It didn't matter what side you had been on or what you fought for. It didn't matter where you were from or what you did.
Everyone remembered Drop Day. Remembered every little detail of that day, that hour, that minute, that second. Remembered how the world stopped moving, holding its breath and could only watch the sky darken and the ash fall from the sky.
Wrapped in warm layers, the cold still found it's way to Evan. With the Drop, the temperature plummeted, snow falling with the ash. There were days where it was impossible to tell which was snow and which was ash. Evan pulled his coat closer, his head down as he forced himself to keep walking. The trees arched above him, weighed down with snow. The sky was dark grey, smoke heavy in the air.
Evan's dark eyes moved up from the ground to the woods around him. With his scarf tied tightly around his face, he could barely see above it, but he would rather that then the cold biting at his cheeks. With every move, his right arm stung with pain, the black scarf stolen from his friend's body tied tight around it in hopes the bleeding would stop.
The world had gone silent and he didn't expect to see anyone or anything yet he was still on guard, rifle hanging on his back. His red and white stripes on his sleeves stood out from the black of his uniform, the gold feathers of the owl patch sewn with care hidden under his lapel and warm scarf.
He told himself that the stripes on his sleeves that identified him would save him if he encountered anyone yet what he had seen, what he had done, blood that wasn't his staining his uniform, the deep wound on his right arm oozing blood, told him that it wouldn't.
Evan had joined the Peacekeepers, a regiment whose only purpose was to help civilians, and when there was a ceasefire, keep the peace. To some, it was considered a crime to harm or kill a Peacekeeper. Evan had joined to help people. Though he carried a gun, he never wanted to have to use it. His closest friends had chosen to take up arms. Every time wounded soldiers were brought to their camp, he prayed that they wouldn't be among them, that they were okay. He hadn't seen them in over three years.
It had been the middle of September, barely five in the morning when Evan was woken up by a low rumble that set every nerve on end. He had scrambled to get dressed in his uniform, running out of his tent to see the sky darken, a cold strong wind blowing through the camp. The camp was silent except for the sounds of the campfires blowing out and the tents billowing in the wind. Everyone had stopped and stared at the sky, trying to understand what had happened. The morning birds no longer sang and the sun did not shine through the clouds and smoke that day or any day after that.
The ninety Peacekeepers at the camp tried to dismiss it, not hearing any new orders, their radios had gone silent. Planes would fly overhead and sometimes there would be a distant boom that followed it's smoking path. Evan tried to pretend nothing was wrong, tending to wounded soldiers in their care or bringing supplies to refugees in their camp. With every passing day, the cold and falling ash and snow became harder to ignore.
By the end of September, food and water was becoming scarce. They kept expecting a supply plane, firing flares into the sky with hopes they'd be seen but the plane never came. Many of the wounded soldiers had died, the lack of warmth and medicine taking its toll. Evan had sat by their radio for hours, scanning the different frequencies for anything. Even an enemy transmission to tell them they weren't alone in this freezing hell.
"This is PeaceKeepers Regiment Number Three stationed in North Washington. This is a distress signal requesting assistance immediately. Please come in. Over." Yet as this went on, his proper request turned to begging. "Someone please come in. This is a distress signal from a PeaceKeepers camp...We have people dying here. Please...Please come in." Yet only static answered him and every other PeaceKeeper that tried.
When October arrived, the cold getting worse with every passing day, the camp was attacked. By who, Evan didn't know. They had attacked when it got dark, catching the Peacekeepers off guard. Evan hid in the radio tent, hugging his rifle to his chest tightly as he tried to block out the sounds of the screams, gunshots and the splattering of blood on the tents. Tears of anger streamed down Evan's face, his breathing heavy. He couldn't bring himself to get up and fight, protect his fellow Peacekeepers. All he could do was sit in the corner of the tent and pray that no one found him.
His eyes wandered up to the radio, thinking that maybe he could try one last time to send a message. Glancing back at the tent entrance, he scrambled towards the radio, gripping the cold metal of the mic in his thin gloved hands.
"This is Peacekeepers Regiment Number Three! We are under attack! Please anyone who is listening please send help! Please!" Evan cried, rubbing his tears away with the palm of his hands. He wasn't ready to die yet. Barely twenty three, he wasn't ready to say goodbye to his friends when the war started, and he wasn't ready to let go of all the goals and dreams he had. He wasn't ready now. He didn't want to be. "Please help!" The sound of the tent flap opening made Evan jump, falling back onto the tent floor. He stared up at the soldier dressed in black, blood staining their uniform. The soldier raised his gun at Evan, eyes narrowing to look at him.
Before Evan could even hesitate, his hands were on his gun, aiming right back at the soldier. The gunshots that followed echoed louder than anything Evan had ever heard. A loud scream followed it that he recognised as his own, and sparks flew through the air as Evan fell back against the radio table both from the force of his own gun and the bullet that had deeply grazed his right arm and hit the radio behind him.
Evan's eyes went back to the soldier, a loud gasp ripping its way out of his throat as he stared at the bloody mess in front of him. He sank to his knees, his breath ragged with sobs. He held his left hand to his bleeding arm, the pain numbing his whole arm, not letting him thing. He leaned his head against the end of the table, his rifle on the floor beside him having fallen from his hands. He struggled to breathe, anxiety and fear crashing over him. He could feel his warm blood seep through his glove, oozing down his arm.
