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15
Landon
“Attention all hands. Stand by for words from the commanding officer.”
Landon placed the worn cards face down on the table, guarding the ace of spades with the palm of his hand. Every Marine’s face was turned skyward as they paused their games and electronic devices. Sgt. Sierra met Landon’s gaze from across the table, trying to use the moment to get a secret insight into what his teammate was holding since he’d already laid his highest spade, the ten. Thankfully, they’d bid low.
Landon smiled, shaking his head as the 1MC static filled the berthing and gave way to the commanding officer’s voice. They’d been waiting for this announcement since the watch had changed shifts, spreading word like wildfire below deck that land was in sight.
“Good evening sailors and Marines. As I’m sure you’re all aware of now, we’ve reached the coast of California sooner than expected. Communications have been down between 32nd Street and Pendleton since the beginning of the solar event. We’re currently trying to establish contact with the harbormaster in San Diego to see what we can do to dock.”
Landon scanned the faces of his Marines, watching their jaws tense in anger. This wasn’t protocol. They normally flew and drove off ship before it completed its mission. Panic reared its head again, tightening the muscles in Landon’s back. If they were this close to shore, he should already be gearing up with his unit to get on an amphibious assault vehicle.
“I understand that this is different than you are used to,” the commanding officer continued. “But we need to figure out what is going on out there before we decide what to do here.”
The cards grew sweaty under Landon’s palm. He pulled his hand away and wiped it against his green sweatpants under the table.
“Is he saying he has no clue what’s going on?” Cpl. Hemming shoved another pinch of dip into his already full lip. He cursed under his breath, hands shaking as he failed to secure the lid back on to the can.
“It’s alright,” Landon said stoically. “They’ll let us know what’s going on as soon as they find out.”
But there was only so much words of reassurance could do. The stress and tension running through the berthing wrapped itself around Landon’s neck.
“In about an hour, we’ll be coming up to the Coronado Bridge and try to establish a…”
There was a muffled skirmish, harsh words spoken in crackled whispers, as the 1MC microphone changed hands.
“Don’t you worry, Marines,” COL Brown, the MEU commander, said. “We’re going home one way or another. This is just a quick pit stop.”
Cpl. Hemming clapped Landon on the back, grinning with pieces of tobacco stuck in his teeth as the steel walls of the ship vibrated with the loud chorus of “ooh-rahs.”
Landon allowed himself to smile and sank back against his chair as he ran his thumb over the upside down ace.
“You heard the colonel.” Sgt. Sierra laughed as he gathered up his cards from the table and fanned them in front of his face. “We’ve got another hour to kill, so let’s see what you got.”
The quiet pride of winning the game stuck with Landon as he made his way up the ladder well. Sgt. Sierra was more vocal about it as he swung himself between the hand rails.
“Next time let’s bid higher.” His anxious energy made Landon chuckle. The ship had stopped and was rocking in the San Diego waters. It might not be where they were supposed to dock, but he was so close to home he could almost taste it in the salty air as he stepped onto the flight deck.
“It was luck of the draw,” Cpl. Hemming muttered behind them, but even he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.
The night air was chilly as it wound its way through the crowd of onlookers. Pinpricks broke out on Landon’s skin. It was too quiet. Everyone was speaking in whispers. The inky black sky was abnormally bright as the full moon shone down on the harbor. The ship wasn’t even close to being in the bay.
Hundreds of cargo ships groaned under the weight of steel shipping containers as they bobbed lifeless in the dark water. Beams of light swept out to one another, ghostly in the sea mist fog and flashing on and off in morse code. Landon stood at the rails, his hands clenching the steel bars when he saw what lay ahead of them.
The skyline of San Diego was licked in roaring flames casting a burning glow of inferno toward the night sky and sending plumes of black smoke that blocked out the stars in the east. The fire continued up the mountains, rolling over the landscape in patches like burning embers on a log.
“No, man. This isn’t happening.” Sgt. Sierra stepped back from the rails as he shook his head in disbelief. Someone bumped into him, shoving him forward, and he planted his feet firmly on the deck to keep from sliding.
“Everyone take a step back.” Landon spun around to face the growing crowd with his palms raised. “It might not be as bad as it looks.”
“Get out of my way,” a panicked voice cried from the sea of faces. There was a shuffle of bodies, a break in the ranks, and a sailor flung himself over the railing.
“Man overboard!” the call rang out just as all hell broke loose. The crowd moved forward with frantic cries, clambering over each other to get a better look.
“Get away from the rails,” Landon barked, grabbing shirt collars and arms blindly as he shoved them toward the center of the flight deck. Desperate eyes were wild and white, reflecting the moonlight.
“I said move.” Landon pushed a shaking Marine and sent him tumbling into the crowd that caught him before he hit the deck. Why isn’t the CO calling this in?” Landon grit his teeth as he continued to push back.
