Hi kids, sorry it's been SO long on this story...I suppose I had major writer's block. But here we go again...
Normandy=D-Day, the Allied invasion onto the coast of France in June, 1944.
This time we're in Jasper's POV, which is all deep South, American boy. I've tried to write in his accent, let me know how that reads!
...
I ain't nobody's hero.
I never wanted to go to war.
My brother—my strong, capable older brother—wanted to go.
He wanted to fight for freedom. He understood the things that were happenin' thousands of miles away, across the deep green ocean, and he wanted to stop them. He was the hero.
And then Pearl Harbour.
December 7th, 1941.
Left my mother without her son. Left Rosalie Hale, the most beautiful girl in our small, southern town, four months pregnant with a diamond ring on her left hand and the knowledge that her husband was never comin' home.
Grief is a funny thing. My father fell into the bottle, unable to claw his way out. My mother sat on our front porch in her rockin' chair, rockin', always rockin', starin' into space. And me? I took up my brother's fight. I thought I could be a hero. But I was wrong. This Godforesaken land will never stop hungerin' for blood, and I lost more here than I will ever be able to get back. Now, climbin' out of the icy waters of the River Elbe, I finally saw the battle fatigue, the fear and disillusion, I saw in my eyes mirrored in the eyes of our Soviet allies.
Omaha Beach, Normandy, June 6th, 1944
"Ya'll got a light, Jas?"
Riley smiled sheepishly at me, cuppin' his hands around his cigarette. The early mornin' air was chilled as it came up off the water, fog creepin' around our ankles and into my bones. God, how I missed the south. When I—we—got home, I was never leavin' again.
"Here."
I flicked the rest of my pack of matches at him. He grinned like I had handed him solid gold, lighting up and inhaling deeply. As he did so, Jacob leaned forward, vomitin' his breakfast all over the bottom of the boat.
"Sweet Jesus, Jake, a little warnin' woulda been nice!"
Riley snarled, scramblin' to get away from him, his accent more pronounced under duress. I sighed, wrappin' one arm around Jake's middle and helpin' him to the edge of the boat. Jacob grinned weakly at me, his brown eyes sparkling, his baby face showing his gratitude,
"Thanks."
I shook my head, settlin' next to Riley, kickin' him in the shins as he glared at Jake, who continued to puke whatever was left in his stomach into the pitching sea.
"He's just a kid, Rile. Let it go."
Why they had chosen to feed us a huge, greasy breakfast before sendin' us out here onto the ocean was beyond me. The channel was rough for this time of year—Jake wasn't the only one getting sick. Riley leaned his head against my shoulder, breathin' smoke out of the corner of his mouth, offerin' me his cigarette. I shook my head, pushin' his hand away. My stomach was beginnin' to feel queasy and I feared I might soon be joinin' Jake. Not that it mattered—I had grown up with these boys, they were my brothers.
"Where's your head at, kid?"
Riley grinned at me, usin' the term of endearment that he knew pissed me off—he was only a year older than me, grew up on the farm just the same. The nickname took me right back to the cornfield, where we'd shared our first kiss. At sixteen years old, it was sweet, illicit and forbidden, and wrought with an innocence I now wished I could get back. I shrugged,
"Just thinkin' 'bout home. How Mama's doin'. The strawberries are comin' ripe, I bet she's servin' pie to the farm boys. How Daddy's doin'."
Riley shook his head,
"Awe, Jas, you gotta stop thinkin' 'bout that. 'Specially now. We're goin' into battle."
And there's a chance we won't be going home.
His words remained unsaid. They didn't need to be.
Riley sensed where my thoughts had gone, and leaned into me, pressin' his lips against my ear so that no one else could hear him,
"Beautiful, when we get home...we're gonna find a way to make this work, even if we have to buy some giant piece of property or somethin'. I love you. Don't ever forget that."
Jake turned to look at us, his eyes glitterin',
"The beach."
From the fog, the beachhead we were supposed to capture loomed, the guns already firin' from the Nazis.
The boat ground to a halt, and we rushed forward, pushed into the sea by the thrum of bodies comin' from behind us. The beach was a gentle slope, stark cliffs on either side, and in the early morning light, it would have been beautiful, if it hadn't been for the hail of bullets rainin' down on us. I could hear voices callin' out in German, in English, some angry, some terrified, and some already screamin' for their mothers, because this many bullets had to hit somebody.
