Flash back

The desert burned beneath a merciless sun. Heat shimmered across the endless sea of sand as Captain 

Alexander Hawke lay motionless on the crest of a dune, binoculars pressed against his eyes. Nearly a mile away, a heavily fortified compound sat nestled between towering sandstone cliffs.

Their objective. A high-value terrorist leader responsible for the deaths of hundreds of American soldiers. For six months, Alexander's Black Ops team had hunted him across three countries. Today... The hunt ended.

Alexander lowered the binoculars and looked toward the five men surrounding him.

"Final equipment check."

His voice was low, calm, and practiced. Malone, the team's demolitions expert, grinned as he patted the heavy pack strapped to his back.

"Charges are set to sing."

Carter checked his rifle.

"Overwatch is green."

Diaz adjusted his suppressor. "Ready." 

Walker cracked his neck.

"Let's bring everyone home."

Alexander nodded once. "That's the plan."

An hour later they had infiltrated the canyon unnoticed. Malone disappeared beneath a service bridge, carefully planting shaped charges along its support beams while the rest of the team established security.

Alexander watched every angle. Every shadow. Years of combat had taught him one lesson. The mission always went wrong. The only question was when. Malone jogged back toward them.

"Charges are live."

Alexander glanced toward the convoy approaching the bridge.

"Wait..."

His instincts screamed. Something wasn't right. The convoy stopped. Silence settled over the canyon. Then every truck door flew open.

"They knew we were here!"

Gunfire erupted from every direction. The canyon exploded with muzzle flashes. Bullets ripped through the sandstone around them.

"Fall back!"

Alexander fired controlled bursts, dropping two enemy fighters before diving behind a boulder. More poured from hidden tunnels carved into the canyon walls. An ambush. They had walked straight into it.

"Malone!"

"I'm pinned!"

Alexander looked over just in time to see Malone thrown through the air as one of his own demolition charges detonated prematurely. The blast knocked everyone off their feet. Walker tackled Diaz behind a bolder.  Smoke swallowed the canyon. Rocks rained from above.

Alexander slammed against the ground, ears ringing. He forced himself upright.

"Carter!" No response.

"Walker!" Nothing.

Only gunfire. And screaming. Through the smoke he spotted Malone. The demolitions expert was crawling across the sand, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His right leg bent at an unnatural angle. A bullet had torn through his thigh. Another round struck the rock inches from his head.

"Alex!"

Without hesitation Alexander broke cover. Bullets chased him through the canyon. One clipped his shoulder. He ignored it. Another struck the sand at his feet. He reached Malone just as two enemy fighters rounded the rocks. Alexander emptied his magazine into the first.

Click.

Empty.

The second fighter lunged with a combat knife. Alexander sidestepped, caught the man's wrist, twisted until bone snapped with a sickening crack, then drove his elbow into the fighter's throat. The man collapsed, gasping.

A third attacker rushed him. Alexander caught the rifle barrel, yanked the weapon free, slammed the stock into the man's face, then drove a knee into his ribs before finishing him with a brutal punch that sent him crashing unconscious into the rocks.

"Come on!" He grabbed Malone beneath the shoulders.

"I can't move my leg..." Malone groaned through clenched teeth.

"You don't have to."

Alexander hoisted the larger man across his shoulders.

Gunfire erupted again. Enemy fighters closed from both sides. Alexander sprinted. Another soldier tackled him from the left. Both men crashed into the sand. Alexander rolled with the impact, trapping the attacker's arm before driving repeated punches into his face.

Blood sprayed across the desert. The attacker reached for his pistol. Alexander ripped the weapon free and fired twice. Two more enemies charged. Alexander met them head-on. One swung a rifle like a club. Alexander ducked underneath, buried a fist into the man's liver, spun behind him, and used his body as a shield as bullets tore through him.

The second enemy hesitated. Alexander didn't. He drove forward with explosive speed, striking with a crushing elbow before finishing the man with a vicious kick that sent him tumbling down the rocky slope.

"Alex..." Malone's voice barely carried over the chaos. 

Alexander grabbed him again. "We're getting out."

"Carter? Diaz? Walker?" he asked.

Alex looked around quickly for his men. He saw Walker was running towards Diaz helping him up off the ground. Carter was limping but running towards the extraction site. An enemy ran towards Carter. Alex didn't hesitate; he lifted the rifle up and pulled the trigger.  Another enemy, another bullet. The enemies fell as Carter, Walker, Diaz all kept running only briefly glancing back for him and Malone. “Get out of here” He commanded through their coms.

“Copy that sir” Walker said breathlessly.

 Once out of sight Alex wanted to sigh a sigh of relief but he had to get moving. The extraction point was only two hundred yards away. It might as well have been two miles. Every step became a fight. Every rock concealed another enemy. Another explosion rocked the canyon. Alexander shielded Malone with his own body as burning debris rained around them. His vision blurred. Smoke choked the air. His radio crackled with nothing but static. Then...

Silence. He looked back. The canyon where his team had been moments earlier had become an inferno. No movement.

No voices. Only flames. "No..."

A rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward them. Alexander shoved Malone behind a massive boulder. The explosion consumed everything. A wall of fire engulfed the desert. The blast hurled Alexander backward.

Heat. Smoke. Darkness.

"Captain!" Malone shouted.

Alexander's eyes flew open. He shot upright in bed, his heart hammering against his ribs. His breathing came in ragged gasps as sweat soaked the sheets beneath him. For several long moments he stared at the ceiling, his eyes still seeing the images run through his mind like watching a movie. He could still hear Malone screaming Still smell the smoke. Still feel the blood on his hands. The silence of the luxury hotel suite felt almost unbearable. Six years later... 

And the desert still refused to let him go. He managed to save his entire team that day but Malone was badly injured, Walker had broken ribs and a concussion and a bullet lodged in his arm. Carter broke his leg and Diaz broke an arm and had some busted ribs. But they all made it home which was the only comfort he’d been able to take from that. His chest heaved as though he'd actually run through the desert slowly, reality settled around him. No desert. No rifle. No explosions. No one under his command, his brothers in arms, was in danger. Just silence.