Legacy

“Okay, that should hold for now. Is the rest of the room secure?”

“Yes, ma’am. All accounted for.”

The Major smirked, admiring the barricade she and the Lieutenant had just constructed out of desks, filing cabinets, book cases, cubicle walls, and a copier. “I feel like I should jump up on top and sing about the ‘blood of angry men’.”

“Sorry, ma’am? I’m not sure I understand the reference.”

Les Misérables, Lieutenant. Never heard of it?”

“Oh…right.” He glanced over at her, concerned. “Are you hurt, ma’am? I thought for a second that one of the bastards got you.”

 She rubbed her left bicep. “No…no, I’m fine. Thanks for the assist.” A crackle of static came over their radios.

“Red Leader and Eagle Two, status report.”

The Major took a deep breath. “It’s not looking good. Eagle Two and I are holed up on the top floor of the Federal Reserve building. Infected are about five floors down, getting closer by the minute.”

“Stay where you are, a rescue chopper is on the way. Were you able to fulfill the objective, Red Leader?”

“Affirmative, we got the supplies from the drop. Unfortunately we were jumped on our way back and had to make a detour. Eagle Two is carrying the supplies now.”

“Good. We need those supplies, Red Leader. We’re running low on bandages, painkillers, and other medical supplies. More refugees show up every day.”

The Lieutenant cleared his throat. “Has there been any progress on finding a cure for this damn thing?”

“That would be a negative, Eagle Two. We’re still not totally sure what caused the outbreak. Some think it was cordyceps, some think it was a cancer cure gone wrong, the Rapture, voodoo, scopolamine. We just don’t know for sure yet.” An awkward pause, the Lieutenant shared a glance with his superior.

“...I’ll patch you through to the pilot. Just a moment.”

The Lieutenant turned his mic off. “Okay, Major, cut the bullshit. You're not okay.” Another crackle of static came over the radio.

“Red Leader, infrared cameras are showing that the horde you encountered got through the fire door four floors down...They’re moving fast.” The Lieutenant ground his teeth and turned his mic back on.

“What’s the ETA on that chopper?”

“Eight minutes out, Eagle Two. It could be longer though, the weather isn’t cooperating today.” Shuffling her gun around, the Major set the timer on her watch. It was a large, rugged, stainless steel, solar-powered altimeter watch with a compass around the edge. The face was about two inches in diameter, and the display wasn’t too busy, unlike a lot of similar watches she had looked at before. It had been a gift from her father for her latest promotion a while back. Eight minutes and counting. The Lieutenant could hear the mob now through the deserted office building. Toppling over furniture and making hideous croaking noises as they went. He glanced at his Superior Officer.

“Major?” The look on her face was a million miles away. “Major!” That seemed to get her attention.

“Is your weapon loaded, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the defense structure we made. We need cover—stay low, stay quiet.” The Major turned the volume of her mic as low as it could go without being on mute.

A loud crash echoed through the empty office building.

“Red Leader and Eagle Two, this is the pilot of Rescue Chopper One. We’re six minutes away. What’s your status?”

“RC1, they can’t talk right now. Infrared cameras are showing that the horde is three floors below them. Double time it; they’re getting closer as we speak.” The Major switched her mic off, but left her transmitter on so she could still hear the chattering of HQ.

“Lieutenant, come closer. I don’t want to raise my voice anymore than I have to,” she whispered.

Cool light from the overcast autumn sky outside filtered through the picture windows, illuminating her muscular frame. In truth, she was built like a brick house; at least that was what the other guys said in the locker room. Confidence, control, and warmth seemed to radiate out of her pores. She was breathtaking, a classic Amazonian beauty, olive skin, dark hair, and dark almond shaped eyes. The Lieutenant in contrast was of average height and athletic build and about as white as you can get, more a basketball player than a linebacker. Pale blue eyes and a thick mop of dark red hair cropped close to his head. Compared to the Major, he was downright puny. Then again most everyone looks downright puny standing next to her.

The Lieutenant crawled over on his stomach. “What’s wrong, Major?” She didn’t say anything. Her dark eyes were glassy and far away, full lips pressed into a thin line. She swallowed, placed her assault rifle and pack on the ground, and took a deep breath before shrugging off her army jacket. She was wearing a cotton USMC t-shirt underneath. She showed the Lieutenant her left arm.      

She had a tattoo of the US Marine Corps seal on her left bicep. Just below it a red circular bite mark oozed blood and a viscous black substance.

“Shit,” he hissed. The Major put her jacket back on without a word and handed the Lieutenant her assault rifle, pack, knife, watch, and dog tags, which she put in one of the external zipper pockets on her pack for safe keeping. The Lieutenant quickly strapped her watch on his wrist.

“Give those to Felicia and my knife to Henry. Distribute the rest of my belongings and gear as you see fit.”

“How much time is left?”

