That's the story of a
soldier, an unknow soldier. It's the story of a soldier and his fear. It deals
with GW, I swear!!!
Discalimer: I own only
my old dog...Or does he own me? Guess the second one...
Warnings: Angst, angst, angst
and...angst ^_^
Special Thanks to my
secret love Caer, beta-reader and muse. I love her, I think someday I'm
gonna ask her to marry me.
Feedback always
appreciated THANK YOU, GRAZIE, DANKE, ARIGATOU, MERCI!!!!
PS That was hard to
write!!!!
WHO ARE YOU PROTECTING?
by Diana
The shake in his hands simply wouldn't stop, every
faintest breeze, the slightest crack got on his nerves. An electric wave of
fear flowed through his whole body.
/Shit, shit, shit./ He continued repeating that same
word like a mantra, over an over again, while he looked into the darkness he
was surrounded by.
/Why does no one talk? Where is the captain, where is
everybody?/
More and more, pain and fear entered his body, more
and more sweat flowed from his temples,, down along his cheeks towards his chin
where every single drop rested a second before falling on his chest.
He hadn't become a soldier to end like this, like an
animal at the slaughterhouse.
The gun he held in his shaking hands, rattled loudly.
/I should have learned to be a better shooter./
An owl screeched somewhere in the darkness. He
squeaked like a mouse.
/They are here/, he thought, wiping his sweating
forehead with a hand. /But where? Where?!/
A shout echoed trough the air, someone cried loud and
then the full moon loomed out from a cloud and he was able to see again.
It all started three days ago, when two terrorists
entered the base where he was on duty at the time. No one had seen them
sneaking in, no one had discovered them while they placed their bombs, no one
was able to do anything when the first Mobil Suit exploded.
He remembered the chaos, soldiers running here and
there. The fire burning, the Mobil Suits crashing. The voices of the officials
calling for the soldiers to stay calm, to run out of the base, so he did. He
ran, the smoke of the many fires entering and corrupting his lungs. He
remembered the battered body of his young roommate, his eyes wide open, staring
into nothing, lifeless. He remembered the smell of burned meat. It was like
Hell...No, it was Hell.
When he finally joined the other survivors on the hill
in front of the base, the first thing he did was to turn and look at what
remained of the base. Nothing, there was nothing more than an immense pyre, a
funeral pyre. He felt like Lot and what he was looking at was Sodoma, burning
in God's punishment.
He stayed there for longer than he could remember, he
stayed there, still sensing the fear, still shocked. Perhaps some tears washed
away the dirt on his cheeks. He couldn't remember, but he remembered when
someone called and the other soldiers he was surrounded by, slowly raised them
selves from the earth looking to the young captain who was coming, looking at
that man and hearing his voice, a voice still steady, still clear and strong, a
voice which was calling for all soldiers who weren't badly wounded, 'cause
there was a revenge to bring to its natural fulfilment: there were two enemies
to find, two terrorist, two assassins, two sons of Hell.
/It would have been better if we had never found
them/, that was his thought as he looked under the moon light at the dead body
of that soldier he never had talked to and never would have the chance to.
Two hours after the first fire, twenty soldiers
commanded by a young captain found the jeep used by the terrorists to escape.
It lay in a deep depression near a road which passed trough a thick, dark
forest. There was blood on the seat and footprints that led into the forest.
The captain looked around at those twenty soldiers and asked if they were ready
to go and take their revenge. All shouted loud their conviction and followed
the captain into the forest, into that dark, deep forest.
He was one of those twenty soldiers.
/Twenty soldiers…/ He looked around. There was the
captain, in those three days he lost his loud, firm voice. There was the
sergeant, he always had thought at him as a sort of father, now he looked more
like a very old, very tired grandfather and then there were the other soldiers.
Of the remaining soldiers of twenty, strong young men,
there were six, counting him self.
/I always thought no one could defeat these soldiers,
I always believed in the strength of these men. Now, I believe in nothing
anymore./
The first time they caught sight of the enemies had
been a few hours after they entered the forest.
Suddenly the captain told them to stop with a gesture
of the hand and he had been still as the others, waiting and listening to their
surroundings.
First, there had been no sound at all, only the slight
rustling of the leaves of the trees, but then
he was able to hear two low voices and the liquid sound of water.
"How's your leg?" Asked the first voice.
"Not bad." Answered the second.
"Drink."
Silence.
"Thanks…"
The soldier near him took a step forward and a rabbit,
probably frightened from this motion dashed out from a bush and run in the
direction of the voices.
Silence fell again. The captain stayed a moment still,
trying to hear something.
The voice returned.
"Think we need some rest."
"Ok."
The captain looked at the soldiers, his lips formed
only two silent words: No noises. Then he gestured to move again.
Slowly, painful slowly, he moved with his comrades in
the direction of the voices, following the captain and the rabbit. That hare
seemed to be so soft, with its white tail. His little brother Bobby had liked
cuddling it in his arms.
A few steps forward the forest somehow ended and a
green clearing began.
He could hear the rumour of a little waterfall and
some birds twittering. The gun in his hand was heavy and cold, the sweat on his
forehead was falling down into his eyes and it burned.
"I can't sleep."
The captain stopped.
"Neither can I."
