It’s quiet on the cold mountain top, unlike the days prior, when the artillery shells erupted in clouds of fire and shrapnell. The ground is riddled with craters and bodies; Conaway stumbles as he crosses the open field with the other men. They are following the convoy of supply trucks, heading toward the town they had been fighting over. The wheels of the trucks were replaced with treads, to assist in traversing the local terrain. Their rugged and tattered uniforms were those of the Insurgence: a large scale militia formed to oppose the Axios republic
Conaway looks tired; his expression close to lifeless. He walks through the unsettling stillness of the now silent battlefield, looking at all the carnage before him. His eyes slowly stop on a pile of corpses, where he stares blankly.
“Conaway… Conaway! What’s wrong, you look sick!” one of the men appears beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder with a smile and a cigarette between his teeth.
Conaway looks at him, “It’s nothing, Allen.”
Allen pulls out his pack of cigarettes and offers one to Conaway. “Come on conaway! It’s time to celebrate! We showed those bastards hell. We gave them what they deserved! Am I right?”
Conaway gives a small nod and chuckles at Allen’s attitude. He declines the cigarette, looking back at the pile of bodies. This time he notices something. Within the group of people on the ground, one seemed to still be alive, barely moving his legs. Conaway rushes over and Allen follows him. Conaway stands over the young man, no older than 18, who looks at him with desperate eyes, his face is covered in blood and mud.
Allen unslings his rifle, and aims it at the man on the ground. “He’s not one of ours.” he mutters.
“Wait, Allen.” Conaway says crouching beside the young man. He notices the rifle beside him; it’s empty; he has no way of fighting back. The man’s uniform is covered in blood, his Axios insignia barely visible under the caked on mud.
The young man on the ground gestures to Conaway for a drink. To which Conaway unslings his canteen and gives it to the man who thirstily drinks the water. He wipes his mouth before handing the canteen back to Conaway.
“Thank you.” barely escapes his lips, as he winces.
“Waste of water. He wouldn’t survive, even if we were taking prisoners.” Allen raises his rifle again.
“He doesn’t have much time; It’s the least I could do for a dead man… In the end, we all suffer the same.”
“I’d be delighted to end that suffering for him.” Allen closes one eye aiming down his ironsights.
Before Conaway leaves the young man grabs his arm, and places a necklace in his hand. “Please… Could you give this to my brother if you find him. His name is… Donovar, Donovar Feon…” The young man struggles to speak with his shortness of breath.
“And your name?”
“Anthony.” the young man looks at Conaway with wet eyes, “Please, it’s all I ask.”
Conaway nods and places the necklace in his pocket, before he gets up and walks back toward the squadron. Behind him a single shot echoes through the silence
The two men rejoin the convoy. “There’s no way his brother is still alive.” Allen remarks. “Not in a place like this.”
They continue on, until one of the men screams to the others. “AXIOS DRONE, GET DOWN!” Conaway instinctively braces, just before the truck beside him is hit with a projectile. It penetrates the armor of the truck, burrowing into the cabin. The screams of the men inside are cut short as the truck bursts into flames. The remaining soldiers return fire, but the enemy fighter drone continues to barrage the convoy with explosives and gunfire. Conaway is thrown into the dirt. His ears are ringing and his vision is impaired from the explosion, as he tries to get to his feet. He tries to push off of the ground with his hands when he notices the bones sticking through his right forearm. The pain begins to set in, but he has no time to scream.
“Shit, I’m hit!” Conaway yells. He rolls onto his side, and tries his best to shift the broken bones back into place. He feels the shards of bone in the loose tissue; now he is able to scream. Clenching his teeth he uses the bandage and tourniquet to quickly stop the bleeding; then grabs his rifle with his offhand to try and return fire.
Beside him Allen yells at the others while trying to fire at the drone, which is now circling back around for another strike. “Move! We need to fucking move, NOW!”
Conaway runs toward him trying to get to the treeline. Behind him he hears the hum of the drone’s ionic thrusters. He hobbles through the mud as fast as he can; mortal fear running through his veins.
