Status: In progress. Working on it when I can.
In Times of War
Jack, part one.
The air is way too cold here, he'd decided that long ago. But he knew Aiden would hate it once he was here. Aiden was accustomed to the hot air that California possessed, where Jack had been raised in a cooler climate. He would expect a great deal of shivering by the time Aiden arrived.
Jack huddled beneath an empty canister of gas. Bullets seemed to rain all around him, and he made sure he remained unseen while he pulled a small locket out from his shirt. It was one of those cliche heart-shaped lockets, silver in color, and Jack flicked the top open with his thumb, where a small picture of his wife and daughter resided. The picture was slightly worn and blurry, but he smiled at it. "I can't wait to get back to you, girls. I swear I will, even if it means killing all of these countries' men myself." He didn't normally reflect on things, not after being here for nearly a year and somehow making it through every single day, but today would be his and his wife's anniversary. Today was different, and that required a change in today's survival tactics. That required some time to put things into retrospect.
Somewhere on the landmass, several bombs went off. He heard men shout, lieutenants made their desperate orders. Boots crunched in the snow nearby, and not sure if they were friend or foe, Jack tucked his locket into his shirt and kneeled up, looking at his surroundings. They weren't Americans, but part of the European faction, and Jack gripped his gun in his hands, aiming for one of their heads. His finger seemed to twitch just once against the trigger, and that's all it took. The man's head seemed to vanish, leaving nothing but a bloody stem and a huge mess. The two Europeans beside him jumped in shock, turning and looking at their fallen comrade. Jack hid behind the canister again, waiting for the soldiers to leave the area. He'd heard both of them scream something, but he hadn't the vaguest idea as to what. As long as he'd been here, these people and their languages were still complete mysteries to him. Then again, he hadn't been too focused on learning anything.
There was a break in gunfire, and a shout. Men shouted back in response, but most of the voices didn't come from Americans, which sent a chill Jack recognized only as fear down his spine. They were planning something, and he knew it as well as anyone else did. A young American boy had spotted Jack, and quickly hid behind the canister with him. "What in God's name could they be planning?" he whispered. His voice was layered with nervousness. No amount of time here on the battlefield would take a young man's fear from him.
"I don't know, son," Jack admitted, balancing his gun on his legs. "I don't know, but I can imagine we're going to find out soon enough."
"I can't die, I can't. I have a wife waiting for me at home, I can't die." The boy mumbled, mainly to himself. Jack brought up a hand, ceasing the boy's words.
"How old are you, soldier?"
"I'm twenty-one, sir." The soldier replied, puzzled by the man's question. Shouldn't he be more worried about him as a person, and not his age? So that's it, Jack thought to himself as he studied the boy, twenty-one and married. No wonder the kid's frightened.
"If they storm us, stick with me. I'll cover you." Jack said, sitting up a bit in preparation. Now that the words had left his mouth, he was sure that's what would happen. "We'll both get out of this mess alive, I promise you."
"You shouldn't promise something like that," The boy said, though Jack could tell his words had eased his worry, even if only a little. "We don't know what will happen. We might lose."
"Says the pessimist," Jack said, turning himself to peer out from the canister. He expected to see groups of foreigners storming in his direction, but he didn't. He saw a bunch of scared men, much like the one sitting beside him, and he saw that they were still simply listening to their commanding officers. He breathed a sigh of relief. "We're going to be taking a lot of men from their wives and children tonight, though, and if I can protect one, well, I'm happy."
Jack looked again at the men. A couple were his own son's age, and the one he'd just recently killed couldn't have been much older. Scared young men being killed simply because they were following orders, and Jack was one of the many executioners on the American side. His only justification for this was the fact that at any given time, one of those scared young men on the other sides could just as well become his judge, jury, and executioner. "I wonder how much longer this will go on." He mumbled to himself, watching the soliders load their guns.
Jack huddled beneath an empty canister of gas. Bullets seemed to rain all around him, and he made sure he remained unseen while he pulled a small locket out from his shirt. It was one of those cliche heart-shaped lockets, silver in color, and Jack flicked the top open with his thumb, where a small picture of his wife and daughter resided. The picture was slightly worn and blurry, but he smiled at it. "I can't wait to get back to you, girls. I swear I will, even if it means killing all of these countries' men myself." He didn't normally reflect on things, not after being here for nearly a year and somehow making it through every single day, but today would be his and his wife's anniversary. Today was different, and that required a change in today's survival tactics. That required some time to put things into retrospect.
Somewhere on the landmass, several bombs went off. He heard men shout, lieutenants made their desperate orders. Boots crunched in the snow nearby, and not sure if they were friend or foe, Jack tucked his locket into his shirt and kneeled up, looking at his surroundings. They weren't Americans, but part of the European faction, and Jack gripped his gun in his hands, aiming for one of their heads. His finger seemed to twitch just once against the trigger, and that's all it took. The man's head seemed to vanish, leaving nothing but a bloody stem and a huge mess. The two Europeans beside him jumped in shock, turning and looking at their fallen comrade. Jack hid behind the canister again, waiting for the soldiers to leave the area. He'd heard both of them scream something, but he hadn't the vaguest idea as to what. As long as he'd been here, these people and their languages were still complete mysteries to him. Then again, he hadn't been too focused on learning anything.
There was a break in gunfire, and a shout. Men shouted back in response, but most of the voices didn't come from Americans, which sent a chill Jack recognized only as fear down his spine. They were planning something, and he knew it as well as anyone else did. A young American boy had spotted Jack, and quickly hid behind the canister with him. "What in God's name could they be planning?" he whispered. His voice was layered with nervousness. No amount of time here on the battlefield would take a young man's fear from him.
"I don't know, son," Jack admitted, balancing his gun on his legs. "I don't know, but I can imagine we're going to find out soon enough."
"I can't die, I can't. I have a wife waiting for me at home, I can't die." The boy mumbled, mainly to himself. Jack brought up a hand, ceasing the boy's words.
"How old are you, soldier?"
"I'm twenty-one, sir." The soldier replied, puzzled by the man's question. Shouldn't he be more worried about him as a person, and not his age? So that's it, Jack thought to himself as he studied the boy, twenty-one and married. No wonder the kid's frightened.
"If they storm us, stick with me. I'll cover you." Jack said, sitting up a bit in preparation. Now that the words had left his mouth, he was sure that's what would happen. "We'll both get out of this mess alive, I promise you."
"You shouldn't promise something like that," The boy said, though Jack could tell his words had eased his worry, even if only a little. "We don't know what will happen. We might lose."
"Says the pessimist," Jack said, turning himself to peer out from the canister. He expected to see groups of foreigners storming in his direction, but he didn't. He saw a bunch of scared men, much like the one sitting beside him, and he saw that they were still simply listening to their commanding officers. He breathed a sigh of relief. "We're going to be taking a lot of men from their wives and children tonight, though, and if I can protect one, well, I'm happy."
Jack looked again at the men. A couple were his own son's age, and the one he'd just recently killed couldn't have been much older. Scared young men being killed simply because they were following orders, and Jack was one of the many executioners on the American side. His only justification for this was the fact that at any given time, one of those scared young men on the other sides could just as well become his judge, jury, and executioner. "I wonder how much longer this will go on." He mumbled to himself, watching the soliders load their guns.