Page 38 of Almost There

15

Landon

The road crested the mountaintop, breaking through the line of trees and exposing the valley that lay below. Landon pulled his undershirt up over his mouth to block out the smoke and ash that drifted on the wind.

“San Diego is still burning,” Sgt. Sierra called out over the roar of the tracks on the pavement as he pointed to the southern mountain range.

“I see it.” He nodded, but his attention was fixated on the freeway that cut through the valley. Thousands of moving bodies crawled along it, migrating north like ants escaping a washed-out colony while falling ash blanketed them like a light snow.

Landon dropped down to the seat and closed the hatch. “You got eyes on the mass exodus, Gunny?”

GySgt. Fuimaono grunted in response as they coasted down the mountain and dipped under the freeway with the horde of fleeing civilians stomping the pavement above them.

Landon’s heart thudded hard in his chest. They could take the backroads north of Escondido, travel through the orange and avocado tree farms. It’d add a few extra hours to the trip, but whatever route that kept them off the freeways—avoided the desperation and the crush of bodies under the tracks of the vehicle—would be the safer option. But how long would it be until all these people reached the freeway near his house?

I’ll be there soon. Landon clutched his hand in a fist, trying to find comfort from the feel of the band against his palm instead of the usual spin. One more stop.

Sgt. Sierra reached down to tap Landon on the shoulder, motioning for him to open the crew chief hatch and check outside as the AAV slowed down. The wide-eyed look on his friend’s face brought a sinking feeling to his gut and chased away the fragile hope he’d been clinging to that this would be an easy recovery.

Training took over and Landon hardened his face as he readied his rifle and braced himself for whatever was coming next. The AAV came to a stop.

“This place is a shithole,” Sgt. Sierra whispered once Landon opened the hatch.

“Seriously?” Landon groaned, relaxing his grip on the M4 and letting the rifle rest on its sling.

“I’m just saying,” Sgt. Sierra mouthed the words so Gunny wouldn’t hear. “Like he could afford better.”

“You’re an idiot,” GySgt. Fuimaono’s accented tone of disapproval drifted up to them from the driver seat.

Landon shook his head as he looked around the high-rise apartment complex. The ornamental hedges and sleek cabanas around the pool were coated with a dusting of ash and leery unwashed faces stared down at them from balconies that were strung with laundry. But it didn’t look that bad.

Landon breathed in and instantly regretted it.

“Does he want you to open the door for him or something?” Sgt. Sierra pinched his nose, drumming his fingers against the machine gun. Landon rolled his eyes and dropped down to the compartment to see what the holdup was.

“Give me a minute,” GySgt. Fuimaono growled with white foam gathered in the corners of his lips and a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

Landon stepped back into the darkness, hiding his smile, as he made his way to the main doors of the AAV.

A moment later, the Samoan warrior pressed past him, blinking in the sunlight as he held his hand to his mouth to check his breath.

“It stinks out here,” GySgt. Fuimaono grumbled as he smoothed out the wrinkles on his blouse and straightened his sleeves. Satisfied, he turned to march around the vehicle. Landon righted his rifle and swept the parking lot for any threats as he tried to contain his laughter. Gunny’s a good dude.

Sierra looked down at him from the turret hatch as he rounded the corner and Landon couldn’t help himself, he motioned with a fake toothbrush to let his friend know what he’d seen.

“What?” Sgt. Sierra whispered.

“Never mind.” Landon chuckled. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Alofa o lo’u ola,” GySgt. Fuimaono called out, his voice echoing down the floor level walkway as he jingled his keys in his hands. “Love of my life. I’m finally home.” Landon turned, still smiling, as he swept the parking lot again.

“Robin?” A primal growl tore from the gunnery sergeant’s chest, so deep and full of rage that Landon’s blood ran cold.

“What’s wrong?” Sgt. Sierra screamed as he jumped from the open hatch and landed hard on his boots in the parking lot with his rifle on point. Landon and Sierra turned as one, racing down the open hall.

GySgt. Fuimaono sat on his knees, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform, as he ripped apart a mattress with his bare hands.

“Who did this to you?” The painfilled cry vibrated through Landon’s core and time slowed as he approached Gunny’s back, his eyes never leaving the angry blood red stains that the man was balling in his fist as he screamed.