Heroes to Hunted

There are no heroes in war.

Four years ago, I wouldn't have believed that. Hell, my entire reason for enlisting was to become one.

Back then, I was convinced I'd only save the good from the evil. That my fight would be limited to only the ugliest and worst that humanity had to offer. I'd be a legendary liberator of justice!

But war, real war, isn't like the fiction you see in games and movies.

War isn't exciting, it isn't hopeful, and it certainly isn't enjoyable. Instead, war is a place of fear and desperation.  A place where morally good men and women are corrupted into merciless savagery.  A place where soldiers are doomed to brutalize one another to survive just one more day.

For those reasons, I couldn't believe heroes were forged from war. On the contrary, the battlefield was just a breeding ground for monsters.

"W-What…happened?" My ears rang, and my vision blurred.

Every muscle and every joint within me throbbed with a searing pain. Mentally, I was just as impaired. My mind was sealed within a foggy haze.

Four years of active service, that's how long I survived, but that veterancy amounted to nothing in the end.

My gut still felt queasy at what I saw. Never had I witnessed a scene as grisly and grotesque as this, or maybe I had, and I just repressed it.

Our transport took the brunt of it.  What remained was a worthless scrap heap of warped steel and smoldering ash. Leaking from it were fuel trails forming rivers of consuming fire.

My comrades were next.  Those with whom I shared unbreakable bonds were now medleys of scorched body parts splayed across the ground.

The only exceptions were those already reduced to ashes. The sole reminder of their memory was the charred bones they'd left in their place.

Depressingly enough, I had no tears to shed. They were long dried up at this point. That's not to say I didn't care for my allies. It's just that, over the years, I shared meals, stories, and hardships with hundreds like them. Sadly, those journeys of friendship always ended the exact same way.

No matter how sturdy their bodies or robust their minds were, I was the one left behind, the last one standing. That's why I was so accustomed to it.

Losing comrades had become just another facet of life for me.

Maybe they were fortunate; their deaths came swiftly. They had no time to reflect on their lives, cry for their loved ones, or lament how they had died in vain.  I, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

A fit of bloody coughs possessed me, exacerbating my already shallow breathing. My lower lip became glossed with a solution of saliva and blood.

Instinctively, I shifted my one still functioning hand to pressure my wounds, but it was pointless. I only coated my fingers in scattered red.

I looked down to see shards of jagged debris jutting from my stomach.

"A g-gut wound…." I hoarsely cackled. "I'm not walking this off."

A sudden death wasn't surprising; it came with the job description. What shocked me was my agreement with the mission to begin with.

Even on paper, we all knew we'd have to make the ultimate sacrifice. But, despite that, my team and I complied with the order.

We were charged with drawing enemy fire away from a civilian convoy.

It wasn't just us; various other squads were conscripted too. We congealed into a makeshift battalion, forming what would be our ragtag suicide corp.  Though we were complete strangers, we'd all be bound together by the cold grip of death.

Immediately after reaching our rendezvous point, we came under heavy fire from invading forces.

For a while, we fought the good fight against insurmountable odds.  Between our posts, the echo of crackling gunfire, thrumming engines, and thunderous explosions bounced between the city's concrete buildings.

Though the battlefield had been anything but quiet, every sound paled in comparison to that piercing whistle.

The noise was familiar. But, even so, my first thought was if it had been celestial. I thought the heavens were grieving for the souls lost in this wasteful war.

That's what I'd hoped, but I should've known there'd be no weeping for us.

That whistle wasn't some crying god expressing its angst for humankind. Instead, it was the sound of impending death...an artillery shell.

Speaking of sacrifice... I wonder what fool thought of the phrase "for the greater good," anyway. Had they considered the horrors of what they said?

Sure, in theory, martyring oneself for another was the right thing to do. But, in reality, that was only true for the ones being protected.

When you were the meat shield, it was only a terrifying and bitter-filled experience. One that made you lament the people you were dying for, not celebrate them.

Knowing my body was failing me, my blood boiled hotter than flame. It wasn't from the fast-approaching inferno. Rather it was the seething burn of hatred-fueled anger inside me.

pαпdα Йᴏνê1,сòМ The anger wasn't sensible, I know.

I knew I'd made my grave with my own choices, but dying wasn't something that inspired a rational mind. On the contrary, I was stuck in irrationality.

'How could they abandon us?! We're the protectors of those in need, but who's there to protect us?!' I cursed everyone and everything for my circumstances.

