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Henderson Field
Midway Island Atoll
14 February
1101 Local Time
“I knew I should’ve just retired last month,” MSgt Graves mumbled to himself as he hid in the thick brush. After climbing out onto the ledge and jumping to the roof of the next building, Graves nearly broke both ankles, making the ten-foot drop to the ground below. It had taken every ounce of self-control to not let out a string of obscenities as he hobbled to cover away from the team entering the house.
Graves had tried to seek cover in the nearby barracks building, but all of the doors were locked with padlocks and none of the windows would budge. In the clearing a few hundred meters away, he saw a cluster of satellite dishes with two small sheds nearby. He figured that was the main communications relay and his last hope of calling for help. As he arrived at the thick cluster of bushes and brush fifty meters from the satellite dishes, he had seen the team of commandos cross the dirt path toward the barracks. He knew he didn’t have much time left before they’d find him.
Pushing through the pain in his knees and ankles, Graves sprinted out into the opening toward the larger of the two metal buildings. It had a window air conditioning unit and windows, which made Graves think it might house the communications equipment for the relay. Arriving at the door, Graves breathed a sigh of relief. This door had no padlock. He tried the knob. Locked.
Although he couldn’t see the team of commandos approaching, he could almost feel them bearing down on him. He took a step back and winced as he picked up his boot and tried to kick in the door. Unable to muster enough force, his efforts were in vain. The door didn’t budge as he grunted in pain. The metal walls vibrated. His right ankle was now throbbing in pain. As he doubled over, trying not to throw up, he saw the team approaching in a V-formation.
Graves tried to suck it up as best he could and took a step back from the door. This time, he charged the door with his shoulder. As his brawny shoulder impacted the door, the doorjamb gave, flinging the door open as he entered the dark room. Graves found the door and closed it behind him as he tried to catch his breath and push through the pain.
The room was full of green, yellow, and red blinking lights. He fished along the wall and found a light switch, flicking it on. It was a small room with what appeared to be servers and communications equipment lining the walls.
With the room lit by the single bulb, Graves frantically searched for a phone of some sort to dial out. He found a small desk used for electronics repairs, but found nothing but disassembled electronics. There was an input jack for a phone in one of the server racks, but despite his desperate search, he couldn’t find a phone to plug in.
His heart was nearly beating out of his chest as his internal clock told him that the men would be kicking in the door any second. Graves found a server rack and looked for a computer terminal. As he searched each row of computers, he found the terminal, pulled it out, and opened the display. The computer whirred to life as it came out of sleep mode.
Graves took a minute to decipher what program was running. It appeared to be a chat program of some sort. The screen still showed a conversation between two technicians about the status of satellite uplink upgrades. Graves searched for an application menu or connection to the internet. When he found none, he settled for trying to get a message out.
MW7124R: HELP PLEASE
HNLADMIN: Who is this?
MW7124R: MIDWAY UNDER ATTACK
HNLADMIN: Very funny, Carl. Are the Germans bombing Pearl Harbor again? LOL How’d you get that log in?
Graves furiously typed out a reply as he heard boots outside. He had no idea who Carl was, but he had to convince this geek that it was legit before it was too late.
MW7124R: NOT CARL, GARY GRAVES, CALL KADENA COMMAND POST, HELP PLEASE
As Graves hit ENTER, the door flung open and Graves heard a metal thunk. Seconds later, a brilliant flash and an explosion happened. Graves stumbled trying to regain his senses. He was blinded and his ears were ringing. He heard voices before he felt someone grab him and throw him to the ground, tying his hands behind his back as he lay face down on the dusty floor.
Graves yelped in pain as one of the men drove a boot into his ribcage. Dazed by the pain and struggling to breathe, Graves felt himself being lifted to his feet. He was nearly dead weight to the much smaller men as they tried to keep him upright. They pushed him out into the bright sunlight, forcing him to walk as he tried to regain his sight.
When his eyes finally adjusted, Graves saw a man wearing all black with a thick beard staring at him with cold, black eyes. The man seemed to be sizing him up as Graves stood there, surrounded by the commandos.
“How many of you are on this island?” the man asked. His accent was heavy. It sounded like Mandarin Chinese to Gary, but the voice did not seem to match the person questioning him. There was just something off about the look.
“It’s just me,” Graves replied.
The man backhanded Graves, causing him to bite into his lip. He spat the fresh blood onto the ground. His eyes were starting to water as he struggled to make sense of what was going on.
“Please don’t kill me,” Graves said finally.
“Answer my question,” the man said. “How many men like you are on this island?”
“Five others!” Graves shouted. “I swear! We’re just maintenance for a broken aircraft that landed here!”
The man smiled. Graves heard a diesel engine approaching in the distance. He turned to see a black Humvee with a roof-mounted machine gun approaching on the dirt road.
“What is your name?” the man asked as the Humvee neared their position.
“Master Sergeant Gary Graves, United States Air Force,” Graves said proudly.
“Do not worry,” the man said. “You will not die by my hands.”
The two men holding Graves forced him face down into the back of the Humvee before he could ask what that meant. It was hard for Graves to breathe as he lay on the floor of the truck and the men crowded into the seats. His ribs were aching and his shoulder hurt. With his arms behind him, he felt like he was going to suffocate. He tried to focus on each breath to calm himself down as he made a conscious effort to inhale and exhale slowly.
The Humvee rumbled down the dirt road for a few minutes before it stopped. The door flung open and once again, Graves was pulled to his feet. He tried to take in his surroundings as they pushed him forward. They had stopped at what appeared to be an industrial complex. Graves guessed they had taken him to the National Wildlife Refuge building near the harbor. He had seen it before during their evening bike ride before dinner the day prior.
They entered a large open area. Graves saw what appeared to be over a dozen men with beards dressed in black and armed with AK-47s. They seemed to be unloading and setting up equipment. The men escorting him pushed Graves through the open area and into a hallway. It appeared to be lined with offices for the wildlife refuge employees.
The men directed him into one of the offices. The office furniture had been removed, as evidenced by the dust outlines on the floor. There were more men, dressed in black, setting up communications equipment and a camera on a tripod. Graves noticed a flag with a white crescent beneath a star on a field of black, hung against a white backdrop.
“Leave him here,” the man in the center of the room directed. This man appeared to be older than the others. His dark beard had hints of gray. He turned and faced Graves as he struggled to stand on his throbbing ankles.
“You have the will to survive,” the man said. Graves was sure that the accent was Mandarin Chinese this time. “You will be useful to me.”
“Who are you? What is going on? Why are you doing this?” Graves asked.
The man smiled through his thick beard. It sent chills down Graves’s spine. There was something about these men that was terrifying to Graves. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back with his wife and son. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Today you will witness the fall of an empire,” the man replied. “Your name will be forever etched in history.”