Between the Smoke

TW: Sensitive setting??

Sand and ash swirled in the air, carried by a violent squall that pushed against Lieutenant Hollis in every direction. The ground trembled below him. For a moment Hollis wasn't sure if he was lying down or still standing

Shouts cut through the haze-- ragged, desperate shouts, but they sounded far away, like they were underwater. A sharp ringing still drowned his ears from most noise, which forced him to open his burning eyes.

The sight made his stomach twist.

Men lay scattered across the sand where the blast had thrown them. Most were devoured in their own blood, others had missing limbs, but all lay motionless. Broken equipment littered the ground; crates, rifles, pieces of vehicles twisted into shapes that no longer made sense.

Hollis staggered forward and caught himself against the side of a truck that somehow still stood upright. The metal was hot beneath his palm.

He sucked in what felt like his last breath, but it quickly turned into a wheeze.

When he looked down, his side was soaked red, spreading slowly through the fabric of his uniform. His ribs burned every time he moved, but he could still stand. That was something.

That meant he still had time.

Hollis lifted his head, curling his lip against the pressure of his sore neck. He forced sound through his tight throat, shouting anything he could.

The ringing in his ears still swallowed most of the sound, but something moved in the distance from what Hollis could make out.

It was one of the junior officers, who was struggling to his feet through the smoke. He looked dazed, his uniform torn and stained, his posture stiff like every movement hurt. But he was alive.

Hollis pushed away from the truck and stumbled toward him, each step uneven in the shifting sand. The officer didn't move much when Hollis reached him. He just stood there, breathing hard, like he was afraid that if he moved the wrong way his body might collapse.

Hollis grabbed his wrist and pulled the man's arm across his shoulders. The officer groaned as Hollis lifted as much of his weight as he could. Somewhere behind them, the wreckage still burned, crackling through the heavy smoke.

Help might come. But if it didn't the only choice left was to move.

And pray.

Hollis moved, the officer's weight dragging against his shoulder. Each step sank into the loose sand, and every jolt set a sharp burn through Hollis's side. Smoke rolled across the camp in slow waves, the air smelled of burning fuel and scorched metal. Fire travelled quickly, and behind them, something cracked loudly as the flames crawled across what remained of a vehicle.

They had been walking for roughly three minutes, and Hollis was still forcing himself forward. He knew the chances of either one of them collapsing from the pain or heat was likely, but no matter what, Hollis cursed at himself under his breath to keep on moving.

Shapes appeared and vanished in the haze, but all that he could make out what was in front of them was more smoke and overturned vehicles.

Then, a figure crawled several yards away, dragging one leg uselessly behind him. And another man leaned against a crate, slumped forward, unmoving. A helmet rolled slowly across the ground before settling in the sand. Hollis kept his eyes ahead.

The officer beside him stumbled. His knees buckled, and his weight dropped suddenly. Hollis tightened his grip and pulled him upright again, nearly falling with him in the process.

The world tilted for a moment.

Hollis blinked hard until the blur cleared.

They reached the shadow of a half-collapsed supply shelter. one of the support beams had split down the middle, leaving the roof sagging but still standing. It was enough to cover them from the smoke and drifting heat.

Hollis eased down the officer against a wall. For a moment, Hollis just stood there, chest heavy, the ringing in his ears still pounding like a second heartbeat.

He turned back toward the camp. The smoke was only thicker now. Flames crawled along the ground where spilled fuel had caught fire. The truck he had leaned against earlier was beginning to burn, black smoke pouring upward into the sky. It tainted every sense of his. The ringing-- still loud, his vision, blurry against the black and red spires curling inward. And smell-- only filled with the pungent fire and smoke.

Despite him nearly not being able to make out what's in front of him, he stepped forward, just slightly catching the sight of movement again in the distance.

He hesitated, but it didn't last long. His body begged him to stay where he was. His ribs throbbed, and the warm wetness spreading beneath his uniform told him the wound in his side hadn't slowed.

But someone else was still alive out there, and despite his own condition Hollis knew he needed to do everything he could.

Hollis pushed off the frame of the half-burned doorway and back into the smoke. The sand shifted beneath his boots as he moved deeper into the wreckage, scanning through the haze for the movement he saw just a moment ago.

Behind him, the officer remained slumped against the wall of the shelter, breathing shallow but steady.

