"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Seattle."
The voice rang echoed through the cabin of the Boeing 797 as it touched down on the wet tarmac of SeaTac International Airport. The plane rapidly slowed down and turned towards the terminal, while rain pelted on the roof. A silent sigh of relief came from all aboard; they had finally made it back from the frontlines in China. Many hadn't been back in the States since the first landings at Shantou three years prior. Chris was one of them; part of the first wave on the beaches. Being the only survivor from his platoon that day, he'd fought with many different faces, most of them now just a blur in the back of his head.
Chris opened the window and looked outside. A small smile forced its way out, he was home. A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. The skyscrapers of Seattle stood like goliaths in the distance, their lights barely visible through the dark of night. He looked back and checked his watch. 7:30. Shit, he thought. His flight was a half hour late. They'll be waiting for me for sure.
The passenger next to him yawned and outstretched their arms, accidentally hitting Chris. "Watch it, asshole," Chris growled, as the soldier drew his arm back.
"What? Three years without the touch of a woman and now you're gonna act all pissy?" the solider replied, a small slowly creeping to his lips. Chris stared at the man, then started laughing.
"I'm just kidding man," Chris gave a light punch on the soldiers arm, "Can't believe you're also from here! Feels good to be back." He looked up the aisle. The plane had arrived at the gate, and those up front had started their trek off the plane and down the stairs.
The soldier next to him laughed, "Yeah, the legend of Martin Anders is back in the 206 alright." Martin waited for the soldier in the aisle seat to get up, and then followed him.
"You think there'll be a band?" Martin turned to Chris as he pulled his duffel bag down. As Chris got out of his seat, Martin quickly pulled down Chris' bag and tossed it at Chris, nearly knocking him down.
Chris laughed and shook his head, "I think we'd probably hear it by now if there were."
The soldiers went down the aisle towards the exit, passing by the beautiful stewardesses standing by the door. "Thanks, boys," their sultry voices pierced straight through Chris' eardrums. He hadn't seen Lily since the night before he was deployed, but thankfully they'd send letters whenever they could. Luckily for him, none of them were a Dear John letter, something many of his comrades had wept over. Stepping out, Chris took in the crisp autumn air, feeling the raindrops splash on his forehead.
"A lot better than that swampy shit we were just in," Chris remarked as he followed the stream of soldiers down the stairs. No band awaited them, no families to greet their beleaguered sons and daughters. Instead, at the bottom of the stairs, along the path to the terminal was a tent containing multiple clerks with huge stacks of paper. "Ah fuck," Chris grumbled.
"Last names A through C to the line on the far left!" an officer barked, pointing at the station. The officer continued going through the alphabet as the soldiers shuffled to their respective station. Martin and Chris stood in the first line, which was moving quickly.
"New orders already? Can't we get a fucking break?" Martin said over his shoulder.
"You know how it is, they're reminding us Uncle Sam still owns us," Chris said, shuffling forward.
"Next!"
The only thing standing between the two and freedom was this clerk. This fucking clerk. The clerk took the soldiers name, and with a face of stone, flicked through the stack of paper before pulling out a small file. Chris could barely make out the words, but it looked like the clerk already knew the guys orders.
"They better be telling me I'm getting the Medal of Honor," Martin chuckled.
"Next!" the clerk yelled. Martin went ahead. Chris looked around. He noticed that the rain had stopped, and now it was just cold. A plane took off behind them, its engines roaring as the hunk of metal lifted off into the sky. Chris wondered if that was just a normal airline flight, or a caravan of death delivering fresh faced boys to the meat grinder out in the East. It didn't matter anymore, the war had become a stalemate. Rows of trenches lined the remains of Wuhan, where thousands of people died every day from the constant shelling and air strikes. The Army had stopped counting casualties on some days, because there was no real way to tell how many were lost because of the chaos. Battles raged over singular buildings often times, with the Americans being forced to form small forward operating bases several floors below the enemy.
"Next!"
Chris came back to reality and strode forward. He snapped to attention, "Chris Bradford, 2nd Company."
The clerk looked up at him in silence. Chris looked around, puzzled. The clerk sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Your birthday?"
"Oh. October 21st, 2052."
"Happy birthday," the clerk replied, flipping through the stack of papers and pulling out the file belonging to Chris. He held it out, "Report to your CO tomorrow at JBLM at 1200 hours. Pack for a few days, you've been selected for a special assignment. Got it?"
Chris wanted to protest, but simply took the file and moved along. A rumble in the distance rapidly approached and rattled his eardrums, turning his gaze to the sky. A low flying fighter jet, quickly followed by another, screamed towards the east, disappearing over the horizon. Chris adjusted his bag and then noticed a soldier curled up on the ground and shielding his head. Chris looked over at Martin who was several yards ahead of him, and made his way over. Several other soldiers rushed over.
"I can't… I can't…," the soldier cried.
Martin and Chris stood in silence. The other soldiers called for a medic multiple times, before one suddenly pushed his way through the small crowd and getting down near the soldier. The soldiers breathing was becoming more erratic, and as a result the medic sighed and reached into his satchel. Pulling out a syringe, the medic flicked the tip of the needle and plunged it into the soldiers arm, rendering him unconscious within seconds.
"Shows over, get the hell out of here," a lieutenant barked from the outskirts of the crowd.
