In war, you are forced to do many things you never thought of doing. Everyone has a part to play. Even those unborn have a part to play in war. Whether it is to live a coward, or die a hero. To help one side, or destroy another. The hardest part in war isn't knowing your part. It's playing it out.
Pennsylvanian Country, 10:36 9th March 2033, Jason's POV
I walked alone through the empty cold hallways. My skin had goosebumps on them. Today was an unusually cold day. But that might have been because I hadn't been outside yet. It always seemed cold inside the large warehouse. It had been a few days since I had arrived. Wyatt gave me lessons on a few things, and I enjoyed my little chats with Mathias. Earlier today, the others rescued from Chester had left. Lydia and two others had gone with them, and were supposed to be back in the late afternoon of tomorrow. It felt peaceful without the blaring rock music she always had on. Even Wyatt admitted that it sometimes got on his nerves.
I found the former in Mathias' room, sitting on the end of his bed. They were talking until the Irish man noticed me, and they both glanced over to me. I hadn't even had the chance to knock. Wyatt waved me over, and I stood before them with my hands in front of me, twiddling my thumbs nervously. The looks on their faces made me feel uncomfortable. They had hardened stares, but then I noticed that in their faces there was also a sense of appreciation.
"Um...hi" I piped up, feeling squeamish inside. Wyatt motioned to a seat across from his and on the other side of Mathias. I seated myself before they began to talk to me.
"Nice of you to drop by, Jason. We have something of importance to speak with you about" Wyatt started. I quirked a brow and started tapping my legs with my fingers. I felt very nervous for some reason. They wouldn't have sat here and waited if it was bad news. They would have come and told me that morning, so perhaps it was good news. But even still, their expressionless faces didn't give me much hope.
"W-what is it?" I unwillingly stuttered. Mathias let a light chuckle slip out from his tightly sealed lips.
"Nothin' to be worried about, young lad" The old man assured, placing a hand over mine to stop the shaking. His touch seemed fatherly, and for a moment, I saw my father. His graying black was replaced by short, dirty blonde strands of hair. His face became young, and his clothing changed to my father's uniform. His pale face brought out his blue eyes and his pointed nose.
"Hey, Jason! You still with us?" I was brought back and found them staring with odd looks.
"Sorry. Just..um...a little crazy memory. Please, continue."
"Thank you. Now, lately you have been showing us that you may yet be useful to our cause." I shot Wyatt a confused loo, though I had an idea where this was headed. "And me and Mathias, along with the others here, have been discussing...things about you." I nodded understandingly, even though I had no idea what they meant by things. "And after much thought, we have all agreed on our final decision. Well, except for one person, and it all depends on his decision." His stare seemed to focus more on me, and at that moment I knew that he meant that it was time for my decision. "Jason...will you join us?" he requested, reaching out with his open hand. At the time, I was very hesitant. Doing this may have meant that I would never see my family again. It may have meant that many lives would rest in my hands. It may have meant that I would be killed on the battlefield. And soon, I came to my decision. I took his hand, withdrawing slightly a couple of times.
"I will" I answered. He shook it, a smile crossing his features. Mathias had a proud grin across his, and once again, I saw my father.
"I knew ya would." Mathias spoke as his normal face returned. I showed off a nervous smile, and it must have seemed fake to them, because one of his brows arched. "Somethin' wrong, fella?"
"What? Oh, no. Nothing's wrong with me. I just...well, it's a bit all sudden, and I'm feeling a bit flustered by it. I mean, I never imagined that something like this would happen." Mathias smirked at my response, and placed a reassuring hand against my knee.
"No worries. I know how you feel. First time I ever joined a resistance group, I hesitated for a day before joinin' them. I thought about me family that whole day an' what would happen. Then, I thought about how it would help them. So I did it for them." His smile faded as he finished. I knew why, because Wyatt had told me all about it. He had left, and Lydia blamed for him it. But now, perhaps he would hear his side of it.
"What ever happened?" Mathias sighed, and then answered after a short pause.
"I was captured. I was forced to watch me friends die as they were each interrogated." I could swear that I had heard him growl like an animal. "I killed every single one of them fuckers in me escape. an' den, when I return. they're all gone. Me family..was all gone. I searched, and searched an' never found them." His face lightened up a bit as he continued, and I wondered why. "Den, I found Wyatt an' a couple of others. We began saving others, an' then two years ago, I found me little lassy. But yer can probably guess how that turned out." I nodded. Wyatt had told me how she had turned sour. And now, I was satisfied to finally know both sides, and I felt sympathy for him.
"That must have been bad." He shook his head in an agreeing motion. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"It's all gran so, laddy." He turned his head towards Wyatt. "Why don't you take him to meet the others? It would be a great experience." Wyatt glanced at me with a look that asked if I wanted to. I shrugged, though I did want to meet the others. Obviously, I knew there were others. But the question was about how many there were. And I was about to find out. Before we could leave, Wyatt was called back. "Oi! Can ya get me fuckin drink when ya get back?!" Wyatt rolled his eyes and led me out, and we both made way our way through the warehouse. We came to where the van I had come in was. The truck had gone, and I could hear a shrill, loud clanging, followed by a high-pitch screech. Under the van, I saw a burst of sparks fly out.
