THE AGENT

Life after military service isn't easy, something former marine Corporal Sarah Green leaned all too well. However, it's even harder when you lose your battle buddy, and you have no idea where she is.

Tracking….located

AGENT: Sarah Green

DESIGNATION: XRAY 1-0

W35th Street, Manhattan

JANUARY

"Luckily…" I say, looking over at her. "I found her."

My battle buddy and best friend Corporal Jaylene Roberts waves me off with a smile. Jay had been the one who recruited me after her "transfer". She had been brought into the Strategic Homeland Division, or simply the Division, an elite team of special agents who specialize in homeland defense. We were activated after the Dollar Bill Flu swept through on Black Friday. New York City was hit hardest, the city itself quickly descending into chaos.

I finished the second tour in Afghanistan about 3 years ago without Jay and was completely out of contact with her for a long time. We were each other's anchors back then. We worked seamlessly together. Even our CO, Lieutenant Blazko expressed his concerns, but was ultimately overruled. After coming back to The World, I walked into my apartment in Queens, sat down on my bed, and didn't move for almost two months, until I received a knock at the door. On the other side was none other than Jay.

After 3 months of training and two more years of civilian life working on the ground crew at JFK airport, here we are, at war again. Though now we have a different enemy.

The thin blanket of snow crunches under our shoes as we walk. Other than the parked, and some crashed cars, Christmas lights hanging over our heads, and the occasional civilian, the street is otherwise empty. I adjust the strap of my M249 SAW, quite similar to the one I used to carry. Hidden under my red and brown winter jacket is several strips of bullets in a bandolier scarf configuration. Right now, my jacket is open, but if need be I can quickly hide the gun and zip up, covering everything. Jay is a similar story, only she is carrying an ACR. I glance over as she waves to someone. Up ahead, there is a woman with a young boy in tow, trying to tug open a locked car door. I instinctively reach into my pack as the woman cautiously approaches us. The boy eyes me as I retrieve a can of food and hold it out for them to take.

"Oh, bless you!" The woman says, accepting the gift. "Neither of us have eaten in days. Hold on, I may have something for you in return…"

Jay holds up her hand. "That won't be necessary, miss. We're just doing our job."

The woman looks up from rummaging through her own backpack.

"Well surely you could use some help of your own." She says. "Uhmm…..ah! Here." She holds out a comfy looking blue scarf to Jay, who tries to take a step back.

"Miss, it's okay. You probably need that more than we d-."

The woman shakes her head, not taking no for an answer, and gingerly wraps the scarf around Jay's neck. She pats her shoulder. "There." The woman says with a smile. "I'd say that's even."

I give a small wave to the young boy as they continue down the snowy street, looking over at Jay.

"That was interesting." I say.

Jay nods in response, petting her new scarf.

"It is very warm, I'll give her that."

We walk a bit further, only to be interrupted by some short range radio chatter.

"Any agents in the vicinity of West 36th, JTF is reporting some radio interference. Can someone check on the comm tower?"

I key our comm.

"XRAY 1-0 is in the AO. We'll look into it."

Rounding the corner onto W36th, we see several people with orange jumpsuits on holding various weapons.

"Rikers." Jay hisses as we quietly take cover behind a police car.

The Rikers are escaped convicts from Rikers Island. During the pandemic, most of the guards left, leaving the prisoners behind. Soon after they escaped, and now are dedicated to wiping out as many law enforcement officials as they possibly can in an effort to get revenge, including us.

I set up my bipod on the hood of a police car as Jay moves closer, kneeling behind a jersey barrier.

"These are our streets now!" One of the Rikers, a man with a shotgun announces. I respond to this by clicking the safety to 'off' and letting loose a burst in his direction.

"Yours to lose, maybe." I think to myself as the Riker collapses and his friends scatter. Jay takes down one with a sniper rifle and I mop up the other two. With the street clear, we climb up the scaffolding on the side of a building to reach the comm antenna.

"Looks like the power is off." I say as we reach the generator. I press a few buttons to activate it.

*WARNING* Says our AI ISAC. *HOSTILES INCOMING*

I activate our proximity scan, which shows several more Rikers headed in our direction on the street below.

"You stay here and hold them off." Says Jay. "I'll head up to the antenna."

"Classic standoff." I say with a nod. Jay slaps my shoulder.

