Last Living Souls
Tick-tock-tick...tick-tock-tick...tick-tock-tick. God, I can hear that annoying ticking in my head like a stupid clock. But then again, I guess IT IS important – after all, I did say to Tom that time either had the decision to be with me, or against me on this one. But as I'm tracking across these battered areas of Earth and ground, I'm looking around and all I see is nothing...ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
Where's all the houses, where's all the shops, where's that long street of buildings that seemed to exist in the very heart of the town? IT'S ALL GONE...FUCK!
All that's left is rubble and smoking holes. Now I'm getting the feeling that what I predicted is coming true:
Are we the last...living souls?
Are we the LAST...living souls?
Are we the last...living souls?
Are we the LAST...living souls?
I better find Stan quick – I don't want that feeling to only apply to me. As I'm walking across these fields, I manage to drive my mind away from its shaking, feared self – finding enough energy to think back to what actually happened here.
It all started about four years ago – confrontations between the Western World and the Middle East had gotten serious and people were living in fear that something bad could happen at any second. And I was the same – sure, I was safe – comfortably locked away within the protection of my rich and art popularity status, but did people think I was happy? HELL NO – I was far from it. Every night as I watched countless hours of news coverage on the television, my mind would always fix to one other person – one other that I worried about every fucking day since we'd been apart.
I remember the day we went our seperate ways. We were both 16 – Stan had volunteered (well I say volunteered) to join the army and I knew that from that moment on, things were never going to be the same. I could see the look on that boy's face that he didn't want to join, but his mom and dad had forced him into it. Dam, they're good at making Stan do things he doesn't like – saying things like 'You have to fight for your country Stan' and 'What would you rather do – suffer and die or go out fighting?!' I tried talking him out of it, but he wouldn't listen – I guess he was already forced too much into it by then. God that image still sends tears down my face – his face and hands leaning on the glass window of the army vehicle as it drove off into the distance. He looked out at me all the way...no smile raised, just fear and upset.
You're on your own, when you begin
to sing a song that doesn't sing.
It grows……you know.
I guess Stan regretted ever joining the army after that. It was only when we were both about 21 that the war started – World War 3……extreme some people jokingly called it. The Americans said we let our defense drop……the enemy said that they succeeded in infiltrating our core through deception, trickery and traitors……whatever that meant. Whoever was telling the truth, the result was the same……a disastrous loss of thousands and thousands of soldiers – and all for what…to say that we were right and the Middle East was wrong. Have they ever heard of fucking e-mails? Jesus Christ, while I'm at college gaining a degree in Art and Graphics, Stan's out there fighting for his life……when……he could have been here……with………well………me. I hate myself because of it - I had the comfort of gaining degrees and honours wheres Stan's already got the bloody honour of firing a rifle at other soldiers in those filthy and exploding trenches of the ground
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last to get away to sing a song another day?
Or do we know why we love?
It doesn't seem to be conveyed that way!
Are we the LAST living souls?
I'm 26 years old now and not a day's passed that I've despised life AND The Government for what they've done to us – splitting us apart in the cruelest of fashions. So that's why I'm here – I want to make up for all those years without him. I dread to think how Stan must have felt in those cold, crowded barracks – alone, fearful, scared, confused maybe? However he felt (and I hope he still feels things NOW), I need to find him and take him away from this place – he's suffered too much to just finish it all off here. Jesus Christ, he's only 26 like me – he's got his whole life ahead of him……a life I hope he'll want to spend with me.
Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up, get up………
If my bearing and hazy memories are right, I should be near where our old school. Yep, that's a smile I can feel raising on my face. Although I never liked that place – our school served up some great memories of back when we were kids. I'm climbing up a slope at the moment, so it'll be good to see the old building and some of the surrounding structures in the area.
YES, finally, I'm at the top and now I can see……………………what the………wh-wh…….what happened……where is it……where is it all…………IT'S ALL GONE!
Coz' all I had sung,
I got it down and wrong.
I see myself to get,
The Lord, seeing all now.
Can you take us in?
The part that comin' on,
The coldest man doesn't see us all.
I'm feeling like there's a fucking brick that' just been dropped into my heart at the moment. Let me picture it for you – NOTHING……BUT RUBBLE. And the dark, grey clouds above make the area even more unbearable to look at. I'd heard that there'd been a bomb explosion somewhere in Central America a few years back…………and I think I finally worked out where abouts in Central America it landed. Jesus Christ……this place is a mess. What the fuck happened?!
