The Forgotten Blood

Chapter 1: Old Endings

'It wasn't supposed to happen like this.' He thought as he ran through the forest for his life, his blood gushing and flowing down his back under his clothes. It didn't even hurt that much under the effects of so much adrenaline, the blood-soaked clothes giving warmth as if mocking his own gradually colder body.

Crawling through a thicket of pine branches, he finally let himself rest. He deserves to have his last rest on his own terms. Finally catching a shallow breath and coughing up blood, he reached under his clothes, behind his ribs, and stuck a finger into the bullet hole. The hole in his shoulder didn't even matter; the outcome will be the same anyway. It's just to buy a minute for a thought.

*cough* *cough*

As he spat out more blood that was coming out of his lung, he thought, 'DAMNIT! How did this happen? Why?'

Earlier that morning

He was reluctantly stirring in his sleeping bag, not wanting to leave the warmth of his sleeping bag. Looking back in hindsight, he was proud of himself for how he was managing his situation. Six months ago, a neighboring country had started to invade his country, and the frontlines had passed his general region about a month ago.

He had been ready for this long before the invasion happened; he had built himself a semi-subterranean hut camouflaged with dirt, moss, and an odd branch deep in the forests of the local reservation, far enough from any civilization. With stocks of dried, canned, and fresh foods and vegetables that should last him for about eighteen months.

Water wasn't a problem either; just catch some rainwater with a tarp over a barrel and clean it through a DIY charcoal filter, or just boil it. Frankly, life was great; it always could have been worse. To keep his body busy, he would work out each day and dig out pitfalls with nasty spikes carved out of wood all around his hidden hut at a distance of fifty meters. He was slowly getting into the shape he once was when he had served in the military.

To keep his mind busy, he would read books. Before the war, when there was still the internet, he had stocked up on all the books, novels, fan fiction, guides and manuals for the oddest things he could find. Arguably, this was his biggest hobby and best escape from reality.

After getting out of his sleeping bag, it was back to his daily routine that was almost automatic by now: get the fireplace going, put on a can to warm up the tea, set up a portable solar panel outside to charge up batteries for his tablet, and listen for a while for the artillery exploding somewhere beyond the horizon. As he got back into his cabin, he had his breakfast of dried meat and linden flower tea. Thinking about what he should start reading today, it happened—something that shouldn't be possible but something he had prepared for—the fishline holding an empty can with the word "West" written on it fell down.

The fishline tripwire was set up as an early warning system one hundred meters away. His only eye went wide, and he almost did a spit take. He quickly scrambled to peek outside through a moss-covered hatch in the ceiling, and there it was: three soldiers in shabby and dirty uniforms with automatic guns advancing slowly straight for his cabin.

Despite adrenaline starting to kick in, he should have been scared, but no, his only thought at that moment was, 'Fuck my hippie, tree-hugging, sissy government sideways. How is civvy supposed to protect himself, gimme some of that second amendment goodness.'

But any internal cursing was caught short as he grabbed his go bag, stuffed his tablet in it, and moved to remove a piece of wall that led to a tunnel going north of his home. Before crawling inside it, he lit up a fuse to a string of firecrackers that were halfway dipped into a can of fuel and started crawling. Then, he stopped and kicked out a small wooden beam that caved in the tunnel behind him so that the tunnel would be obscured. Maybe he could return later and get back to his cellar of stocked goods that was in the tunnel. Unbeknownst to him, the can with the word "North" also fell down.

Crawling through the small tunnel, he passed his cellar and headed north. As the firecrackers went off, he heard automatic gun fire, and moments later, a small explosion. After crawling about a hundred meters, he slowly lifted the hatch and crawled out, placing the moss-covered hatch back in place. He saw three more soldiers advancing on his burning and smoking hobbit shack from this side as well, with their backs towards him. They were at about a fifty-meter mark, but there was no time to enjoy what would happen. He moderately moved away from them, incoherent screams started as soldiers stepped into pitfalls, getting pierced by spikes all the way from their feet up to their filthy asses. They would die within minutes, and it served them right.

But of course, Murphy had to step in to screw everything up. Someone had noticed his general direction and was blindly firing, hitting him in the shoulder. It hurt badly. If not for adrenaline, he was sure he would piss himself. As he picked up the pace, there was another impact somewhere behind his ribs, but he didn't register this one and kept moving.

