The End of the Beginning

by Eichholz, Zachary

  Several white UNIRO vehicles, like the one Roger had driven, which now William knew were called Blazers, were parked at one end of the garage. Behind the lines of people at attention were workout equipment, lockers in small walled-off sections, miscellaneous equipment, and a few chairs. In front of the line, behind the major, were four long corrugated metal garage doors that were closed, each of them having their own lines of trainees and a commanding officer in front of them.

  This building held Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and of course his own at the end, Delta Group. William knew there was six other groups as well, each one having 105 people, a part of the 1,050 trainees. Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta, Lota, and Kappa Group, were all elsewhere in other garages close by. All were competing against each other. Delta Group was in second place behind Zeta Group.

  So far, their academic performance had determined the groups’ standings, but now that was going to change. Each group's commanding officer started their own speeches before their trainees. Major Hansen's was loud and naturally filled with curse words of varying severity.

  “Delta Group! At ease.” Everyone unlocked and relaxed but still remained in lines.

  “Congratulations for making it this far. The last two weeks have been easy as hell compared to what is next. As they say, shit is about to hit the fan, and splatter all over those clean naïve faces of yours.”

  Major Hansen began slowly pacing the line.

  “First,” he growled, “you are to change out of your casual on-base uniforms and into your new physical training uniforms that are located in the lockers behind you. All of your new uniforms have your name and rank on them but you have to find them first before you don them. They could be anywhere on that wall, intermixed with other groups. You have to shout out whose uniform you find and wait for its owner to come and get it. Once you hear your name and find your locker and uniform put it on, place the one you're wearing now in the locker and come back here. You have two minutes starting…” The bear of a man Hansen looked at his glass tablet, then to one of the other officers to his right, then back to his tablet and said, “Now.”

  And like horses out of the gates, the line scattered and rushed to the locker area at the back of the garage. Groups became one as the sounds of opening and closing lockers mixed over the sounds of shouting trainees, yelling out names they either had or never had heard before. Clangs and bangs. Clangs and bangs. Ranks and names. Ranks and names.

  “Rescue Officer Kennedy!”

  “Sergeant Sagastume! Over here!”

  “Captain Fong, right here, look here!”

  “Sergeant Yaalaoui.”

  “Rescue Officer Frostad! Frostad!”

  “Rescue Officer Perry.”

  “Rescue Officer Carroll!”

  “Lieutenant Rasmussen!”

  “Captain Emerson. Captain William Emerson! Over here!”

  Upon hearing his name, William raced over to where he had heard it from, of course as far as it could be from where he was suppose to return when the two minutes were up, which had to be very soon. He finally found his locker and was handed his uniform by some rescue officer who looked scared as hell. He put his casual on-base uniform in the locker and slipped on his new one. It was comprised of both a white Under Armour T-shirt that only said UNIRO, Delta Group, and of course his name and rank in dark blue lettering on its front, and of dark blue shorts that came to just above his knees with deep pockets. His black boots came off and were replaced by white Under Armour running sneakers that felt very cushioned on the concrete floor.

  Having changed, he ran back over to Delta Groups staging area and waited for the rest to return, standing at attention again. Seong was still trying to find his locker. Other groups were nearly finished with the task. Alpha Group finished first, then Gamma Group. Delta Group finally finished last, with a few seconds to go. Major Hansen was not impressed as they all stood at attention before him panting.

  “That was bloody close! I don't like it so far, Delta Group. Remember what I said, my group always comes in first and right now we are second! Hell, we probably just slipped to third. When you're out there rescuing someone can you afford to be late?”

  “No, sir!” shouted everyone.

  “Can you afford to deviate from a schedule that has lives depending on it?”

  “No sir!”

  “If you are late to a rescue zone or to a building collapse what happens?”

  “We fail, sir!”

  “What happens?”

  “We fail, sir!”

  “Does UNIRO ever fail!” screamed the major.

  “No, sir!”

  “That's goddamn right! At ease,” he said quieting down as he did.

  The major began to pace up and down the single file shoulder-to-shoulder lines. Other similar shouts could be heard from the other trainee commanders.

  “Now, let’s see what you scrubs have learned in the last two weeks. We’ll see if you people actually retain information or just sit and drool in class. You all better pray that who I pick gets their shit right or else we’ll be running laps around this garage for the rest of the day!”

  He stalked the line, looking for someone who stood out as weak or not paying attention. A few seconds of hunting found him his victim. From his position in line William could not see who it was but he could definitely hear who it was once the major started shouting at them.

  “Rescue Officer Patterson! Step forward.”

  William listened as Patterson stepped forward.

  “Rescue Officer Patterson, you have the lowest rank here at UNIRO. Let's see if you can make the highest impression. Please name the ranks in increasing order of Subgroup 4. Also, name that subgroup’s task, please. Nice and loud, so we can all hear. In the field, you need to be loud so those who are trapped or lost can hear you, so be loud, Patterson!”

  “The ranks in Subgroup 4 go as follows, sir,” yelled Patterson. “Rescue officer, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, major, colonel, subgroup general, and then base commander. Subgroup 4 is tasked with protection of the environment.”