"Hank! HANK!" Wyatt shouted. The sounds stopped and the sparks stopped flying, and then a board came rolling out with a heavy build and heavily tanned skin laying down with his back against it. He had very light brown eyes, almost hazel, and a small stubble. Wyatt relaxed when he came out, lifting a hand to my shoulder. "This is the young man I told you about." The man, Hank, acknowledged me and walked over, then lifted his hammer at me. Obviously, I flinched. I thought he would hit me over the head! My hands flew up to protect my face, and expected to feel pain. But instead, I heard a cackle of laughter.
"No worries! I won't hurt ya, kid!" His accent was thick, yet I could not recognize it. It sounded southern, with a touch of...something else. Wyatt leaned down to my level as I stared in disbelief at the mechanic.
"He likes to joke." 'No kidding?' I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut. He straightened up as Hank finished with his loud chuckling. "You working on the van?" Hank turned away and looked at the white van with both arms crossed.
"Yep. It fine, ain't it?" I nodded, even though it wasn't directed to me. "See tha young lad got taste." He moved a hand to his chin and began rubbing his stubble with a thoughtful look. "Ya know anythin' on engines er mechanics?" Once again, someone brought something I had known nothing about. So I shrugged, and he frowned. "Well, worth a try. Now if ya'll excuse me, I got some work ta do." He shouldered his hammer and strolled back to the van to get back to work.
We began to head over to the next area where I would meet the next person I was to meet. On the way, my guide began talking about the previous meeting.
"That was Hank, our mechanic. He's from down south. Round Texas I think" he started, stating his name and what I guessed to be his position around here. I wondered for a moment what position I would be in. Wyatt continued on about Hank as I thought over it, "Though he doesn't only work on cars. He also works on other stuff, like fixing electronic systems and other things like that." Wyatt stopped outside a closed door, and inside, I could have sworn I heard a foreign voice. Wyatt rapped his knuckles against the door lightly, and then pushed it open. Inside, I found a middle-aged man.
His pinkish-white scalp was plain, with not a single hair in sight. By the tone of his skin, I assumed that he spent lots of time in the sun. In his rough and calloused hands, he held a book. Over his gray eyes were a pair of specs. He wore a black jacket over a grey shirt, grey cargo pants and hunting boots, which rested on a small coffee table in front of him. I looked around, and this was by far the best room I had seen. On one side, there was a brown bookcase with smooth wood, filled with books, each with foreign titles. His bed had a brown quilt over it, and the back of it made an arch. At the other end of the room, there was a painting stand with a canvas sitting on it, half completed.
The bald man lifted his head with his specs resting on the bridge of his nose and lowered his book to his lap, revealing a grey short-haired cat with black stripes laying on his legs, it's tail swinging back and forth. After a moment of silence, he closed his book and pushed himself up from his brown leather chair. Before long, he stood before me, and then he took my hand and shook it lightly. Surprisingly, he didn't have a tight grip, unlike everyone else.
"Dis must be young fellow I have heard so much about" he remarked. His voice was...well, not familiar to me. It definitely didn't sound American in any way. And his voice was heavy with it.
I nodded politely. He seemed to be a very joyful soul, unlike everyone else. And that was a good thing. "I'm Jason. You are?" I asked politely.
"Milomir Meshcheryakov. But you call me Milo, da?" I smiled awkwardly, since I had no idea what the last word meant. I just assumed he was asking if it was okay.
"Ah, yeah..sure." He grinned, then returned to his chair. He picked up his book and began reading again, before peering over the top at us, realizing we hadn't left.
"Off you go now." Wyatt rolled his eyes and left. But i stayed, still admiring the room. Milo must have noticed it, because of what he asked. "Like what you see?" I nodded. "Maybe you stay by some time. We talk a bit. It becomes lonely around here." I gave him a sympathetic look.
"I will. I promise" I replied before exiting and following Wyatt. After some fast walking, I finally caught up. We visited a couple of others, and I was surprised by how many there actually were here. On the way back to our quarters, I thought about how I had expected more. And now I could see what Milo meant. It did seem lonely. At that moment, I longed to be back in the town of Chester, surrounded by familiar faces. My thoughts were shattered when I heard Wyatt talking to me as I sat on my bunk.
"Guess what, kid? You're going on your first mission. Me and Milo are going out on patrol, and were thinking if you'd want to come. So do you?" I hesitated, excitement, as well as fear, easily visible on my features. This was my chance to show my worth. But on the other hand, it would be dangerous. Then again, everything I did was dangerous. "Don't worry, there shouldn't be much out there." That relieved me. So I nodded, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Thought you would. Let's do some last minute training." I leaped from my bunk, being careful not to hit my head on the bunk again, and followed him like an excited child following their parents to the shops.
There's another chapter. Hope you enjoyed, and I also have my first vote- What do you think should happen on the patrol:
A - They meet a KPA patrol
B - They find another group of escaped refugees
C - Nothing
Leave you vote in a review or a PM. See you all in the next one. Bye :)
