We join the rest of the battalion sitting idle in the trenches. Some who already have their masks on are vaping through them by placing a vapstick in their respirator tube that should be connected to the air filter.
“Hey,” says Isaac, handing me a folded paper. “I forgot to write in it till the plane ride over here, since I was drunk the whole time on leave.” I grab the paper nodding to him. The last word was Suddenly, and I read what he wrote.
Sinister understands detached devotion, even normalcy lacks you,
I rest against the earthworks deciding what to write. For a siege this is rather peaceful.
“What do you write in there?” says Isaac to Vance.
“This thing?” Vance looks down at his red notebook, placing his pen between the pages he was on and closing it. “I don’t know, whatever is on my mind.”
“Like a diary?” says Vick, grinning.
“No, dick, a journal,” says Vance.
“Read us something,” says Tommy, staring out at the city.
“Yeah, what he said,” says Isaac.
Vance pats the notebook. “Why do you care?”
“Anything is better than this,” I say.
Vance opens his notebook, flipping through pages and occasionally smiling.
“So?” says Isaac.
Vance leans back and raises his notebook, taking a deep breath. Commissar Herus and a Party Rep approach our trench. Vance quickly closes it and places it within his vest. We all flip him off underneath our waists and Isaac whispers, “Pussy.”
Herus leans over our trench. “It is a pity, that some populations let themselves become blinded by irrational belief systems, like religion, to the point where they enforce violence onto others.” His fellow Party Rep laps up the words. Herus continues, “Remember brothers, these radicals have sacrificed their humanity by forsaking the Cause. They rather indirectly aid the Herculean vermin by using our trust in humanity, as a ploy to cause deceit and suffering from within. They deserve no sympathy.”
Herus heads back to the commanding officers and we sit bored in the trenches. Nothing happens for a few hours. I figure out what I want to write back on the paper.
You only underestimate,
Some refugees run for our front line where they are seized and searched by intelligence officers. I fold the paper and hand it to Isaac quickly, then watch as the locals and the officers communicate, since the refugees are speaking in Arabic. One of the officers interprets back to his superior, “They have the whole city on lockdown. No one is allowed to leave. They risked their lives to get out. They’re afraid that Alleto will either kill them or we will if they stay.”
The Commander looks at them, grunting. “Alright, let them go on their way with the rest of the refugees. I am still waiting on Command to confirm if our agents in there are done with their job.”
A few more hours. A few more vapsticks exhausted.
Sirens go off and we raise our heads out of the trenches to see what’s going on. The Commander makes his rounds alerting every one of the situation as his orders are echoed into the officer’s radios. “Alleto has just executed our men on the inside. Get your masks on! We are attacking! Airstrikes first, no one leaves the city. We’re gonna watch ‘em roast!”
Blake retrieves a mask from his backpack and stretches the straps around his neck and helmet. I grab mine and look at it. The biohazard masks have been specially designed with our combat helmets that they fit in perfectly, sealing our entire head into a closed respiratory system. “You heard the orders, mask up as a precaution,” says Blake into our earpieces, as his mechanical toned voice repeats it out loud through the mask. Throughout the trenches marines place on masks and slap on air filter canisters. Tommy dips his scarf underneath his neck guard and it disappears inside his mask.
Tarnus leans over to Blake taping his wrist, then Blake tabs his control panel. The men in my unit slap the parapets and howl robotic muffles at the city, but all I feel is a headache. But I also came prepared. I quickly inject a syringe of extra Buzz into my thigh by pretending I am grabbing something from my sack. I refuse to go through the misery of a split arguing mind again. Especially since it’s actual humans this time I am fighting. I just can’t handle the thought.
War is back! Peter is rightfully outraged at the news. They killed some of his brothers. Those cowards, doing it in secrecy without giving a real fight. Without satisfying me.
Peter watches the images unfold in his mind as if he was just there. His brave brothers sit gagged and cuffed before a line of strangely clothed men. A drenched UN flag is wrapped around each one of them, and one of the terrorists step forward with a lighter. He ignites the cloaked man on the far left, and the flames lick up the entire line of bound comrades. They scream for justice as they burn away.
“Fuck you Alleto!” says Peter. “Herc lover!”
The others roar and yell. They are a pissed animal that wants revenge. Tarnus leads them in an arrowhead formation towards the capital. Enemy fire streaks out from positions around the city. The marines duck and crouch, responding with their own. Tanks and vehicles fire their turrets into enemy fortifications. Large clouds of smoke and earth rise from artillery rounds pummeling the city from afar. Next, volleys of cruise missiles descend from the sky crashing wonderfully into the city. Gigantic explosions erupt as waves of dirt and flame rise into the air swallowing the capital. Ah, I can smell the tithings. The marines robustly praise and cheer at the earth shaking effects. Sirens ring out from the capital as their frontline advances.
Waves of aircraft zoom over firing missiles. The Commander orders the encircling force to pause; they’re now only a few hundred meters away from the city. The marines watch with utter joy, as payload after payload of bombs and incendiaries are dropped into the sea of smoke over the city in a fantastic display. The entire area becomes an inferno as spouts of fire blow hundreds of meters into the air from the falling ordinance. The city is completely desolated, blanketed in fiery smoke. The red diamonds on Peter’s visor informing him of targeted enemies disappear one by one. The marines fire form their hips wildly into the abyss of the burning blaze, yipping and cheering more at the onslaught. No traitor can escape punishment.
Commissar Herus leads the force onwards. “This is the wrath of justice being brought upon them!”
The entire sky is darkened by the smoke. Ash falls like a rainstorm onto the marines bathing them in my glory. All enemy fire ceases, not even the sirens ring. The Commander applauds the Air Force for successful effect on target, and halts the artillery salvos as well. There is silence after the chaotic noise moments ago. Out of the smoke walk terrorists covered in debris and ash, their clothes tattered and arms rose into the air. Marines from the line fire immediately at them, and the men fall over from the multiple rounds back into the dark smoke.
“Hold!” says Blake.
Tarnus comes to the front, “Do not order my men, Sergeant. Continue gunning them down!”
“They’re trying to surrender!” says Blake.
Kill them anyway for their apostasy! The weak die fastest in my congregation.
The Commander comes forward this time, Herus with him. “What is going on here?” Tarnus repeats the situation, but before the Commander replies another group of terrorists come running out of the smoke shouting and screaming.
“He’s got a grenade!” says a marine as they open fire at the group. One man makes it to the frontline exploding and taking down several with him.
One of the marines tries desperately to get out of the mud. “I can’t see! I can’t—GOD, FUCKING HELP!” He lifts his face out of the mud, but it is a mess of gore from the grenade blast, where his eyes should be a multitude of dark purple and pink gashes. Medics rush to assist him. The rest roar in fury at the loss of a brother.