Open Space
by Joshua "Dante" Epstein
CHAPTER II: THE FALLEN
December 7, 1941
Everywhere, sirens wailed as wave after wave of chaos and destruction swept the once orderly cove that was Pearl Harbor. Flame shot into the sky as gas tanks erupted, and bodies lay strewn about like so much debris.
As the Japanese fighters' engine noise slowly faded and the sounds were narrowed to the moaning of the dying and the seemingly interminable sound of the alarm sirens, one man lay apart from the others. He was huddled in the corner of one of the few surviving hangers. To say that the hanger had survived was a generous statement, owing the sizeable hole in its roof where a bomb had fallen through. Luckily, the hanger had only been in use as equipment storage shed when the bomb had fallen, so no fuel had been there. All that had been there of any value was the young Private Benjamin Lloyd. The same Private Benjamin Lloyd who now sat trembling in the corner, clutching his torn, blood soaked uniform shirt between his hands against his smooth, unscarred chest where, just moments before, a Frisbee sized piece of shrapnel had ripped into his body.
What am I? Benny frantically asked himself, nearing the edge of hysteria. This isn't possible. It's not natural. WHAT AM I?
Terrified as much of himself as anything else, Benny ran from the hanger onto the tarmac, littered with the wreckage of burning planes that had never been able to get off the ground. What he saw around him nearly made him forget his terror at what he was becoming. Men, his friends, were laying everywhere, dead, dying, or maimed.
Benny knelt next to the body of his bunkmate, Thomas Ryan, who was clutching his stomach. The fabric of his t-shirt (for Thomas had run to combat straight from bed) was wet with a growing red stain.
"Heya Ben." Benny took Thomas' hand in his own, feeling Ryan grasp back with a surprisingly firm grip. "You look good. Better'n me."
"Enough'a that, Tom. You're gonna make it. Just hang with me til a medic gets here."
"Nah. Got a good hunk of American-made steel in my belly, Ben. Medic's not gonna be able to do whole lot."
"Quit it! I'm not gonna let you die on me!"
"Wish you had a say in it, Benny-boy. Hey, c'mere." Tom reached to his neck and pulled out the chain that had his dog tags. Also attached to it was a small metal locket. He opened it and showed the pictures inside to Ben.
"S'my wife and boy, Ben. He's a good kid. And god. god she's beautiful." He was trying to hold on now, long enough to say what he had to say. "Just do me this, Ben. Tell em I love em and that I miss em and how they're all I thought of every day."
"You're gonna tell em, Tom."
"Shut up with that shit! I'm done here, Benny." The pain in his guy wracked Ryan's body. "Just do this for me, huh, buddy?"
Benny nodded.
"Thanks. And one more thing."
"What's that, Tom."
"In my foot locker there's a name of a guy in San Francisco. He knows."
"He knows what Tom?"
"He knows what you are." Thomas trailed off and Benny felt the grip on his hand loosen and fall away. Benny closed Thomas' eyes and stood up, staring off to the east, where he thought he could almost see the few fighters that had managed to get aloft making their last attempt the drive the Japanese back. What he was would have to wait. There was a war to fight.
by Joshua "Dante" Epstein
CHAPTER II: THE FALLEN
December 7, 1941
Everywhere, sirens wailed as wave after wave of chaos and destruction swept the once orderly cove that was Pearl Harbor. Flame shot into the sky as gas tanks erupted, and bodies lay strewn about like so much debris.
As the Japanese fighters' engine noise slowly faded and the sounds were narrowed to the moaning of the dying and the seemingly interminable sound of the alarm sirens, one man lay apart from the others. He was huddled in the corner of one of the few surviving hangers. To say that the hanger had survived was a generous statement, owing the sizeable hole in its roof where a bomb had fallen through. Luckily, the hanger had only been in use as equipment storage shed when the bomb had fallen, so no fuel had been there. All that had been there of any value was the young Private Benjamin Lloyd. The same Private Benjamin Lloyd who now sat trembling in the corner, clutching his torn, blood soaked uniform shirt between his hands against his smooth, unscarred chest where, just moments before, a Frisbee sized piece of shrapnel had ripped into his body.
What am I? Benny frantically asked himself, nearing the edge of hysteria. This isn't possible. It's not natural. WHAT AM I?
Terrified as much of himself as anything else, Benny ran from the hanger onto the tarmac, littered with the wreckage of burning planes that had never been able to get off the ground. What he saw around him nearly made him forget his terror at what he was becoming. Men, his friends, were laying everywhere, dead, dying, or maimed.
Benny knelt next to the body of his bunkmate, Thomas Ryan, who was clutching his stomach. The fabric of his t-shirt (for Thomas had run to combat straight from bed) was wet with a growing red stain.
"Heya Ben." Benny took Thomas' hand in his own, feeling Ryan grasp back with a surprisingly firm grip. "You look good. Better'n me."
"Enough'a that, Tom. You're gonna make it. Just hang with me til a medic gets here."
"Nah. Got a good hunk of American-made steel in my belly, Ben. Medic's not gonna be able to do whole lot."
"Quit it! I'm not gonna let you die on me!"
"Wish you had a say in it, Benny-boy. Hey, c'mere." Tom reached to his neck and pulled out the chain that had his dog tags. Also attached to it was a small metal locket. He opened it and showed the pictures inside to Ben.
"S'my wife and boy, Ben. He's a good kid. And god. god she's beautiful." He was trying to hold on now, long enough to say what he had to say. "Just do me this, Ben. Tell em I love em and that I miss em and how they're all I thought of every day."
"You're gonna tell em, Tom."
"Shut up with that shit! I'm done here, Benny." The pain in his guy wracked Ryan's body. "Just do this for me, huh, buddy?"
Benny nodded.
"Thanks. And one more thing."
"What's that, Tom."
"In my foot locker there's a name of a guy in San Francisco. He knows."
"He knows what Tom?"
"He knows what you are." Thomas trailed off and Benny felt the grip on his hand loosen and fall away. Benny closed Thomas' eyes and stood up, staring off to the east, where he thought he could almost see the few fighters that had managed to get aloft making their last attempt the drive the Japanese back. What he was would have to wait. There was a war to fight.