I'm back after taking a break from this.
I hope you enjoy some of the stuff that goes down in this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it, thanks for some motivational music (and the Wonder Woman movie).
I know that No Man's Land was in WWII, but I couldn't help but create another one. Please don't snipe me for that. It fit this scene and chapter so well.
of gunfire and bullet wounds
pt. 2 of 3
No Man's Land.
Perhaps the worst possible place to seek shelter in this goddamn war, and yet, that's exactly where Forbes went. Of course, no one bothered to tell him it was in the complete opposite direction of where they needed to go until they were already settled in.
The three of them––Forbes, Gordo, and himself––were huddled in between two large rows of ammo. They'd had their guns discarded back when they were running, choosing to go 'commando' as Forbes often referenced, so that the enemy would be stalled by their guns being in their place. The sun beat down on them like a boxer, slugging them with heat and relentless spots floating in their vision from having to look between themselves and the enemy line, about four football fields ahead of them.
"We're done for," Gordo whispered hurriedly. The son of a bitch was such a pessimist; it was a wonder how he even got enlisted. "We're absolutely done for."
"Shut up," he said, and Gordo snapped his jaw closed. He grimaced, grunting in pain as he said, "You talkin' like that ain't gonna––"
The last of his sentence never made it out of his mouth, for Forbes had finally managed to grab the bullet between the two prongs of dirty, muddled pliers and was beginning to yank it out of his body. It felt like someone was taking his lung, his heart, and even his brain and shoving it out of a small hole in his left side. The pain was nothing like he'd ever felt, and Forbes' weight rocked against his hips as he fought to get free.
"Jesus, Forbes, just get it out already!"
"What in the hell does it look like I'm doing, Gordo?" Forbes hissed sharply, not even looking up at their companion. Finally, the pain subsided to a dull throbbing, and Forbes's voice rang in his ears as though he were really far away. "Okay, okay. I'm done, Curtis, I'm done."
His vision blurred; the world started to sway, and faintly, he felt Gordo's hands running along his body and saw his eyes frantically searching. "He's gonna pass out!"
"No shit, Sherlock," muttered Forbes, as if the ordeal was nothing but business. "He's in shock." He rose and waved his hand for Gordo to follow him, calling over his shoulder, "Let him sleep it off."
But Gordo didn't bother moving until finally, he seemed to gather enough sense to be a soldier and do as he was told.
He woke to find himself surrounded by dead bodies and by the cold earth beneath his skin.
"Glad to see you're awake there, Curtis."
He turned his head, his heart racing in his chest. Through the darkness, he couldn't make out a face; and so he tentatively asked, "Who are you?"
"I saved your life. How could you forget that?"
"A lot of people have saved me, actually."
"Then I'm the only one who really matters."
That sarcasm; only one person came to his mind, and clearly, his brother Darry was not here. He shook his head, confusion clearly on his face as he said, "I still don't––"
The voice suddenly had hands––hands that were soft and danced across his skin like flower petals. It then had breath, and the warmth of it brushing along his face made the pieces come together just a little more. It moved with him, coming closer as he got farther away, laughing in humor as he laughed in panic. He was about to cry out, about to shriek in terror, when the voice was a set of eyes.
A set of eyes so blue, so brown, that they mixed and created a vivacious green. A storm of dark green, like the fronds of a pine tree, that focused on him so intently, so endearingly, that he knew immediately who they belonged to.
"Talen," he breathed, and on the sound of her name, she smiled softly. Softly enough that it was barely noticeable, but grew into something more of a grin as she nodded, and that was all he needed. It was all he needed to let his hand reach behind her, feel her hair sliding between his fingers as his hand rested delicately on the back of her neck. It was all he needed to let silence fall between them, and finally, as he whispered her name again, she took all the power that the moment held and gave it a purpose.
She moved before him, their eyes still locked, and the press of her lips against his made everything stop. It made everything go on pause, and for as long as the moment existed, she felt alive. Her skin felt just as soft, her hair just as smooth, her lips just as warm and inviting. It made him want to weep, to cry to the heavens and scare her back to life, to bring her back to him.
The moment ended too quickly, too soon, too harsh. In not even one second, one heartbeat, she was before him again, except her eyes didn't shine as bright as they had. They shone, yes; brilliantly, but not in the same endearing way.
"I didn't die when you saw me fall," she murmured, her hands tight around his as though the memory would make her disappear. "I was a toy; a toy for them. A toy for the enemy to get his vile hands on, to have his fun, to make himself feel pleasure, and then I was cast aside. I was beaten, Curtis. I was bleeding and broken and used for pleasure and then, like a ragdoll, thrown away as if I were nothing."
That was when his eyes downcast to find no hole in her throat; not a scar, not a wound, not a drop of blood.
She kissed him once more, her tears falling onto his hands. "I thought of you all day and night in that goddamn camp. I wished for you. I bled and I cried over you, hoping you would come for me. I knew you couldn't for the sake of Forbes, of Gordo, and of yourself. It was your duty as a soldier to leave me."
"I would've––"
"It was your duty, Soda," she said, her voice cracking on his name. "It was only your duty. You were being good; a good boy, a good man, and a good soldier. You left me behind to save yourself, as anyone would have done."
"I wanted to come back––"
She shook her head, and as her gaze met his again, her eyes were clear with acceptance. "But you didn't, and it's okay. You would've suffered the same fate I did had you come back for me." Her hands left him and were coming to his face, resting on his skin as she whispered, "You're good. You're a good boy, a good man, and one hell of a soldier. I'm happy they didn't catch you; that you ran away."
He opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, and nothing reached him.
Talen pressed her forehead against his, as if this were a signal of goodbye. "I love you," she whispered, and her body began to fade as did his vision. "You're gonna be okay."
She receded into darkness just as his mind did, and he fell utterly, completely, into the black abyss of nothing.