And So The Mighty Fell

by Heaven's Archer

Ellie and her friends weren't the only ones that were captured in the invasion, and they certainly weren't the only ones fighting. Rhianna Marsh was 16 when 'it' happened. And she was going to fight. Even if she was alone...

And So The Mighty Fell...

Some people may say it was a terrible, horrifying way to go. But I could think of nothing less honourable. If I were to die, fighting for my country, for the people I loved. If I was to die saving those who couldn't save themselves...Would it really be that terrible? I've heard soldier's stories from dad, heard of my mum's mates that had returned to glory and all that jazz, but I've never once heard a story like this; A story written and recorded in the time during what seems to be an end. I've never heard a story told from the heart of a soldier that was never meant to be one. Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything...but did it have to be me that set the example?

Then again, would I be willing to push it upon others? No. Never. And I guess that's what made me the one it happened to. Cos I would fight, and fight bloody hard til either they left, or I lay dead on this dirty, war-polluted ground. Because I would never give up.

I learnt quickly, the hard way, of what happens if you hesitate. I learnt quickly what happened if you showed mercy. I learnt quickly how to shoot, to live on nothing. I learnt how to settle into the cold, emotionless void that made sure you wouldn't throw up and scream like a child for your parents.

I learnt quickly...

No one was ever truly safe, I see that now. Everyone lies, and everyone will eventually die on their knees, praying to a god they suddenly throw their faith into that they'd be freed. But you know what? I refuse to be one of those people. Gods didn't exist, if they did none of this would be happening. We would have mercy, and this is no mercy. This is a bloodbath. This is a war and I know it bloody well ain't gonna be easy, but I will give it my best shot and I'd like to see anyone do better.

My name is Rhianna Marsh and I am 16. I lost my innocence not that long ago, and I will never get it back.

I can see their bodies, carved, faces unforgiving, behind my eyelid. Like an inked tattoo, l will never be rid of them. I barely sleep at night, if I do I wake with my face pushed into my pillow screaming. Some would argue that I had to do it, to save myself, to save my country, but I disagree, as anyone else that has taken a life surely would, that it doesn't matter if someone deserved it. It doesn't matter if it was necessary. Those thoughts don't leave you any saving graces when all you see at night is an endless repeating loop of the final moments of those whose lives you destroyed, those who would never again see their children, parents, wives, husbands.

Sometimes I wonder if they had a reason. Had we done something horrible to them that the government didn't tell us? Did we step too far into the boundaries of something that didn't concern us? Pissed off the wrong people while trying to help them live the same lives of luxury we did?

Well, none of that matters anymore. Those luxuries are gone, and those that are free, if there are any other than myself, are probably lying low, trying to save their own asses til it's safe to come out from whatever hole they've dug themselves. I was never going to be able to do that. I grew up with the wrong family, the wrong views to be able to take that path.

I loved reading the fantasy stories, where the heroes would sweep in and save everybody, nobody died and everyone lived afterwards like nothing had happened. Like nothing had come and destroyed their lives. But now I know that's all their ever were. Stories.

Glory doesn't exist in war, not to the true fighters. I know I don't find any glory in what I am doing. Glory exists only in the minds of the innocents, the ones without blood on their hands. The ones that have fought, that have soaked their hands in the blood of their fellow humans, knew glory did not exist. Truthfully, honour probably didn't either. But I tried my hardest, so even if I was disgusted with myself, I could draw on my false ideas of honour and bravery and courage and all those other great things, and lie to myself, pretend that I was at doing something good, something worthwhile. That I at least killed with honour, that I was brave, courageous. I was getting good at lying to myself.

Honour used to be a duel, where the two people involved would fight until they felt their honour regained. Uncomplicated. Unconditional. Honour now...is not poisoning their food, because it would be dishonourable to deprive them of the chance to die in combat. And that was about as far as it goes. You shoot people in the back, the front, above the neck, below the neck, in the neck, you blew up as many as you could with homemade explosives and stolen chemicals. You went in hard, you went in fast, and you got out before they could get you back.

This life sure ain't easy, but in my mind...I can't even imagine what life was like before. My mind has begun to place itself so firmly in what I can see as my duty, a mindset of a soldier, that my life before seems like a dream, a fantasy from some other world that has flowed through the pen of a writer. I guess my life must seem like that to however may read this though.

Before this battle, this war, I would spend ages reading books, writing stories, trying to escape from the daily monotone that was my life. I was a singing, a writer, a dreamer. I went to school, got the above average grades, tried my hardest to please my parents...I was a normal teenage girl...

I can't help but wonder if my parents would be proud now, if they would still see me as their little girl. Would they hold me close and promise they'd never let me go, that they'd never make me go through this hell again? Or would they throw me away, call me a murderer and leave me to be shouldered away by the masses? Would I even see them again? Would they die; an example to those other captured souls?

