to get the fuck out of Dodge.”

  They decided to play Halo anyway. There was nothing better to do now. They played into the night, unaware of what was happening outside the camp.

  Report to Your Duty Stations

  The next morning Cale woke to his roommate warming up a pop tart in the microwave.

  “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet,” Zach said.

  “Not a problem.” Cale yawned. He sat up and stretched.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s only 0530.”

  “No shit? Well, I’m up anyway, anything on the TV?”

  “No. All the stations are on that night time off-air broadcast screen,” Zach replied.

  “That’s weird,” Cale said as he hopped out of bed.

  Zach offered one of the two pop tarts on his paper plate to Cale.

  Cale shook his head, “No thanks.” He wasn’t hungry. Zach turned on his Xbox and ate the pop tarts while he started up Halo. Cale grabbed his shower stuff and slipped on his shower shoes, a pair of black flip flops. He walked to the shower shed, and just like any morning, he went about the ritual of brushing his teeth and shaving. Then he hung up his towel and undressed. He stepped into the shower stall with his bottle of soap and wash towel. The water was hot.

  “Thank God for that,” he thought.

  Even though he was supposed to take what was called a combat shower, a 90 second shower, he took his time. He figured you’re allowed sixty to ninety seconds a day, and he just got off a week long convoy, a seven to ten minute shower seemed fair enough.

  Back in the room, Zach went about finishing his pop tarts and playing Halo. The other players discussed the news and the media blackout, over the headset, wondering what this meant for them.

  “Maybe they’ll send us home early,” said one of the players.

  “Very unlikely,” Zach stated, “A little flu breakout isn’t reason enough to end this war.”

  The rest of the players called the first player numerous names for being stupid. No one seemed to care about the news reports. But why should they? It didn’t matter; they’d all been inoculated for various things before coming here. This was no different to them.

  Cale walked back to the room. The sunlight poured in as he opened the door. Zach’s eyes weren’t adjusted to the glare, resulting in him being killed in his game.

  “My bad,” Cale apologized.

  “No prob. I’m up by fifteen kills anyway.”

  “Of course you are,” Cale said with a laugh.

  They had another couple of hours to kill, so Cale started up his Xbox and joined the match, much to the dismay of the other players. Cale and Zach were nerds through and through, Zach even more so than Cale. Cale had a lot of catching up to do to be on par with Zach in that department. They played until they were required to report for formation.

  “I’m sure you all noticed we’re still on blackout. There isn’t much Intel on what’s going on with that, but what I was told, was that it has something to do with our bases in the south.” McGregor explained.

  No one thought that this could be related to the news reports. Africa, though so close seemed far away.

  “All we can do is stick it out till it’s over. We’re here to do a job, let’s do that job and all go home safely. Roger?” McGregor continued. All the soldiers sounded back with a “Roger” in unison. When he finished what he had to say, the group broke up and went about their duties. Zach would perform vehicle maintenance and Cale would clean the .50 cal with the other machine gunners. Each soldier sat quietly and cleaned their crew serve weapons. Cale of course had his iPod on, so any conversation that got started wouldn’t include him.

  Zach, however, was chatting with the maintenance guys about the news. No one knew what was going on, and no one had spoken to anyone back home. The maintenance crew normally had a radio tuned in to a local station. Of course the station, as well as the music, would be in Arabic. Today there was nothing but static.

  “What’s going on with the station?” Zach asked.

  “Dunno. Nothing has been on for the past two days,” one of them replied.

  Things just got weirder throughout the day. After they’d finished their recovery day, Zach and Cale waited at the bus stop to catch a ride to the Post Exchange. Their intention was to go to the Taco Bell for lunch. After waiting there for what seemed like an hour, someone finally walked by and asked them, “You guys waiting for the bus?”

  Cale of course wanted to be a smart ass, but refrained.

  “Yeah, what’s going on with the buses today?” he asked instead.

  “The base is on lock down. There are no locals here today.”

  This of course mea
nt no one was driving the buses, or working at the Post Exchange, and most importantly, no one was working at Taco Bell today.

