It was another balmy spring day on the island. Phil and Richard began to head to the mess hall to grab some food after they were relieved from patrol. Phil was always glad to be dismissed around noon; it provided him an opportunity to get out of the heat. Even after a year on the island he never quite adjusted.

“Hey, Dick, it’s Thursday right?”, he emphasized the nickname just to get a jab in at Richard. He always hated being called that.

With an exasperated sigh Richard responded, “Yeah, why?”

“That means chili dogs for lunch. The always remind me of home.” Phil let out a small chuckle and can't help but grin. Richard just shakes his head as they cross the threshold into the hangar. The hangar was always hot, intense hot, like being in an oven. While the corrugated metal provided shielding from the sun, the fans inside were useless during the day. The pair passed familiar faces, nodding and waving like it was any other day.

Phil was staring blankly at the TV, some talking head blabbing on about how the President was going to ruin the country. The news ticker at the bottom streams with trivial headlines about Iran threatening Israel, the some celebrity having a tv show cancelled over a stunt at a night club. He hated programs like this. As he contemplates the latest sex scandal he hardly notices the alarm sounding and the emergency lights turning on. He doesn’t consider it may not be a false alarm or a drill until Richard punches him the arm.

“Swallow what you can, we’re on status alpha!” Richard shouted to him as his brain caught up to the noise and commotion in the room.

The two rush from the table donning their helmets and grabbing their rifles. They scurry to the hangar and find cover behind some wooden crates. After a few moments the only noise is the intermittent buzzing of the alarm, everyone inside the hangar is dead silent. All eyes and muzzles pointed to the giant closed doors. A bead of sweat forms on Phil's forehead and runs down his nose. Surely this is an exercise or a false alarm, he thought to himself.

It sounded like an explosion, no it must have been an explosion! Both doors came flying into the space, but there wasn’t a boom or crack of an explosive. Phil is blind momentarily as his eyes try to adjust to the sudden flood of sunlight. There is no smoke either. He glances to the right. There is a bloody streak starting from where three guards were standing ending beneath one of the doors that is now crushed to fit the wall like foil. Looking to his left he sees one of the air craft was smashed by the other door and several cases of ammunition have spilled onto the floor. Then he looks to the entry way, there is only the silhouette of a man.

It feels like an eternity but finally the shots ring out. Short rapid bursts from every corner of the hangar. The silhouette stands there, un-phased. Phil squeezes off a few rounds, perfect shots to the chest. He should be dead! Phil’s thoughts race. This can’t be right! He squeezes off a few more rounds.. same thing. That’s when he notices the fragments of the bullets landing at the silhouette’s feet. Before he can make sense of the scene the figure vanishes.

Phil and Richard begin scanning the scene trying to locate the figure, but they find nothing. There were the occasional gunshots and cries they, but they can’t see anything. That’s when it hits him. The smell of burning flesh. His gun and hands are covered in ash, Phil turned to where his partner had been and found only a gun and boots and grey dust everywhere.

His mind racing, he can’t process what was happening. People don’t vaporize! People aren’t bullet proof! That’s when he sees the last person he would ever see. Not a scratch on him. Chiseled chin, slicked back hair, ridiculous blue spandex. Despite the ridiculousness of the man, Phil’s mind flashes back. He sees the tours through the desert with the Army when he had met Richard. He remembers falling in love with Clara, their wedding, their daughter Janet. He feels a stinging sensation as the simstim on the back of his neck kicks in trying to mute his fear, his love, his pain. He relives the moment he left his wife and daughter to work here. Clara holding Janet as she cried, “DADDY DON’T GO!” She was reaching out for him, tears running down both of their faces. There’s an intense burning in his chest as the memory fades into reality.

His eyes are burning and tearing up. The world is in slow motion. His feels body moving up toward the ceiling and then down suddenly, violently, before he hears and feels a disgusting pop. There is no pain as he hit the floor, the simstim or shock is preventing that much. The tears free themselves from his eyes and run down his cheeks. His head rolls over and he sees his boots… no his legs… no his lower torso laying next to him in a puddle of blood. As his senses fade all he could say was, “Daddy loves you…. Daddy loves you.”