By Michael Sixto

It was time to stop, to really stop. We looked around and found nothing; emptiness was all around us and the air was filled with sturdiness. Hostile environment no doubt, but our mission was a lot more important than the sour taste in our mouths. We had no choice and we knew it in that very instance; that’s why we didn’t hesitate. The children were all gone and the old man staring at us (the only survivor) had a mission of his own. He wanted to die! With tears in his eyes the old man pointed at a pile of bricks, wood and sheet-rock with a destroyed roof on top. It was his house. The whole town looked the same; not a single structure standing. The old man wanted to die, but our mission was to save him. It was time to stop, to really stop. Twenty years ago, when we still had some time left, we didn’t
do it. We had the; it’s never too late mentality and kept on going. We didn’t listen and the NOW was a “town” in ruins full of fetid decomposing cadavers… and an old man that wished no rescue. We had a decision to make and you understood right away, so when the call came you knew exactly what to say on the radio: “No survivors… returning to base”