The rest of the events are a blur for me. Kit disappeared inside, with Bridget right behind her. I followed, only to run right into Bridget, who was only just inside. Kit had fallen, she'd been shot. Bridget was in a wide stance, firing her machine gun in left-to-right arcs, back and forth. Someone was screaming. Bridget says it was me. I don't remember.

The room was empty. There were five of them. Dead now. I've been haunted at night by the eyes of the first enemy I saw. He was sprawled across a table filled with papers, his eyes seemed to look at me. Through me. They slowly filled with blood, which spilled out of them onto his face. He looked like he was crying. He couldn't have been more than fourteen years old.

There were more shots. It sounded like they were coming from the roof, and from other parts of the building. The other waves had been assigned to other doors along the side, as well as to the other buildings. We were to hold this area, and not to move. There was nothing we could do but wish them luck. We were to hold our fire unless it was necessary, and wait for all of the shooting to stop.

It seemed like an hour had gone by when the sounds of automatic fire had ceased. It was then when we were to group back at the outside of the building closest to the metal siding on the fence. Ben looked outside, and saw some of our group already arriving. We cautiously made our way to them.

There were many anxious whispers about missing people. There were many injuries that needed attention. We singled out those who could not go on, and plans were set in action by the pointing and waving of my hands. The groups went out again to comb the entire Base.

We didn't see anyone else. There were occasional shots, and one instant where it sounded like the whole battle was to begin again, but then silence. Ben, Bridget, Kit, and I swept the area to the southeast corner of the fence, then swept the area again on our way back to the first building. Kit noticed something and pointed, high up on the south fence. It was an Army jacket, hanging from the barbed wire. Someone had escaped. Something new to worry about.

"We knew that there were people in this time outside the Base, so one more shouldn't worry us," Kit whispered. It shouldn't, but it does.

After we regrouped, we determined that we had lost eleven people. Brent was dead when we got back to him. Steven was dead. Amanda had escaped without injury, and was caring for Kit's injuries. She'd been shot in the leg, but it was a clean wound. Amanda, of course, was crying.

Ben suddenly swept me off my feet and put me gently on the blood-stained ground. "Your leg," he said to me, and pointed. The lower half of my leg was soaked in blood. A bullet had torn through the Protector, and lodged itself in the other side. Kit saw this, and was very impressed,though I'm not sure if it was me or the Protector that won her admiration. Amanda said she'd make a pendant for me out of the bullet. I laughed. Amanda always talked too much.

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Copyright © 1995, Monica Israels
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