January 6th, 2013
Outside Williamsburg, New Mexico
1
"Who's in here?"
The call held equal amounts of control and command, and it carried easily to the 14-year-old boy huddled miserably under the far bunk of the abandoned barracks. The teenager had been here since the War and the evacuations, and to him, it seemed like a very long time.
Moving cautiously, the Lance Corporal stepped into the oval, dorm-style room, sharp eyes going over empty footlockers, their contents scattered. Someone had been looking for food. Had he found any?
Stopping near the middle of the 30-bunk aisle, the Marine saw grit and sand, but no footprints or signs of recent life. Was he too late then? The base was mostly empty, looted. Only a few had been left behind, overlooked, or escaped being dragged below ground. He had seen some of those and was hoping the boy was one of them.
"Come on out. That's an order!"
LC Kenn Harrison winced as the sharp tones bounced back at him from the thin walls, and his hand dropped to the nine-mill on his hip. Instinct said he wasn't alone in the barracks.
"Charlie?" Kenn called the name as if they were at home, ignoring the gunshots still going on outside the base, and was rewarded with a small shuffling noise that made him tighten the control over his emotions. He had been sure the boy would be gone - had been forced onto one of the evacuation choppers.
The Marine slowly moved to the end of the aisle, preparing himself to react, as he read the heavy waves of the person. Desperation… and fear.
"Come on out." Kenn forced himself to be patient. He would not have been in the past, couldn't, but the War had already begun to retrain him with things like compassion and understanding. He watched two filthy hands emerge from under the bunk on his right. Kenn grinned, freeing his relief. The boy was here! He was alive! He was... hurt? Was that blood trickling from his ears and Oh God! Where were his eyes?
"Sir?" The boy's bloody, gaping eye sockets stared around, oozing crimson streams. The Marine automatically lunged forward to catch him when he stumbled, fell.
"Want... my... Mommy, Sir!" the dying child gasped, splattering them both with red droplets as he struggled to breathe. "… Mommy!"
Lance Corporal Kenneth Harrison snapped awake with a startled gasp. His eyes went to the boy who was laying close by, looking back with alarm. It was okay. He'd found the child in time.