Chapter One: Eve of Destruction….
Don't you understand what I'm trying to say?
Can't you see the fear that I'm feeling today?
If the button is pushed, there's no running away,
There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,
take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,
but you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.
Eve of Destruction by Barry McGuire
Panic.
People ran around wildly, screams of fright echoed through the town as bombs burst over head. It was a warning, a warning of the approaching army that would offer no mercy.
I try to make my way through the crowds, to get to the small church that now worked as a hospital.
Bang!
My feet give out from beneath me and I am pushed roughly to the side; there is crying now, louder than before. Slowly, I lift my head, fearing the sight that awaited me. Not even fifteen feet away a woman lie clutching a young child for dear life. A child that was now motionless and pale, a child with a glassy stare.
Making my way slowly to the woman, I fight back the tears I feel. There was too much death, there was too much loss.
We were being defeated; I was being defeated.
"My baby, my baby…"
The woman's whimpers are easily drowned out by the panic that surrounds me; the fear that seems to increase with every second.
I want to help, but I know there is nothing that I can do. It is too late for this woman and I am needed elsewhere, where men lay side by side in a long row of beds.
The church doors loom ominously as I approach, the small cemetery peaks out solemnly from behind. Inhaling a deep breath, I savor the fresh air that I will be deprived from when I walk through the threshold that led to Hell on Earth.
Pain….Death….
There is no way to escape the screams that I have become so accustomed to, no way to block out the begging. And the smell, the smell of death, the smell of fear and despair. It clings to everything…The cots, the blankets, my clothes, the people.
It hangs in the air, like a putrid fog that shows no sign of lifting, of showing the sun, of showing us hope.
No, it won't lift, but settle. Bring depression amongst us all, nurses, doctors and wounded alike…Especially the wounded…
I linger a little longer near the doors, fighting the urge to turn and run. Run away from all of this pain, from reality. But I can't, I am rooted to the floor as I stand in shock. The room is filled to bursting with wounded and dying men, but there is only one woman tending to their needs.
"Melanie, what are you doing here? You should be leaving, escaping while you still have the chance,"
Dazed, I shake myself from my reverie and turn to face Dr. Allman.
"What is happening? Are the Yankee's really that close?"
My voice is laced with panic as the reality hits me: the Yankee's were coming.
"You must leave, Melanie. It is dangerous,"
"No," I shake my head determined. "I am staying; I will not leave these men to die. There are not enough hands to help them as it is; loosing me is a death sentence for half the men in this room"
He could not protest; he knew that I was right, but I wished that he did, that he would send me away and I would never have to see this morgue again. That I could go home to my Aunt's and hide from the war, from the world. But he didn't, he simply nodded and turned away.
Three days, three long and tiring days that I have been trapped in the church. It seems like eternity since I saw the sun, since I felt the dirt beneath my feet and I am beginning to fear that I will never see the outside world again.
It is too quiet and it scares me to think of what that might mean; there are no more bombs, but that means that there is no more fighting. There are no screams, but that is because there are no more men to cry. There is no sun, but that is because there is no hope. We will fall, we will be captured.
Sometimes I like to pretend, pretend that there are no deaths and that I am home with my mother again. We would sit on my aunt's porch talking about the upcoming spring and other silly things, things that there is no more time for, or she would force me to attend the annual Charlus Ball despite my many protests.
But my daydreams cannot last forever and I am soon back to reality, standing in the middle of the church unsure of what to do.
It has grown oddly silent, eerily empty beyond the church doors. The quiet frightens me more than the noise; the quiet is foreboding.
I don't know what the newfound peace means and I am worried that it is a sign that we have lost.
A week has passed since we have seen any other sign of life besides ourselves. There has been no news of the war, but I can sense that something is wrong.
When the wind howls it seems to bring a warning of impending danger, when night falls it brings a curtain of protection, but not for us: for them.
Yes, at night is when they will come; whether it be The Protectors or The Enemies, I do not know. But come they will and soon.
It was like any other night; cold and dark, foreboding. But I couldn't shake my fear, the fear that was clenching my heart with its icy cold hands, causing me to shudder.
Pulling my cloak tighter around myself, I glanced over my shoulder. I knew that it was dangerous to stand alone in the night, but I needed time to think and fresh air. During the day, it is too busy, at night though most of the injured sleep, searching for a way to escape their pain.
Crack!
My head snaps up and I search wildly through the night. I see nothing but I can sense the presence of another.
"Hello?" my voice quivers and shakes, coming out timid and unsure. No one answers my call and a cold shiver runs down my spine. "I know you are there,"
No answer.
Bu then it happens.
A man stumbles forward, almost drunkenly, his right arm hanging loosely.
"Oh my,"
Quickly I run forward, not caring that this could be the enemy soldier, and steady his steps.
"Dead. All of them, dead."
A/N Mari! I finally posted the first chapter! I'm sorry that this has been so depressing so far, I am just trying to be as factual as possible and this does take place during the American Civil War. Not everything I write about the war is 100% factual, but most of it is. This takes place in 1862, the year before Jasper is turned (I looked it up) in Texas (where Jasper lived his human life). Also, there really was a man named Allman (John Allman) the only difference is that he was an actual Confederate soldier, not a doctor.
I am sorry to say that the next update won't be for a while because I have to study for my Human Anatomy and Physiology exam that is in a week, but I will write whenever I can, as fast as possible.
Thank you,
Giselle (Jess)
P.S. I'm going to try to make my chapters longer, but I can't promise anything. Just remember that it is about quality not quantity.