Boots on the Ground

Corporal Blaylock's sightseeing was cut short when his chute was yanked open and his harness snapped tight. Above him the nylon canopy flew open and yanked him almost to a stop.

He looked around and saw hundreds of other parachutes descending towards an open field around the Washington Monument; the National Mall itself. Others were floating towards the President's Park slightly to the North. So far this area seemed untouched by the hell erupting elsewhere in the city.

Slowly his parachute drifted to the ground. When he looked down again the ground was coming up quickly. He braced himself and waited.

The landing was hard. As soon as his feet touched dirt he rolled and came to a stop on his back. After shaking off the shock of the initial landing, he untangled and disconnected himself from his parachute and readied his weapon.

Raising himself to a crouch, he scanned the area around him. Paratroopers who had landed before him were already being directed to set up initial defensive positions around the Drop Zone.

After ensuring the area was safe, his next priority was his MOPP suit. He pulled the additional equipment for the protective outfit from his web gear. He donned the gloves, hood, and gas mask. They had been ordered to don the over garment, the jumpsuit-like piece that covered most of his body, as well as their over boots before they had even boarded the helicopters.

As soon as he was sure his suit was on properly, Danny grabbed his rucksack, stood, and began heading to the base of the Washington Monument, Charlie Company's rally point.

Captain Moresby, Charlie Company's CO, was already directing the soldiers who had arrived which so far seemed to be roughly half the company.

"Charlie Company gather right here!" he shouted and motioned towards himself. Slowly the company assembled around him. Finally Specialist Kenworth arrived and the huge former college football star of a Captain nodded.

He gave a signal for everyone to temporarily remove their hoods to hear him speak. Everyone did so immediately and happily. A Washington summer is not the time to be wearing hot MOPP gear if it can be avoided.

"Alright finally. I have just been given a new copy of our Rules of Engagement from Northern Command." The Captain pulled out a single sheet of paper. He cleared his throat and began to read.

"Everyone passing through roadblocks or into secure areas are to be searched for bite/scratch marks. Anyone presenting bites or scratches are to be detained and restrained immediately. Two detainees are not to be kept withing biting distance of each other under any circumstances. Detainees are not to be released until a thorough examination by medical personnel can be performed." Immediately soldiers in the crowd began muttering their confusion.

Corporal Blaylock's thoughts reflected the entire company's. 'Biting distance? What the hell does that mean?'

Regardless the Captain continued. "Bodily fluids of anyone acting strangely are to be avoided at all costs. Any person; regardless of race, rank, gender, or status, who has come into direct contact with contaminated blood/saliva/etc are to be restrained and kept away from others."

'This has to be a joke. We're here on riot duty for Christ's sake!' thought Corporal Blaylock.

"Biological Warfare equipment is to be worn at all times when not in secure areas." 'What the fuck is the deal with the Bio-War stuff?'

"Lastly," the Captain finished, "Any person displaying unnatural aggression to others(such as attempting to bite/scratch) are to be dispatched immediately with gunshots to the head."

The last Rule had everyone in the company dead silent. Captain Moresby himself took a moment to reread the orders before putting them back in his suit pocket. "These orders come straight from the desk of the Commander of Northern Command on the advice of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. They are to be followed under all circumstances. Is that clear?."

Two soldiers in MOPP suits walked up behind Captain Moresby and placed two large cardboard boxes on the ground. The Captain pulled out his knife, slit one of the boxes open, and pulled out a handful of plastic handcuffs.

"These are to be used to restrain anyone acting strangely. You cuff them and bring them back here. Understood?" The soldiers nodded and began taking hand-fulls of the cuffs and stuffing them wherever they could. Corporal Blaylock stuffed them in one of his NBC suit's leg pockets.

"I want a 360 degree perimeter with a 50 yard radius from the base of the Monument. Lieutenant Edwards take your platoon and retrieve the sand bags. I want the mortar section set up right where I'm standing. Everyone else start digging!" Shouted the Captain. The paratroopers grumbled, re-donned their hoods and masks, and pulled out their entrenching tools.

The young commander of Third Platoon, Lieutenant Vince Edwards, led his soldiers across the large field to the only air dropped pallets in sight. The rest, containing extra supplies, had been dropped in the trees near the Constitutional Garden Pond.

Corporal Blaylock was directed to begin digging on the eastern edge of the perimeter, facing the Treasury Complex. Beside him, Specialist Kenworth dug in silence. As their shovels broke the carefully sculpted grass they sweltered under the hot summer sun.

'Hell of a sight we must be,' thought Corporal Blaylock. 'Ripping up the National Mall of all places.' This wasn't the first time the experienced paratrooper had been here, however. He had visited it often, usually whenever his father wanted to deliver a particularly pointed scolding.

Corporal Danny Blaylock had been bored twenty one years earlier in Virginia. The son of a Naval Intelligence Officer, his mother popped him out in the Norfolk Naval Hospital. After that he had spent most of his youth moving from Norfolk to Japan, Korea, San Diego, Hawaii, and back to Norfolk. Deciding he wanted to serve his country, and make a little money for college, he decided to enlist after High School.

However, not wanting to live in his father's shadow, he had picked the Army. The tall, well muscled navy brat had meshed well with the familiar military lifestyle. After basic training he applied to, and was accepted to, Jump school. Three terrifying weeks later he was given his wings.

Before he could take a moment and appreciate it, however, the 504th was deployed to Iraq. A bloody tour around Basra followed, filled with all the ambushes and IED's he expected and more. 14 months and a few lost friends later, he returned to the states.

Specialist Kenworth had been with him the entire time, even if the scrawny, freckled Kansas native was annoying sometimes he was a good friend and a great guy to have when shit hit the fan. In fact, despite his barely 140 pound frame, he had managed to pull Danny, almost 200 pounds with another 50 pounds of armor and gear, behind the cover of a burned out Humvee.

Sergeant Willis, full name Staff Sergeant Dave Willis, walked up behind them and handed them each a pair of large water bottles. The two veteran paratroopers could easily tell it was the Sergeant because of his peculiar stride, a mix of confidence and easy-going.

"I want you two hydrating constantly. The temp just topped out at 99 degrees and these hoods are like furnaces." The two soldiers took the bottles without argument.

"Roger that Sergeant. Still better than the desert, though," quipped Specialist Kenworth.

"Just keep digging." Before Danny could pick his E-tool back up muffled gunfire erupted from behind them.

Chapter 2. Please Review and tell me how it is.