Missing in Action

It had been more than five minutes. Thirteen had passed to be exact.

Unsure of when he and his men were going to, or even if they were going to escape Peshawar alive, he stopped himself from forcing his men from moving from their positions of rest. Without exchanging a word with the others, Patterson, Randall, and himself had taken up watch until time had reached the fifteen-minute mark.

Malkovich was cooking a small meal with three MREs he had obtained from himself and PFCs Green and Simon. The aroma was appetizing, yet for now they would only gain a small portion to keep them going for another two days.

"Fuck..." Patterson whispered while kicking a rock by his foot.

"Patterson?" Thompson questioned as he leaned against a wall.

"I almost made a mistake, didn't I?" Patterson lamented, "How do I put it? Ah I don't know anymore..."

"I'm sure a few of us were reaching our breaking points not long ago." He said calmly.

"Yeah..."

Randall gazed away from the two as they finished their conversation. Behind him the other men had begun to eat their meagerly small portions from the stew Malkovich had cooked up. Luckily for the group the building they found themselves in was a small house, and more so that Malkovich was a self-accomplished cook that was able to whip up something tasty from the materials he was provided; three MREs, a pot of water, and several spices such as salt, pepper, and garlic.

Obtaining a small bowl and silver spoon from Baker, Randall placed his bowl beside him as he stared outside from a window. Down below a stray dog had wandered onto the property and was looking for a place of shelter. As much as he wanted to run out there and secure the dog inside of the building, he knew he couldn't. Such an action would put his squadron at risk, and the dog might go feral and bark non-stop.

Taking a spoonful of the stew and placing it in his mouth, the complex tastes removed all his thoughts from the last 24 hours. As he returned his attention outside, the dog was long gone, and Randall made the assumption that it had either moved to another location or had found a place of rest.

Opening the door, the men flooded out. Weapons raised, nerves steeled, and the ambition to take any necessary fight return home the thirteen became puzzled as their weapons were simply pointing at nothing.

"So, what now? How long till we reach one of the patrols that were investigating the city exits?" Richard asked suddenly breaking the silence.

"If I remember correctly there were fifteen patrols on the south side, the direction we are heading." Malkovich said as he poured a bowl for Thompson. "Each one was responsible for processing those wanting to leave the city, and to stop any insurgents that were trying to escape."

"The Big Red One was handling that right?" Simon asked as he took off his glasses.

"Yeah, something like that." Randall suddenly interjected.

Not being able to conclude what their next move should be, the men chatted amongst themselves quietly as they finished the pot of stew. Captain Thompson ate alone as he stared aimlessly outside. Watch duty was something he had always hated since his days as a Lieutenant in the regular infantry, yet he didn't mind the solidarity this time around.

Patterson noticed the current state of his superior, yet he made no move to confront him about it. In the same fashion Thompson had seen that the Lieutenant was generally concerned about his disposition, but he too decided not to invite him over.

All Thompson wanted was an alcoholic drink to make him more depressed than he already was. Beer and champagne wouldn't cut it, he would need something stronger like whiskey or vodka.

Across the room Randall was listening to Sergeant Malkovich. The two were speaking about what would happen within the next week if they got back to coalition forces.

"-do you think a blackout has happened in each city?" Malkovich wondered as he lowered his now empty bowl.

"Nah-can't be. Satellite communications should still be up, if anything a third party has stepped in and set up jamming rigs all over the city."

"The Russians?"

"No?" Even Randall himself was unsure of his own answer, "President Volodin did basically give us the go ahead to assist Pakistani forces..."

"True. We did participate in joint training with one of the infantry battalions a few months back..."

A bright light flashed over the building. The men were blinded for a mere second as their eyes adjusted to the bright light now flooding the building, they were in.

"Fuck, get down!" Staff Sergeant Baker shouted as he and the others crashed into the ground waiting for a hail of bullets to pass over their heads.

"Captain! Did you see anything!?" Patterson yelled as he crawled to his rifle against the wall, "Are we surrounded! Answer me God damn it!" He kept shouting towards the dazed Captain Thompson who was laying on the wall with a shocked expression and a pale face.

"I-I. No!" Thompson snapped out of his dazed state as he withdrew his handgun from its holster. "There was nothing to see even before the lights! It could be a helicopter!"

"Then where the fuck is the chopper!?" Green shouted in confusion and anger as he rose into a crouched position right below a window, "How come none of us can hear it!?

"Everyone stop-shouting, now!" Randall bellowed gaining control of the situation. "Everyone one just shut the fuck up for a moment!"

The room went silent to the booming voice that came from Randall. The Sergeant silently stood up and readied his rifle as he approached the door.

"Serg-" Green attempted to speak but he was cut off by a very pissed of Randall.

"Shut the fuck up! Cover me!"

He placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted it. The others quickly scrambled into positions to provide fire support, but in the event that the "enemy" opened fire, Randall was going to immediately die. Opening the door, the light blinded Randall as he stepped out into what looked to be a void. Long gone were the streets of Peshawar, all that remained was a white haze.

Seeing that he wasn't getting shot, and the fact that he had lowered his guard, the Rangers left the house one by one as they stepped into this new environment.

"Sergeant, I pretty sure sunlight tends to be yellow or orange or some other shit, not white." Simon said as he lowered his rifle in confusion.

"Captain?" Malkovich said as he looked forward towards Thompson who was glancing around confused.

"I-I don't know..." Thompson said wearily, "Was it a nuke?"

"Sir, I'm pretty sure a fucking nuke would've eviscerated us all. Our retinas could be fucked by the explosion, but we would've died from the heat wave or the radiation."

Looking behind him, Randall brought up a question that started a flurry of murmurs, "Hey, where the fuck is the building?" He lowered his rifle out of confusion and gazed at the white void that had replaced the building they had just left.

"Captain?" Green asked worried.

Publicly Available Information: Global Network Communication:

Using Satellites and on ground radars, the United States and its allies use a complex and highly advance system to establish communications with both governmental and civilian devices.

With the Advance Warfighter program established by a joint program developed by DARRPA and Boeing industries, the US military has unparalleled communications anywhere in the world.