Never Coming Home

the last thing you see

Even as a child, Mikey had fallen victim to an irrational fear of large bodies of water. Trips to the beach had been his worst enemy and after an immature comment about sharks that Gerard had made, he had refused to step foot into anything that claimed to be able to sail across the ocean. It just didn’t seem worth the risk, to allow someone to pilot a hunk of metal through the water and risk being eaten by a rabid sea-monster. The fear had dulled over the years, sure, but even though Mikey knew that the odds of him being caught by a shark were virtually non-existent, he still felt uneasy when he had to be anywhere near a boat.

Unfortunately, Mikey had been forced onto a boat that morning and a few hours later, had found himself stuck in the middle of one of the biggest bodies of water on the entire planet.

He didn’t find the rhythmic bobbing soothing at all, despite Gerard’s protests that he would as they had awoken to the news. In fact, the choppy waters were making him feel quite sick and with every wave that lapped the side of the metal container, he only felt more anxious about the events of the day ahead. Sleep had well and truly evaded Mikey that night and he had tossed and turned until the sun rose and the wake-up call was sounded. The butterflies in his stomach that had been dancing a gentle ballet were now doing a vigorous tango against the lining, making him feel more nauseous than he had ever felt before. The gun that was resting carefully against the inside of his thigh did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, if anything, it did the exact opposite.

Brushing his fingers against the cool metal, Mikey wondered whether it would be of any use to him. He could barely bring himself to shoot at a target, never mind a living, breathing human being. He knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about it, but the possibility of having to wound or kill someone who was probably just as scared as he was made him feel worse than he already did. Mikey didn’t know whether, if push came to shove, he would be able to kill another man. He assumed that adrenaline and the will to survive would kick in and force him to but even then, he didn’t know if he’d have the guts to actually pull the trigger if he had to.

They were approaching land now. Mikey could see the French coastline emerging on the horizon, great and imposing. It struck Mikey – inappropriate timing or not – that he hadn’t ever been to France. In fact, he had barely been out of the United States. He had lived his life in a bubble, not thinking to do anything before time ran out. Maybe once this was all over, he’d convince Gerard to wander the world with him. It made no sense to be pushing the tail end out of their teens and have not visited some of the other countries in the world. Maybe they could go to Spain, or Italy, perhaps even England. Mikey wasn’t fussy.

A sharp nudge to his ribs pulled Mikey from his thoughts. Gerard had been almost completely invisible throughout the entirety of the journey, breaking his silence only to cough or clear his throat. Now he was looking straight at Mikey, his lips pursed in a thin line. He had gone from a healthy glow to a pasty white in the space of seconds, and that wasn’t something that filled Mikey with any form of confidence. Gerard was Mikey’s rock and if he was scared, Mikey knew something was wrong.

Gerard seemed to be struggling over something. He opened his mouth, glanced at his brother and then sighed, shaking his head. This looped for a few seconds. Had it been in any other situation, Mikey would probably have laughed at his older brother’s speechlessness. It didn’t seem like the right time, though. There would be plenty of time for laughing after they had finished their task here. There would be months upon months of slightly insensitive practical jokes in the barracks and then after that, the rest of their lives. For these few hours, Mikey had to be as serious as he could be, he had to concentrate fully at the task on hand.

“Be careful,” was all that eventually left Gerard’s mouth. There was no use in trying to embrace, because they would be stopped almost as soon as they had begun. However, that didn’t stop Mikey from wanting to hug his brother until everything had gone away, just like he had when he had nightmares as a small child.

The water was pounding against the boat as they pulled into land. The mechanical whoosh of the boat door pulling to the ground, followed by a rushing of water onto the solid metal floor, prompted the entire boat into action. With guns raised and teeth gritted, the boat was emptied of bodies.

The next few minutes were a blur for Mikey. He had ran far enough, that he knew when the turgid silt beneath his feet changed into the smooth sand of the beachfront. After that, everything was just a mess of running soldiers, guns and bullets whizzing above his head. Everything seemed almost foreign to Mikey as he ran as fast as he could, instinct taking over and pushing him towards one the large Czech hedgehogs that littered the beach; an attempt made in vein to stop the oncoming forces from the US.

He had to catch his breath. The metal structure felt cool against his back. Everything seemed to fall back in again in a rush, the sounds and smells of men dying. Someone had fallen just a few feet in front of Mikey and his body was ejecting fluid at a rapid rate, covering his uniform in a red-wine stain of blood. Closing his eyes, Mikey willed the image of the body from his mind.

He couldn’t move. Mikey was literally paralysed by fear. His gun was in his hands, but it was useless. How was he supposed to bring himself to throw his body back into the hail of bullets that criss-crossed the battlefield? Given the choice, no mortal man would even think of endangering his own life to save his country. It was the fight-or-flight instinct at its best and Mikey’s whole body was screaming at him to flee, to run back to the ocean and hide until the whole sordid ordeal was over. He couldn’t, though. Mikey knew what the punishments for skipping out on warfare were and he didn’t want to risk those. Better dead than considered some war criminal, locked up with the key thrown far, far away.

Taking another few deep breaths, Mikey steeled his nerves. There wasn’t a single thing that could stop what was happening and the only way that Mikey lived through this was by fighting. He tightened his grip on the gun with a shaky hand and threw himself back into the battle.

Men were falling like dominoes around him, the medics frantically trying to stop the bleeding from gunshot wounds to legs, torsos and other areas. The golden sand was speckled with blood droplets from those who had tried to go on, and as Mikey kept his head down, he couldn’t help but notice the sheer amount of blood that had been shed. The defeated look on the faces of the medics confirmed that the death toll was already rolling higher. Mikey gritted his teeth and continued to run.

And all of a sudden everything was blood and sand and pain, pain unlike anything Mikey had ever experienced in his entire life. His legs bucked beneath him and he hit the ground heavily, but the knock didn’t even register in Mikey’s brain. His entire torso felt like it was on fire, fire that was spreading throughout his body like wildfire. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the agony that was ripping his body to pieces at an incredibly quick pace.

Mikey knew that he was screaming, but he couldn’t recognise his own voice. The animalistic shrieks couldn’t be him, just couldn’t be. Everything was beginning to fade out, leaving him in his own little corner of the warzone. He could see men running past, but none of them stopped. There was no time to pick up the casualties in war.

All at once, a medic flew to his side, Mikey he knew all at once that it was Ray. He could see him applying pressure to the wound, but nothing changed. The fire still continued to burn, the blood still continued to flow and the cries of war still echoed around them, encased in their own little bubble.

Ray’s mouth was moving, willing Mikey to stay awake.

Mikey wasn't listening.
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The error in the lyrics titling this chapter is intentional, before anyone says anything. Also, totez emotez. My creys.