  “So, is the Post Exchange even open today?” Zach inquired.

  “Nope, they’re all closed down too,” the soldier responded.

  “What about the dining facility?” Cale asked.

  “Na. They’re telling the companies to give their soldiers MREs (meal ready to eat) for meals.

  “God damn it. Alright, thanks”, Cale said.

  The two of them walked back to their CHU. They had stockpiled every MRE given to them since they arrived in country, so food wouldn’t be an issue. They got back to their room, both disappointed.

  “What do you want?” Zach began, “Imitation pork rib or veggie omelet?”

  “I’m just going to go do some laundry. You have anything you want done?”

  “No. I did all of mine last night,” Zach replied.

  “Alright. See ya in an hour,” Cale said as he grabbed his laundry bag and headed for the door.

  Zach turned on the television. It still showed nothing but a broadcast signal. He ate his imitation pork rib unhappily.

  Cale walked to the laundry facility. He always did his own laundry. Most everyone else dropped it off at the cleaners, which was run by locals. Today it looked as though everyone would be doing their own laundry. Once inside, he managed to find an empty washer. There were a few people hanging out waiting for their clothes to dry, one of them female. She sat on one of the benches lining the middle of the room, reading a book. The other two, both male, stood leaning against the dryers, playing some sort of handheld game. Cale had forgotten his Sudoku book but had brought his iPod. After starting the wash cycle he sat down at the opposite end of the bench and listened to his music. While he browsed his playlist he thought of his wife and of his daughter, who had been born three months before he got shipped off to Ft. Bragg for training. She’d be over a year old the next time he’d get to see her.

  That bothered him a little bit. He knew he was going to miss so much in that first year: words, crawling, walking, and so much more. His wife would send videos to him of her various “firsts." Her very first word had been ‘Dada’. This made him feel better. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as he loved her: her little smile, her little hands and feet, her big blue eyes and her goofy ears. The eyes and ears she’d inherited from him. He and his wife had agreed on the name Marie. No real reason, other than that they both liked the name. His wife, Lauren, had just suggested it one day.

  Cale snapped out of his daze and looked around. The two playing their handheld games chuckled back and forth. Cale now noticed they were identical twins.

  “I wonder how often that happens,” he thought to himself.

  He knew in his own unit there were quite a few siblings, some father-son or father-daughter relations too. But for a family to send twins to war, that had to have been tough.

  The woman had her freckle covered face buried in her book. Her ginger hair was pulled back tightly into a bun. Her PT (physical training) uniform was perhaps a size too small. Cale knew this type. They were often referred to as Desert Queens. Girls, who were a five out of ten back in the states, became a nine in environments of male majority. Cale avoided them, even if nothing were to happen, people would talk. It was that kind of talk he could do without.

  She looked up, catching him watching her. She quickly flashed a smile his way, but he turned his eyes back to his iPod, coldly. He was sure she was probably nice. More than likely she was not even interested in him, but he’d rather be an asshole, than have people talk. Twenty minutes or so went by, and the brothers gathered their laundry and left.

  Cale moved his wet clothes to an empty dryer. The woman put her book down after carefully examining the page number. She checked the dampness of her clothes in another dryer.

  “Still wet?!” she said aloud.

  Cale could see why right away. The lint trap was full. He was often amazed at the ignorance of some people. He wondered if any of them had ever done their own laundry before. Something as simple as not cleaning the lint trap was a mistake he’d watched many make. He could have helped but opted to remain silent. She started the dryer back up, and started pacing the room. Cale hoped someone else would just walk in. He wasn’t overly anxious about being alone with her, but it was awkward. He was concerned how it might look if she were standing near him if someone he knew walked in. All it took was for one person to get the wrong idea.

  “What are you listening to?” she asked.

  He ignored her.

  In his opinion, it was better to pretend to not hear her.

  “Hey,” she said, positioning herself between him and his dryer of clothes. She waved her arms back and forth to get his attention. He looked up and pulled one ear bud out.

  “What are you listening to?” she asked again.

  “Uh, Deftones,” he said flatly.