As much as he wanted to lie down, he couldn't stay here. He would die if he did, either from the cold and blood loss or someone finding him. He couldn't decided which would be the worse.
Pushing himself to his feet, wincing from the pain shooting through his arm, he picked up his gun, moving slowly towards the entrance to the tent. Outside was chaos. Most of the tents burned, the hot flames melting the snow. Running frantically, Peacekeepers tried to escape the gunfire that echoed like fireworks, sparks, bullet shells and blood falling on the snow. A bullet flew past Evan's head, ripping through the tent fabric as he ducked out of the way. He lost his balance, falling onto the tent floor soaked in blood, bits of bone and flesh from the soldier that Evan had shot. He stared at his hands that had landed in a puddle of blood with wide eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. He had seen wounds and sickness, but never seen death this close before. He felt sick to his stomach, having to turn away from the gore, clasping his hand over his mouth.
Evan managed to get back to his feet again, feeling unsteady as he stumbled to grab his gun. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted out of the tent towards the one where his pack would be.
"Evan! Evan run!" He turned at the sound, one of the attacking soldiers tackling Evan to the muddy snow. He cried out in pain at the impact and the pain on his arm. The Peacekeeper that had yelled at Evan, Luke, ran to where the two struggled. He pulled the soldier off Evan, hitting the soldier hard with his gun, enough to knock him out. Luke took Evan's hand, his eyes widening at the sight of his gloves soaked in blood and the growing stain of blood on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" Evan shook his head, tears falling from his eyes."Come on! We have to go!" Another gunshot crackled through the air and Luke went down, his hand slipping from Evan's.
"L-Luke!" Evan stammered, falling to his knees beside his fallen friend. "Luke!" Once more, his gun was in his hands, aiming at the soldier that had shot Luke. Pulling the trigger, Evan watched the soldier fall. He lowered his gun, using the strap to hang it off his back. He looked down at Luke, tears falling from his dark eyes as he took Luke's scarf, jacket and weapons. Luke wouldn't need them now. He wrapped the extra scarf around his right arm in hope of stopping the bleeding, taking off his bloodied gloves and taking Luke's. Carrying what he could, he sprinted to the tent, stuffing what he could find into his pack. In a box near the wall of the tent, Evan found flares, the thought crossing his mind that maybe he could find someone that would help.
The edge of the woods wasn't far away, the darkness bringing safety. Yet Evan was terrified to go alone, remembering the planes overhead and hearing the crashes. If some of those pilots survived, if one of them found Evan, he was scared to think that they might turn on allies too just like these soldiers had; slaughtering the peacekeepers.
Taking a deep breath, Evan ran from the tent towards the woods, looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was chasing after him.
"Hey!" Evan was grabbed suddenly, a strong arm dragging him backwards. He felt the cold metal of a knife pressed against his throat, his eyes landing on the red and white on the jacket sleeve of the arm holding him back. "Abandoning us? Are you fucking abandoning us?" The peacekeeper yelled.
"W-We're all going to die! Let me go!" Evan struggled, pushing the Peacekeeper off. "Y-You have to go too! You'll die!" Evan cried. The peacekeeper sneered, his knife flashing through the air as he lunged at Evan.
"You're pathetic! Coward!" Evan stumbled backwards, the tip of the knife cutting his cheek. Evan swung his gun around, using the end of it to hit the Peacekeeper hard in the face. The sound of bones breaking made him cringe, the peacekeeper falling to the snow. A strangled sob racked his body as he turned and kept running into the woods.
Now, the snow fell gently and the world had gone silent once more. Every step took more energy than it should, Evan's breathing ragged through the scarf tied around his face to keep the cold out. His pack weighed him down, as heavy as the regret of leaving his friend and the other peacekeepers behind. There was nothing he could have done to save Luke, only hope that his death was painless. The only thing that kept him going the possibility of getting help, of finding someone who wouldn't turn on him. He repeated it over and over to himself with every step, his eyes scanning the frozen woods around him.
Yet as the day turned into night and it became colder, Evan found that he couldn't keep walking. He nestled himself into the base of a tree, peeling the bloody scarf off his arm to look at the angry wound on his arm. He winced, pulling the scarf tight around the wound. The memories that he had tried so hard to block out came rushing back. He thought about Luke and the other peacekeepers, wondering if the soldiers that had attacked them would bury the bodies or leave them there to rot in the snow.
Evan's eyes started to close, taking all of his energy to jolt himself awake. His eyes drifted his pack laying beside him on the snow, remembering the flares inside. The sky was dark enough that it would be seen from far away. Maybe someone would find him, and if he didn't wake up; his pack and weapons could save someone else.
Reaching into his bag, his left hand curled around the flare gun. He pulled it out, loading the flare into it. He looked up at the night sky, the stars now visible now that the city lights were gone.
"Please." Evan pulled the trigger, watching the flare fly into the sky and explode in a bright flash of red light and smoke. Loading another flare, Evan shot it again into the sky, the bang echoing among the trees and the red smoke hovered in the air. Evan dropped the gun, leaning back against the tree as he let out a sigh. Someone had seen it; he kept telling himself as unconsciousness swept him under.