Random musings and the Beast in my life

           Six cups of coffee and now I’m stuck. I know what I’m doing- I’m writing a book (or a beast depending on how you look at it). The best advice I’ve ever received on my writing is simply just to write- but some days I feel like I’ve just written enough for a day. It bites when I reach that point before I reach the goal I’ve set out for the day.  I press forward.

I am behind for the week but not irrevocably so. I give myself a week to finish the massive project that has consumed my life for the last few months. As for that I have few words to say on it- I prefer to let it speak for itself- so here it is, at least taste of more that is to come. The only problem is that I have no title for it yet. Any suggestions for that would be appreciated.

           Crouched like a gargoyle on the ledge of the abandoned city hall building, I wait. The rain is running in streams down my face and neck and pattering softly on my soaked clothing.  It would be exhilarating if I took the moment to notice, but right now that could cost me my life. I need to be fully focused. Right now, its kill or be killed. I have only one hope of survival. I have to kill the madman that ended the world. The problem is that he has roughly five billion pairs of eyes, now that almost everyone is part of the hive mind. To make matters worse. I have no idea where he is. All I have to go on is an old address, and the hope that the laboratories that he once used to discover how to remake the world to his desire will hold some secret weakness. How the hell am I supposed to do this alone? Damn you Heinrich. You could have stopped this all. Instead you delivered the world into hell.

           No movement. The city is abandoned as far as I can see. Across the street sits a rusted iron warehouse with jagged teeth where glass once stood.  Peering down into the dark window frames of the abandoned warehouse, I feel a sense of finality. Even if he isn’t here, I can feel it in my soul that I’ll find what I need; answers. Inside those broken windows there is hope. I feel my mind starting to wander. There is so much that I am unsure of. I should plan before I go infiltrate the lab. Franz is no fool. There is little doubt in my mind that he’ll have it booby trapped, if not heavily monitored. I glance over my shoulder towards the east.  
             Day will break soon; I can’t risk a strike now. I pull myself back into a dark recess of the bell tower, my thick cloak blending into the shadows. I will wait for night to fall once more. Looks like I at least have the one thing I need; time to think. So much has happened. Most of it before my grandparents were ever born, and here I am picking up the pieces. My mind drifted through a maze of curiosities and questions and rested at the stories that my parents had told me when I was young. I suppose that’s when this all truly began. 

War Game

My thoughts raced faster than they ever had before, as I rested with my back against the muddy wall. I could not help the feeling that I was being watched and I like a proper gladiator should stand and say “We who are about to die salute you”. I could hear explosions all around and the air reeked of blood, smoke and death. I looked down my earthworks on either side. None were there but the dead and the dying. I was alone. At least shots had stopped being fired; unfortunately I heard more terrifying sounds- footsteps approaching and voices. They were talking in throaty sounding language of grunts and squeals, it sounded eerie and inhuman against a backdrop of mortars somewhere in the distance.  I read my watch, 1515.

Only fifteen minutes to kill us all. That’s all it took. Fifteen minutes ago we’d been moving across the desert, making our way to the package meant for secure and transport. Fifteen minutes ago the first shot hit one of the men in the shoulder. We all dropped and my CO shouted “Stand down! We have a man injured here. I repeat –stand down!” Whoever it was that shot at us took the officer’s words to mean ‘open fire’.

They gunned us down in the middle of a road with no shelter to speak of and it became obvious that they were shooting from a low angle. A few of us managed to crawl into the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Most of us died on the road, our bodies too big for the nine inch clearance between life and death.

I am alone, steps are growing louder. I have no gun, no ammo, and no prayer on my tongue.  I grab at my knife. I am not sure what I plan to do but I want to take one of them with me. I want the blood of my enemies to purify the blood of my comrades that I find myself bathed in.

They slaughtered us all. Slaughtered them- stained me with the blood and lives of my comrades leaving only me to avenge or bury them. None of us would have a burial tonight. It was never supposed to be like this. This was a peaceful area. Most of us were here in between serving in the war. We were supposed to live until deployment, not have our blood stain some god forsaken desert road. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not here. Not when some of us were so close to seeing our homeland. Not here in the demilitarized zone.

I can hear the grass munch under their feet. Twenty paces or less and I would be discovered. I hold the knife to my chest, trying for all my comrades to look as dead as they did. I spoke under my breath to the deaf gods as steps that draw nearer “Bring me my brother’s death.” I see a watch on a lifeless wrist to my left- 1520. 

Mitch lies close by in a blood slicked trench. His helmet clutched in one hand and the photo of his wife and daughter in the other. 1457, twenty three minutes ago he was telling me how he had been able to watch her blow out her six birthday candles even though she was half a world away, all because of some new technology that his division had been working on testing. 

 I slowly readied the blade thinking of Mitch’s daughter. I became like a viper, cold and uncaring as I prepare to strike at my prey without fear or remorse. I would avenge Mitch’s daughter, and all the kids of all the men in the platoon that would never see their fathers again. I read my watch- 1526. I swear under my breath as the ground in the trench runs slick with blood and resentment. 

Rubber bullets and blanks. That’s all any of us had. We fired back at them, those of us alive and well enough who made it to the trench. We fired and heard only the screams of those around us. Not one of us had real ammo on us. I looked at my watch. 1501- twenty seconds of fighting and we’ve already lost because they brought fire- and we brought marshmallows. Some men further away decided to charge and died before they found their way out of the trench.  Their bodies all hit the ground riddled with holes that ooze out their life into the red soil.

            1528. I hear them right above me now, their shadows cast long over where I lay, looking dead like my brothers. I hear two of them searching the trench walking away. I am nearly landed on by the one that dropped down into the trench. I leap up coiled as I had been and pounce down on the unfortunate man that found himself in the trench where I had laid waiting for him. I catch him by surprise. I tackle him to the ground landing on Mitch and several others remains. I hoisted my knife high and looked at the man. I had been determined to end his life but cold recognition ran over me as he stared silently up at me.

             These men. These butchers. They were dressed just as we were. They were not from our unit but they were part of our brotherhood. They were part of our army. The man only looked up into my eyes as a shadow blocked out the hot sun. The knife dropped and I turned to face my death. Another man stood there blocking out the sun and what remained of my life. Same uniform. Same expression. Same gun pointed between my eyes. I saw his hand tighten, his watch turned from 1529 to 1530. In the moment he pulled the trigger I flashed back to the moment that had brought me here. It was a setup. They sent us here to die. Our own commanders had planned this. Probably in order to conceal the information about that new technology, they had sent us to death. 

My body stared blankly at the man with the gun as my consciousness was receiving my orders in a different time. It is 1430 on Friday the 18. My orders are for war games starting immediately. It is a simple retrieval mission. The opposing team will attempt to intervene. No live ammo is to be given to the troops. Estimated arrival at target will be 1530.