All that remained in the city of Peshawar was nothing but war. It was a war with no fronts, no sides. As the dust settled from firefights and conflicts around the territory, there was no victor, there was no looser. Whatever there was had no value to the people on the ground.
There was only one option for the Rangers; leave the dark zone and return home.
For the Americans, the coalition, it was clear the missions in Peshawar lead to a mass casualty event of allied forces. For the mission to kill or capture "Brutus", sixteen Delta Operatives had been killed in action or had gone missing. Eighteen members of the Pakistani SSG were much of the same. And for the Rangers, two confirmed casualties.
Yet command knew nothing of what happened. Unless surveillance drones scoured the city trying to locate friendly forces, Peshawar had effectively turned into a "Dark Zone"; a place where information is contained within a designated area without any means to reach outside sources.
Sergeant Randal took one last glance at the body that laid not more than two meters from him. In a cold sweat he averted his gaze and long forgot about the boy he had just held five minutes ago. His gaze returned to the men in front; lined behind Sergeant Malkovich, Randall stood behind the man as they both waited for Captain Thompson to call the next move.
"Captain? We should really head back to the safehouse. It's out of the way, so I doubt anyone would come looking for us." Corporal Richard mention gaining a both interested and sharp gaze from Thompson. "There's a chance that our guys will swing by once they send a search party."
Slightly annoyed at the Corporal's interruption, and overwhelmed by the events that had taken place in less than 24 hours, Lieutenant Patterson spoke his mind while walked around the room frustrated, "Do you really think they're coming for us? Huh? Such a situation would warrant an immediate QRF, MEDIVAC, something! I know they won't leave us behind, but with the communications blackout, that's all they can do!"
Seeing that his Lieutenant was about to snap under pressure, Captain Thompson calmed him by patting his shoulder. The near outburst had mired mixed reactions from the Rangers. Not only had they just lost two of their own, but the reality of the situation had begun to set in. Lieutenant Patterson cursed under his breath as he turned around to hide his defeated look from the men looking at him.
"Right then enough of this shit, we need to get a move on before anything happens." Thompson sternly ordered.
With the men slowly raising from their positions of rest, Patterson glanced behind him. The dead bodies of Private Jackson and Corporal Ramirez laid next to each other. Each of their arms were folded over their chests, Jackson held a picture of his family, while all Ramirez held was a picture of him and a group of Marines that he often shared with others while he was still alive.
With a small and pained smile, Patterson returned to the group who had now gathered at the hole which was the only way out of the covered area of the destroyed building. Weapons raised, and nerves steeled, the men slowly walked out of the debris and into the heat filled city.
It was now late in the afternoon and the sun had begun to set just over the city skyline.
With Sergeant at the forefront of the group, the hour would be long as the world they entered looked eerily similar to the many post-apocalyptic worlds that had been captured on the silver screen. Still, they marched on with the newfound mission of returning home.
Quietly drawing water from his camelback, Randall bided his time walking by attempting to recall one of the many conversations he had with his sister, Holly Randall.
Being five years younger than his sister, the two rarely talked when they were children, but during his junior year in high school, they both opened up to each other as they had matured to a certain extent in their respective environments.
Due to his fathers influence during his years growing up, Randall would try to bring up many topics about law, law enforcement, and the military. In return, Holly often spoke about her tenure in a software developing firm that assisted game development companies big and small.
Being pulled back into reality due to Thompson walking up to him, Randall steeled himself as he waited for his Captain to open his mouth.
"You thinking of something?" Thompson asked with a semi-bright look on his face.
Confused about his deposition, Randall responded with a line of caution, "Uh, yeah. You?"
"I think you know what's on my mind." Thompson wearily said as he tugged at Jackson's dog tag in his combat vest.
"We can't do anything now. If we return home, we can make the best of the opportunity that was provided." Thompson looked worried as Randall continued, "In hindsight the call to search for the strike team was the wrong call, so was our engagement with the insurgents. To put it bluntly sir, I do blame you for what happened, but I'd rather be under you than any other officer."
"Yeah, I'm probably going to be investigated for this event and who knows, perhaps I'll be court marshaled." Thompson said with a quiet laugh, "But I don't think you're wrong Randall. I was just like you when I was a junior officer, I would've blamed myself as well."
Surprised at not getting disciplined or ridiculed, Randall came to understand Captain Thompson more than he had previously. Even with his abrasive words, it seemed that Thompson understood what he was thinking of more than he initially observed.
"Just don't let it go to your head. It would suck if the squadron saw you break down or something..." Randall admitted as he faced forward with a face of indifference.
"Hey Captain! There seems to be some sort of water pump over here!" Richard called out from the rear of the group making everyone stop in their place.
Though annoyed by the sudden call, Thompson walked to the rear of the group, and he did indeed saw a water pump that was exiting from the side of a building.
"Alright. Everyone let's stop for now. Five-minute break." Thompson decided as he withdrew his canteen.
Breaking off from the path they were following to the safehouse, Staff Sergeant Baker was the first to reach the pipe. He kicked over a small dog bowl and turned the valve on. What came out was crystal clear water, and a wave of relief spread over the Rangers that stood behind the Combat Controller.
"First part of SERE; Survive!" Baker said with a cheeky smile gaining collective groans from the army personnel that stood before him.