Fortune Favors The Dead

The war had gone on for three years. Conflict in seven different countries and destruction in three. I was on the front lines for two of those years. After that there was no way out. I was stuck. 

I was given control of a battalion in my third month as a soldier. I was in charge of twelve men and four women. They were the bravest soldiers I had ever met, and I was proud to call them mine. We saved city after town, people after people. We were considered heros to the civilians trapped in the clutches of evil. We were provided shelter and food anywhere we traveled, giving our bullets and blood for them in return. We were un breakable

Or so we thought.

I received an order halfway through the summer month to take my troop through the Cannon country to receive refugees hidden in the port city. It took a month of planning before I even considered the journey. Once our plan was finalized, we set off. Before we could make it to the port city, we would have to cross the worst place in the war. 

It took fourteen days to reach the Taken City. To speak its name was to bring misfortune to your troop. It was easier to refer to it as what it was. 

Taken. 

When we reached the border my soldiers grew quiet. The barren city was once thriving with life and laughter, but now the war had killed whatever light was left. There was nothing left of the city but destruction. 

I held my gun to my chest and kept my head on a swivel, staying alert for the enemy. I heard Chops, my right hand, curse under his breath as we walked past what used to be a butcher shop. I turned to stare him into silence. Useless noise was a distraction to my senses. 

I mentioned to my soldiers to pick up the pace, the deserted city square giving me a bad feeling. They silently moved close to me, clutching their own weaponry and wiping their goggles. 

We walked through the city for three more hours before the sun began to set, sending a bone chilling wind through the cracks of the buildings. I led my men into an old building to set up camp for the night. We checked every room before settling down on the dusty floor. We unpacked our sleeping gear and cleaned our guns before we finally closed our eyes. 

………

I woke up to a heavy hand on my shoulder, my sniper acting as my personal alarm clock. We quickly ate our morning rations before setting off, eager to get through the rest of the Taken City. We made it to midday before we heard a scratching coming from an alley. 

I motioned to my soldiers to stop walking, listening intensely to the sounds. Rams, my best combat soldier, put his hand on my shoulder as a signal to say he was going to check. He drew his gun and slowly crept towards the scratching. Just before he got to the wall, he turned around and nodded at us. 

We nodded back. 

As he disappeared behind the wall, my soldiers tensed, holding their breaths. We heard footsteps coming our way and we let our breaths out, awaiting Rams’ return. Just as we saw his shadow, something grabbed hold of his ankle, pulling him back into the darkness of the alley. We all rushed to him, but it was too late. Whatever was in there had taken him.  

………

We had no choice but to move forward. This is war after all. There was no time to mourn one life when millions are in danger. Rams was a fine soldier, and he died knowing it. This is the solace my fifteen soldiers were given as we trudge on. 

We made it through the Taken City without any more stops, and came up on the stretch of desert between the Taken City and the port city. It would be a long walk to find the refugees. 

Night had fallen well into midnight when I allowed my soldiers to rest. After Rams’ death I wanted to move as quickly as we could to avoid more trouble. It was now I let my battalion mourn. 

………

It happened at dawn. 

Chops was keeping watch for any dessert trouble when he heard a howl in the distance. He later told me he let it go unnoticed because he thought it was a wolf. 

He heard a single set of footsteps drawing closer, moving faster and faster until he was sure another set had joined. Then another. Then another. In only a matter of time a stampede was upon us, waking my soldiers from their sleep. They drew their guns and fired. Bodies hit the sand before they could yawn. 

When our assailants, missionaries from the enemy side, had either dropped dead or retreated we counted our losses. I lost four soldiers that morning. The enemy’s lost six. Better them than us. 

I gave my eleven soldiers time to mourn their brothers and sisters before ordering we move on from the site. I add my fallen four to the list of reasons to wreak havoc on the enemies. In my two years as a soldier, I had seen more destruction by the enemy side than any man should. I plan to repay the favor personally. 

………

As we walk, my soldiers request a story of my time in the war before the battalion. This time I told them of my time in the red country, which I helped liberate from the enemy. I encountered a man in that battle, someone who I will never forget. 

I joined my fellow soldiers on the battlefield, stepping over the dead as I made my way to the top of the hill. In my hand I held a dead man’s coat, stained with the colors of the enemy. My gun had a single bullet left. 

I struggled to catch my breath as I made it to the crescent of the hill. I stopped in my tracks as I came face to face with a man. I recognized him immediately, the scar running down his eye an immediate give away. 

