A.J. roared down Market Street in the remnants of the old Humvee. He hadn't heard much since someone announced to rally at a gas station and look for a green flare. A.J. knew there had to be at least 12 dozen gas stations in a city like this, so he set his eyes to the sky, guiding himself by the eerie green glow in the sky...<br/>"This is Private Johanson," A.J. called into the CB radio hanging from the ceiling of the Hummer as he turns onto another road in ruin, "I am westbound on Perry and have a straight shot at the gas station. ETA about 5 minutes, Over and out." He hangs the receiver back on the radio and focuses on the road, which to him seems oddly farmiliar. It is now that he realizes that this is one of his regular patrol routes; not a particularly good road to travel especially in a vehicle...<br/><br/>Realizing his error A.J. slams on the brakes and cuts the wheel, but the action is too little too late, for the large truck still hits the tripwire on the road, detonating one of his land mine booby traps under the rear of the Hummer. Without warning the truck is sent tailgate over hood flying thought the air in a flip that would look sweet in a Hollywood action flick...<br/><br/>A.J. comes to consciousness upside-down, still buckled into his seat as the Hummer lay on it's roof. With a sore groan A.J. unbuckles, and tumbles to the ceiling and crawls out of the wreckage, dragging his gear bag in toe. After a quick check, He declares himself O.K. and extremely lucky to come out of that alive. Shouldering his bag and carrying his M16, A.J. sets out to close the half mile gap between him and the gas station; a smile adorns his face for the first time in a month, for he feels that today just might be his lucky day...