(Disclaimer: See Chapter 1)
(Well, here it is! The long awaited addition to the story! Keep feedback and support coming!)
"They would suffer if you don't, Bomb."
"No, please, have mercy."
"I am ending their suffering Bomb—"
"You're torturing them, Terrence!"
"Too many females have died, Bomb, and in case you haven't noticed, not exactly in the most painless way. They've been violated by the pigs, Bomb. Tortured, you understand? Treated as something less than living."
"What?"
"I know this is hard to hear, Bomb, I had second-thoughts about telling you this. But my wife was captured by the pigs. So have the others' wives. You are lucky, Bomb. Matilda is safe and you both have three beautiful daughters. All the females except Matilda are dead."
"Then, I don't understand you, Terrence. This mercy killing has no logic. Wouldn't it be better if me and Matilda raised my daughters, so we would have more females? Why kill them? Why?"
"Let me enlighten you, Bomb. The pigs are closing in on our nest. We must flee this valley and head to the hills if we are to be safe. We cannot carry three young chicks with us; if we are to get hit by the pigs, they get hurt too, understand? If we bring them along, for the pigs it's just three vulnerable bodies to kill, we'll be sitting targets! Would you let your daughters suffer? Hmm?
"Look, Bomb, I understand this is difficult for you. Let me give you some time to think. I'll leave you for a while."
"Yeah, you can leave, Terrence, but I've made a decision. Don't end my babies' suffering. If there's anyone that should do it, it should be me."
"I understand, Bomb. I'll leave now. Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, we can leave."
"Oh, my babies. This is for the best, understand? You will be in a better place.
"I'm sorry, kids.
"Here goes—"
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
"Matilda, I'm begging you, leave, now!"
"What are you doing to the children! NO! NO! NO! STOP!...ugh. My babies…"
"Don't cry, Matilda. They are safe now. They're in a better place-"
"And you have the gall to say that! Are you CRAZY!? Let go of me! You scum!
"I loved you, Bomb. I thought you loved me. I guess that's not the case. This is unforgivable! I would die for my children, die, you understand, rather than the other way round. I couldn't live with myself. So it's your fault, and your burden. You have to live with that yourself, forever, because I'm not living with you and your merciless self."
"No, Matilda, you have to understand, it wasn't—"
"Oh, I think I understand enough."
"Don't go, Matilda. Don't go! Don't go…don't go…don't go…"
"…don't go…don't go…hmm?" Bomb woke from his comatose state shaken. If only Matilda understood, one side of his mind said. If I could only do it all over again, the other side said. After the war and the mercy killing, the previous couple chose to remain on civil terms. But old wounds die hard, and they smart until the pain becomes too much to bear; and one must take out their pain on someone; like the person they hate the most. Bomb looked at himself, in self-reflection.
He did not see the pool of blood and tears that resulted from his most recent altercation with Matilda anymore. Instead he saw bandages, hundreds of used antiseptic bottles, and an IV with fluids poked into his body. This was the Flock's medical center, the same place where they treated the blues' infection.
Red sat in a corner, anxious to hear the victim's account of what happened. He was a bit reluctant, though. Bomb being so battered up; that was a first. Normally in the battlefield he would just self-immolate, and rematerialize unscathed, save a little baby injury on his fuse. As he and his comrades groaned over their injuries, Bomb gloated about his lack thereof. Red almost felt he deserved it. Now he knew what the rest of us feel after battle, injured, in pain. Serves him right. He scoffed under his breath.
Everyone saw tiredness, regret, and a frozen cold mind in Red. He wondered if what he had done was right. Why did I do such a callous action, knowing Chuck would die—in the cold—away from all of us? No, he deserved it. He caused too much harm to be stretched with tolerance; mine has already snapped broken. Instead of yellow, however, the abridged search led them to discover black and red, the former stained by the latter: it was Bomb.
As Red juggled through these thoughts, Bomb began to speak. Red's eyes lit up, mostly by natural reflex.
"Where…am…I?" The patient struggled to say.
"Thank your lucky stars (all 800 of them) that you're alive." Red began. "The blues found you on the grass, by a niche in the rock. You were bleeding, but alive (unfortunately). Naturally, I brought you back here. Now, tell me what happened."
Bomb produced the events that led to his current state. When he finished, Red was wide eyed.
"Matilda? Such a non-violent and peaceful person did this to you?"
"You don't understand, Red. She sought revenge for something I had done to her."
"The time you decided to stab to death her children, you mean?" He responded coldly in lieu of anger, scrawling at his paper as he spoke.
"Yes, Red, but you don't understand—"
"That situation is over, Red. If we pollute our minds with the oil of this, it will spill and contaminate the water. Let us not talk about it. You served your penance; two years of banishment." He wished he had banished Bomb for a longer, but for some reason his brother Terrence pushed for a shorter sentence, much to Red's surprise.
Before Bomb could interject, Red ended the conversation there, leaving the patient to rest.