WAR_Philosophical short story

WAR

By Patrick Wood

INTERSECTION

                I’m not sure how this all came about.  Just this morning I was all by myself scouring a small abandoned city for supplies when I came across a man lying on the side of the road.  I wasn’t sure what to do.

                I mean, not ten years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to help in some way or another.  But this is now, not then.  Things are different.

                I stood there for…I’m not sure how long.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if he was dead or not.  I was just about to walk away when he gave a weak cough.  I bent down and stared at the man’s face.  Eventually he opened his eyes and stared back.  I could see he wasn’t fully conscious.  It looked like he was staring through me into…nothing.

                I tapped him on the shoulder.  “You alright?”  That was a stupid question.  I just hadn’t seen anyone else in so long I wasn’t sure what else to say.

                I could see his eyes start to focus and his brow wrinkle in confusion.  He tried to talk but his lips and throat were dry.  I pulled a canteen from by pack and handed it to him.  Slowly, he sat up and took a few sips and finally spoke, “Where am I?”

                “Yuma.”

                The man looked around very confused.  “…Yuma?”

                He sat up slowly still taking small sips from the canteen.  “When did I…”  He took one last mouthful and handed the canteen back.  “I was in San Diego.  Someone, someone must have left me here.”

                I wasn’t sure what to say; so I said nothing.  He didn’t seem to mind.  “You have somewhere to stay?”

                “I’m staying in an old hotel for now.  That suit you?”

                The man nodded and offered me his hand.  I considered the implications.  Taking him meant caring, feeding him, giving him a bed, and risking my life.  But leaving him…  I finally did take his hand and helped him to his feet.  And that’s how I got to where I am now.  Just hours ago I was doing things the way I normally did; alone with no responsibilities.  And now I am shuffling through the streets with a half awake, injured man resting heavily on my shoulder.  We are almost back to the hotel now.  Suddenly a woman comes out of an alley way up ahead and turns to face us.

                The injured man instantly raises his empty hands in the air.  I just stand here and stare, waiting to see what she will do.  She pulls the edge of her jacket back slowly and places her hand on the hilt of a pistol.  However, she doesn’t draw.  We all stand here a minute seeing who is going to make the first move.

                Finally I decide to say something: “I’m taking this guy to the hotel down the street for some meds and rest.  You can come if you want.”  What am I thinking?  I just took on a second person!

                The woman doesn’t seem to ease up or speak.  The man beside me does: “I have no intention of harming anyone.  And as for this man,” he nods toward me, “if he was the bandit type he would have killed me a half hour ago when I was lying unconscious in the street.”  She keeps staring at us but her focus is now specifically directed towards me.  She has a curious look on her face.  I don’t think either of us quite understands the other.  Finally she speaks: “You lead.  I’ll walk behind.”

                I’m not sure what would posses this woman to follow two men into a hotel in this day and age.  On the other hand, it doesn’t really concern me.  If she can handle herself then it’s her decision.

                We walk the rest of the way in silence.  I can feel the woman’s eyes behind me watching intently.  I don’t bother looking back.  I’m just keeping my eyes forward, marching on as if no one else is there.  I’ve never cared if anyone was there before, and I’m trying not to care even now that there is.

                As we reach to hotel I check the entrance for foreign footprints to make sure no one entered while I was gone.  I signal for the others to enter.  The woman stares at the man, waiting for him to lead.  He trudges in slowly.  The woman follows a few steps behind.

                We spend most of the time in silence, moving slowly, keeping an eye on each other.  Eventually we do get used to each other enough to begin small conversations.  We all make sure we have enough supplies to last a few weeks and make plans to move out the following morning.

                It’s just before nightfall so we start cooking a small meal from some scraps of food that were left in the kitchen of the hotel.  The woman goes outside to relieve herself as I start serving up dinner to the other man and me.  Just as I sit down, a third man barges into the room with a rifle up against his shoulder.  I can tell from his eyes that he’s killed many times before and won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.  I slowly raise my hands above my head.  “I’ve got food and ammunition to last a while.  You can have it all and be on your way.”

                The man gives a raspy laugh and looks down his sights.  “That’s not the way I play, fool.”  There is a small click of a gun loading as the woman steps out from behind him with a pistol planted firmly behind his head.  “Drop it!”

