"God damnit," Jenny shouted as another explosion rocked the base. Walls were crumbling in, people were falling from the line of fire and she was trapped inside the call center, debris covering the lower half of her body. She wasn't hurt, that she could tell, just stuck under the weight of falling materials.
"Are we compromised?" she asked as the Marines began to dig the rubble away from her body.
"No, ma'am."
Well, that was good news at least. "Casualties?"
"None that we're aware of."
Even better news. Now all she needed to do was get the hell out of this mess. When the first blast shook the call center, she hung up her phone and ran towards her Marines. She wasn't sure what she could do to help, or even what the hell was going on, but like hell was she going to cower in a corner and let her people die.
That was not happening. Not today. Not any day.
"Get me out of here, Lance Corporal," she commanded the Marine that was closest to her. He was trying his best, and she could see that, though she was still impatient and needed the ability to move. Both the men were digging and throwing pieces of brick and metal away from her until she had enough off her body to move things herself.
Grunting, she grabbed a large piece of debris and shoved it away, glancing down to make sure she was in one piece. At a glance, she seemed fine. Reaching back to be sure her Berretta was still in place; she steadied her hand against what was left of a desk, got her bearings, and did a quick survey of what she could see.
Another explosion went off and the ground underfoot shook, causing more debris to go flying. Instinctively she covered her head and began to run towards the loudest of the shouts.
"Ma'am! Captain!" The boys behind her were shouting, and she was ignoring them. This was a situation that needed all available personnel, and that's what she was. This was her unit, her people, her life. No way was she running in the opposite direction.
Outside the building, she stopped and looked around. The base wasn't pretty beforehand, and now it looked like nothing more than a level playing field. To her right were their vehicles and hanger bays, everything there still standing, and that would be the best shield they could have. At least until she knew what was going on.
When both the Lance Corporals caught up to her, they were wide eyed and scared. She knew the look and had known it well. "Boys," she yelled into their faces, bringing their gazes towards her and only her. "I need you to get anyone that is down and bring them to that hangar bay." She pointed violently in the opposite direction until both had seen where she needed them to go. "Get anyone that is down and get them over there, now. That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am," they both replied and took off. They may not have an idea what to do on their own, shock being a hell of a mental freeze, but had been drilled for so long to follow commands that that would override any of their personal feelings.
Once she was sure they were headed towards safety, she turned and ran towards the chaos. It had seemed that her boys were right, and no one had crossed into their base that wasn't friendly. For now, it seemed, it was a matter of dodging falling debris and explosions, which could be far deadlier than hand to hand fight.
As she ran, she forgot to pay attention to the ground, which tended to be more important than what lay ahead, and tripped over something, falling onto her hands and knees. Cursing, she looked back and cursed even louder.
"Mills," she shouted as she crawled towards her family member. "What the hell are you doing down here?"
"Inspecting the dirt," he gritted out as Jenny got to him and rolled him onto his back.
Dreading the worst, she looked over his body and aside from some rogue shrapnel pieces in his legs, he seemed to be okay. "Did it pass?"
"No ma'am, it did not."
"All right, Sergeant, up you go. Let's get you up and somewhere they can get that shit out of your legs. You're cute, but you are no Iron Man, my friend." Jenny breathed out a sigh of relief as he stood on his own feet, albeit leaning heavily into her hold. He would be fine, thank god for that.
"Oh, I'm telling your husband you said I'm cute," he tried to say on a laugh which turned into a groan and a dry cough that sounded like he'd swallowed too much dirt. At least that was treatable with several bottles of water, regardless of its temperature.
"You tell him that and see if he believes you," she muttered with a smile as she held onto him and they made painfully slow progress towards the hanger bays. Once there, she did a quick look around and breathed another small sigh of relief. So far it looked like it was all wounds and no casualties.
"Captain," a medic said as she came rushing up towards them. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she said then nodded towards Mills whom she was still holding onto. "But this idiot thinks he's Iron Man."
The medic did a quick look over on Jenny before turning to study Mills. She watched the medic's eyes find the shrapnel in his legs and watched as she assessed his condition in her mind. It always amazed Jenny at how quickly a medic could find, test, and treat a patient in the field in less than a minute. They were the real heroes.
"I will be the next Iron Man, just you wait," Mills said with a smile as the medic took over the hold on him. Before he let go of her, he squeezed her shoulder, letting her know that he would be fine.
Jenny ducked away from the crowd and the wounded and went back towards the rubble of the base. Another explosion went off, this one further in the distance and far enough away that there was no after effect that could be felt. Hopefully that was a sign that things had settled for the moment, though by no means did it mean they could let their guard down.
Quietly, and trying to stay out of much notice, she helped a handful of other Marines to the hanger bay before taking her leave and finding her way to what was left of her office. There was a reason they didn't carry many belongings with them on deployments, and this was a prime example as to why.
There were a few pictures and her cell phone she wanted to grab, if it was salvageable then she'd find her way back to her barracks. Despite what had happened over the last few hours, she was still ordered to travel in the morning and there wasn't much that would delay those orders.
By some miracle of fate, her desk was only half buried and the part that wasn't, seemed to be untouched. Pulling on the side drawer, harder than she normally would have had to, she retrieved her phone, the pictures, and a few other things before turning to survey the damage once again.
Not watching her footing, she slipped on loose paperwork and fell right to her ass, knocking the wind straight out of her lungs. Blinking back the tears of the sudden shock on her spine, she gathered her breath and steadied her nerves. She was okay. Everyone around her seemed to be okay.
It wasn't a win, and it wasn't a loss, and for that she was beyond grateful.
"Captain, are you okay?" a Marine asked as he approached her, his M-16 slung over his back while a medical kit hung from a shoulder.
"I'm fine, Sergeant," she said, knowing damn well he would not accept that answer.
"Can I look over you just to be on the safe side?"
"Absolutely." The exam was quick and aside from her ankle throbbing from the fall and a few scratches and scrapes that were already bruising, she was fine, and the Sergeant moved on. Still, she sat where she fell, thinking about the last words she had spoken to her husband.
He must be terrified and there was nothing she could do to tell him she was okay. There was no way the phones would work nor would they be allowed any outside communications. There would be a message sent from the unit to stay on alert for incoming calls, but Tristian wasn't on base. He was states away and wouldn't get the message unless he thought to check his email, which he normally didn't do.
Standing, the swelling in her ankle was already growing, she began to walk towards the barracks. The air was still charged with adrenalin though the base was quiet. She needed to find some clothes, dust off her uniform as best she could, figure out where her cover had blown to, and report to the hanger bay in a few hours.
Whatever she was flying out to do, she hoped it came with a shower, an ice-cold coke and a phone she could make a hundred-dollar phone call on.
All she really wanted to do was walk through her front door, get licked to death by her dogs while Tristian held her as she cried tears she would not shed in this place.