Living in Everyday Combat.
Bows to the skies, boys.
“Sean, get down from there!” Ian called loudly, shielding his eyes from the little sun that filtered through the maple leaves. When the younger man gave no response, he sighed angrily. “Sean! How am I supposed to train you to fire a bow if you’re spending all our time together in a tree and refusing to come down?” The blonde’s head poked through a cluster of leaves, an evil grin plastering itself across his face. Ian rolled his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. “Down, now.”
“Oh, alright then.” Sean swung his legs over the side of the thick branch he was perched on. He liked it high up in the trees, out of the way of everyone. The air was clearer, more like it used to be. A few years ago, there was a war. They called it War of the British Civilians. There was fighting every where you turned. It had all started when a riot in a London street got out of hand and some 12 year old boy was killed by a Member of Parliment. It was accidental, of course. But some people believed it was a conspiracy.
Things got way out of hand. America brought their armies into mainland Britain. They took all means of weapons, technology, and anything remotely advanced. They called it operation Shut Down. Basically, they planned to shut down Britain, kill off all signs of life, without actually killing anybody off, so they could build it back up to be a secure country. Free-lance murder and a profit end.
So, the remainder of people who survived the fighting resorted to old ways of living. Before technology existed, before anything electrical. Many banded off into pairs, surviving was easier when there was someone to watch your back.
Sean landed on his feet neatly, clearing the 30 foot fall easily. He grinned at Ian happily, then pulled the bow and an arrow from the sheath strapped to his back. It was leather bound, and it had been a family heirloom, of sorts. It had been an ornament above the mirror in the living room of his parents house. No-one had took any notice when he stole it from the rubble and remains.
Ian brought his own bow to eye level. Hand carved from the bark of a water-willow tree. He’d always been good with knives, but a bow was his forte. He could shoot with accuracy, always hitting his target, sometimes never looking at it. He raised the bow slightly, watching out for a bird or a rodent. Seconds passed and a small rat scampered across a branch. Ian took the shot, aimed and fired the arrow. It flew through the air, tore through the skull of the rat. It fell from the tree and into the stream. He walked over to it, drew out the arrow slowly.
He knelt by the stream’s bank. Whenever he killed, whether it was a rodent, or even bigger prey, he performed the little ritual. His drew a 5 point star on the back of his hand with the water and placed his hand over his heart. It was something that meant a lot to him. And Sean never questioned it. Sometimes, the smallest of things could keep you sane.
Sean watched, then waited for Ian to walk back over. Upon the older man’s return, he clapped slightly, grinning. “My turn.” He laughed quietly, raising his own bow to the skies. A small sparrow fluttered from the tree and Sean released the arrow. Narrowly, it missed. He stamped his foot like a small child, aggravated by his failure. “How are you so good at it? It’s not even fair.”
“Here, let me show you.” Ian crept up behind Sean, winding his arms over his. He rested his hands on Sean’s hand, taking over his movements like a puppeteer. He pulled Sean’s hands into position, raising the bow again. “Like this.” Ian muttered softly into Sean’s ear, pulling back on the arrow then releasing it. They watched as it soar through the air. It pierced through the body of another sparrow, hitting it square in the heart.
Sean could feel Ian’s cool breath on the back of his neck. It made him nervous, thinking about the close proximity between their bodies. He had always kept a small bubble of personal space, and told himself if anyone burst that bubble and came to close, he’d wallop them one. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from Ian at that moment.
Little less than three seconds passed and Ian stepped back, clearing his throat. His heart pounded in his chest. He walked past Sean, going over to retrieve the arrow from the sparrow’s body. Sean stood still, frozen to the spot. His feelings for the older man were not unknown between the pair.
A few weeks back, Sean had voiced his opinion on Ian. Not intentionally, they had got into a heated argument and Sean lost it. He spilled out everything he thought of Ian. He had told him how he wished he felt the same, and how he was tired hiding his feelings. Told him he some days wished they weren’t forced to stay together, because it was tearing him apart. Tears were shed that night. On both sides of the argument. Ian had told Sean that he could never feel that way about Sean. But he promised to bear it in mind. And they both swore to never bring that night up again.
Ian headed back over to Sean, handing him the arrow. Sean took it from his hands, sliding it back into the sheath. Every arrow counted, if you wanted to survive in this harsh world. Some people were driven to pure insanity, with the lack of technology. That’s why Sean and Ian stuck to the forestry in the daytime, nobody came to the forestry unless they wanted to die. It was a typically depressive place to spend time, but they had to live on.
Sean climbed up into the first tree he could. He’d rather spend his time in the trees than on the ground. He could see better up in a tree, and it was quicker to climb through them than across unfamiliar floors. Just like Ian’s strong point was shooting a bow and arrow, Sean’s was climbing. He’d done his fair share of free-running as a kid and it had paid off well.
“Ian, we’re gonna have to go into actual open areas soon.” Sean called out loudly, swinging from one branch to the next. “We’re both looking and smelling of shit.”
