"Wake up!" a voice whispered in my ear. I forced myself awake and sat up. A quick glance at the time told me I had been asleep for less than a minute. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, not taking the time to straighten my hair.
The oddity of the time was never more apparent than now. In a normal war zone the civil defence would have been bombarding the area with radio warnings of incoming ordinance. Here, however, it was silent. No explosion, no screams, nothing.
I got to my feet and grabbed a pack from a rucksack hanging from a hook by my bed. Within the pack I found the uniform I had gone to sleep in. My uniform, my weapons, my pack. Everything was there. Well, except for the food, but I knew where it was.
The uniform was clean, but my weapons were covered in mud. The uniform was in the locker anyway. I'd have to use it anyway. The uniform was made of a special synthetic material that could be cleaned in a washing machine, which you shouldn't have in a war zone anyway. I brushed the mud from my uniform, tossed the uniform pack back on the hook, put on my uniform and grabbed my gun.
There. I was ready. I had my uniform on, my uniform pack, my weapons. All I needed to do was grab the food. I stuck the pistols inside the waistband of my uniform and pulled on a jacket. I grabbed my rifle and walked towards the mess hall.
The mess hall was a square building about fifty meters square and about fifteen meters high. On one side there was a small kitchen and a dumb waiter to send the food up to the bunkers.
I opened the back door and looked at the rain. The rain had started two hours before. I had figured that by the time it finished it would have soaked through some of the lighter foliage on the ground.
The rain was thick, but I could clearly see the ground between the puddles of water. A few yards in front of me was a perfect circle of mud. I glanced up to the tower that stood fifty meters above me. No clouds in the sky, no rain in the air, no wind. The rain was heavy, but even heavy rain can be heard for many miles.
I walked forward, the mud sucking at my boots. I stepped inside the circles, still carrying my rucksack and rifle. I set the rucksack down on the familiar table and began to open it.
I pulled out two food packages, one about ten pounds, the other about five. I tossed the lighter one to the left of the break room, then grabbed the heavier one.
"Kris!" a voice shouted from the far left of the room.
I spun with my hands still tucked inside the pack and rifle, my eyes scanning the room with my pistols pointing away from the voice. I didn't see anyone. I couldn't see anyone.
I looked around. Aside from the building, the only things that could have been hiding inside that puddle of water were another marker buoy, another tower, a large bush, a large rock, a level three building, a female soldier…
I grabbed my rifle. Good. Just another soldier. I scanned the room with my rifle high, looking for the person who had called out. There, almost overhead. Yeah, that was the voice. How the hell had she got up there?
I saw her move out of the corner of my eye. I spun back around to the food packs. I palmed them, then raised them into the air. I then fired like I was putting up a goal. It was an old trick. The gun bucked in my shoulder, I squeezed the trigger twice more, slightly harder. The air between my face and the food bags started to swirl.
The gun fired. The air parted. The air itself pulled my arms away from my chest like a magic trick pulled a rabbit out of his hat.
