Oakley moved out the door as if exiting some high stakes board meeting. She raised her rifle and moved down the stairs, holding position at the bottom to cover the group’s exit. Her leg felt as if someone was holding a red hot piece of iron to it, and although she had definitely felt worse pains in the past, or didn't make this any easier at all. After everyone present upstairs had moved by, she took the rear guard position and raised her rifle once again. 

Moving out into the street, Oakley felt safer, and yet felt so exposed at the same time. The desert air was stagnant and warm and it clung to everything like a disease, Oakley was thankful she'd picked a weapon with few moving external parts so that she wouldn't have to deal with any jams. She took cover behind a brick wall across the street, sitting semi-prone behind. She clutched her wounded leg, blood having stained her pants and dried at this point. Realizing that the blast would be taking place any moment now, she made sure to tighten her shemagh around her face, and switched out her sunglasses for full seal goggles. “In position…over.” her breathing was evidently heavy over the radio, hinting at her slightly weakened state.