Night Chapter 4: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

It was the darkest night I had ever thought I could know, but standing before me, was the light that cast away every shadow and doubt. I held him close, memories flooding through every crevice of my eyes. No longer was I the soldier hardened by war and torture, but I was something more, something that felt compassion and kindness, and the courage to be more than a robot fighting for what he was told.

I wondered just how much he knew, how much he saw. The questions rattled against my skull, of the horrors that no son of mine should ever have to face. But as his beautiful eyes looked up at mine I could tell they lost their innocent gleam. How old was he now? How many days had it been?

"I'm here now," I said, words something I could have forgotten, them only coming out my mouth, though I had no idea from where they rang.

"W-where…w-when…" he stuttered.

His fear filled him, his body shaking.

And I hadn't been able to do a damn thing to help.

"Let's get out of here."

Did the circumstances matter?

Probably.

Maybe.

The lessons of being a soldier stated that we should know before we jump into danger.

But the rules of fatherhood stated that protecting Jayden was above all.

"I-I can't walk."

He crawled forward, his legs were as limp as rubber, and I saw how thin they were, twisting in ways that they never should have.

Tears I didn't think I had fell to the floor.

So instead I bent down, setting him on my shoulders.

He leaned against my head, lighter than I had remembered.

"How old are you now?"

I hesitated to ask the question, knowing that any answer would crush me. But I had to know, had to face the horrors that they had done.

Hate,

It's a powerful thing.

Makes us forget all about peace and love until the loss is avenged.

Weapons of words or metal

They're all the same.

Unleashed with full fury until the foe breaks or the avenger dies.

Not always a physical death, sometimes something much more painful.

I wielded the sword they gave me.

The sharp edges etched with that hate.

By hate I would overcome, destroy them all, until there was nothing left.

That's why I had to know, had to experience the true power of hatred.

So I could unleash that all, until there was nothing left.

"I turned 10 a week before they came."

Two years…

They had stolen from me.

They had stolen from my son, when he should have had a dad.

Did they worry about me? Did they think I was dead?

Did they give up hope?

"It was terrible. They went after Mom first. She tried hiding me, but I saw her die."

My wife…

The one I vowed to love for all my life.

Hate does many things to a person.

Makes them cry, makes them cuss, makes them devise the most terrible tortures to unleash upon those unsuspecting souls.

No…

That would be giving them too much credit. They had no soul. They were simply monsters, abominations of creation that needed to be destroyed. Wiped from existence.

"I swear…I'll…"

Words couldn't compose my threats. Sentences couldn't carry my hate.

I looked down to the metal floor seeing it shake, the footsteps on their way.

Of course, they wouldn't let us get away. We were they're prized prisoners, the heart of whatever twisted research they had planned. That's okay, it was for the best even. This way I'd be the one.

Tear them apart.

Rip them limb from limb.

What, did they thing I was weak?

Afraid?

Beaten?

No…they couldn't understand.

I'd show them a ferocity they had never imagined.

War…

They think it so simple.

But they wanted to see what it meant to be a human

They'd get that.

Then they'd see as their lives ended.

Test me, break me.

But know I won't back down.

Closer

Their feet march.

Is this a human?

The never ending spirit?

The drive to win?

The need, not a want, to overcome?

The human spirit isn't so simple, can't be mapped with a simple word or phrase.

But that's what makes us human.

They emerged, a sword drove through them.

One after another.

With rhythm I didn't know I had I danced among them, the fury, the power, the sword carving them like the beasts they truely were. Jayden held on, closing his eyes, but didn't let go as the bodies flew over him.

He should have never seen this.

But he'd seen worse.

I wouldn't let his life end here, he'd lost so much, been alone for so long.

His happiness, the only thing I could give him. A future where he could live and breathe in peace.

"Are you okay?"

A dozen fell.

The two of us still alive.

"Uh-huh."

"Good."

"A little bit dizzy."

"Sorry."

"No, that's a good thing. I like being dizzy. It reminds me of when you used to spin me around in circles."

"I'll get you out of here and we can do that again. I promise."

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Mom and I were one of the last ones left. They came and took everything, everyone. We thought it meant you had lost."

Had I lost? Were there any of us left? We were the last humans alive?

Perhaps, but did that mean we'd give up, let them win. Maybe there wasn't much left, but we were the ones who would do the impossible.

I thought back to that night. When our family was whole, and knew nothing of what war meant. He ran to me, grabbed my legs and hugged me with such joy. I had almost forgotten the image, of him running to bed in his striped pajamas.

So innocent.

I was to come back soon, complete some training be back with my family.

It had been so long.

He'd changed.

Grown up in ways he never should have.

"Up ahead Dad."

I saw them, readied the weapon they had so foolishly given me.

But as each one took their place, I saw numbers beyond counting, weapons I had never seen before. But then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something else, something far more wonderful and beautiful.

Sunlight on this dark and twisted world.

But sunlight nonetheless.

I ran.

And they ran at us

An explosion rang out in front of me, tossing Jayden and I like ragdolls through the air. We landed, his cries of pain slicing at my ears. I didn't know his injures, I didn't want to know.

Instead I just picked him up and ran, seeing such wondrous escape, such wondrous freedom. Their weapons tore at me, left me bloody, beaten, but beyond belief,

No pain.

It's funny.

What hope can do.

What the light of freedom does to a person.

Any other time, I'd be on the ground in pain.

We were trained to resist, but this was something more.

Did they see, did they think they could stop me?

Who could say?

Instead, I just ran faster.

"Dad."

A voice dry, a voice of fear.

His breaths, so distance. He coughed, such weakness.

I felt the blood drip over my feet. The blood, not just my own.

I ignored it…pushed it aside.

Only ran.

Finally, freedom.

And then I saw it…an army…one I knew.

There was hope, they had come. Explosions of the B-22s. The charge of the marines

Freedom.

My men.

My people.

They charged, the fire unleashed upon our foe making me forget all too quickly what the night was, what the pain felt like.

The rockets' red glare bombarded them, lighting up the sky like the Fourth of July

Bombs burst around us, their inhuman screams crying out.

This was the proof.

They wanted to know what a human truly was. Now they'd die because of that answer.

It was the love that never gave up, a hope that never waned, a faith through the fiercest drought and storm.

They'd see; they'd experience it all.

And be given the hell they deserved for thinking they could stop it.

But I knew this freedom wasn't for us all. In my arms, one who had fallen.

The one I had failed.

The one I loved.

But like before, could do nothing to stop.

What was does a victory mean if you can't protect the weak?

Could I have run faster, fought harder, cared deeper?

I didn't know.

But one thing I did know.

The cruel hands of fate cannot be unwound.