The Lieutenant looked confused and checked the watch. “Um, four minutes and counting. Major, you can’t be seriously be thinking about staying here!”

She looked at him with what he called her ‘Drill Sergeant Face.’ Stern and blank, like a brick wall. “I am and I will. Dammit, Lieutenant, you know I’m a dead woman walking! I intend to take as many of those bastards down with me as I can.” She stared at the Lieutenant’s face; it was one of numb shock mingled with despair. “Don’t worry; I’ll save the last bullet for myself. I’ll also take my cyanide pill for good measure.”

A loud crash echoed close by.

“Red Leader-”

“I know. This is Red Leader, also known as The Major. I’m compromised. One of the Infected bit me less than an hour ago. I’ve transferred my supplies except for my side arm over to the Lieutenant. He’ll carry everything back to base.” The tone she used was one of resignation. But her voice didn’t waver, not even as a tear rolled down her cheek. There was a beat of silence on the radio. The horde’s groaning grew louder. The Major and the Lieutenant shared a look, clearly thinking the same thing. They’re right below us.

“It’s been an honor serving with you, ma’am.” The Lieutenant turned away, not even hearing the radio operator, crying openly now as tears rolled down his face in fat, silent drops. The beating of a chopper’s rotors came over the din of the horde.

“Red Leader and Eagle Two, this is RC1. We can see the Federal Reserve building. Two minutes to contact. What room are you in? Give us visual confirmation.” The Lieutenant turned around and shot the glass out of the window behind them. The groaning of the horde increased exponentially in volume as they shuffled and ran towards the noise.

“When that chopper gets here, run. Don’t look back. You hear me, Lieutenant?” He sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

“Yes, ma’am.” The Lieutenant’s reply was caught in his throat. The Major looked him over; just barely a man. 

“You’ve done well, Lieutenant. I’m proud of you. You came to me; let’s face it, a cocky little shit. You were the class clown of your entire platoon, charismatic.” The Lieutenant laughed, it sounded a little manic through his tears. The Major continued. “But I saw you had the potential for greatness. From day one, when you comforted a few of your platoon mates who were feeling homesick and how you settled disputes between them fairly and without bloodshed on most occasions. You let your officers under you have input in the leadership of your men. All this you’ve shown throughout your time here under my command. That’s why we—the rest of Command—have decided to promote you and name you as my successor.”

The Lieutenant was at a loss for words. He was shocked; the gears seemed to be turning in his head, re-playing what the Major had just told him. He must have heard her wrong. “Ma'am, I don’t know what to say…”

“I know you’re scared and you think you’re the least qualified person to lead our little Scooby Gang, and that you don’t want the position.” She paused. “That’s precisely why we decided to name you.” The Lieutenant worried his lip between his teeth. “Listen, kid, you’re a Major in all but name. We’ve been grooming you for command for the better part of the last year. A promotion ceremony would be a formality at this point. Besides, I’d been planning on retiring from active duty soon anyway.” Now the Lieutenant was the one with the far-off look in his eyes. “Hey, look at me.” He turned his face toward her. “We all have faith in you; I have faith in you. Say yes, Lieutenant. I know you’re going to go far. Farther than I ever did.”

Then several things happened at once. First the timer on the watch went off, beeping like its little life depended on it, with the Lieutenant scrambling to shut it off. Then the double doors at the opposite end of the room started protesting loudly under the weight of the bodies pressing against them. She pulled her student into a fierce, motherly embrace. “It’s been an honor and a joy getting to know you and see you grow up.” She didn’t let go until the Lieutenant backed away. The Major pulled a grenade out of her pocket. At that moment, the chopper appeared outside the broken window, a rope ladder dangling from its open doorway. The Major yanked the pin out of the grenade.

“GO, NOW!” The Lieutenant threw the shoulder strap of his gun over his shoulder, hoisted all the Major’s gear, and booked it to the window. Hesitating, he threw a glance over his shoulder, just as she hurled the grenade at their hastily constructed barricade. He jumped, arms flailing as he reached out for the rope ladder.

The seconds seemed to pass by in slow motion. It’s the adrenaline that’s doing that. The voice in the back of his head sounded suspiciously like the Major. He was hauled up into the chopper, too numb to move. The chopper was about ten yards away from the open window, safely out of range of the blast. Craning his neck, he twisted around to get one last glimpse of his mentor. The grenade sailed gracefully through the air, hitting their barricade. The resulting explosion was deafening and blinding, forcing him to turn away from the resulting fireball. All the glass windows on that floor shattered from the blast. After the smoke cleared a bit, he saw her.

Her back was to him, standing tall and strong. She handled her gun—a Glock—with careful, calm precision, letting the zombies come to her and making every shot count. The Lieutenant turned away. It was only a matter of time before his Superior Officer and mentor was overrun. He wanted his final image of her to reflect how she was in life: Strong, unyielding, and proud.