My still functioning fist clenched tight; it was my effort to relieve the turbulent emotions inside me.

After a wildfire of anger came a flood of regret. I realized I never achieved my adolescent goal of becoming a hero.

By now, I thought I'd have toppled a tyranny or two. I was supposed to be adorned with a wall of medals across my chest, proving that I was a man amongst men, a savior to those I wanted to save.  As the years slogged by, that goal became increasingly inaccessible to me.please visit panda-:)ɴᴏᴠᴇ1.co)m

I never defeated any oppressor. I'd only slain countless others who were, like me, just fighting for their right to survive.

As for the medals, they were just meaningless hunks of polished rock compared to what I'd done to obtain them.

The encroaching inferno tore me from thought, replacing my wheezing with pained whimpers.

While searing its way up, the flames left blackened streaks across my skin. It sank into my wounds upon reaching my stomach, thoroughly roasting my insides.

Though I wanted to scream, the pain robbed me of my ability to produce sounds.

The irony of it all was that, despite being a human torch, my body felt the coldest it had ever been.  I focused on what was the bright afternoon sky, but even that became unnaturally dark. It was as if the Sun had burnt out, transferring its raging inferno within me.

Like my flesh, the world I spent the past twenty-two years in was crumbling away toward obscurity.

I always thought that I'd be ready when the time came.  I always believed I'd die an admirable and heroic death, the kind that could end in the history books.  I wanted a death that gave meaning to my choices and principles, a death that proved my life meant something.

Unfortunately, I wasn't destined for that.

Far from it, I'd die as a meaningless statistic in some senseless war, doomed to be cast aside as a file in an abandoned archive.

A new pain welled up around my blackened eyes. It wasn't born from cuts or burns. Instead, the feeling came from deep within my heart.

'Dammit, shut up, you idiot!' I mentally slapped myself.

I had to silence these kinds of dissenting thoughts. I couldn't allow myself down that road. If I did, I wouldn't be able to hold it back. The least I could do was die like a true soldier, free from regrets!

But I was too late…

Thanks to my reflections, the one thought I didn't want to consider became all I could think about.  A bitter laugh escaped me as tears burned off my ashen skin.

'I don't want to die….'

***

I regained consciousness to see I was enveloped in darkness.

I tried opening my eyes, only to discover they hadn't ever been closed. Shut eyelids didn't block my vision; it was the ominous stare of the abyss.

'Ah...guess I'm dead.' I hadn't felt any particular way with the realization; maybe the reality hadn't yet sunk in.

I wasn't sure what to expect in the afterlife, but this hadn't been anything like I'd hoped or dreaded.

Instead of paradise or suffering, I'd been ripped from reality. I could only describe where I was as being set adrift in a waterless sea...alone.

I'm sure the thought would've terrified anyone, but floating through an empty void for eternity appealed to me.

Compared to the throes of death, the rhythmic clapping of gunfire, and the drone of active war machines, the sound of nothing was soul-soothing music. The kind that could lull a newborn baby to sleep.

I closed my eyes, content with an eternity of darkened isolation.

Ironically, my eternity was short-lived. It was cut off by a hoarse voice.

"...approaching…" It was faint like someone had spoken from the other side of a very long tunnel.

I tried to call out. Though my mouth performed the motions, I produced no noise. Did I forget how to speak?

The voice returned, this time sounding closer. "-epare… ar…val…heroes."

Abandoning a vocal response, I tried reaching out. That, too, ended in failure. I was halted by a twinge of sharpness within my chest.

It began as a pinch, a minor discomfort. But, as time passed, the pinch became a throb, and the throb became a stab. My body eventually became a vessel for the word "agony."

My insides were stuck in an endless cycle. Like they were being carved apart and put back together with glue, over and over again. Even the sensation of being incinerated was dwarfed in comparison.

Minutes were hours as I writhed.

I vigorously clawed at my chest, seriously considering the possibility of tearing it out if it meant that the suffering would cease.  I wholeheartedly believed I was on the verge of losing my sanity. Luckily, the suffering relented before that, leaving my near-broken mind intact.

To recover, I blanked out of consciousness. My body must've needed a factory reset after that agony.

Unfortunately, relief would still be a far-gone sensation, considering that a cold pressure began coiling around my ankle.

Swiveling my body towards it, I saw a vibrant green doorway of swirling light.

The pressure tightened and dragged me toward the cryptic portal.

I was too exhausted to fight anymore, especially since struggling seemed futile. So I relaxed my body, accepting whatever fate lay ahead of me.

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