                The man’s eyes move slowly across the room measuring up the situation.  Fearing the worst, I start moving my hand slowly toward my shotgun lying beside me.  All of a sudden the man drops his rifle and puts both hands up in the air casually.  “Looks like I’m outnumbered here,” he says with a small grin.  He eyes the plate of food in front of me.  “Got enough for one more?”

                The woman wastes no time in pulling several assorted weapons from the man’s pockets and boots.  She pushes them off to the side of the room with her foot, keeping her pistol on him at all times.  The man doesn’t seem bothered at all.

                “What makes you think we’d be stupid enough to feed you?” the woman asks.  She is still removing the man’s knives and energy based pistols.

                Suddenly, the man grabs her arm and spins around.  By the time I grab my shotgun, he has her left arm wrenched behind her back and a knife to her throat.  For a moment I can see the crazed look of a cornered animal in his eyes.

                “You’ll feed me,” he breathes heavily, “because I could have killed you by now.  But I didn’t.  ‘Cause I don’t wanna get shot!”  He eases his grip slightly.

                Before I can react the woman turns the tables on him.  The man is on the ground, doubled over, hands between his legs with blood dripping from his nose.  The woman is standing over him with a large pistol pointed directly at his head.  It is a tense moment.  The woman lowers her weapon and spits on the man who forces an airy laugh, then groans.

                “We’ll feed him.  But just for tonight.  And if he acts up,” she leans down close to the man’s face, “I’ll break your other one.”

ACTIONS

                “So, what do we call each other?”  The gruff man is speaking with his mouth half full of stew.  He’s still bent over and has strips of cloth stuffed up his nose.  We all glance at each other questioningly.  “Well, I figure we’re gonna be here all night.  And seeing how the sun’s not quite down I figured we’d get bored just sitting here not talking.  And not much use talking without names of some sort.”

                I’m sure what to do.  I haven’t used my name in so long I have to take a moment to remember it.

                “No names!” the woman says.  All eyes turn to her.  “Names make an automatic attachment.  We’re all leaving in the morning and we’re all better off on our own.  We shouldn’t use our real names.”

                The loud man gives a sarcastic grunt.  “‘Aight then, what’ll we call each other?”

                The shy man gestures to me, “You, this was your safe house so you’ll be Alpha.  I’m Bravo since I was the second person here.  The woman is Charlie,” the other man gives an amused snort, “and you’re Delta.”

                “Fine by me.  Alpha, pass the…drink.  Whatever it is.”  I hand him the makeshift pitcher in front of me.  “Yeah, I guess I can get used to that.  So, what’re we gonna chat about?”  Delta looks around the table with a kind of curious excitement.

                Charlie speaks first, “Well I’m curious about how we all got here.”  All eyes turn toward me.  I just stare back.

                “What?” I ask trying to avoid the obvious.

                “Well seeing as how you’re the master of the house, I s’pose you should go first,” Delta replies.

                I clear my throat.  “Well…I’ve always lived here in Yuma.  And after everything went to pot I couldn’t really think of anywhere else to go so I just stayed here.”

                “You haven’t wandered?” Bravo asks, astonished.

                “No.  I’ve always had enough here so I figured there was no point in traveling.  I was over in the hospital until a couple weeks ago before the water tanks ran dry.”

                Delta whistles in amazement.  “Think I’d go crazy if I stayed in one place more than a couple days!”

                I shove a stale piece of bread in my mouth.  “What about you?” I glance toward Bravo.

                “No, no.  Not so fast,” Charlie breaks in.  “How have you made it this long without traveling?  What’s your secret?”

                I pause as if I’m waiting for the question to answer itself.  “I don’t know,” another dumb response, “I guess I stay put until supplies run out and then I walk until I find a better place to stay.  And so far that hasn’t brought me outside city limits.”

                “Ok, but I thought all supplies were gathered and people evaced out of towns with populations over a couple thousand.”

                “Yeah, that’s true.  But a lot of stuff was left behind.  People were moving so fast they just weren’t thorough.”

                “So why didn’t you evac?”  Delta is eyeing me suspiciously.

                “I guess I panicked and missed the opportunity.”

                I am met with blank stares.  “They gave everyone a twenty-four hour evac window!”

                “I know.  I just couldn’t figure what to pack or…something.  I don’t know; it’s all kind of a blur now.”

                Delta starts chuckling.  “Whadya know: through indecision and dumb luck this s.o.b. survived E-Day!”

