Sgt. Charles waved his hand back and forth slowly, ushering the civilians through. They continued their assent up the wooden plank stairway, past him, and along the boardwalk to the emergency vechicles waiting on the streets. Below and in the harbor he could see the large transport ship, old and covered in rust from both its native country and its age in use.
The survivors had been pouring into the Los Angeles harbors all day, and still more were expected. But what hanted Charles most of all was the fact that these were only a third of all the transports that had left San Fransico. The other two thirds were either destroyed before they could get out of the bay, or sunk while escaping. Worse still, how many had even made it to the harbors? How many had still been running for their lives in the city?
"Sargent; how many more are we looking at?"
Charles turned to see the Corporal from Company 14.
"A dozen more, sir. But we've got more coming in as we speak."
"Damn," the Corporal muttered, "we're running out of space."
"Shall I close this dock?" Charles asked quietly.
"No...keep it open. Orders are orders, and we can't turn 'em down now. Not after the massacre they've been through."
Charles nodded, and continued to usher the remaining survivors through. At the back of the line was a little girl. She looked like a street urchin, her clothing no more than rags, her hair filthy and wet from the ocean. However, nestled firmly between her small arms was a laptop PC.
He had to raise an eyebrow at that. Of all the things to grab before fleeing from your home, why that? Frankly, it looked out of place. She lookd no older than eight. Had her parents thrust it into her arms before they saw their daughter float away to safety, while they were forced to stay behind from lack of space on the transport?
So many questions, and suddenly the little girl was standing right in front of him, staring up at him curiously. Charles frowned.
"You're a soldier," she said innoccently.
"Yes..." he stared at her curiously."You need to move along with the others."
She nodded, and handed the laptop out. "Here. He said to give it to a soldier."
Charles took the laptop hesitently. "Who did? Where did you get this?"
"The man..." she replied.
"The man?"
"At the docks...in the burning city..." The girl moved on, and disappeared into the crowd of survivors.
Charles stood frozen on the spot, holding the laptop the little girl had given to him. The burning city...a man told me to give this to a soldie...
"Corporal!"
He took off across the decks, running towards the command post tents. The Corporal was there alright, looking down at satellite imagery.
"Coporal, I think you should take a look at this..."
The Corporal studied the laptop and frowned. "What is it?"
"We had men inside the city when it was attacked, right?"
"Yes...409th Division.Why?"
"Did they ever get word out any of them?" Charles was urgent now.
Stumble!