Jesse stood, arms folded across his chest, staring out the window into the
evening. The circles were deep, beneath his eyes. His face was pale and
drawn, yet his jaw was set firmly with resolution and his black eyes were
alive with a fierce vigilance as they scanned the horizon. They would be
coming soon. He could feel it. War was hovering over them all; it lay ahead
of them like a great gaping incision preparing to swallow them. The
conflicts of the last had never been settled, only pushed aside, and left
dormant for years. but the trigger had been pushed, and everything was
about to erupt again.
Jesse sighed and turned away from the narrow window, and headed down the stairs to the lowest level of the barrack, ignoring the tangible tension around him. Young, inexperienced militia sat in small clusters, inspecting their armor and weapons just for lack of occupation, their eyes following their leader, wide and expectant.
"Just sit tight boys," he said with a reassuring smile. "We'll have you home pretty soon." Or dead, he thought morbidly to himself.
Some of them offered brave smiles in return, others merely stared. Jesse shook his head and made his way to the corner of the room, his boots tapping lightly on the floorboards, until the tone changed, becoming hollow. He bent down on one knee, and retrieved an army knife from his boot, using it to ply at the floorboard and push it off of a small opening in the floor. He squinted down into the darkness below him, finally able to make out three forms staring back up at him.
"Hey kids," he called down. "Dinner's here."
Josephine, the oldest and tallest of the three, lifted the smaller girl, Maria, up to take the packets of food from their uncle's arms.
"Thanks," said Josephine quietly, placing the packets on the floor.
Jesse nodded. "But it doesn't do much good as furniture, you know."
The teenager sighed and slumped to the ground, not looking at him. "I'm not hungry... I.. I hate this. I hate being locked down here. I hate this entire place. It's so creepy... knowing what happened before."
Maria nodded her agreement, wide brown eyes staring at him silently from behind dark curls. She hadn't spoken since it happened. Mathew sat, curled up at her side, and Jesse thought he could hear him crying softly.
He frowned, and let out a heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry," he began, but trailed off.
What could he possibly say to them? Their whole world had been ripped apart in a matter of days. They had watched helplessly as their father changed before their eyes into a raging monster, unable to control his own mind and actions... Could they even understand? Josephine must have understood. And she would have felt guilt... she had been their way in... But she had suffered a thousand times over for her folly. To witness their mother's death at their own father's hands... He could still remember that surreal moment in which Cambria had screamed his name, terrified and desperate. Jesse felt the tears start to well up in the back of his eyes, and blinked, shaking his head of the memories. There was nothing that could be done to change the past. All that was left was these children - his brother's children.
Always he had been the younger, less revered of the two, but he never resented his brother for it. There was just something about Coheed that made everyone love him. Jesse had been content to tag after him, without ever truly following his path. Coheed was the good, honest and smart one. The ideal child. The devoted husband, the loving father. Jesse had always been a bit of a rebel, and when Coheed rose in power, becoming the icon of a cause, Jesse had been there at his side, but in the shadow, making his living prize-fighting under the name Inferno. The two were like night and day, and yet, like two sides of the same coin. He had looked up to his brother as his hero, as the one who would get them out of everything. And now, the great Coheed had fallen, and left him to fight alone.. He couldn't believe his big brother was gone. All of his responsibility fell onto his shoulders now. He would make Coheed proud. For him, he would do anything. For his children, he would kill. He would defend them to the death.
"It's for your own protection. You know that. Just be patient, guys." He smiled gently, sadly, and began pulling the floorboard back into place. "We'll be home soon. I promise," he told them. But he winced inwardly, not knowing if he could keep that promise. He looked at the trio sadly, huddled closely beneath the floor. Would they die here? "I love you," he said quietly. They didn't move, merely remained sitting silently in the dark. He bit his lip and covered the hatch.
He sat back on his haunches, running a tired hand through his dark hair. It wasn't true that these children were the only remaining hope, he reminded himself, thoughtfully. The boy was still out there, somewhere. Did they know that? Would they come here looking for him? Did they even know he existed? Jesse smiled to himself. Yes, the child had been born. The one who bore the gift, the vision.
But even as hope filled him, jealousy followed quickly on its tail even as he tried to ignore it. He couldn't help it. To be the hero was all he asked. To be remembered, and honored in death... Yes, why shouldn't he die here, here where the dead had already fallen, years ago? A heroic death - to be buried here among the heroes of his father's time, to take their secrets to the grave... here. Earth. The silent secret.
He just wished that they could go home, once more... They would, if he had anything to do with it. A noise from his comlink jarred him from his thoughts, and he blinked, accepting the message and setting the comlink on the floor. The image of a young man in uniform appeared.
"Sir! We've detected something on the radar!" Jesse's eyes widened.
"How much time?"
"Ten minutes?" answered the lookout skeptically. A cold wave crept over Jesse's skin as this sunk in.
"Right," he answered sternly. "Tell everyone to get into their positions. Get the technicians working on securing the hatch; tell them to use a fucking jackhammer if they have to, as long as it can't be opened. That's the reason we're here." He took a breath and cried, "Everyone else, to your battlestations!"
The upper armories burst into movement at his command, and Jesse walked grimly to his post, leaning the end of his gun over the edge of the opening in the wall. He glanced at his watch. Seven. He stared across the terrestrial landscape, adrenaline flooding into his veins. Others lined the wall beside him, struggling to swallow their fear.
Silence.
Minutes ticked by but Jesse did not look down at his watch, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon. Slowly, a dark form began to appear in the distance. He squinted as the shape grew larger. Others crept into view at its side. Eerily the dark masses marched closer.
