Today is the two year anniversary.
The punching bag in front of me jolted as my wrapped fist collided into its side.
Don't think. Just hit.
My other fist slammed into the bag. I pulled back for a kick.
2007 Dodge Ram. Black. Mile marker 114.
"Stop." I muttered to myself as the bag settled back into place. Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing.
Three dead, one survivor. . .You could have-
"No!" I yelled, punching the bag as hard as I could. I caught the bag with both hands and leaned my head against the rough fabric, temporarily overcome with the feelings that I had been trying so hard to forget.
"Damn, Harris," A deep voice came from behind me. I tilted my head back from the bag, quickly regaining my composure, "if you hit that bag any harder, it might start punching you back." I smirked.
"Funny, Emmett," I said, turning to face my friend. Emmett Smith may have looked like a giant, but he was the same teddy bear of a guy that I had met the first day of training camp. He smiled for a moment longer, and then his face became solemn.
"You doing okay?" He asked, "I heard that today was-" I looked away and he paused, "well, you know."
"I'll be fine." I said, walking over to where I had sat my water bottle on the floor. "I just need a little time, you know."
"I'm always around if you want to talk." I didn't say anything. He took a step towards me and I looked up at him. "We got to watch out for each other, you know." I sighed.
"I know. Thanks Emmett." The edges of his lips turned up. My gaze traveled down to his hands, which were folded in front of him. In them he held a piece of paper.
"What do you have?" I asked, taking a sip of water and walking over to him. He lifted the paper up so I could see.
"New schedule from Colonel Upton." He said, handing me the paper. "You and I are on Checkpoint 3 watch tonight." I scanned until I found my name, and saw that sure enough, I was supposed to be on duty into the late hours of the night.
"That's later than usual." I said, giving him the paper back. "Is there a reason for that?"
"I heard a shipment was coming in tonight. Don't know what exactly; Zander said that it was Level 8 classified." My eyes widened: Level 8? That was way up in the you-will-never-see-this-ever range. And if it came from Zander, one of Emmett's friends who had Level 6 clearance, then it was probably reliable information. I only had Level 3 clearance myself, so I was confined to guard duties at the base.
"Must be serious then. I hope it's aliens this time." I joked, turning to walk next to Emmett out of the gym. He laughed.
"Sure thing, squirt. I think it'll be Bigfoot." I smiled; even though the horrible thoughts still lingered in the back of my mind, it felt good to have a distraction. If only for a moment.
