A Goddamn Moskal

Assault skirmish on open ground.
Rumbling iron tracks on asphalt roads, spitting bits of black rocks into the trailing smoke.
NCO’s shouting commands to men who sprint eagerly into an early end.
Shattering cracks of artillery striking down upon the barren land, empty shells of men pierced by shards of metal.
Screaming coming from every direction, echoing through the smoke, impossible to trace, they’ll die alone and forgotten.
The night creeping closer as tracers surge through the air, no rest for the weary.
The beast is halted. It tries desperately to fend off its predators as it limps cowardly back to safety.
A shattered herd, mowed down by machineguns and grenades.
A drowning creature gasping for air, on the brink of ruin.
Red orbs strike high into the cold night skies, burning furiously.
A man stands idly by.
Anger fuels him as he sees his comrades run tail between their legs.

They sat opposite one another, one tapping his glass of brandy with nervous intent. The other staring into his counterpart’s deviant eyes. The first, blinking his eyes, taping his feet. He has unfinished business, and thus he scramble for results, long from his fumbling grasp.

“Still carrying that old thing, huh?”
Said Sjpagin, hinting towards the pistol resting calmly in Artioms lap, nervous tone breaking his façade.

”He who murders in the name of justice is forgiven, his soul is righteous. Remember, in camp Nadeyus? I’m going to assume you do. Do you ever recall the actions we took?”
Artiom gazed down into the viscous liquid, accompanied by three ice cubes, mutilating his reflection.

“Those were rough times, we all made decisions we regret. Didn't we?”
Sjpagin tried reasoning, hoping to spark a light within the confines of Artiom’s mind.

“He who makes a beast of himself, takes away the pain of being a man.”
Artiom continued, annoyance lurking in his tone.

“You and your goddamn quotes, never did have a mindset of your own did you? I wasn’t the one shiving innocent into submission you creepy bastard.” Sjpagin snapped back, taking a large sip of his drink.
“Who are you, a murderer and a rapist, to lecture me on moralities? We all did what we deemed necessary.”
The man continued his nervous rant, trying hard to avoid Artioms gaze.

“I am not a rapist, Sjpagin. And do you deem it necessary to butcher families, Major?”
Artiom replied. Sjpagin seemed furious, on the verge of tears, he broke:

“For the last time I am sorry! I made one goddamn mistake, and I understand you hate me for it, you have every right to. But for the love of god, move on with your life!”

Suddenly everything fell. The world crumbled around Artiom as he gripped his perspiring cold glass, pistol in the other. He sat in trance before the house he tried so hard to repress from his memory. He took in its beauty, light blue façade, red brick roof, chimney spewing hot smoke, as warm light shun through the misty windows. And in that moment of tranquility and silence, a shattering burst struck the house with tremendous force. Shards of planks flying viciously through the air, shockwave kicking Artiom out of his chair and unto the rumbling ground. As the dust settled upon the smoking debris, he stood up, gazing into the rubble, the ruins still screaming. He remembered this moment all too well, the sound, the stench, the sight.

“Forget me not, oh dear lord, for I intend to transcend to thine kingdom when spring comes fair.”

The man sat waiting for Artioms response, not noticing his absence. He erupted in sorrow as he recalled the deed. He looked as if his whole life had been toppled by irresponsible decisions and tough results. Artiom snapped out of his trance as he heard his brother in arms burst into tears. He showed no sign of remorse, only vengeance as he raised his pistol. The man seemed not to care of the muzzle pointing towards his fragile chest.

“To be honest, at this point, I don’t think it matters.” He muttered, stirring his glass before downing it with a swift move.

“As much as I believe in your regrets, my actions here today serve justice alone, and nothing else. I trust you understand.” Artiom cocked the gun.

“Remember Shilz fields? When our regiment evaporated? You came up to me as I left the APC, you had your gun in one hand, and that guy in the other, and without saying anything you just put a bullet in him. And you, you looked so satisfied, standing there with blood on your hands.” The man stared into Artioms eyes, who stared back with anger.

“He supplied us with false information, do you even remember how many died?”
Artiom threw back at Sjpagin.

“I wanted him dead just as much as you did. But that wasn’t the thing. The glint in your eye…”
He pointed out.

“Justice finds a way. May it be gruesome and fierce, it is ever so righteous.”
Artiom stod up, staring down upon Sjpagin, once the embodiment of bravery, now scruple, defeated. He raised the gun towards him, Artiom's face calm and expressionless.

“Just thought I'd have a little more time, you know?”
The man stalled.

“But I guess that’s common, right?”
He briefly awaited Artioms answer, before continuing:
“Rhetorical question, Its that sense of feeling somethings not finished. But I can’t figure out what.”
He sighed.
“Well, I guess this my final stop, I see it coming already… the bus. I hope mother is on, cuz’ I sure ain’t going to heaven.”
He tried to laugh, but it drowned in the sound of his whimpering.
“Mother be there. Goodbye Artiom.”
He said, as firmly as he could amount.

The shot struck him firmly in the chest, knocking him unconscious and left to bleed out. The room was left with an eerie silence, gunpowder filling the air, blood creating a solid pattern upon the carpeted floor.
“Rest in peace, tovarish.”
Artiom said, clearing himself from the premises.

Sjpagin woke up from his slumber, the bus’ brakes screeched as it stopped in front of the stop-sign, the doors opened, and he got on. He gazed upon every man, woman and child he had ever murdered sitting on the bus, sleeping, resting before their final stop. He wandered petrified among spirits until he came upon one empty seat. The lady sitting beside it was awake, and greeted him with a comforting smile. He sat down, blissfully he felt the bus starting to move. He looked at his mother;

“Mother I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done, any ills I may have caused. I love you.”
She didn’t answer; instead she gave him a heartfelt smile, and grasped his hand. In that moment, he knew everything had been forgiven. All the sorrow he ever caused, slipped down and diluted in the sweet waters of forgiveness.