And then Hell begun again.
During that first attack three soldiers had died, all
those who had been before him. Unwillingly those three heroes had protected
their comrades with their bodies. From the green clearing someone had begun to
shot and the first soldier had died, while
the captain had thrown him self onto the ground. The soldiers had been
too stunned to react and with the following shots, other two had died.
As the third body fell on the ground, the sergeant
shouted: "Shoootttt! Shoot them!!! Kill them all!!"
And so he did, as his sergeant had told him to do, he
shot and his comrades shot, but in the green clearing there was no one anymore.
His was tired of walking, so tired. Only three days in
this damned forest and he forgot his entire training . Never had his legs hurt
this much, never had he been this starved, never had he ever wanted to not obey
anymore.
"Tomorrow". His captain said, he had to hear, also if
he was so tired. "Tomorrow we will reach them, I know. I can smell their stink
in the air. The smell of blood."
He watched his captain in the eyes over the little
fire they had lit up and what he saw, frightened him more then the Mobil Suits
exploding at the base, more then the fire burning in his lungs, more then the
shots that killed his comrades. He could see madness, the madness of a prey.
They had continued to walk, had continued to follow
the traces of blood. During the day, they walked and the light of the sun,
appearing through the branches of the tall trees was the symbol of a world, a
world that still existed outside that forest, but then came the night and with
the night came the moon, the full moon of those days, and with the moon came
the terrorists and night by night fourteen soldiers were killed while they
stared at the moon or heard at the noises
of the little creatures of the
forest, or simply were lost in their thoughts. Night by night a shot came from
the forest and killed them, a single shot, just one. A bullet running through
the cold air of the night, slightly lightened by the moon.
"We will kill them all", said again the captain through
the crackling of the fire. But no one believed anymore.
They were lost, they knew it. They were lost. The only
way to defeat the forest was to go on, but they were all so tired and the wind
was cold and the water had a slight hint of metal. Also the fire wasn't warm
anymore. Because they felt cold inside themselves, their souls were cold as the
ice of the North Pole, cold and insensible, dead.
/I need to sleep, I need to dream. They came once
tonight, they wont come again, they never do it. I can sleep, a man is dead,
but now I can sleep and dream. Dream of Bobby, he wants a new bike. I don't now
if I will ever be able to give him the bike he wants. I don't want to die./
The sun was there in the sky. The forest was there
behind them. A deep, horrible gorge was
before them and a narrow, stony path was the only way they could go. A narrow
stony path under their feet and next to their feet, the horrible, deep gorge.
"There!!!" Cried the captain indicating something
before them. And there they were: the enemies, the terrorists, the assassins,
there a hundred meter before them.
"There!!! Catch them! Shoot!" Cried again the captain,
his eyes wide open, his chin full of slobber as a rabid dog.
He saw the enemies turn and look at the soldiers, he
couldn't see them well, but they seemed so little against the big mountain they
were trying to climb. He saw them stop a moment and then there was a shot and a
bullet injured his cheek, living only a little bruise.
That was it.
"Run!!!" Shouted the sergeant and they all run, along
that narrow, stony path, with the gorge waiting for them to fall. They run
towards the enemies with their guns in their hands. They run through the
bullets, they run towards the terrorists waiting for them.
One after the other, they all died. The first was the
sergeant, a bullet caught him in the head, he fell in the gorge. The second was
a soldier who once shared his cigarettes with him. The third was the captain,
he simply lost the balance and fell in the gorge. The fourth was another soldier
with bright, clear, blue eyes, a bullet run through his chest. The fifth was a
soldier who once smiled while he danced at the sound of a folk-song. And then,
there was him, the only survivor and he run and run, shooting and shooting till
his gun hadn't bullets anymore and he fell at the feet of the enemies.
His lungs hurt, his legs hurt, he couldn't breath
anymore. He simply held his eyes closed, laying on that stony ground waiting to
be killed.
A gun was pointed against his head, the trigger
misfired.
Time stopped in that moment and nothing, the air, the
sky, the rocks, were real anymore, nothing of what happened in those days could
be real, nothing.
"The world is collapsed and I'm dead", he said,
panting.
He opened his eyes. Two faces looked at him.
"Are you angels?" Asked he.
The angel with the braid looked worried at the angel
with the short, dark unruly hair.
"No", answered the short-haired angel.
"Angels don't bleed", said the other one showing him
his bleeding leg. Then he murmured:
"You're lucky. We have finished the bullets."
He blinked twice.
"Bobby…" He said.
"No, Duo it's my name lucky-boy", then the angel smiled
and above his head the sun disappeared behind a cloud and the wind brought more
and more clouds until all the sky was covered.
The angel smiled again.
"It's over buddy, relax."
"Come on Duo"
"Yes."
"Are you soldiers?" He asked.
"Sorta."
"Why did you killed all my comrades. Why?"
"Are you a soldier?"
"Yes."
"And who are you protecting?"
He blinked his eyes again. /Who am I protecting?/
Thinking about Bobby he answered:
"The one I love."
"So am I." It was the
short-haired guy who was talking.
Then they were gone.
But it was only when the rain begun to fall that he
finally reacted.
It was as the rain fell on his face that he begun to
laugh.
END
