Fallout - Chapter 2

Present Day

The quiet of the barracks was suffocating, but I welcomed it. After the chaos of the mission, the stillness felt like a sanctuary. I was alone in my room, the harsh fluorescent lights from the hallway bleeding under the door. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, but it didn’t do a damn thing to dull the ache in my body.

My fingers traced the edge of a faded scar along my ribs, the soreness from today’s op still pulsing beneath the surface. It wasn’t the physical pain that lingered—it was the hollow exhaustion that came from surviving another day, when all I really wanted was to scream.

But I wouldn’t. I never did. The military taught me early on that weakness would be my undoing. So I swallowed it down, like always, burying it under the layers of armor I’d built piece by piece over the last four years.

The bed was a mess—blanket half-rolled, boots kicked off without care. I hadn’t bothered to clean up. There was no point. Right now, all that mattered was burning off the last of the adrenaline still clinging to my skin. Focus. Discipline.

I stared at the ceiling, letting my mind cycle through tomorrow’s routine—training drills, weapons checks, a weigh-in I couldn’t afford to screw up. Same grind, different day. But under all that structure, under all the order, there was this… emptiness. A quiet space in my chest that no amount of sweat or steel had ever managed to fill.

The mission had gone smoothly enough—on paper, anyway. Clean op. Fast extraction. Zero casualties. But I still felt it clinging to me like dust I couldn’t shake off. There was this moment—barely a second—when a civilian froze at the checkpoint. I’d raised my weapon without thinking. It was instinct. Reflex. The girl had just been carrying clothes. No threat. No danger. Just scared.

I dropped my rifle, signaled the others, moved her through. No one said anything about it afterward. My team knew better.

But the way she looked at me—wide-eyed, afraid—it stuck. It was the same look I’d seen once before. From the passenger seat. Blood in my mouth. Glass in my hair. Four faces flashing in and out of the dark like ghosts. Still haunting me. Still here.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and forced myself to breathe. In. Out. Controlled. Steady. Just like I’d been taught. Just like I had to be.

A knock came at the door. Three quick raps. Then silence.

I didn’t move right away. Most people knew better than to come to my room this late. It was either something official… or someone dumb enough to think they could peel back a layer I’d nailed shut years ago.

“Steele?” A muffled voice. Sanchez. One of the few I didn’t mind.

“Intel drop came in,” he said. “New team’s rotating to base next week. Special tactics. Classified clearance.”

I pushed myself up, joints stiff. “So?”

When I opened the door, Sanchez just shrugged. “They’re bunking in our sector. Command’s splitting some of us up.”

I clenched my jaw. “I just got this room.”

“Yeah, well… word is they’re good. Really good. Might even outrank us once the reshuffle lands.”

I leaned against the frame, crossing my arms. “Great.”

He gave me a tired half-smile. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

I waited until his footsteps disappeared before closing the door again. The room felt smaller now. Like the air had shifted.

A new team. A new unknown.

My gut twisted—not in fear, but in that quiet, electric way it always did before something snapped. Something I wouldn’t be able to control.

I laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open in the dark.