I promise to lead the others by your example. I won't let you down ma’am. They were miles away from the building by now. He turned back towards the Federal Reserve and gave his mentor a final salute. I’ll make you proud.

“Once you do something, you never forget. Even if you can't remember.” Or: How Spirited Away Changed My Life

On Saturday March 18, 2006 at 10:30pm Eastern Standard Time I was 11 years old, sitting in my playroom, and staring slack-jawed at the television screen as the credits for Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away were rolling. There are times in a person’s life when a piece of art leaves a truly lasting mark on them and ends up deciding the course of their future.

I was in middle school at the time, seventh grade to be exact. Like most girls that age, I was awkward, overwhelmed, and a little lost. I wasn’t completely sure of my identity, or even where and how to start finding it. My body was beginning to change and be all weird; though that wouldn’t begin in earnest for another two years or so. I had a few friends, but many of them were left over from elementary school. I could feel them gradually beginning to go their own separate ways, further ahead in their journey of self-discovery than I was.

My favorite things to do at that age included drawing, reading—Harry Potter being a continual favorite—and watching movies and TV. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but all my favorite movies and TV shows were either aimed at boys my age, had only one girl in the main cast, and only featured women and girls in stereotypical ensemble supporting roles. Inevitably, romance was the end-goal of their story, and the shows were often, if not always, specifically designed to sell a toy. While I loved and still love those films and shows, they aren’t bad or intentionally harmful by any means; they provided me countless hours of entertainment, escape, and wonder, I didn’t know that I could be the hero or be in control of my own story, my own life, and that I was more than a statistic on a toy company’s profit margin report. Because I wasn’t seeing myself being represented in the media I was consuming. That is, until Saturday March 18, 2006.

Spirited Away is essentially Hayao Miyazaki’s take on the Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Our protagonist, Chihiro, is ten years old and moving to a new town with her family. As you might expect, she is not happy about this, and makes her displeasure known—repeatedly. On the way to their new home, they take a wrong turn and stumble across what appears to be an abandoned amusement park, complete with a small outdoor market and an old bath house at the center. When her parents are magically transformed into pigs before her eyes, Chihiro is horrified to find out that the park isn’t an abandoned theme park at all; it’s an entrance to a spirit realm—a thriving village controlled by the evil witch Yubaba, who runs the luxurious bath house and inn at the center of town. Now, because Chihiro’s parents ate Yubaba’s food without payment, they and Chihiro are now Yubaba's prisoners; they will remain pigs until Chihiro has worked off their debt in the bathhouse. Only then will her parents be freed and Chihiro be allowed return home with her family. Along the way, we the audience see Chihiro transform from a smart, but bratty ten-year-old girl, to Yubaba’s pawn Sen, literally one of a thousand (sen means 1,000 in Japanese) as her name suggests. Through a series of multiple trials and challenges to not only save her parents, but also the life of her new friend, Haku, she changes back again into Chihiro—but this time she’s wiser, more mature, and confident in herself and her abilities. It’s a story about finding your identity in the face of adversity and discovering that you’ve always had the power within you to do great things. And you didn’t need to get your period for the first time or realize that boys are cute to come to this realization.

In fact, romance in the conventional sense is barely mentioned at all over the course of the movie. And when it is talked about, it’s always in the platonic sense: in terms of familial love, or the love between best friends or siblings. Not only is Chihiro a female protagonist, she’s a female protagonist with agency. She has control over her story; she’s the one driving the plot forward to its natural conclusion, she’s the knight in shining armor that rescues the “princess”, in this case, a boy named Haku, and wins the day.

As an 11-year-old girl in the beginnings of puberty watching this movie for the first time, to say I was stunned is an understatement. Here was a movie that wasn’t trying to sell me a toy, talk down to me just because I was a kid, or show me the same packaged stories I was already seeing everywhere else.  Here was a movie that said, “It’s okay if you’re not ready to think about romance yet”, which looking back, I certainly wasn’t. Here was movie that told me that I wasn’t alone in my struggles, and that I had complete control over the discovery of my identity; I didn’t have to and shouldn’t have to wait for a boy or something else to decide for me.

A few weeks after the movie aired on television, the packet that described all the after-school programs that were offered by my middle school was sent home. Immediately I joined the Anime Club, and found friends who stayed with me through high school and continue to this day. Spirited Away, and the influence of the Anime Club, also kick started my passion for art and one can still see the influence of anime and Miyazaki on my artistic style in the strong lines, dynamic movement, and cinematic compositions of my art today.  

It’s not every day that a person interacts with a piece of art that changes them forever, but when it does happen, the results can be nothing short of extraordinary. Spirited Away is an almost perfect movie in every sense of the phrase, as evidenced by the fact that it won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in 2003. This movie changed my life, and if I were to meet Mr. Miyazaki today, the first thing I would tell him is thank you, thank you so much for the gift you gave me when I needed it most. 


Revised May 31, 2017