Ahead of him, the burning camp crackled and groaned as twisted metal cooled and flames spread across broken ground.

Hollis kept walking.

Through the smoke, he made out the dying movement of someone again. Not the slow, hopeless dragging he had expected, but something different-- someone trying to stand. Hollis shifted direction and pushed toward it.

The heat grew stronger the deeper he moved into the wreckage. He kept his head low and moved through the drifting smoke, blinking hard to clear the sting from his eyes.

There.

It was one of the quartermasters from a different deployment. Hollis caught the faded supply patch that was stitched onto the man's half-hidden sleeve. He guessed he was stationed at a different supply depot, because his operating camp didn't have any.

He was knelt beside the remains of a supply crate, bracing himself with one hand while the other clutched his side. His helmet was gone, his hair matted with dust and blood. Every breath seemed to shake his entire body. He was young, with bright blonde hair that was visible through the black smoke.

The young man swayed as he tried to stand. Hollis quickly closed the distance, grabbing the man's arm before he could collapse again. The man's weight dropped heavily against him.

Hollis steadied himself and turned back toward the shelter.

Every step back felt longer than the first trip out. The man's boots dragged unevenly behind them, leaving crooked lines in the sand. The smoke shifted constantly, swallowing the path ahead and then revealing it again. At last, the crooked outline of the shelter appeared through the haze.

The officer still sat where Hollis had left him, resting against the wall with his head lowered. When Holis and the wounded quartermaster reached him, the officer stirred weakly, lifting his head just enough to show he was still conscious.

Hollis lowered the quartermaster beside him.

For a few seconds the three of them remained there in the shade of the damaged structure. Hollis leaned forward, hands braced on his knees, trying to draw enough air into his lungs to stop the tight burning in his chest.

The shelter creaked above them.

Somewhere deeper in the camp something collapsed with a distant metallic crash.

Hollis straightened slowly.

Staying there meant waiting for the fire to reach them.

He crouched beside the officer and lifted him again, pulling the man's arm across his shoulders. The quartermaster struggled weakly to his feet beside him, leaning heavily against Hollis's other side. Now the three of them moved together.

Step by step, they left the shelter behind.

The smoke grew thicker for a short stretch, rolling across the ground in heavy clouds. Hollis kept moving through it, guiding the two men around the burning debris and shattered equipment.

Gradually, the air began to clear.

And what had been a choking gray wall behind them slowly unraveled into drifting strands carried away by the wind.

Fresh desert air filled Hollis's lungs.

They had reached open ground.

Behind them the ruined camp burned fiercely, black smoke climbing high into the sky like a dark pillar. Flames crawled through broken rows of vehicles and tents, devouring what little remained.

Hollis slowed, his legs trembling under the weight of the two men.

Ahead of them stretched a wide strip of desert separating their camp from another section of the base farther out. From this distance it looked untouched-- rows of equipment, supply tents, and parked vehicles sitting quietly beneath the bright sky. Everything there looked normal. Still. Unaffected.

For a moment, the silence felt almost unreal.

Almost like hope.

Almost like they had a chance-- a big one. To return to safety. To get help.

And that gave a small wave of peace.

Hollis stood there for a moment, breathing deeply as the tension slowly unwound from his shoulders. They had made it far enough.

But once Hollis lifted his head, he noticed something. The wind moved softly across the sand. Too softly and too peaceful.

Then the ground shuddered. At first, Hollis thought it was his balance slipping. A dull thump rolled across the sand a moment later, distant and heavy. Far ahead, several hundred yards away, the earth erupted.

A voice from far shouted "incoming." Then a towering column of sand and fire blasted upward from the distant camp, rising violently. The sound arrived a heartbeat later-- deep and crushing, shaking through the ground beneath Hollis's boots.

The dust from the first strike hadn't even begun to settle when a second blast tore through the camp nearby. Another massive plume of debris shot skyward, swallowing the neat rows of equipment beneath it.

Then a third.

And a fourth.

Each explosion slammed into the distant base in brutal succession, pillars of smoke and sand rising higher and higher until the entire horizon churned with chaos.

The quiet desert vanished.

The officer sagged harder against him. The quartermasters swayed beside them, barely able to stand.

Behind them, their own camp burned in silence.

Ahead of them, the next one was being torn apart.

Hollis stood between the two rising pillars of smoke, the wind carrying ash across the open sand. The attack hadn't ended.

It had only moved down the line.