  “Never heard of them.”

  Cale wasn’t sure what to say. They weren’t an unknown group.

  “My name is Libby,” she said.

  “Cale,” he said, not looking up at her.

  “That’s a neat name.”

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  Feeling uncomfortable with his abruptness, she went back to her side of the bench and resumed reading her book. Every once in a while, she’d look up to see what he was doing.

  “Could have sworn—“she thought to herself.

  Libby was a nice girl. She didn’t normally engage in conversation with a guy. She hated most of the guys in the military; all assuming she was some sort of slut, or bitch. A girl couldn’t win with these guys, but for a moment, when she caught him looking at her, she’d felt a spike of excitement. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, but he clearly didn’t want to talk.

  She glanced up from her book to look at him again. He was still messing with his iPod, acting like he was doing something, when he was really just fidgeting. He had a wedding ring. She hadn’t even thought to check, and normally that was the first thing she looked for. Too many of these men were willing to be unfaithful. He clearly wasn’t, not that she wanted him to. It did seem however, the good ones were always taken. He was even pretending to not hear her. That was just Libby’s luck.

  The two sat in silence for another thirty minutes. Cale began filling his laundry bag with his dry clothes, as Libby watched. He tightened the drawstrings and shouldered the bag. His iPod and ear buds were wrapped together in his hand, and he approached the door to leave.

  “It was nice almost talking with you!” Libby shouted.

  “Yeah. Check the lint trap. Your clothes might dry faster if it were empty,” he said, without turning around.

  He was right of course. Today just wasn’t Libby’s day.

  Back in his CHU, Cale repacked his mission bag. It was a tan jump bag he’d gotten at the Post Exchange.

  “You should have seen the last match. I racked up a killionaire!” Zach exclaimed.

  A killionaire was ten kills within rapid succession. Not an easy feat.

  “No shit? How’d you manage that?” Cale asked.

  Zach started to answer, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Cale answered. Nick was outside.

  “Everyone needs to report to the company area for accountability, ASAP,” he said.

  “Why?” Zach asked.

  “Don’t know. But get your asses down there, in uniform.”

  “Roger,” they both replied.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in formation, in ACUs, (army combat uniforms) with the rest of their company. The First Sergeant, most commonly referred to as Top, stood at the front of the formation, barking orders.

  “Platoon Sergeants, you got everyone?” he inquired.

  Each platoon leader responded with the number assigned, and the number present. Headquarters reported they had two guys at the aid station.

  “I’ll have someone go get them,” the platoon sergeant said.

&
nbsp; “No. I have something from higher right now.” Top said.

  The rest of the company reported in. The group stood by for a few more minutes. The Captain approached Top and informally took charge of the formation.

  “All right. As you are all aware, we are on a black out,” he started, “The reason was just made known to me at the leader’s meeting.” He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortably.

  “We have lost contact with our bases to the south. We have also lost contact with convoys we have sent to the south.” He seemed anxious.

  “As well, we have had civilians trying to get onto the base today. Some of them are even walking right into the razor wire. So far, the guard towers have reported that no one has been successful, but now, we’re going on high alert,” he continued.

  “Platoon Sergeants, after this formation, have your soldiers draw weapons and form a perimeter around the company area. Then, leaders come see me.” The captain finished with a resounding, “HOOAH!”

  “HOOAH!” the company sounded back.

  The platoons were split up and given different firing sectors in the company area, after receiving weapons and ammo. Cale and Zach managed to be next to each other on the firing line. The company formed a giant oval around the company area. Each soldier lay on their stomach, or simply crouched. This would be their fighting position. The sun was just setting now, so Cale couldn’t see the perplexed looks of his fellow soldiers, but the tension was palpable.

  “How long you think we’ll be here?” Zach asked.

  “Who knows? Right now your guess is as good as mine,” Cale replied.

  “Why would we be guarding the company area?”

  “Fuck if I know. From the looks of it all the companies are doing the same.”

  “Yeah.”

  Just then the base siren went off. Up till now, they’d only heard the siren for a mortar attack; this one was different.