Short Story

By : Athanasia Walters

It's June 7th, 2093. I’ve been on Okinawa for 2 months, fighting against the Japanese. 148 years after the second world war came the war I'm fighting in. The world’s third world war with the Russians, Japanese, Germans, and Italians against Canada, England, France and us, the United States. I’m Daniel Sam Krieger, a corporal in the United States Marine Corps. My buddies and I are machine and plasma gunners.

Right now we’re sitting in our mess tent, eating MRE’s or Meals Ready to Eat. My great grandmother had told me about her time’s MRE’s. They used to be powders and packages that you mixed with water and heated in a fireless heater. Now all you have to do is light a lighter and heat it for 10 seconds and it’ll turn from virtually nothing into a 3 course meal. Wheels and Madman are my best buds, who are currently throwing rice and beans at each other only a few inches away from my face. “I’m going outside.” I say. Outside past the hustle bustle of the camp there are the skeletons of Japanese and American structures, still standing from 148 years ago. I come out here sometimes to think. Usually the other marines don’t venture out far from the safety of camp when we’re not fighting but one other marine and myself come out here. She’s out here right now. She's someone no one talks to. No one even knows her real name. We all know her as Talkback. She has long blonde hair that is always out of a regulation bun, normally tied in a tight ponytail that swings when she walks, grey green eyes and tanned olive skin.

I sit down a few feet away from her. “Talkback.” I say nodding at her. “Warrior.” She says nodding back, the hint of a smile creeping onto her lips. She looks back to the green and we both fall silent until Kill Billy runs down the path. “I thought I’d find you two here. We’re moving out. We got vehicle assignments. It’s me, you two, Wheels and Madman. Let’s go. We need to get our gear.” We both hop down from the rock. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Kill Billy shouts. “Do you ever SHUT UP?” Talkback asks, smacking him on the back of the head. We walk down the path together to the makeshift barracks and set about packing our stuff.  

…

We're in the Humvee 130.0. Wheels drives, Kill Billy's next to him manning his plasma gun, Talkback sits behind Kill Billy with her machine gun (her idea; in case she needs to slap him in the back of the head), Madman's up on the top in his armored compartment, manning his plasma/50 caliber machine gun. I'm behind Wheels, manning my machine gun. We drive through the jungle, hoping to God we don't get shot up. I feel a tap on my arm. Madman lightly kicks my arm. “Relax Warrior. We’re going to our camp not the gas chamber. Lighten up.”

“Little hard in enemy territory.” Madman swings down into the half-seat in between Talkback and I. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little stuffed pig. “It was my little brother’s. He gave it to me and told me it would keep me safe. It makes me feel relaxed. I know you have a little sister. Pretend this is something she gave you, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thanks man. But it’s alright. You hold on to it.” I say, smiling at the generosity you don’t frequently see in this wasteland.

…

The jungle is full of life with a slight aftertaste of death. Insects are chiming and you can even hear the occasional bird, but the air is thick and hot and you can smell the decay of wet wood and bodies of the Japanese. Every now and then you can see one sticking out of the tall grass or tied to a tree. They are gruesome and gory, their hands tied or cut off, their eyes gouged out, long gashes spanning the length of their bodies and signs hanging around their

necks with “Beware of the J**s” or “Suck my c**k, you J** pigs” in red or black ink.

I step on something squishy and look down. It’s the arm of a fellow American soldier. His eyes are open and glassy and his chest is covered with blood. I kneel next to him and touch his neck. It’s still warm to the touch and my eyes widen. “Everybody down, NOW!” I yell, ducking.

Everybody begins to duck as the shots ring out through the clearing, just beyond the trees. I aim at where the noise is coming from and fire a few times. I hear a shout of pain and then the gun fires again. Madman stands up and starts firing towards it. “Madman! Get your a** down!” I yell at him.

“I can aim better this way, Warrior!”

I crawl over and pull on his leg, trying to get him to sit down. “Madman, you’re gonna get your fool self killed. GET DOWN.” I tell him.

Suddenly, I hear him yell. There's a spray of blood coming from his mouth and from his stomach.

He falls, only a few inches away from me, a blood spot already growing on his fatigues. “Someone take out that sniper. I need to get Madman out of here!” I yell. I rip open an antibacterial packet and shake it over his stomach, then wrap a bandage around it.“Don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of here, no trouble.” I put his arm around my shoulders and lift him up. The other marines fire towards the Japanese soldier. I assume I have enough covering fire to make it out of the field to safer ground.

I begin to run, dragging him along. I have Madman on my right, and both his and my packs strapped to my back. A dull throb begins in my arm and spreads to my back.

The noise from the machine gun gradually dies down, and is replaced by a thrumming in my ears. I run by Talkback. “Talkback, take him out.” I say, barely able to form the words.

She aims carefully and fires, and the machine gun is silent. She turns and grabs Madman away from me. “I’ll help them back to base. They’re injured. You finish the patrol.”

“You go with them, Talkback. I’m fine taking him alone.”

“Warrior, you’re hit. You’re not going anywhere just the two of you.” I look at her, smile, and nod. Then the pain kicks in.

I hadn’t felt it before but now it is overwhelming. I can’t imagine what Madman was going through. “Come on, let’s go.”

…

We practically run into the medic’s tent. Talkback puts Madman down on one of the cots. The medics come and begin yelling and bustling around, grabbing things off of shelves.

“Is he gonna make it?” I ask.

They hook him up to a heart monitor and stick an IV in his arm. “We don’t know.” They reply.  I feel like a weight has been dropped in my stomach upon hearing those words.

“Warrior?” Madman groans, looking around blindly. He looks feverish, his forehead spotted with beads of sweat. “Dude, it hurts so bad.”

“I know, I know. Come on, man. Stay with me. You can do this. Come on.”

His heartbeat on the monitor slows.

“Come on, come on, come on.” I feel him push a little lump into my hand. The medics push me away and I drop his hand. “Madman, come on! You can do this! Come on buddy!”

“Clear.” The medics say, placing 4 silver patches on his exposed chest. The patches emit a shock. They all look at the monitor, then clear him again for another shock, and again it does nothing. His heartbeat on the monitor remains a flat line. They put a blanket over his body and cover his face, pulling off their gloves. “Find him in the system. Notify his parents and find his will.” One of the medics says as if it were rehearsed, as if he’d said it so many times the words had lost meaning. As if it was as casual as talking about the weather, and a sudden wave of nausea washes over me at the thought.

I take a step back, straight into Talkback. “Come on. Let’s get you fixed up.”

She guides me to a cot and takes my pack, and then Madman's, off my back. As she calls over a medic, I look at my hand and see the little pig, a little spot of blood on his ear. The medic comes and cuts off my shirt and tends to the wound on left arm and my back. Talkback holds my hand as the medic stitches up the gash, without the help of morphine, as I asked. Right now, all I need to do is feel something, as if the pain is the only tie I have left to the earth. The medic tells me I need some sleep and even when I protest he forces it on me.

“I’ll go.” Talkback says standing. “I’ll check to make sure no one else got hurt.” I sit up quickly and grab her arm with my good one. “If it’s not to much to ask… Could you stay here?” She nods and sits back down. I lie back and close my eyes.

…

I wake up to the sound of the few crickets this god forsaken island still has left. Talkback is half asleep, her head resting on my cot. I quietly slide out from under the blanket. She stirs and sits up.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Outside.”

She follows me to the flap of the tent. I open it and walk outside. The world is dark, the only light coming from the stars and the moon, a white sliver on a dark background.