“I know. It’s dangerous, that’s all.” Ian sighed, heaving himself over a tree stump. He didn’t like going out of the forestry.
“We won’t be long, okay. I’m tired of smelling like a rat’s arse.” Ian laughed quietly.
“Alright then.”
“Oh, alright then.” Sean swung his legs over the side of the thick branch he was perched on. He liked it high up in the trees, out of the way of everyone. The air was clearer, more like it used to be. A few years ago, there was a war. They called it War of the British Civilians. There was fighting every where you turned. It had all started when a riot in a London street got out of hand and some 12 year old boy was killed by a Member of Parliment. It was accidental, of course. But some people believed it was a conspiracy.
Things got way out of hand. America brought their armies into mainland Britain. They took all means of weapons, technology, and anything remotely advanced. They called it operation Shut Down. Basically, they planned to shut down Britain, kill off all signs of life, without actually killing anybody off, so they could build it back up to be a secure country. Free-lance murder and a profit end.
So, the remainder of people who survived the fighting resorted to old ways of living. Before technology existed, before anything electrical. Many banded off into pairs, surviving was easier when there was someone to watch your back.
Sean landed on his feet neatly, clearing the 30 foot fall easily. He grinned at Ian happily, then pulled the bow and an arrow from the sheath strapped to his back. It was leather bound, and it had been a family heirloom, of sorts. It had been an ornament above the mirror in the living room of his parents house. No-one had took any notice when he stole it from the rubble and remains.
Ian brought his own bow to eye level. Hand carved from the bark of a water-willow tree. He’d always been good with knives, but a bow was his forte. He could shoot with accuracy, always hitting his target, sometimes never looking at it. He raised the bow slightly, watching out for a bird or a rodent. Seconds passed and a small rat scampered across a branch. Ian took the shot, aimed and fired the arrow. It flew through the air, tore through the skull of the rat. It fell from the tree and into the stream. He walked over to it, drew out the arrow slowly.
He knelt by the stream’s bank. Whenever he killed, whether it was a rodent, or even bigger prey, he performed the little ritual. His drew a 5 point star on the back of his hand with the water and placed his hand over his heart. It was something that meant a lot to him. And Sean never questioned it. Sometimes, the smallest of things could keep you sane.
Sean watched, then waited for Ian to walk back over. Upon the older man’s return, he clapped slightly, grinning. “My turn.” He laughed quietly, raising his own bow to the skies. A small sparrow fluttered from the tree and Sean released the arrow. Narrowly, it missed. He stamped his foot like a small child, aggravated by his failure. “How are you so good at it? It’s not even fair.”
“Here, let me show you.” Ian crept up behind Sean, winding his arms over his. He rested his hands on Sean’s hand, taking over his movements like a puppeteer. He pulled Sean’s hands into position, raising the bow again. “Like this.” Ian muttered softly into Sean’s ear, pulling back on the arrow then releasing it. They watched as it soar through the air. It pierced through the body of another sparrow, hitting it square in the heart.
Sean could feel Ian’s cool breath on the back of his neck. It made him nervous, thinking about the close proximity between their bodies. He had always kept a small bubble of personal space, and told himself if anyone burst that bubble and came to close, he’d wallop them one. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from Ian at that moment.
Little less than three seconds passed and Ian stepped back, clearing his throat. His heart pounded in his chest. He walked past Sean, going over to retrieve the arrow from the sparrow’s body. Sean stood still, frozen to the spot. His feelings for the older man were not unknown between the pair.
A few weeks back, Sean had voiced his opinion on Ian. Not intentionally, they had got into a heated argument and Sean lost it. He spilled out everything he thought of Ian. He had told him how he wished he felt the same, and how he was tired hiding his feelings. Told him he some days wished they weren’t forced to stay together, because it was tearing him apart. Tears were shed that night. On both sides of the argument. Ian had told Sean that he could never feel that way about Sean. But he promised to bear it in mind. And they both swore to never bring that night up again.
Ian headed back over to Sean, handing him the arrow. Sean took it from his hands, sliding it back into the sheath. Every arrow counted, if you wanted to survive in this harsh world. Some people were driven to pure insanity, with the lack of technology. That’s why Sean and Ian stuck to the forestry in the daytime, nobody came to the forestry unless they wanted to die. It was a typically depressive place to spend time, but they had to live on.
Sean climbed up into the first tree he could. He’d rather spend his time in the trees than on the ground. He could see better up in a tree, and it was quicker to climb through them than across unfamiliar floors. Just like Ian’s strong point was shooting a bow and arrow, Sean’s was climbing. He’d done his fair share of free-running as a kid and it had paid off well.
“Ian, we’re gonna have to go into actual open areas soon.” Sean called out loudly, swinging from one branch to the next. “We’re both looking and smelling of shit.”
“I know. It’s dangerous, that’s all.” Ian sighed, heaving himself over a tree stump. He didn’t like going out of the forestry.
“We won’t be long, okay. I’m tired of smelling like a rat’s arse.” Ian laughed quietly.
“Alright then.”