Predominant Burden
Chapter 1
The war had been hell for them all. Tensions were supposed to go down, peace treaties were signed, but they all knew it was inevitable. The European countries tried to persuade Russia, and Canada tried to persuade America, but it was all in vain. The war was to take place, and they would not be shaken. It was the Nuclear War.
Canada was hit hard, being the neighbour of America, but he managed to pull through. His brother's country was destroyed, in complete ruins, as was Russia's. At the start of the war, Belarus and Ukraine tried to stop their brother, to convince him that this would not end well for either of them, that this war would destroy him. He did not listen.
They found his dead body in Moscow six months later.
Europe was not directly harmed, as the war was between America and Russia. The two kept firm for five months, carefully planning their attacks, following through with their strategies step by step, word by word, but the sixth month was hard on them all. Everyone was tired of the war, and America and Russia were in ruins, but neither wanted to give in. They refused to give in.
Alfred, look at yourself. Matthew was tired.
I know. Alfred was exhausted.
I've told you this a hundred times before, you need to stop this.
I know.
Matthew was hopeful. Will you stop?
Alfred smiled sadly at his brother. You know I can't.
The sixth month was an all-out desperate attack. America was running out of missiles and provisions, as Canada had completely closed off the border he shared with his brother, refusing to help him with the war any longer.
You're my brother, you're supposed to support me! Alfred had barged into Matthew's house one day, surprising the Canadian.
Alfred, why are you running around! You should be in Washington!
Alfred looked completely worn out, his usually cheerful, determined face lacking its usual conviction and spirit. He had been in terrible shape these past few months, completely ignoring his brother's attempts to stop him. When Matthew finally had no other option, he closed off his border and cut off trade to his large southern neighbour, his brother. The times had been hard on Alfred. He felt betrayed, exhausted, frightened, lost.
He limped closer to Matthew.
You're the only one I have left, the only one who helps me! Why're you doing this, are you supporting that bastard?
Matthew was furious. I refuse to help you destroy yourself. Just look at you, Alfred! Look at what you've done to your country! You're always blaming Russia, but you have an equal hand in this just as he does, you're the reason why America is in ruins and your people are dying! Just do the world a favour and stop this hero act!
Alfred's face darkened. Alright. That's fine. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. I'll end this fucking war myself.
He walked out as fast as he could with his limp. In his hurry, he had forgotten his most beloved item, which was thrown across the floor in his fit of rage.
His bomber jacket.
"Matthew, my boy, it's of no use, he's gone," Arthur sounded tired on the other side of the line, on the other side of a vast ocean separating him from Matthew, from Alfred.
"No, he's still alive, I can feel it. I would've felt it if he died!" At this point, Matthew was hysterical, his worst fears seemingly becoming a reality.
He heard Arthur sigh. "Russia's gone, what makes you think America isn't? There's no way he could've survived through all that had happened to him."
Matthew was tired of this. Tired of everyone telling him Alfred was gone, that they were sorry, that Alfred would be missed dearly. Alfred wasn't gone. He could feel it, deep inside of him. They share their land, they are connected, they are brothers. He would've felt it.
"He's not just America, he's Alfred F. Jones, and I will find him. I'll show you all, just watch me, I'll bring Alfred back."
Arthur panicked. "Now Matthew, don't do anything-" The line had been cut.
Matthew had hung up.
Canada itself was hit quite hard. Ottawa was safe. Southern Ontario was destroyed, and Alberta and Saskatchewan just barely managed to pull through. British Columbia was in terrible shape, but pulled through as well, evacuating to the northern territories. Manitoba and Quebec had worked together to protect their southern regions, and the Maritimes had joined forces as well, protecting each other. Matthew encouraged his provinces to work together and help each other, to pull through and invite each other into their homes, to share whatever they had. He had also received financial aid from the European and Asian countries, but refused to take a large sum of it, not wanting to owe them too much.
The moment had finally come. He had started planning in the sixth month, the same month he had closed off his borders. He knew it was a lost cause, his brother would be ruined, and he would be left to clean the mess Alfred would leave behind, all alone. Europe couldn't be counted on to help him. The entire world seemed a bit relieved, two of their biggest threats weren't looming over their heads anymore, and they didn't have to do anything, because they had destroyed each other. Now, he knew it was his duty to save his brother. He knew it since day one. He also knew he would have to do it alone, and risk his own life, but none of that was important, because he knew that Alfred would do the same for him, he would go through hell and back to save his brother. Matthew was merely fulfilling his obligations, nothing less. Because he knew.
He did his research; going into this blind would lead to a pointless death. He didn't mind dying, but he preferred that it wasn't in vain. He packed the essentials; non-perishable food, packs of matches (and a flint for good measure), a can opener, a radiation detector, a detailed map of America and Southern Canada to mark his way, a first-aid kit, a thick blanket for cold nights, duct tape and thick rope, and a crank flash light. He put it all in a hiking backpack in the backseat of his truck, which was reinforced and protected from top to bottom and painted a deep black. He had jugs of fuel in the back, and a tool box under the back seat. And most importantly, he had two rifles and a pistol hidden under his seat, extra ammunition in the switchboard. His favourite hockey stick was reinforced with steel, resting in a holder attached to the ceiling of his truck. He wore his favourite toque and jacket, both lined with patches of an emergency blanket, over clothes from his own army. There were a pair of binoculars and night-vision goggles around his neck. He had a gas mask, extra filters in the pockets of his army pants, and a compass. He was as ready as he could ever be.
He would find Alfred himself, and bring him back to his home. He would show him off to the world, and would stand firmly beside him, never blocking his borders or neglecting him as he had done in the past. He would fix him up and help him heal, because he knew he would do the same for him. He wasn't as strong as his brother, or as heroic, but he was enough.
Before he head out to his truck, he put on one more item. It was the most precious thing he had, and wearing it gave him strength. It was all he had left of Alfred.
It was his bomber jacket.