I dropped my rifle outside when the artillery had hit. There’s too much exposure outside to dare step out and retrieve it. 

As a Sergeant we are only issued infantry rifles. No backup gun. No handgun. 

I do have a grenade though. I think, fairly darkly.

I consider it for a moment.

Oh well, it’s not time. Let’s get out of here so I can live to grieve my soldiers. 

I stop moping around but this environment is unnaturally conducive to these thoughts. Dead soldiers. They were good soldiers. I was forced to run away, alone, and without them.

Getting up off the wall I was sitting against, I right my chest rig. It is equipped with my rifle magazines, first aid kit, grenade, knife, comms, a flashlight, and more on it. I opt to keep the magazines in case I find a rifle down the road. The room I am in is a small office to the left of the lobby. The windows are broken and too exposed in the lobby so I had opted for a side office with no windows and to peek through the holes in concrete, most likely created from shrapnel of some pretty heavy artillery.

Pretty big crater on the street. My soldiers may have been killed but I can help fall back on my training.

I take my right angle flashlight off of my rig momentarily, turning it on and then reattaching it through a loop horizontally in such a way so that it is pointed down at an angle towards my hands. With some lighting in the room besides the holes in the exterior walls of the building, I take a knee at the rucksack I left on the ground that houses extra clothing, a tarp, a map and extra miscellaneous equipment. 

I squint my eyes through the dusty and now lightly illuminated room, taking the map out and taking a moment to get the bearings of my location. It is marked with where we landed, as well as various markings concerning our objective but I ignore those. I trace a line with my finger down the road I ran, but I can’t be too sure. I only recognize so much of what I ran. Everything on the map looks like something I could have possibly ran down. I take an educated guess based off of my last confirmed location with my fire-team, the direction I ran down and a road I took a turn on. 

Let’s just get out of the city.

I plan a short route, not bothering to plan any secondary routes or pay any attention to landmarks. I plan on going in a straight line and getting the hell out, staying out of the way of friendlies and enemies alike.

Still, there’s a good chance there won’t be any dead zones in a battlefield like this. No one is that stupid. All I can really do is pick a route where there will be the least amount of people. 

I take care to fold the map, put it back in the rucksack under the waterproof tarp as we are trained. I do a once over to make sure all of the gear will be comfortable to move in quickly; that everything is cinched down appropriately and nothing will make unnecessary noise. Satisfied, I heft it over my back, then clip in the chest strap and tighten everything down. 

With my light corrected vertically to view the space directly in front of me, I walk down the dark hallways of the office building I am in, the opposite direction from the street. I am in about the center of the building on the park side. 

After about a minute of traveling down the main hallway on the first floor, I pass a couple wooden double doors that open up to office spaces that I imagine were once top of the line for multi million dollar companies, now in the middle of a battlefield. Past the third office space, I come up to a door for a stairwell and next to that is an emergency exit. I turn off my light in preparation to exit.

It’s not so dark in the alley by the looks of it. Not enough to give away my position at least.

Luckily the power is completely cut off because when I push through the door to the alley, no alarms go off. 

I make my way down swiftly but quietly as possible, taking care not to step on any rocks, pebbles, trash, that could make any noise. 

I continue walking, taking care to listen to my surroundings. Coming up to the first intersection of the alleyway, I hear loose rock shift underneath someone’s feet to the right, down the split of the intersection I am coming up to. 

Shit. I think to myself. This is gonna be rough.

I silently unclasp the button on the holster holding my knife on the right side of my vest. I take the knife into my right hand, holding it forward.

[I walk as silently as possible, which forces me to an anxious shuffle forward. 

Pump, pump.

My heart pounds relentlessly through my head, eyes, my hand holding my knife, and the pressure points of my vest and rucksack on my body.

The corner to the right grows closer as I focus with the anticipation of seeing a silhouette in front of me, but even as I cross into the open alley to the right: nothing. 

Behind the dumpster? Perhaps. But, god, let’s hope I am hearing shit.

Instead of running past the intersection, I opt to declare myself to the threat rather than expose my back as I pass through.

I run to the dumpster in order to get a jump on the enemy, taking advantage of the sound concealment the light rain is creating, and as I cross behind it, still nothing. 

Well, there is a rat about the size of a house cat scurrying away.

Embarrassed at myself, I reupholster the knife, round back to the intersection and continue down the path I came from in the direction I was going. 

After about 10 minutes of hiking down the alley, it’s now pouring rain.

I sure am glad I put that map underneath the tarp

The tarp is always the top layer of a ruck in order to keep everything waterproof. It’s not just laid on top, you have to make sure to pack it into the sides or else water will leak in from there. 

A rumble vibrates through the ground and into my feet. I double check my map to make sure I am not near any battle lines and sure enough, nothing is anywhere near me.