Zur. 

He was a traitor to my country. A once respected general who defected to the other side and sold out valuable secrets. Secrets that cost my best friend his life. He smirked at me and drew his gun. I drew my own. 

He whispered taunts to me as we circled each other, my grip on the jacket tightening with every step. I never once broke eye contact. We shot at the same time, my single bullet catching him in the arm, his hitting home in my stomach. Gathering my strength and adrenaline, I drew my small knife from my holster and stabbed his eye. He deserved worse. 

While he lay on the ground I managed to hang the enemy’s coat, drawing my knife down the center. It was a taunt which quickly became the sign of hope throughout the five countries allied with mine. 

I had managed to make it back to my camp and passed out in the medical tent. When I awoke, I was told Zur survived. I vowed on that hospital bed that I would find him. 

………

When we finally reached the port city two more of my soldiers had died. We had been attacked two more times while crossing the desert, losing our translator and our marksman. 

As we trudged into the city, I wondered if we really were the battalion that gave people hope at the mention of our names. Were we the same soldiers that people would have given up anything for? We were sad excuses of humans at this moment. 

We made our way to the refugee camp, approaching quietly so as to not scare them. I knocked four times on the metal door and waited for an answer. As no answer came I wiggled the handle. It pushed open easily, revealing the dark and musty hallway. My soldiers and I made eye contact and nodded to each other, drawing our guns and pairing up. We made our way down the hallway, Chops and I leading and our sniper, Vera, bringing up the rear. Before we could react, we were surrounded. 

………

In a short and bloody brawl, five of my soldiers were gone. Our attackers doubled up on them, leaving no room for defense. Four soldiers left. 

………

The hallway was much longer than it looked, and based on the attack it most likely had secret entrances. I had never seen my soldiers so nervous, their usual calm and collected-ness gone with their companions. I raised my shoulders up higher to calm their nerves, acting as a steady ground. We reached the end of the hallway and came to a fork in the way. I ordered three of them to go to the left, leaving Chops and I to explore the right. We nodded to each other and walked on. 

We moved in silence so we would be able to hear any disturbance caused by anything other than us. When we reached what I could guess was the halfway mark, we heard a lone scream. I knew right away it was Doser, the final standing female soldier. 

Four turns into one. 

Chops bowed his head for his companions, his eyes shining with loss and his shoulders weighed with the burden of the dead. He looked in my eyes and rested his forehead against mine as I whispered my final words to him. He turned and ran toward his fellow soldiers. He was struck down before he fully turned the corner. 

………

I turned and ran down the dark hallway, not allowing myself the time to give them a soldier's farewell. I came upon a stone room, a single ray of light in the center. In the circle of light stood the man I vowed to end. 

Zur. 

He stood unmoving as I drew my sword, a weapon I rarely chose to use. My pistol sat in drawing reach if needed. Zur drew his own sword, a fine piece with a hand crafted hilt. He wore an eyepatch, courtesy of the last time we saw each other. He smiled at me, his rotting teeth it’s own work of evil. 

He made the first move, stepping out of the light and lunging for me. I countered his swing and jabbed, barely missing his lungs. He laughed at my miss, moving too quickly to see and swiped his blade against my arm. I hissed as I began to bleed, fuelling his amusement. 

Angered by his mockery, I lunged again, this time striking his stomach. He groaned in pain and clutched his wound. I felt a surge of pride and lunged again, catching his side with my sword. He lost his speed quickly. 

Despite this, he got several more hits to my skin, getting what could be a fatal jab to my ribs. We were almost evenly matched. 

True to his cowardness, he barked an order and three of his soldiers appeared. They moved onto me, making defense nearly impossible. I managed to cut down two of them, the third the biggest man I had ever seen. He delivered a blow to the base of my neck with the butt of his gun and I went down. 

Zur ordered him out of the room, wanting to be the cause of my defeat. I knew he didn’t expect me to make it out of here, not with the uneven battle. 

I am no army. 

I looked him in the eye as he approached me, never once daring to break eye contact. He knelt down next to me, drawing my face close to his. I sneered at him and waited for my moment. He raised his sword preparing the final blow, and just as his weapon met my skin I grabbed my knife from my side and stabbed him in the heart. 

He clutched his chest and fell down next to me. As we slowly died next to each other, I remembered what I told Chops before his sacrifice. 

You have been brave. 

All of my soldiers had been brave, but it didn’t matter. In war, fortune only favors the dead.