Chris and Martin moved towards a staircase leading to the jetway. Chris grabbed the wet metal railing as he made his way up, taking a moment to look out towards the massive airplane that brought him back home.
Making his way through the terminal, Chris noticed that SeaTac was unusually empty. A few passengers meandered around waiting for their red eye flights out of the city. The distinct light tone before an airport announcement sounded above, and then a female voice announced, "Skylanes Flight 3406 to Los Angeles has been cancelled due to terrorist activity at the airport. Please proceed to the airline counter and representatives will assist you in rescheduling. Thank you for flying out of Seattle, we hope you enjoyed your stay."
Nearing the exit, and by proxy the security checkpoints, Chris watched a massive line forming at the Skylanes counter. The soldiers moved by silently, watching their first social interactions back home after several years in hell.
"What the hell do you mean you can't reschedule for free?! I paid 20 grand for those tickets!" a man screamed, nearly blue in the face.
"I'm sorry sir, it's airline policy that you must pay 50% of the original ticket price to reschedule. I can cancel your trip entirely for a 25% refund though, if you'd prefer?" the agent replied.
As he passed into the main lobby of the airport, he heard someone shriek, "Chris!" Looking to his right, he was immediately greeted with the love of his life leaping onto him, wrapping her arms and legs around him, tears streaming down her face. "You're alive, you're actually alive," she cried. "I missed you so much," she said, pulling her face back to look him in the eyes. Chris smiled, and planted a firm kiss on his girlfriend.
Setting her down, Chris asked, "Where is everyone?"
Lily wiped tears away from her eyes, "Your dad's in the bathroom. Meredith's in the car, Will's being Will. How was the flight?"
Martin tapped Chris on the shoulder, and said, "My rides here. I'll be seeing you." With a quick fist bump, Martin disappeared out of the terminal.
Turning back, Chris replied, "Fifteen hours nonstop packed together with three hundred sweaty soldiers definitely made me appreciate gym class more."
"And there he is!"
Chris and Lily looked over and saw his father, a man in his early 50s with jet black hair with a few silver streaks, quickly walking over to them.
"My son! My god, you look… well, I'm glad you're back. You bring the good fight to those commies?" he asked, giving a firm hug to his son.
"I gave 'em all I had," Chris shrugged.
His father stood in front of him, waiting for his son to say more, before Lily nervously chimed in, "Gerald, we should get Chris back to the car. I know Meredith can't wait to see him."
The three went outside to the lines of waiting cars, where Chris was attacked by his mother weeping and nearly falling to the ground as she embraced him. Cars honked behind their own, as she had left it open to rush to her boy, blocking a tiny bit of the next lane. After two minutes of his mom nearly choking him out, Chris finally was able to put his bags in the trunk and get into the car. His younger brother Will had his head against the window, staring out at the rain. Lily sat in the middle while Chris squeezed in. Gerald swapped with Meredith to drive, and pulled the Corvega out into traffic.
"You've grown, Will," Chris remarked.
Will turned his head slightly, and spat, "You kill a lot of kids over there, Chris?"
"William John Bradford!" Meredith shrieked.
Gerald barked, "You take that back or I will pull over and break out the belt!"
"Apologize to your brother right now," Meredith hissed, turned around fully to face the fourteen year old.
"It's fine. No, Will. I didn't kill any kids over there," Chris calmly replied.
Will slowly shook his head and put it back against the window, leading a sigh out of his nose.
Gerald turned a dial on the dashboard, and the radio crackled to life. A newscaster spoke, "This is 97.7 with a news update. Confrontations between police and protestors continue throughout the city, with riots declared for the past two nights in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. Mayor Durlap in a speech today has announced she has requested more soldiers to be deployed into the city." Chris looked out of the windshield as the car sped down the freeway towards the city. Passing Boeing field, he saw new fighter jets being rolled out onto the tarmac, ready for deployment.
"Out of Washington, there has been continued silence from the White House. Sources say the building has been empty for weeks, with the President having been secured in an undisclosed location. Whether the President believes a nuclear attack is imminent or not, the sources would not say, but the military has responded that there is no need for concern, and that the President has been hard at work preparing a new economic package accompanied by an address to the nation.
"Probably more war bonds," Meredith muttered under her breath, only to receive a glare from Gerald. Chris sat in silence. There were rumors among the ranks that the top officials were all flying out to remote places in case the Chinese pressed the button.
"And news from the front. Our boys continue their valiant fight against the Reds on their own soil, having broken three of their armored divisions at Changsha last night with the help of fresh units equipped with T-51b armor." Chris' ears perked up; this was impossible. Changsha was far behind the frontlines, and just two weeks ago four divisions had been encircled and wiped out there. "The Stars and Stripes fly over Wuhan after a quick air assault caught the communists off guard, taking the city in one night and putting another nail in the coffin for the-"
"Bullshit!" Chris roared, shocking everyone in the car. His chin fell to his chest, "This war isn't ending anytime soon. I've seen too many friends die in that damn meat grinder just for a few feet. We don't even know what we're fighting for anymore. There's only two ways this can end." He held up two fingers, "We either keep fighting for god knows how many years until the least destroyed country wins and takes the scraps of what's left, or-" He paused. He had Will's full attention now.
"Atomic fire."