                Charlie ignores him and continues on, “So what about you Bravo?”

                Bravo hangs his head.  “I’m not sure how I ended up here exactly,” he says slowly.

                “How do you mean?”

                “I was with my family in San Diego.  We managed to stay held up in a church for some time and didn’t have any problems.  People passed through and we would barter food and supplies as we needed.  Occasionally we had to roam around but we never strayed far from the church.”

                “Ever have problems with raiders?”

                Bravo falls silent.  “Not until last week,” he whispers.  Delta’s eyebrows rise curiously.

                Bravo starts wringing his hands nervously and clears his throat a couple times.  “We, *cough* we were fine until last Thursday.”  His eyes are looking around the room like they were searching for a place to hide.  “We thought they were just another small group of travelers.  They came inside looking for things to barter but they started getting aggressive.  They started asking for absurd trades and…using obscene language.  One of them even grabbed at my daughter and…” he starts getting choked up.  “It all happened so fast…I’m not sure what happened.”  He pauses.  Charlie and I sit still and quiet as Delta keeps eating away.

                Finally Bravo starts again, “I killed them…”  Delta grunts.  “I killed them all.  They killed my wife and daughter but didn’t get to me.”  Bravo is staring blankly at the table.  “I swore to them we would be ok; that we would make it.  And I swore I would do it without killing anyone.”

                Delta’s eyes widen in disbelief.  “Without killing anyone?” he repeats.

                “I lied to them…they didn’t make it.  And I…I killed them!”

                “Wait, wait, wait,” Delta interrupts.  “You thought you could make it out of this God-forsaken wasteland without killing anybody?!  When was the last time you looked out the window?  That shaz doesn’t work here, Bravo.”

                “That may be your belief, Delta.  But it is not mine.  Who am I to take the life of another man?  Who am I to put myself above anyone else?”  Bravo reaches inside his shirt and clutches a small crucifix hanging by a chain around his neck.  “The sixth,” he mutters to himself.

                “The wha’?”

                “The sixth commandment,” Charlie butts in.  “‘Thou shall not kill.’”

                Delta just stares back and forth between the two of them.  “Yeah…bad plan.”  He leans back in his chair confidently. 

                “We all pay for our sins, Delta.”  Bravo’s voice is resolute now.

                “Come again?”

                “This whole, ‘God-forsaken wasteland’, as you call it, is our fault.”

                “Really?  Cuz I’m pretty certain none of us here dropped the bomb on D.C., or New York, or Chicago, or…”

                “Have you really forgotten the atrocities of World War Three?!  People created new ways of killing each other the likes of which this world has never seen before.  And humanity used them without a moment’s hesitation.  Well humanity has received its due payment.  And I will have nothing to do with it!”

                Bravo has a firm grip on his crucifix.

                Delta just stares for a moment.  “Yeah…ok.  So, what ‘bout you, Charlie?  You anything like this Religious?”

                “Not exactly, I only kill when I need to.”

                “Ah, right.  And how do you define that?”

                “When either myself or someone else is in harm’s way,” she replied quickly.

                Satisfied, Delta just nods his head and says nothing.

                “So then, what’s your story?” I ask Charlie.

                “Honestly there’s not much to tell up until the other day.”  She sits back in her chair.  “I was with a small caravan; about a dozen people.  We were up near what used to be Buckskin Mountain State Park when we saw a raider party of nearly thirty people.  I’m a sniper and we had a couple other people who were excellent shots but we figured it would be more worth our time to move around.”

                “What, you didn’t have a good position on the raiders?” Delta asks.

                “No, we could see them fine.  We were up on a small ridge with a clear shot.”

                “Were they low on supplies?” I ask.

                “Again, no.  It looked like they had recently taken another caravan.  They were inspecting what looked like new supplies and cleaning their weapons.”

                Delta’s mouth drops open.  “And you didn’t just frakin’ wipe ‘em out?”

                “No.  We were far enough away we figured we could spare the ammo and still make it past.”

                “Uh-huh.  Something’s tellin’ me it didn’t go as expected.”

                Charlie’s eyes sadden.  “They took us by surprise that night.  We thought they had so many supplies there was no way they would go mobile that soon.  We were wrong.”  She pauses and rubs the back of her neck.  “Only a few of us made it out of the camp alive.  But we all scattered so I have no idea where the others are or if they’ve even survived this long.”

                “Sounds like you shoulda wasted ‘em.”