Present

As he lay against a pine tree, a foggy look in his only azure eye, a couple of last thoughts raced through his mind.

'How did they find me? What the hell are they even doing here?'

'Snitches? Drones? Thermal tracking? No, they wouldn't waste their time here.'

'God damn it, was it a partisan hunting party? Most probably.'

'How dare they, I don't care for this mess, it's all so petty.'

'There were still so many things to do, so many stories I wanted to read.'

'Ah, crap. I don't want to die so bad.'

With shallow breaths and a gurgle, he whispered to no one in particular,

"I never... believed in any... to begin with... so I won't beg... for gods now."

He chuckled at the absurd thought that just crossed his fleeting consciousness and coughed up a piece of his lung. With a smile, he continued,

"I do, however, hope... they all burn... and that there's... more to this adventure... HAa..."

"..."

Meanwhile in neighboring country that was invaded by same hostile nation.

A city was about to be under attack. In a particular living complex, amidst the sound of active artillery on the edge of the city, a mad cackle echoed throughout the halls, followed by multiple explosions that ended the maniacal laughter.

As the smoke cleared, a gruesome scene came into view: a disfigured woman lay in the corner of her living room, scorched and ripped apart by shrapnel, looking with a satisfied grin at the gory mess of two soldiers who had tried to take her.

Earlier that morning.

She stirred in her bed, not wanting to get up despite the explosions happening somewhere in distance. They didn't bother her that much, there simply wasn't anything she could do about that. She had long suffered from insomnia, and as she looked at the clock, she saw that she had slept for about four hours, which was kind of acceptable for her.

With an aloof look and her hair all over the place, she started her morning ritual. She brushed her teeth, rinsed her face with cold water, pondered for a moment at what kind of animal her hair looked like today. She didn't care how she looked, it's not like she was going out or anything. She just didn't care for such mundane things. Then she put on some coffee to boil, grabbed an energy drink, and went back to her throne.

Her throne was her gaming chair by her custom-made computer, the most prized possession in her life. As she turned it on, she wrapped herself in her favorite snug blanket.

'Yes, it's a new day to kick names and take ass, or was it the other way around?' she chuckled and shrugged. 'Works either way for me.'

As her computer turned on, she was giddy at the mischief she would get up to today, the scrubs she would put in their places, making grown people lament and feel inadequate in the cruelest ways, triggering arguments in usually calm places that would devolve into riots lasting days and breaking communities. This is what she enjoyed and strived for: making chaos, making everyone drop their charades of civility, revealing everyone's true natures.

Her happiness was short-lived as the browser window opened, and it showed that there was no internet. She froze up in horror, and her emerald eyes went wide, the can of energy drink fell from her hand. In an instant, a couple of dozen thoughts raced through her mind as she came to a conclusion.

'Screw this damn war and give me back my internet!'

'How dare they mess with my precious!'

She smashed her delicate fist against the table and let out a defeated squeak and a quiet sob, propelling herself into further depression. Then a loud knocking came from her door. There was some sort of disturbance in the stairway of her apartment building.

Getting to the door, she looked through the peephole and saw two soldiers from her country standing outside. A couple more were rushing up the stairs. When she asked what was going on, the soldiers gave a vague answer that it was an emergency and she should open the door to receive an explanation. She unlocked multiple locks and opened the door slightly, asking again what was happening. The first soldier seemed impatient and annoyed for some reason.

'Ah, he doesn't like explaining things to women. He's one of those,' she thought. The other soldier stood behind him with an indifferent look. They both looked odd, 'possibly new recruits with sleazy and thuggish looks, reminiscent of criminals. Is the army conscripting prisoners?'

From the soldier's half-baked explanation, she could gather that people were being evacuated to a refugee camp away from the frontlines that had reached her city.

She didn't need to be a genius, frankly, no one needs to be, to deduce the high probability of what would happen to a woman in such a camp or the fact that all her stuff would be stolen. "Thank you for the notice, I'll gather my stuff and head there promptly," she replied and hastily tried to close the door, but the soldier jammed his foot in the door, cursing and demanding that she must go now. And then it happened. Her door smashed into her like a freight train as the other soldier kicked it in. Slightly dazed, she scrambled and ran to her living room, putting the largest object between her and her pursuers. Standing behind the table with her computer and multiple screens, holding a keyboard ready to throw or whack someone with it, two soldiers entered her living room.