"Back in a flash!" She calls, hopping through an open window. I turn back to the street, setting my machine gun on the low knee wall and opening up on the Rikers down below. They scatter behind cars in the street, with several being cut down rather quickly.

"She's killin us!" One shouts. "Fuck, man!"

I drop as one of the Rikers takes a shot with a sniper rifle. My vision blurs and ears ring as I fall into the snow. Shaking my head, I push myself back up.

"Shoot that Division whore! Come on!"

When I look over the wall again, the icy street and brick buildings are gone and replaced by sand and brush. I start to fire at the Taliban troops who are running towards me. All alone, I blaze through an entire bandolier belt and start to load another when one jumps over the wall and attacks me with a club. I fall to the side and draw my M1911 pistol, emptying the magazine into him. Before he can fall, I return to my senses on the snowy roof. The insurgent with a shemagh and club is replaced with a Riker holding a crowbar. Before he collapses, Jay returns, kicking him off the roof. She kneels down next to me.

"You good?" She asks.

"Yeah." I huff, reloading my M249. "Just dandy."

Jay makes short work of the surviving Rikers.

*AREA CLEAR* ISAC confirms.

"Reports are coming in loud and clear, Agents. Nice work."

Jay gives me a look as I dust the snow off of my jeans.

"What?" I say.

"I know that look." She says. "You aren't okay."

I try to ignore her, taking my pistol out and reloading it.

"You went back again, didn't you?"

I give her a pained expression. "Is it that obvious?"

Jay simply nods, taking the lead back down to the street.

"Its surreal." I say, landing next to the Riker who attacked me on the roof. "Every time it's the same. That ambush on the road. This guy was there too." I gesture to the Riker, kicking the crowbar away from him. "...only he was a towelhead, not a con."

"Sarah…" Jay begins, stopping in the middle of the street. "you need help. And-"

I try to push past her, since I've been told this dozens of times. Jay stops me and continues.

"And I've tried. You know I'm always here for you but…"

"You weren't there when I was at my absolute worst." I growl, a sharp bite in my words.

Jay drops her shoulders. "I thought we were past this. You know why I wasn't there. It wasn't my choice!"

My head drops, now regretting opening this old argument once again. Jay is right and I know she feels guilty about leaving her battle buddy behind.

Jay lets out a sigh. "Look… were sisters in arms." She places a hand on my shoulder. "Best friends. We look out for each other. And I'm looking out for you now."

I look up at her as snow starts to fall, slowly covering our shoulders and hats.

"I deal with flashbacks too. We can help each other deal with it...if you let me."

I glance off to the side as a JTF patrol approaches us. Jay takes a step back.

"Looks like you two took care of things." says their leader, wearing an NYPD coat. He looks around at the aftermath of the shootout. "We'll take it from here."

I nod and Jay and I head back to our base at the Post Office.

"You're right." I say quietly. "I hate bottling up this shit."

"Medical has that counselor." Jay suggests. "You could try talking to him. I have a few times. He's really nice."

I give her a hopeful look. "We could go together….hey hold on." I stop in front of an alley.

Jay stops too. "What?"

"...for God's sake….please…." says a voice from the alley. "We aren't infected."

I step into the alley, switching over to my W1200 shotgun. Jay follows a few steps behind. I use our proximity scan again and see several people, some green and lots more red.

"It's the Cleaners." I say, moving faster now.

The Cleaners are another faction that rose out of the anarchy that has enveloped the City. They are mostly made up of construction and sanitation workers who have taken to the streets with hazmat suits and homemade flamethrowers, burning everything...and everyone….that has been exposed to the virus.

A noble, yet quite sadistic cause. As many of their victims are still alive for it.

Jay screws a suppressor onto her rifle, taking the lead. Up ahead, one of the Cleaners stands outside acting as a lookout. She slowly paces back and forth in front of an open door, idly swinging a fireman's axe. The Cleaner stops for a moment to admire the blood stains on her axe, and Jay responds with a headshot, shattering the glass of her bio mask. The Cleaner falls backwards, landing quietly on a nearby pile of garbage bags.

We enter the building where a team of Cleaners have taken a large group of civilians hostage. After a few flights of stairs, we find the room. I stop next to the door, listening.

"Please….you don't have to do this."