Digital art by LordHayabusa357 “It gets Harder from Here on Out” http://fav.me/d7bk6mw
I think I might have talked too much about soldiers yesterday, cause I had a weird dream. I dreamt that I was a part of an elite military unit. We were in a city paved with yellow cobblestone, the sort you might find somewhere South, perhaps in Spain or Portugal. The air was dry. The narrow, winding streets were drenched in golden sunlight.
Our unit was dispatched to fulfill some sort of misson – I’m not sure what it was about, but we had to make our way uphill on foot. It was not until we reached the fork in the road that I got an eerie feeling, as if something was off. In that moment, a torrent of water appeared out of nowhere, swept over the area like a shallow, but powerful wave, and washed over the soles of my boots, threatening to knock me to my knees. It was gaining momentum, rising rapidly.
There was a brief moment of panic, when we realized that we were about to be ambushed. I shouted for everyone to fall back, but we knew our orders were to complete the mission by all means. We regrouped, and retreated to a path that ran along a dam-like structure that concealed us. We could see our stay-behind unit through the thick hedges on the other side of the wire fence, but there was no way for us to communicate with them and let them know that that it was us, and not the enemy. And as the water levels kept increasing, we had to make a choice: to stay and die, or to go back and face the bullets from our own.
Heart was pumping with adrenaline. We trooped along in a single file. Suddenly, I heard a commotion behind me – there was no doubt, we were exposed and the backup across the fence had noticed our movement.
“Go, go, go!” someone yelled, and we all started running, struck with realization that they were ready to fire at us at any given moment. Someone shoved me forward. There was no time to think – I had to lead. All we had to do is to make it to the entrance at the other end of the path. That was our only goal, our only intention.
“Dont shoot!” I yelled, waving my hands in the air, when a dark green beret of our team members glimpsed across the fence. It was as if he coudn’t recognize me – or perhaps he was just following orders, but I felt the cold black barrel of his rifle pointing directly at me some hundred meters away. Time slowed down. Everything was happening in a slow motion.
There followed a muffled cry: not a scream of pain, but rather a plea of desperation, the sort you would make if your mouth is full of water and you’re trying to tell someone to do something.
It was my fellow squad member. He couldn’t outrun me, because the path was too narrow, and because I was ahead of him, even by those few milliseconds.
I knew I could make it, but couldn’t he. As the soldier on the other side started raising his weapon, preparing to fire, I looked down. The hammer was cocked, locked and ready to fire. All I had to do was to pull the trigger. But to kill my own in order to save my own, is that justified?
I didn’t think more about it. As shots were fired, the place descended into chaos. One by one, the bullets riddled the dark green berets that looked so majestic on their owners. Their vigorous bodies, dressed in combat uniform were going limp. All I could hear was the clanking of my empty shells that fell to the ground. Clank. Clank. Clank. So methodically. So dull, as if sinking into a well.
I saved my team members. I killed the rest. As we reached the end of the path, I was engulfed by emptiness.