The hum of the drone gets louder and louder as the others pass him. He is only 40 paces from Allen when the drone passes over the soldiers. Conaway immediately jumps to the ground as he hears the whirring machine turret of the drone. The people in front of him collapse as they are mowed down, bullets ripping through their bodies. Those who survive the gunfire are instantly engulfed in bursts of fire and dirt, when the explosive shells hit the ground beside them. Conaway is only able to watch as the destruction unfolds in front of him. He lay dead still, even after the dust had settled, expecting to die at any moment. Time passes at a crawl, as minutes feel like hours. The groaning of injured men turns to a still silence. The drone slowly circles over the location twice in a large radius. Conaway slows his breathing to prevent being detected by the precise mounted cameras. Finally the drone leaves and dusk falls. Conaway rises from the mud using his one good arm.
“Allen!” he screams.
There is a cough in the distance. “Fuck! Conaway? Is that you? I can’t feel my leg!” The deep blue of the sky is contrasted by the dark silhouette of the land.
Conaway makes his way toward the origin of Allen’s voice. He is barely able to see his comrade laying on the ground, even when kneeling right beside him.
“Conaway, I can’t feel my fucking leg!”
“Alright calm down, I can’t see shit! Did you use a tourniquet?”
“Yeah, just tell me how bad it is.”
Conaway feels around Allen’s legs. From just below his knee where the rest of his shin would be, there is nothing. Conaway feels the blood soaking the cloth.
“You’ll be fine for now, but we need to get you medical soon. Your foot is gone.” He says dressing the wound to clot the blood.
“Shit…” it was the only thing Allen could say, even with this new knowledge.
“Don’t worry Allen, just try to stay awake.” Conaway grabs his hand to reassure him.
Neither of them slept that night, as a light snow began to fall over the mountain.
The sun begins to rise as dawn breaks. Conaway looks at Allen, whose eyes are just as tired as his.“We have to get out of here, we’re sitting ducks out in the open.”
Allen lights a cigarette in his mouth, before Conaway hoists him onto his shoulder. Allen hops around on one foot, assisted by Conaway “C’mon.” Conaway grunts.
They both rise, taking in their surroundings. The bodies of their men lay decimated and lifeless. They’re the only ones left, but the eyes of the fallen soldiers still seem to gaze at them as they walk by. They make their way on foot, to the abandoned town that the convoy was headed to; It’s their best chance of survival. The snow only seems to get worse as time goes on, and they can barely see in front of them.
Allen falls to the ground. “Leave me Conaway, I’m good as dead. Don’t die because of me.”
“You don’t get off that easy Allen, You’re gonna suffer as long as I suffer.” He puts Allen on his back to carry him. “You know you’d be a lot lighter if you lost both your legs.”
Allen chuckles. “You fucking asshole. I’ll make sure the drone gets the other one next time.”
They barely muster the strength to drag themselves to the ruins of the town through the heavy snowfall. Together they arrive at a small house, after multiple attempts, Conaway kicks in the door, and drags Allen through the entrance. When he looks up, his gaze meets the barrel of a rifle across the room.
“Hands in the air! Don’t make a fucking move!” The man behind the rifle was wearing the navy blue Axios coat, with white fur around its edges. His face concealed by the visored steel helmet of the same colors. His hands nervously handle his rifle.
Conaway slowly raises his good arm, that’s not in the makeshift sling. Allen sits on the ground propped up against the stairs, raising both of his arms.
“Fucking republic scum.” Allen sneers under his breath.
“Quiet, insurgent!” The Axios soldier points his gun at Allen. “One at a time, slowly put down your weapons, and kick them toward me. NOW!”
Allen reluctantly unslings his rifle, throwing it on the ground, before sliding it toward the soldier. He raises his hands back into the air, his eyes never leaving the dark eye slits of the helmet.
The soldier picks up the rifle and throws it to the other corner of the room. “Now you.”
Conaway does the same, sliding the rifle over with his foot.
“Now take a seat, and don’t even think about trying anything.” He slowly backs up with his gun still pointed toward the two.
When he reaches the corner, he kneels down. Quickly clearing the weapons before fieldstripping both of the firearms. The soldier never takes his view off of the two men, as the metal parts of the weapons clang on the ground. Allen tries to rest his arms.
“Keep your hands in the air!”