I stand there for about 10 minutes to take in the magnitude of this shock and I finally walk down the other side of the slope. The black road is littered with debris and food rubbish. There's nothing left of the school except for ONE…ONE half of one of the walls to the left and a few door and corridor frames. I walk to the front door entrance and look back – I don't even want to look inside at the damage……heh, I'm still calling it an inside and it's fucking blown up. Looking back at the road, that memory of Stan's departure comes rushing back to me. I close my eyes – hopefully, his mentally stored voice can send a warmness back into my heart.
"Please Stan, you don't have to go." I said – pulling on his coat shoulder as he's walking to the army vehicle to get on. "There are millions of soldiers going. You not going isn't going to make a difference."
"I have to go." Stan replies back without even turning around to face me. But even without that face, I can sense he doesn't feel right. His head drops and he takes a deep breath. "I have to do this for my country Kyle – you know that."
"But……" I begin to think of the best way possible to say this without giving…too much away. "…what about all the people you love? What about the people who care about you…and love you…and…are friends to you. Do they mean nothing compared to our country?" Yeh, back then I would have thought that was a good enough answer.
He turns around finally to face me – his longish short black hair waving in the cold wind around us. "Kyle……I know you care about me – I know you've been my best friend for practically all my life and I KNOW you're worried about what might happen." He puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles. "But I'll be fine…trust me."
I knew that was a lie……but Stan wasn't lying – that was the point. "OK Stan…just take care of yourself OK?"
"I will, I promise."
After giving him one of the biggest and longest hugs I've ever given him, he breaks away from my arms and makes his way into the vehicle. I walk to the centre of the road and watch him as he presses his face and hands on the back-window glass. I wave him a small little goodbye and raise a smile to brighten his mood. It doesn't work…he looks too worried to be sure of anything positive.
And just as that memory of the vehicle driving off fades away from my memory, I turn my attention back to finding him – more focused now than I ever was before.
Coz' we're the last living souls.
We're the last living souls.
Yeah, we're the last living souls.
We're the last living souls.
"STAN!!!" I yell out in the emptiness of this battered and dull wasteland. "STAAAAAAAN!!!" Nothing – absolutely nothing. NO, don't you dare fucking cry just yet. KEEP LOOKING!
I'm about to give up my final hopes when I suddenly spot a rising set of smoke coming from out of a hole in the ground. The hole's surrounded by hills and slopes so I can't see the extent of where I'm actually looking. Taking any possibility that comes my way, I begin jogging to where the smoke's originating from. As I get closer, the smoke's gets thicker and thicker with every jogging step I take.
But then, my grip slips and I begin sliding down the slopes – exactly where the hole's descending angle begins. Ow…ow…ow…OW…FUCK! Why does my head seem to hit the hardest chunks of the Earth whilst I'm rolling down this hill? FUUUUCK! And after a few seconds of crashing and bumping against the angled ground, my body slams against the flatness of the hole's bottom level. God, my hurt heads – note to self, take a couple of painkillers when you get back. Rubbing away the pain from my head and eyes, I look up. My eyes widen and a cold chill rushes down my spine.
"My God!" I express silently but shocked at the image that's right before me. And I hate to say it, but I feel like vomiting right about now – the hole's completely full of dead bodies – soldiers; bloody, bruised and battered……some even missing limbs and……oh God, organs too - some with gunshots, most with much more…ummm…gory injuries. It doesn't take a General to figure out what's happened here – hundreds of soldiers killed within the battlefield that is South Park, Colorado. Yes, the war was won, but I'm the only one in this entire country who knows the extent to the cost of that victory, if you can even call it that.
But……no……NO, it can't be. It is……IT IS…IT FUCKING IS! That vomiting feeling quickly disappears and is replaced with relief. Because right in the centre of that massive pile of bodies is one individual……one individual that has made my search worth while.
I can tell that longish short black hair from a mile away – it's him, it's really him. Clutching a radio transmitter in his left hand and a rifle in the other, he's lying on the muddy ground face up – dirty, scarred, injured, weak………and just as adorable as when he left all those years ago. But……is he even alive? There's only one way I'll ever find out. I need to take him away from this place – find where Tom and the helicopter are and take this poor little guy to the hospital. Come on, don't die on me Stan…please don't die like this – it's way too early for that!
I pick his battered body up and wrap his arms around me as I grip them both with my own hands – placing him on my back and I begin to make my ascend back up the embankment of this hole. But one thing finally becomes crystal clear. As I carry him up the slope, I hear him cough in a scared and painful tone. YES, HE'S ALIVE! My focus on getting this guy to a hospital just about strengthens to the point where I'll die just to help this guy. Well, hopefully, I won't – I want to see Stan wake up again – by my side and by my smile. And do you know why:
Coz' we're the last living souls.
We're the last living souls.
Yeah, we're the last living souls.
We're the last living souls.