  “Very good, Patterson. You saved your group for now.”

  After his first victim had escaped his grasp, Major Hansen moved toward the line at William’s end looking for someone else to eat up. Hansen stopped right in front of William and looked at him.

  “Captain…” Oh no. “Loggia.”

  Whew. Captain Loggia was standing next to William on his left, another squadron leader, but William did not know of which. Loggia looked like he had just been picked to go the gallows.

  “Captain Loggia, please tell me what a non-entry rescue is.”

  “Non-entry rescue is when one is attempting to extricate an incapacitated person without having anyone else enter the confined space they are trapped in, sir,” said the captain, rather calmly.

  “Damn,” said Hansen, looking disappointed, “that’s correct, Captain Loggia.”

  After not having taken his second victim he turned and looked at William, sure that he would cave.

  “Emerson. I’ve heard about you. Hope Giver, wasn’t it? What a corny-ass name,” Hansen laughed sarcastically. “Let's see how good you really are. Captain Emerson, what happens when we lose someone out there, one of our own? Someone under your command, perhaps?”

  A long time ago, William would have probably answered by saying he never would lose someone under his command. It just would not happen. But, now…

  Major Hansen stared at him with a scowl. William knew the major wanted him to fail the question. He could tell there was no trust to be had. William was readying an answer when a door slam from behind the lines interrupted his thoughts.

  Everyone moved their eyes back and forth, trying to see who it was behind them. Whoever it was, they had loud, hard footsteps that smacked against the concrete floor. They were approaching. The group commander of Gamma Group saw who it was and yelled, “Attention!”

  Everyone stood to attention. Everyone. A British female voice called out to Majo
r Hansen through the lines, a voice that William knew to be someone’s he did not want to hear right now.

  “At ease! Hello, Major Hansen.”

  “Base Commander Hammond, to what do we owe the pleasure, ma’am?”

  Commander Hammond walked around the lines on William’s right and then to Hansen, who even looked a little intimidated by her presence. In her tow were three heavily armed ISAF bodyguards.

  “Oh, come now, Major, you know I like to be present on the first day of physical.”

  “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

  “Now, please, don't let me interrupt. Continue.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we were just about to break out into their designated squadrons for the first time and then go outside.”

  Hammond flashed an approving grin and took a place behind the line to watch with her guardsmen. She tried keeping her distance from them but the guardsmen would not allow it.

  “Now, your squadrons. On my tablet are each of your names and your corresponding squadron assignments. Listen up for your name because I will only say it once! I know you already know which squadron you are in, which is even more reason I shouldn't have to repeat myself. First, squadron leaders; you know who you are so please step forward and separate yourselves out the length of the group lines.”

  All squadron leaders in the line stood forward as they were told. Seven people stood forward, seven leaders of seven new squadrons. Fourteen others would each join behind them. William took up a position near the major, who obviously took offense to William doing this, but William did not care.

  “Next, once I call your name, I will announce what squadron you are in and then you are to immediately go to it and stay there, at which point you will be under the command of your squadron leader.”

  Okay here we go, William thought. Look confident. Look tough but… well; just look tough, and leader-ish. The first name was called, some rescue officer from the middle of the lines. He went to Air-to-Air Rescue Squadron 5, then another rescue officer to Lighting Squadron 1, then another and another. About the twentieth person in, the first trainee in William’s squadron was called.

  “Sergeant Vega Horbert, Search and Rescue Squadron 3!”

  And there they were, the first person under his command. William took a deep breath when he saw her. She was very good looking with dark brown hair and exotic green eyes. She walked with structured steps and only looked at what she had to, giving William only a peek of her eyes as she passed him. There was definitely an ex-military aura about her.

  Lieutenant Seong was called next and then several other of his squadron members, each one looking very young and very excited either to finally be assigned to their squadron or to just be out of Hansen's hands for a little and under someone else's direction. The last name called for his squadron was Rescue Officer Samir Mamedov, who rolled his eyes when he was told who he was to join, walking over to William's position and giving him a slight nudge on the elbow as he passed.

  Mamedov lazily took up a position in the second row behind William. Ten rescue officers, two sergeants, one lieutenant, and a captain at the helm. That was his team, his vessel to steer and watch over. On his glass tag, the names of all his squadron members appeared. He checked the list once to make sure he had everyone.

  1. Captain William Emerson

  2. Lieutenant Seong Jeon

  3. Sergeant Vega Horbert

  4. Sergeant Paul Macom

  5. Rescue Officer Amanda Miller

  6. Rescue Officer Vinny Mckay

  7. Rescue Officer Gaspard Fortin

  8. Rescue Officer Mario Niccolo

  9. Rescue Officer Samir Mamedov

  10. Rescue Officer Sergey Mamedov

  11. Rescue Officer Simba Mambiri

  12. Rescue Officer Abeo Lawal

  13. Rescue Officer Dao Jinping

  14. Rescue Officer Dwayne J. Pate

  15. Rescue Officer Heather Phillips

  He did. Major Hansen finished the assignments and then instructed everyone.

  “Alright, now that we all know where we belong, take exactly five minutes to acquaint each other. Ranks and names people, ranks and names, that's it. No flirting, tongue twisting, or dick splashing. Go!”