“What are you gonna shoot me? Go ahead. Beats being taken to one of your camps to be tortured.” The vitriol can be heard in Allen’s words.
Conaway shoots a quick glance at Allen, then looks back toward the soldier “My friend here, he needs medical attention. We just need shelter. After the storm passes we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t make deals with terrorists. All you people know is violence. No, After this storm passes, you’ll both be taken as prisoners.” He Takes a seat on the wooden chair by the crumbling fireplace facing the two men; his rifle still aimed in their direction.
For a long time they sit in silence, with only the occasional sound of the wind shuddering the planks and windows. Conaway looks over at Allen who has fallen asleep, making sure he is still breathing. Conaway feels the soldier’s gaze upon him even through the helmet.
“You know, I don’t think any of your men will be coming after this storm. Insurgents took over this area just a few days ago. Wouldn’t be surprised if the convoy starts moving in soon.”
The soldier is silent.
“How did you end up here anyway? Where are your other men? you’re not a scout or a spy, I can tell that much.”
“You’re wasting your time. You won’t get anything out of me.”
Conway continues “Alright… Though I imagine it can’t be much different from us. I watched a lot of men die, and just happened to be the one who survived.”
He looks at the soldier as if trying to see through the visor covering his face. “I have to admit, I don’t like the republic, but I don’t see how killing all these men will change anything.”
“You know nothing. You insurgents kill for the sake of killing, you revel in it. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. Children and families annihilated in the name of hope.” The soldier speaks in disgust, and anguish. “Have you seen a child gasping for their last breath, as their mother’s corpse lay beside them?… Because I have.”
Conaway recalls how the insurgency used immoral tactics often, but hearing it in this way, he could not detach himself from the idea like before. He imagined the screams of death. It no longer seemed justified in the name of war.
“And what about the republic? Tens of thousands dying in mass because the republic refuses to help its people. Your side is no better.” Though acting as a retort, what he said did not make him feel any better. “The promise was for everyone to prosper equally, but instead we all suffer equally. Your regime snuffs out reason, to keep what you call order. It was only a matter of time before the people decided to burn it down.” Conaway speaks with conviction, but inside he is trying to convince himself of his own words.
The soldier pauses briefly, “Then we are both damned, aren’t we?” There is a hint of resentment in his words.
Conway looks at the ground, “I guess so.” There is a moment of silence as they come to accept this reality. “Ironic, isn’t it? Both sides claim to do what’s best for the people, yet together destroy them. Imagine what all these people could do if they weren’t busy killing each other.”
“If you think the Republic would ally with the insurgency, you are a fool.”
“Doesn’t have to be working together, just sharing an understanding.”
“That’s not how the world works.”
“And yet, here we are. Soldiers from both sides under the same roof, running from the same storm.”
The soldier is silent. “Caught in a storm that we didn’t create… It seems rain falls on the just and unjust all the same.”
“That’s the nature war.” Conaway replies.
“You remind me of my brother. He was always something of a poet.”
“Is he in the forces?”
“No, he is taking care of my mother. I hope they are both safe, far away from this hell.”
“I don’t have any family left, that’s why I joined the revolution; a man with nothing to lose. I found a new family among my comrades, my brothers…”
The soldier contemplates what to say, “I was drafted. I had to leave everything behind. It helps when you have something to protect.”
“I fight for my allies, you fight for your family. We aren’t so different.”
The soldier scoffs at this idea.
Conaway yawns, as he slowly begins to close his eyes. “Like you said, we’re both damned. Peace is a mercy only reserved for the dead. People like us, the people who survive, we aren’t so lucky.”
“Before you sleep I’ll have to tie up you and your friend. just for my sake.”
Conaway is indifferent. “Don’t worry, if we kill you in your sleep, you wouldn’t notice.” Conway gives a grin that contradicts what he had just said.
The soldier doesn’t react. Instead continuing to bind the two men with the rope. The night is cold and dark.
Conaway wakes to silence; the Axios soldier is nowhere in sight. Beside him Allen wakes up with a cough and begins shivering. “It’s freezing here.” By his sound and tone he is getting sick. He notices his bound hands. “God damnit.” Allen looks pale, like life is slowly leaving his body.