Would I die?

Would I become one of those rotting, faceless corpses on the ground? Like those I leave behind? Burned past recognition and food for the crows?

I guess it doesn't matter. All that matters is that while I can, that I try my hardest to free everyone. Not just my parents.

I write now from what I'm calling the Point. The altitudes. It's pretty high up, in amongst the low lying clouds, and perfectly hidden.

The 'copters don't bother searching here; no one lived on the mountains, rather clustered around the bases. It's dense forest and rocky cliff faces made it impossible for the helicopters to come close anyway, and the constant cloud cover make it so difficult to see if you're not used to it. No pilot would be suicidal enough to try and navigate through it, knowing they were more than likely to smash into an unseen rock or tree (that has happened once, they haven't tried again). And of course the smaller amounts of oxygen is a great turn off to the ordinary traveller, so infantry saw no point in searching the forests in the area either.

The section I've built my base in is basically a really thick grove of trees, about an acres worth, at the very top with a river and a pool that's almost as deep as I am tall. It's practically a tree city now. I've been doing runs for awhile now, gather ropes, steel, wood, protective coating, tools...the list goes on. I didn't know how to build much to start with, but common sense takes over quickly and efficiently when you know the platforms your building in the trees will at one point be your only hope of survival.

Planks of wood and rope creating bridges, secured against nearby trees, that led between small and large platforms respectively. That's what it is at its most basic form. Its pretty much one will the forest, the leaves from the tall, stable trees sink over and under the bridges, lean upon the platforms and the roofs of those that have them. I've built a bedroom like thing for myself that currently consists of a sleeping bag, pillow, and some of the few personal effects I've allowed myself. Another large, rooved platform is the weapons cache, because I can't afford for that to be damaged. The last rooved area is where I store all my food, which to be honest consists of mostly berries and other fruits and veges. I've managed to grab some books on bush tucker, and am better at finding things like bush honey and edible berries and roots, which is a god send, I can't really walk into the nearest supermarket. Though I have crept into one and stolen a heap of canned food.

Harvey's Range is its general area. Not that far from Alice River, where I lived with my mum and dad, and only about 30-40minutes drive to Townsville. Its a massive mountain range, that sits between Townsville and the outback. There aren't many houses there, maybe a few ranches, but no major centralised suburbs like Townsville. The entire place is pretty much untouched.

I didn't just randomly run to the range and decide to build a base there after I heard about the war. I was here when the war began. I suppose this is where I insert some stupid anecdote about my life no one would really care about. But I suppose it has a place in this hellstory...

My dad is in the air force, my mum used to be in the army, so they used to talk about roughing it all the time. Over the holidays I just got too bored, I begged and pleaded and finally got their permission after proving (in our backyard) that I could survive living in a tent with no access to hot water/amenities/internet/other technology for a week. I thought it was overkill, considering I was only planning on going for 2 nights, but they insisted.

I took the Ute and drove out to Harvey's with nothing but a backpack, holding nothing but the necessities. I spent the first day finding the perfect place to stay. That's when I found the Point, it was like when you were little, and built the cubby houses, or would crawl into holes in hedges that became your 'secret base'. It was picturesque and perfect. That afternoon, the day and two nights I was there were some of the most peaceful of my entire life. I took pictures, sketched, lay down and stared at the stars. I heard the jets go over on the first night, headed out towards Townsville, but that wasn't abnormal. Townsville had both an Army and Air Force base after all. Jets were pretty normal.

Going back home...it was like something out of a horror story. The highway was just...empty. And it was never completely empty. I cast it off, believing it was just the wrong time of day or something but...that changed. Quickly.

I got home and the front gate was just swinging. The front gate is never even used. The front door was wide open, the cat lazily lying on the couch like she owned the place. Dad can't stand it when the cat does that.

Mum wasn't working on her schoolwork, for her little grade two class; Dad wasn't nursing a scotch. Neither was in the back sun room with cups of tea. Though two now ice cold cups of tea stood stagnant on the counter. Clothes on the clothesline span ominously as I peered outside, seeing the locked garage and shed, showing neither were there.

It was as if the house was a display home, it was just empty...almost showing what a house would look like if someone lived there.

I frowned as I noticed none of the appliances were on. No clocks were working. I tried the computers, the TV, anything that could give me a clue as to what was happening. Nothing worked. I picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone.

I had begun to worry then, rightly so. No other house had anyone there either; they were all as empty as my own.

I grew scared as I jumped into the Ute and tore out of the driveway, headed down the highway, but this time towards Townsville.

That's when I knew something was wrong.