One of them spoke up in an indifferent tone, "We don't have time for this, we're under strict orders. We'll take you even by force, It's for your own good, girl!"

The other soldier, the impatient one, spoke eerily. "Listen, you don't want to know what the enemy will do to you if you stay here."

As she held the keyboard over her shoulder, ready for anything, she spoke defiantly. "I don't care, get the hell out of my property!"

They both got annoyed but suddenly looked her over. She didn't have much on, just a long shirt that went past her hips and her underwear. And then it happened. Slowly, the intent formed on their faces, representative of their true natures. The impatient one spoke up with a lecherous grin to his buddy.

"Why don't we show this slut what exactly happens when enemy gets their hands on her?"

As they looked at each other, they agreed without speaking and hastily approached her from opposite sides of the table. She knew what was about to happen and her only option was to scratch, bite, and maybe even stab an eye if she was lucky. As a hand grabbed her hair, she started to scream and screech, whacking one of them with the keyboard and reaching for the other one's face within her reach, she slashed her nails against his face. He roared, "BITCH!"

Then it happened, what she was planning for. One of them clocked her head against the table, making her half-concussed. Regretfully for her, it didn't knock her out as she had planned. Holding her under her arms, they dragged her half-limp body to the middle of the living room while tearing off her shirt.

A loud roar echoed throughout the apartment, "WHAT IN THE GODS' NAME IS GOIN..."

Two more soldiers in the doorway of the living room and froze up at the sight. The first one, who was probably their commanding officer, had a look of fury on his face, ready to kill these two scums, while the other one was disgusted.

Then, in that moment of silence, four metallic clicks could be heard, followed by four safety levers from grenades bouncing on the floor. As they were holding her, she had access to their grenade belts, and she had pulled four pins from their grenades. It didn't matter that someone had come to stop what was about to happen; it didn't register to her. She had allowed herself to go mad.

Lifting her bloody face to the two of them, she got a bloody, shit-eating grin and declared, "Get rekt, scrubs!"

They all paled, and she was pretty sure one of her assailants just now shat himself. They threw her to the side and scrambled to get their grenades off the belts, while she laughed like a madwoman, crawling behind a couch and looking at them. She was slightly conflicted with what was more important at that moment: her relative safety or the satisfaction of seeing them die. As two other soldiers were in motion of jumping out the door, her two assailants blew up, almost ripping themselves in halves. She didn't fare much better, as multiple concussive blasts completely scrambled any notion of feeling what was happening to her body. She could tell it was bad when she opened her ember eyes and only one worked. Over one side of her body, there was a slight stinging over numerous parts where no doubt shrapnel had lodged itself in her. With what little strength she had, she grinned like a maniac.

Present

Laying in the corner of the room, unmoving, she thought, 'Had she known this felt so good, she might have pursued certain careers where she could have experienced more of this.' Looking with her only working eye at the two mangled bodies and parts of them scattered everywhere, she felt warm and satisfied, maybe even happy?

The two other soldiers entered back into living room with owlish eyes while being completely gobsmacked at what just happened. They shuddered at what they saw in the corner, that half burned and mangled smile will hunt them more than anything else in the upcoming war.

'Karma is a nasty thing, eh? Get owned! WHAHAHAHAHA!' As she was internally gloating in her insanity, her sight landed on her precious broken "throne" and her "battle station," and all thoughts stopped. What pursued in her mind was multitudes of curses and slurs in multiple different languages that would make a sailor blush like an innocent maiden.

Exerting the last of her strength, she placed her hand towards the two corpses making the other two flinch and slowly, with difficulty, raised her middle finger and whispered,

"Screw you all... my grind... is over..."

"..."

A/N: First thank you for reading. Second let me say I haven't written anything in my life, this is the first time I've written something with effort. I'm self-thought in English and it isn't my first language. As such I'm posting two chapters to seek criticism, tips and tricks regarding my writing, possible suggestions of tools to help with punctuation and formatting(I have really hard time with paragraphs). There might be more chapters in the future but not until I have written couple of dozen of them. Also someone who could please explain to me how to copy and paste my chapters from Word into here, it keeps copying source code with the story(pulling my hair out at this rn)