  Conversation immediately filled the garage. All fourteen of William’s team members were staring at him in two rows of seven, waiting for him to speak, save for Samir Mamedov who was looking off to somewhere else. William turned to see where he was looking and saw a young woman in another group a ways down the garage. Time to make an impression. He cleared his throat of any fear and began to preach.

  “Rescue Officer Mamedov, is there something more interesting right now that is preoccupying your time?”

  “No, Captain,” he said with a thick Russian accent.

  “Good. Then I expect yours, and everyone else’s attention when I am addressing you at all times. Stand up straight, Mamedov. Shape up. If we are going to be a team then we all need to be disciplined and focused as one. Not only will we be UNIRO’s first responders but also the world’s. With this comes unknowns and challenges that we will face upon every arrival at a disaster. If there isn’t absolute trust, absolute focus, then we will fail. I expect full cooperation with my orders but, this is not a one sided authority. If I am doing something wrong or there seems to be a better option than the one I am presenting, please speak up and tell me. You didn’t sign up for this organization to remain silent. I want input from all of you. Now, when I’m not around, Lieutenant Jeon will be in charge and I expect everyone to follow him just as they would me. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” shouted everyone except Mamedov.

  “Rescue Officer Mamedov, is this attitude problem going to continue? Because if it does, I’ll see to it that you’re removed from active duty and placed on wind turbine grease detail for the remainder of your time here. Is that clear?”

  Mamedov did not say anything. William glanced past him to see Commander Hammond eyeing the unfolding conflict.

  “You did not answer the question, Rescue Officer!” He walked over to him and stood in front of his face, so close that William could smell his breath, which smelled of Nicorette gum. “Answer. The. Question,” said William, in a voice so low only Mamedov could hear it.

  “There will be no problems… sir,” Mamedov said with a grain of effort.

  “Good.” William raised his voice again, the five minutes was almost up. Since starting his speech confidence surged through his body. He was worried it wouldn’t, but commanding felt good so far. “Whatever the major has planned next we will face it as a team. Let’s push each other and help each other out, have each other’s backs.” William walked to the front of the squadron again and said his final words. “Good luck to us all.”

  “Time!” called Hansen.

  Everyone stopped and turned to the major.

  “Squadrons,” grinned Hansen, “It’s time. You all know it mostly as the Yard. Its real name is the Interchangeable Disaster Environment Scenario Simulation Zone. If someone blindfolded me, dropped me in the middle of it, and left me there, I wouldn’t know the difference between it and hell. It is designed to scare the shit out of you, and I guarantee it will. It's over 900 acres of fire, water, earth, and sometimes even wind, that is designed to simulate almost any disaster scenario we may face out there.”

  Hansen began counting on his stubby fingers. “We can simulate chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear and high yield explosive attacks and threats. There is a town with full fire and gas effects, explosive rigged cars, an area that can flood up to a depth of nine feet, a four-lane highway, two track railway stations, underground tunnels, simulated wildfire area, collapsed buildings, and my favorite… the mountain terrain platform that can simulate landslides, rock falls, and even avalanches. Oh, baby, it's seventy feet of vertical whoop-ass.

  Hansen smacked his lips and grunted.

  “We also have our exercise and obstacle courses back there. That is where we are going first. Once thes
e doors open, you all need to follow me and stay as a group. Squadron leaders keep your teams together. If anyone strays, that squadron will be running the garage for the rest of the day! Further instructions will be given once we’re at the course. Is that understood, Delta Group?”

  “Yes, sir!” shouted everyone as loudly as they could, pumped and ready.

  Hansen made a turning motion with his right hand and then turned towards the door in front of their group.

  “Open the doors!”

  CHAPTER 33: Learning the Ropes

  Sirens and flashing warning lights started to sound as the doors rolled open, revealing a town behind them. The smell of morning dew and propane from the fire effects reached William’s nose. The light outside was still very much low; it was only 7:29 a.m.

  Square buildings up to four stories high with flat roofs were in the simulated town ahead to the south, maybe 200 feet, with a two-lane road marking the town's edge. Trees made out of metal, with dark trunks and branches that had burn marks, made up the eastern corner of the town. A dike wrapping around six, one story homes was in the western corner. There was a main street, alleys, side roads, everything one would see in a real town. One building was a collapsed parking garage, another a collapsed hospital. William saw a school, a church, and even baseball field with bleachers, dugouts and all.

  As the newly formed squadrons began jogging away behind their group leaders, William was stopped by Hammond abruptly, so much so that Vega and Seong nearly ran into him. Hammond stared at William intently.

  “Go ahead of me guys,” William directed to his squadron. “Lieutenant Jeon, take point ‘til I catch up.”

  “Y-y-yes, sir.”

  The team flooded around William, Hammond, and her three guardsmen like water. Hansen looked on from the front and ignored the hold up.

  “Is there something you need, ma’am?” asked William, agitated.

  Holding her hands firmly in front of her, she looked William up and down. “I just wanted to wish you good luck, Captain. So far, I’m hearing all good things. Keep pushing that dare.”