rock. His hands burned and ached with the effort. Muscles cramped in his back. Sand and small debris had managed to get inside his BDU and under the Kevlar vest. Anchored by the constant stream of perspiration that covered him, the sand and grit chafed at him. He pushed himself past the discomfort, thinking of the people they had yet to save and the ones who would be lost if they didn’t hurry.
The next person in the rock removal line was a woman in her late twenties. She was a brunette with dark eyes, dressed in torn khakis and a light purple blouse. Her hair was cropped short, ending at about the nape of her neck. She was slender, and the way she handled herself told Goose that she kept in shape.
She took the chunk of rock from Goose’s hands. Pain and fear registered in her eyes as she looked at his face. The rough use had torn skin from her hands and forearms. Bloody patches held clots of sand that Goose knew had to be uncomfortable. But she kept at the work, swinging around and passing the rock to the next person in line.
Goose took the next rock Bill handed him. He handed it to the woman.
“Danielle,” she said as she took the rock. She turned to pass the stone on, then turned back to Goose. “My name.”
“Oh.” Goose handed her the current rock, swiveled, and reached for the next.
“Danielle Vinchenzo. I’m a reporter with FOX News.” Danielle coughed, choking on dust.
“Sergeant Samuel Gander, ma’am,” Goose responded.
“I work this hard for you, Sergeant,” Danielle said, “I’m going to want an interview.” She coughed again but kept shifting rock.
“If we get out of here alive,” a heavyset man with a florid face said.
“We’ll get out alive,” Goose said with conviction.
The man made a show of looking around at the carnage that had been left of Glitter City. “A lot of people haven’t.”
Goose didn’t have anything to say to that.
A few minutes later, Bill had finished clearing the leaning wall section. He surveyed what was left, then looked at Goose. “We could try to dig him out, Sarge. Sand’s loose enough, and it would make quick work.”
“But the sand’s helping hold the wall back,” Goose said, realizing the difficulty they faced.
“Yep.” Bill took his helmet off, wiped his forehead with a grimy arm, and clapped it back in place. “We’re gonna have to get it off.”
“We’ll bring the section up with the crowbars,” Goose instructed, his mind quickly providing a possible solution to the problem. “Brace the section with rocks, then keep raising till we get the clearance we need.” He chose a relatively flat rock, hollowed out a place under the fallen wall, and set the rock into place.
Bill did the same.
“Hurry,” the man cried out from under the rock. “It’s getting … hard … to … breathe … in here.” The voice sounded weaker, and constant fits of coughing and retching echoed within.
When both crowbars were in place, Goose swapped looks with Bill. “On three,” Goose said. He counted. On three, he pulled up on the crowbar, straining everything he had. Black spots swam in his vision and he felt dizzy.
Slowly, inexorably, the wall section shifted, coming up a few inches. Sand flooded in from the sides, filling the cavity that had been left by the partial collapse.
The man inside screamed in terror. “It’s falling! It’s falling!”
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
local Time 12:18 A.M.
“Gerry,” Megan said softly.
The boy sat up in the middle of the hospital bed. His unruly auburn hair stuck out in places from uncontrollable cowlicks. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes remained fixed in awe on the television suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room. His right arm hung in a clean white sling. Gauze pads covered scrapes on his arms and legs. He wore sweat pants with the knee out and a long-sleeved sweatshirt.
Megan knew Gerry had worn the sweats to try to hide the
The next person in the rock removal line was a woman in her late twenties. She was a brunette with dark eyes, dressed in torn khakis and a light purple blouse. Her hair was cropped short, ending at about the nape of her neck. She was slender, and the way she handled herself told Goose that she kept in shape.
She took the chunk of rock from Goose’s hands. Pain and fear registered in her eyes as she looked at his face. The rough use had torn skin from her hands and forearms. Bloody patches held clots of sand that Goose knew had to be uncomfortable. But she kept at the work, swinging around and passing the rock to the next person in line.
Goose took the next rock Bill handed him. He handed it to the woman.
“Danielle,” she said as she took the rock. She turned to pass the stone on, then turned back to Goose. “My name.”
“Oh.” Goose handed her the current rock, swiveled, and reached for the next.
“Danielle Vinchenzo. I’m a reporter with FOX News.” Danielle coughed, choking on dust.
“Sergeant Samuel Gander, ma’am,” Goose responded.
“I work this hard for you, Sergeant,” Danielle said, “I’m going to want an interview.” She coughed again but kept shifting rock.
“If we get out of here alive,” a heavyset man with a florid face said.
“We’ll get out alive,” Goose said with conviction.
The man made a show of looking around at the carnage that had been left of Glitter City. “A lot of people haven’t.”
Goose didn’t have anything to say to that.
A few minutes later, Bill had finished clearing the leaning wall section. He surveyed what was left, then looked at Goose. “We could try to dig him out, Sarge. Sand’s loose enough, and it would make quick work.”
“But the sand’s helping hold the wall back,” Goose said, realizing the difficulty they faced.
“Yep.” Bill took his helmet off, wiped his forehead with a grimy arm, and clapped it back in place. “We’re gonna have to get it off.”
“We’ll bring the section up with the crowbars,” Goose instructed, his mind quickly providing a possible solution to the problem. “Brace the section with rocks, then keep raising till we get the clearance we need.” He chose a relatively flat rock, hollowed out a place under the fallen wall, and set the rock into place.
Bill did the same.
“Hurry,” the man cried out from under the rock. “It’s getting … hard … to … breathe … in here.” The voice sounded weaker, and constant fits of coughing and retching echoed within.
When both crowbars were in place, Goose swapped looks with Bill. “On three,” Goose said. He counted. On three, he pulled up on the crowbar, straining everything he had. Black spots swam in his vision and he felt dizzy.
Slowly, inexorably, the wall section shifted, coming up a few inches. Sand flooded in from the sides, filling the cavity that had been left by the partial collapse.
The man inside screamed in terror. “It’s falling! It’s falling!”
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
local Time 12:18 A.M.
“Gerry,” Megan said softly.
The boy sat up in the middle of the hospital bed. His unruly auburn hair stuck out in places from uncontrollable cowlicks. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes remained fixed in awe on the television suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room. His right arm hung in a clean white sling. Gauze pads covered scrapes on his arms and legs. He wore sweat pants with the knee out and a long-sleeved sweatshirt.
Megan knew Gerry had worn the sweats to try to hide the
Similar Books
