Civil unrest. That was what they'd called it. Major Simmons hadn't been very clear – understandable, since he himself hadn't been told much. What he had said, though, made sense. There was civil unrest in Great Britain. It was threatening to destroy what was left of the island. Their job was to go in and regain control – at any cost.
At any cost.
That was what bothered her as she sat in the helicopter, her grip rhythmically tightening and loosening, on her rifle. Those words, those three little words, could mean the end of the road for hundreds of thousands of people. They were ordered to shoot to kill. Not to maim, not to scare – but to kill. That meant it was serious – that it was a lot worse than they were letting on.
Lynn shifted uncomfortably in the seat, glancing at the soldiers beside her. They all looked alike – oh sure, their facial features were different, but it was the mask of silent, thoughtful terror on every face that made distinguishing features seem unimportant. There was a reason why every soldier was being called out of retirement or furlough – hell, she'd even seen a few that had most definitely been on maternity leave. That made no difference. They were in the Royal Air Force. They'd vowed to protect the country, to give their lives for it if that was what it took.
She didn't doubt that many of them were wishing they could take back that oath.
The whirr of the helicopter blades thundered in her ears like the erratic beating of a thousand hearts, pounding with fear and adrenaline. They were getting closer to London now – it had been a pretty long flight so far, which meant it surely had to end soon.
"Look." A hushed voice, hoarse from the prolonged lack of use, broke the tense silence. Lynn turned to see the youngest of the group pointing at something beyond the windshield. "Smoke – London's burning."
Like several mechanical robots, the other soldiers turned to stare out the windshield. He was right – towers of smoke rose from the city. Lynn could see other choppers already landing on various buildings, their passengers scattering from the chopper to take their positions on the roofs and scuttle down the fire escape ladders. A jolt from the helicopter they were on told her it was time. She stood, synchronized with the others, to leap from the chopper. She darted to the corner of the roof, dropping to one knee and putting the rifle to her shoulder. God, she didn't want to do this… but she wanted a court martial even less. She adjusted the scope and pressed one eye to it. What she saw was not what she expected.
Every intersection had a military barrier; people were scrambling over them frantically, easily overpowering the soldiers and trampling them in their desperation. Barrier after barrier was being overrun. Her radio was already crackling, filled with orders and pleas for help. However, she was ignoring them as she moved her sights farther south. Hordes of people were swarming the streets, chasing the fleeing mobs. The soldiers valiantly tried to uphold the barriers, but they were quickly crushed by the advancing human wall.
"Why aren't you firing?" Lynn glanced over her shoulder to the sniper on the adjacent corner of the roof, who was staring at her. "What's wrong with you? Shoot! That's an order!"
Without thinking, she turned around, took aim, and fired. The reverberations of the rifle in her hands immediately put her at ease, helping her relax and feel more…well, normal. She was on a roof, shooting at – and probably killing – people. But to her, they were no longer people. They were nameless, faceless blobs – the source of unrest that was destroying the nation that she had sworn to uphold and protect – and they had to be stopped.
At any cost.