Cars, trucks, motorbikes, all abandoned in random places allowing the highway, in the middle of it. Somewhere on fire, others had holes through the windows. Bullet holes.

I remember jumping out of the ute as I got close enough to town. My instincts told me to sneak in, and sneak in I did. I avoided all light, wide open spaces, main roads...I saw them then. What must have been the citizens of Alice River, and maybe some from around the area, all in lines and groups in what looked like a military camp. Barbed wire, sentries, guns, searchlights, patrols...I was scared, I won't deny it. But, that didn't last long. The sight of my proud father and kind, gentle mother, people pushed and shoved around by these soldiers was enough to boil my blood.

I was close enough to hear snippets of the prisoner's conversations. I found out this had happened in the space of about 24hrs. They had come on boats and silent jets during the night, and had captured the defence bases first, followed quickly by the port and airport. They had moved so quickly and efficiently that no one had had time to do anything. There were maybe 10 other areas in Townsville that they were holding its citizens, and the citizens of the areas around the town. The largest one was the showgrounds, with others being places like school ovals, parking complexes in town...families had been split apart.

I had run when the searchlights had almost caught me, weaving back through the town to my Ute, where I had begun to drive back to my home.

That was the time I had first killed.

Apparently I had been semi-seen as I left, and they sent out a party just in case, that had found me as I was flooring it out of the city limits.

I don't remember what I had been thinking. I'm pretty sure my primal instincts must have taken over, because the next time I can remember sensible thought, I had been jumping out window as the ute, with the accelerator purposefully jammed, flew straight towards their light armour vehicle.

I didn't do anything spectacular such as discover my inner gymnast and execute a perfect duck and roll so I didn't hurt myself. I crashed hard, cutting up my hands, cutting open my knee and twisting an ankle. It hurt like hell for quite a bit.

I don't know how long I had sat there and just stared at that flaming wreak. I had heard screaming for awhile but...that had died down. I was paralysed. I couldn't move. I had taken someone's life.

That was the first time I had somebody's blood on my hands.

To say I remember exactly what happened for the next few days, would be all lies. Everything was a blur. I came to; I suppose you could say, back at the Point. I'd grabbed a heap of equipment and had begun setting up...pretty permanently. I didn't know when this would be over. The first world wars lasted years.

That was about a week ago now...in that week so much as happened...I finally got the adventure I'd always wante-...

Rhianna sighed, stretching out her hand and glancing at the flickering candle, a dim light in the night. People mightn't come up to the point often, but if that changed, she didn't want some impressive lighting to be what gave her away. Besides, she could only go into town so often to raid the stores, and wanted to save her growing supply of things like batteries for as long as possible.

She had been able to take large amounts of pens, pencils and notepads from her parent's house. Thank god her mother was a teacher. She had also grabbed her digital camera, and constantly made sure she had batteries for that. Not to mention Rhi would often grab extra SD cards whenever she could, not like she had access to a computer to upload photos anywhere.

She flicked her chest-long, straight brown hair back over her shoulder as she dipped her head down, her normally emotionless brown eyes filled with sadness as she stared down at the notebook in front of her to return to the writing that wasn't nearly as fun to write as what she used to do...before.

...I finally got the adventure I'd always wanted, the independence I'd dreamed of, and all I wanted was to give it back. I've gone guerrilla style on the forces at Townsville, and its pretty hard work, because so far, I haven't found anyone else that's free.

I've hit their weapons cache's, taking what I could before blowing the place. I've snipered down soldiers after training on the various wildlife in the range (Waste not, want not. Dad would be proud that I've managed to get over my 'I eat the meat from the supermarket, I do not kill and prepare myself' thing). I've even managed to take down an envoy that was headed out of the port. I'm pretty sure this is where they're getting a heap of their soldier's out from.

All I can hope is that it means I might come across someone else soon. Someone else that's fighting.

I'm getting so tired of being alone...

Rhianna sighed as she placed the notebook and pen down, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear rolled its way down her cheek. So tired of being alone...

But not going to stop. Never going to stop fighting.

AN: I watched 'Tomorrow, when the War Began', with a mate and this popped into my head not long into the movie. I live in Australia, and the fact they mentioned 'Townsville' as a major port the invading forces where using at me and my friend freaking out (We live in North QLD, scary thought). I figured there had to be other's fighting, and that they wouldn't all be so lucky as to have their mates standing nearby to help them through.

It isn't based on the books (even if I did shamelessly go and buy them 10minutes after exiting the movie), because I haven't read them yet. This is the process of one afternoons work and is quite possibly the longest possible first chapter/cliffy one shot I have ever written ;) (Its 3.088k words long, not including AN)

I hope it turned out ok :D