quick-sketch: a rude awakening

Zoey finally was getting restful sleep for the first time in days. And then it ended, as she was doused with a bucket of cold water.

“What the hell!?” she shouted; her peaceful slumber taken from her. Above her bottom bunk stood two of her six-person squad, Jim and Frank, in grey tactical gear.

“Sorry, we couldn’t wake you up,” Jim said sheepishly.

“What’s the matter?” she said wiping her face on the blanket, knowing it was something urgent.

“Your asset that we were supposed to hop over and pick up this afternoon…well, he went a little banana-wacky. Threw two sentries overboard, the quartermaster down a flight of stairs, and barricaded himself in one of the gallies. Then set the galley on fire. All while they were tethered to a refueling tender. The BCO of the MEU just told the Security Forces Marines to mobilize on the flight deck right now to head over there.”

“Well, he’s fucking dead. So, I’m going back to sleep once I find some new bedding,” Zoey said, matter-of-factly.

“Look, we just got cabled by the station chief to get on whatever the hell we can find and get to him first. Secure him alive,” Jim said, the messenger of another impossible demand.

“Is there anything available on the flight line?” asked Zoey scratching her head.

“Jill asked the Mini Boss and he said the Seabees have a helicopter that is about to get going over there to bring extra water pumps.”

“Fuck…what are they sinking? How much damage did the son-of-a-bitch cause? And us going over there with a Takeover-Recapture Team in the mix risks some blue-on-blue fire.”

“I’m pretty sure telling the Marines not to hurt him won’t be helpful,” Frank uttered the obvious.

“This sounds like a recipe for disaster. They’re on a god-damned destroyer; that’s what, a two-helipad flight-deck?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know how many the Marines are taking out there either.”

Zoey began getting dressed, opening her locker to get her gear.

“Where’s Rodney and Jill?”

“Rodney never made it out here. Got tied up in Honolulu. Apparently, he thought he could fight six three-hundred-pound bouncers with Billy clubs after downing one too many Long Island Iced Teas. He was wrong. He’s in a hospital with two broken arms. Jill took a few duffels of our equipment and is trying to get us space on the Super Stallion with the Seabees.”

And with that Zoey went through the motions to get herself up to the helicopter and into the next firefight of a life spent all-too-often fighting proverbial fires.

She was not only burning out, but the perpetual stress, the anticipatory anxiety of the next disaster, and the sleep loss were messing with her mind. At times she felt she was losing control. Other times her dreams bled into the day, with weird effects and her subordinates stopping to ask if she was okay.

The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to find herself staring out onto the cold unforgiving ocean, from above in the helicopter. Before them, the USS Arleigh Burke was on fire and listing, as the rest of the expeditionary unit rushed to save her.

Saving the ship and ending the threat was their paramount task. Taking the jerk in alive, somehow, was her's.