The beach was more fortified than they'd thought, no doubt. That's what I was thinkin' when Jacob gripped my arm with bone crushin' strength, almost pullin' me down onto the beach with him.
"Shit, Jas, shit, I'm hit!"
His voice was strained, but I barely had time to process it before Riley fell to his knees on the other side of me, blood welling through his uniform,
"Fuck, Jas!"
Jacob. The boy who'd tagged along with Rile and I for as long as I could remember. The boy who'd grown up in front of me. Riley. My best friend, my brother, the man I couldn't live without. The one who'd stepped up and offered to marry Rosalie after my brother had been killed, even though it was me he loved. The one who had promised me the world before we arrived in this hell.
"Rile, it's okay. I'm gonna get you help."
I looked up the beach, at the wall of guns and Nazis, knowin' there was no way I'd be able to carry him off the sand. Riley shook his head, blood staining his lips a bright cherry red,
"Take Jake, Jas. He's just a kid. Just a fuckin' kid."
Before we'd left, Jacob's mother had gripped Riley in a tight hug, whisperin' in his ear so Jake wouldn't hear:
"Please bring my baby, back, Riley. He's the only one I've got."
Who was Riley to refuse a woman, let alone Jacob's mother?
Riley turned to one side, coughin' blood onto the sand. It pooled, mixin' with water, and I realized we'd barely even touched the sand. Jacob stared up at me, frozen, his eyes wide, and I knew Riley was right. I had to help him, I had to honour the promise Riley had made to his mother—hell, he wasn't even old enough to be here, he'd just come along with Rile and I when we'd signed up and somehow managed to convince them he was eighteen.
"Jake, I'm gonna help you, okay?"
I bent low over Riley, tears blurring my vision,
"I'll be back for you, okay? I'm gonna get him help, and then I'll be back for you."
"Wait, Jas. If I don't...just, tell my Mama I love her, okay?"
I shook my head, swallowin' hard around the lump in my throat,
"Do not say that, Riley James. I'll be right back. You'll be fine. I'll see you soon."
I pressed a kiss onto his forehead, against his sweaty hair, wishin' like heck that I coulda kissed him on his cherry-stained lips, and sent a silent prayer to God for him. Then I picked Jake up, carried him towards the cliffs, hopin' to at least bring him outta the line of fire. Jake was unconscious by the time I found a medic, his head lollin' against my arms, burnin' from the strain of carryin' him.
"Please, help him."
The medic grimaced, feelin' through Jake's uniform. I turned, intendin' to head back for Riley, but the medic gripped my arm,
"They're making their way up through those trees over there, son. I'd suggest you follow them."
"I...I can't, sir. My best friend..."
"He's gone, son. The tide's comin' in."
I ripped my arm out of the medic's grip, running across the beach for Riley.
The medic had been right.
The tide had come in, and Riley's body floated face-down, blood swirling in the water beneath the bullet laden sky. A strangled, inhuman cry ripped its way from my chest, time seeming to freeze amid the screams and shots around me.
Three best friends left our town in 1943.
Only one remained among the living by 1945.
But like I said, I ain't nobody's hero.
I wandered aimlessly among the soldiers, embracing despite our wet clothes, their eyes sparkling and bright with excitement. It was a rare moment of peace and silence from the near-deafening bombs that fell from overhead. This war must be almost over, the blood soaked land swollen with the blood of the dead. What I couldn't bring myself to imagine was going home. The thought made my heart ache—facing Riley's parents, Jake's mother, my own family, and knowing that I had failed...
"You got vodka?"
I questioned the closest Russian soldier in what little, broken Russian I knew—presumably he would, wasn't that part of being Russian?
"Yes. Here."
He answered in English, tinged with a thick Russian accent from where he was sitting, slumped against the wall of a hollowed, bomb-shattered building. Avoiding the commotion. I could do that. I sat next to him, offering my hand.
When he looked at me, shocked recognition flared in the mossy green of his eyes, shadows passing over his expression faster than I could interpret, and I knew he was seeing the eyes of the dead in my face.
"Jasper."
My voice seemed to startle him out of his shock, and he ran one hand through his already tangled red-gold hair,
"Edward."
His voice sounded like gravel, and I surprised even myself with the haunted smile that crossed my lips.
I hadn't smiled since the ocean stole my breath away along with Riley's life on that fateful mornin'.
...
Next Chapter will get on with the story! Tell me what you think. Reviews make me update!