“You look like shit Allen. We need to get you out of here.”
“Going out in this weather is suicide.”
Conaway knows he’s right, but he doesn’t want to believe it. “It’s the only chance we have.” For a while they go back and forth on what to do.
“We can’t just leave now, He’s probably outside waiting so he can gun us down.” Allen argues.
“What about our guns?” Conaway gets up and hobbles to the corner, but all the parts are gone. “Shit, he probably went to hide them.”
“Then the only chance we have is when he’s asleep. If he comes back, then at night we’ll have to take him out.” Allen tells this to Conaway, who reluctantly agrees.
After a few hours, the front door is kicked in. The soldier walks in with two skinned rabbits.
“Finally!… Hey you mind taking these ropes off I need to use the restroom.” Allen is slightly annoyed.
The soldier undoes the rope for the both of them. “You can piss outside.”
“Bet you wanna watch me piss too?” Allen says snarkily
The soldier ignores him.
Conaway helps Allen to the doorway, where he can lean on the frame and do his business. After they go back and sit on the floor. The soldier begins to boil something over a small burner on the table in the center of the room. After a few minutes he brings each of them a bowl of stew, from the pot. He takes off his helmet and sits down to eat. This is the first time the two are able to see the soldier’s face.
Allen is suspicious, he looks at Conaway unsure whether to eat it or not. The soldier notices. He grabs Allen’s bowl, putting a spoonful in his mouth then hands it back to Allen. Allen watches him swallow the food, before he begins to eat. The soldier walks away into the kitchen, leaving Allen and Conaway to themselves.
Allen looks at Conaway, “What’s up with this guy? Other day he was acting like a complete prick.”
Conaway looks down at the stew, remembering the plan. “In the end we all suffer the same.” Conaway says quietly to himself.
The sun begins to set leaving the room in darkness. Once again their hands and legs are tied. Many hours pass before they are sure that the soldier is fast asleep.
“Hey soldier guy, you awake? If you are, you better do something before we escape.” Allen whispers.
There is no response. They help each other undo the ropes, and Conaway slowly stands up, trying his best to be silent. He makes his way over to the sleeping soldier. The sky begins to brighten as the sun approaches the horizon, barely illuminating the rifle. Conaway places his hand on the weapon, slowly lifting it from the soldier, but the sling is caught under his weight. Eventually he manages to unbuckle the sling, releasing the weapon. At the same time, the soldier’s eyes open. It takes a moment for him to comprehend what’s happening, when he grabs the rifle back. Conaway’s grip holds, and they are caught in a desperate scuffle. Allen quickly manages to hobble over, and get a grip on the weapon to help Conaway wrestle it away from the soldier. Because of their injuries, the soldier is able to overpower the both of them. Kicking Allen away, and pinning Conaway to the ground. Out of Conaway’s pocket the necklace falls to the floor. The soldier catches a glance of it from the corner of his eye. His face of desperation turns to rage. He rips the weapon from Conaway’s fingertips, striking him with the butt of the rifle.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT! ANSWER ME NOW!” The soldier’s voice a visceral growl, as his finger tightens over the trigger, aimed at Conaway.
“A soldier. Named Anthony.” Conaway responds, his hand blocking his face, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.
“No… NO!!! That’s not possible… he’s not supposed to be here… DAMN IT! You… WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS NECKLACE? ” His words barely slip through his teeth that gritted in rage. His grip deathly tight on his weapon.
“He was dying when we got to him, there’s nothing I could have done.” Despite his fear Conaway speaks honestly.
“You’re a fucking liar. You… You killed my brother..” His uncontrollable rage boils over into his quivering words, and his venomous hatred cuts to the core.
“Conaway didn’t kill your brother, I did.” Allen coughs. “I can’t take back what’s been done.” He slowly reaches into his pocket, pulls out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth. “He wasn’t long for this world, and neither am I. So… Make your choice.” Allen lights the cigarette. He looks at the soldier with a lack of emotion, already having forfeit his right to live.
The soldier glares into his soul. “You were once my enemy, but now you have earned my hatred. What is your final wish?”
He looks to Conaway, then back at Donovar “Just drink of water.”