Closer.
And closer.
He could hear their battle-cries now. He could make out the individual forms running in a vast line, brandishing their weapons fiercely.
Jesse grinned, thriving on the tension, the pure electricity in the air. This was it. It was starting. And he was ready.
Jesse sighed and turned away from the narrow window, and headed down the stairs to the lowest level of the barrack, ignoring the tangible tension around him. Young, inexperienced militia sat in small clusters, inspecting their armor and weapons just for lack of occupation, their eyes following their leader, wide and expectant.
"Just sit tight boys," he said with a reassuring smile. "We'll have you home pretty soon." Or dead, he thought morbidly to himself.
Some of them offered brave smiles in return, others merely stared. Jesse shook his head and made his way to the corner of the room, his boots tapping lightly on the floorboards, until the tone changed, becoming hollow. He bent down on one knee, and retrieved an army knife from his boot, using it to ply at the floorboard and push it off of a small opening in the floor. He squinted down into the darkness below him, finally able to make out three forms staring back up at him.
"Hey kids," he called down. "Dinner's here."
Josephine, the oldest and tallest of the three, lifted the smaller girl, Maria, up to take the packets of food from their uncle's arms.
"Thanks," said Josephine quietly, placing the packets on the floor.
Jesse nodded. "But it doesn't do much good as furniture, you know."
The teenager sighed and slumped to the ground, not looking at him. "I'm not hungry... I.. I hate this. I hate being locked down here. I hate this entire place. It's so creepy... knowing what happened before."
Maria nodded her agreement, wide brown eyes staring at him silently from behind dark curls. She hadn't spoken since it happened. Mathew sat, curled up at her side, and Jesse thought he could hear him crying softly.
He frowned, and let out a heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry," he began, but trailed off.
What could he possibly say to them? Their whole world had been ripped apart in a matter of days. They had watched helplessly as their father changed before their eyes into a raging monster, unable to control his own mind and actions... Could they even understand? Josephine must have understood. And she would have felt guilt... she had been their way in... But she had suffered a thousand times over for her folly. To witness their mother's death at their own father's hands... He could still remember that surreal moment in which Cambria had screamed his name, terrified and desperate. Jesse felt the tears start to well up in the back of his eyes, and blinked, shaking his head of the memories. There was nothing that could be done to change the past. All that was left was these children - his brother's children.
Always he had been the younger, less revered of the two, but he never resented his brother for it. There was just something about Coheed that made everyone love him. Jesse had been content to tag after him, without ever truly following his path. Coheed was the good, honest and smart one. The ideal child. The devoted husband, the loving father. Jesse had always been a bit of a rebel, and when Coheed rose in power, becoming the icon of a cause, Jesse had been there at his side, but in the shadow, making his living prize-fighting under the name Inferno. The two were like night and day, and yet, like two sides of the same coin. He had looked up to his brother as his hero, as the one who would get them out of everything. And now, the great Coheed had fallen, and left him to fight alone.. He couldn't believe his big brother was gone. All of his responsibility fell onto his shoulders now. He would make Coheed proud. For him, he would do anything. For his children, he would kill. He would defend them to the death.
"It's for your own protection. You know that. Just be patient, guys." He smiled gently, sadly, and began pulling the floorboard back into place. "We'll be home soon. I promise," he told them. But he winced inwardly, not knowing if he could keep that promise. He looked at the trio sadly, huddled closely beneath the floor. Would they die here? "I love you," he said quietly. They didn't move, merely remained sitting silently in the dark. He bit his lip and covered the hatch.
He sat back on his haunches, running a tired hand through his dark hair. It wasn't true that these children were the only remaining hope, he reminded himself, thoughtfully. The boy was still out there, somewhere. Did they know that? Would they come here looking for him? Did they even know he existed? Jesse smiled to himself. Yes, the child had been born. The one who bore the gift, the vision.
But even as hope filled him, jealousy followed quickly on its tail even as he tried to ignore it. He couldn't help it. To be the hero was all he asked. To be remembered, and honored in death... Yes, why shouldn't he die here, here where the dead had already fallen, years ago? A heroic death - to be buried here among the heroes of his father's time, to take their secrets to the grave... here. Earth. The silent secret.
He just wished that they could go home, once more... They would, if he had anything to do with it. A noise from his comlink jarred him from his thoughts, and he blinked, accepting the message and setting the comlink on the floor. The image of a young man in uniform appeared.
"Sir! We've detected something on the radar!" Jesse's eyes widened.
"How much time?"
"Ten minutes?" answered the lookout skeptically. A cold wave crept over Jesse's skin as this sunk in.
"Right," he answered sternly. "Tell everyone to get into their positions. Get the technicians working on securing the hatch; tell them to use a fucking jackhammer if they have to, as long as it can't be opened. That's the reason we're here." He took a breath and cried, "Everyone else, to your battlestations!"
The upper armories burst into movement at his command, and Jesse walked grimly to his post, leaning the end of his gun over the edge of the opening in the wall. He glanced at his watch. Seven. He stared across the terrestrial landscape, adrenaline flooding into his veins. Others lined the wall beside him, struggling to swallow their fear.
Silence.
Minutes ticked by but Jesse did not look down at his watch, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon. Slowly, a dark form began to appear in the distance. He squinted as the shape grew larger. Others crept into view at its side. Eerily the dark masses marched closer.
Closer.
And closer.
He could hear their battle-cries now. He could make out the individual forms running in a vast line, brandishing their weapons fiercely.
Jesse grinned, thriving on the tension, the pure electricity in the air. This was it. It was starting. And he was ready.