                “In hind sight, of course.  But there’s no way of knowing beforehand, is there?  Making blind decisions like that can lead to huge mistakes.”

                “Like?”

                “You never know until it happens I guess.”  There is a look of resolve in her eyes.  However, I can’t help but notice a hint of sorrow.  Charlie looks up and catches my eye.  I can tell she knows I understand.

                “And what about you, Delta?”  Bravo finally speaks again.  “What’s your story?”

                Delta leans forward.  His almost constant smirk vanishes from his face.  “‘My story’?” he repeats.  “My story starts in hell.  I was one of almost two hundred orphans up in south Detroit years before the war.  Let me tell you, I learned from a young age that this world consists of two kinds of people: those who survive, and those who die.  Only question is: what will you do to survive.  In my years at the orphanage I killed three other kids just to make sure I wasn’t beaten to death by the bullies.  Still, there were several nights I fell asleep on a basketball court with a bleeding face and broken bones just hoping I would wake up the next morning.  So, by the time the war hit, I was ready.  I left and joined up with a raider group by the end of the first week.”

                “Well that does explain a few things,” Charlie interrupts.  She puts her hand back on her pistol.

                “Oh, honey, don’t be too quick to throw me in with those goons,” Delta continues.  “It didn’t take me long to realize there was a big difference ‘tween them and me.  We’d go around from town to town burnin’ down buildings, stealing food and supplies, killing men and raping women.  Suddenly it hit me:  all these frakers had already given themselves over to the grave.  The only thing that kept them going was to get one more hit before they took a bullet to the brain.”  Delta’s sly grin returns.  “But I wasn’t gonna give up that easily.  No, no, no, no!  I want to survive!  So one night before a big raid I decided to act.  I took my pistol and knife and killed all thirty-two of those studs.  Then I took whatever food, weapons, supplies, and fuel I needed and started drivin’.  I’ve been on the road taking care of myself ever since.”

                There is a moment before Bravo breaks the silence.  “So that’s it then, huh?  Whatever happens to anyone else doesn’t matter as long as you come out on top?”  We all look at Delta.

                “Yeah…that pretty much sums it up.”

                “All the things you must have done…all the people you’ve killed…how can you live with yourself?”

                Delta takes another sip of his drink and leans back in his chair with a grin, “Pretty well so far.”

                It looks like Bravo and Delta are about to get into something but Charlie speaks up.  “Sun’s down, we should rest.  I take it we’re all moving out in the morning?”  She glances over at me.  I just shrug.

                We each find a place around the room to lie down.  Bravo says a quick prayer before burying himself under a pile of old papers.  He keeps tossing and turning and his brow is furled.   Charlie pulls a small tattered blanket out of her pack and lies down on a bench.  Delta takes a faded sleeping bag from his pouch.  He folds his arms on top of him a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other.  I just sit against the wall on the far side of the room.  I slowly nod off into another restless night of sleep.

CONSEQUENCES

                I wake up just after sunrise to the sound of a gunshot.  My head jolts up despite the stiffness in my neck.  Charlie and Delta are both alert and armed, scanning their surroundings.  Charlie is the first to see it.

                To the side along the wall is Bravo’s body.  There is a bloody mess on the wall behind him and a still smoking pistol in his right hand.  In his left is a crumpled piece of paper.  I sit there staring at the scene as Charlie and Delta walk over to inspect.

                Charlie opens the note and starts reading to herself.  Delta grabs Bravo’s pistol and starts going through his pockets.

                “What does it say?” I ask Charlie.

                She finishes reading and then starts back from the top.

Alpha, Charlie, Delta,

                I am sorry to leave you with this mess.  The sun has just now started to come over the horizon and I have been lying here all night unable to sleep.  Delta may be able to live with what he has done but I cannot.  There is only one more life I will take and it is my own.  Hopefully it will atone for the others.

God forgive me,

Bravo

                “Shaz!”  Delta is staring out a window.  “Sorry to break up the funeral but we have some company.”

                A small band of raiders is coming up the street shouting and waving their weapons in the air.  Charlie and Delta flip a table on its side and push it up against the front door.  I pick up my shotgun and squat behind the two.

                “Must have heard him shoot,” Delta spits.  “Stupid little…”

                “Shut it!”  Charlie braces herself with a long rifle on top of the table.  She takes the first shot.  One of the raider’s heads snaps back violently as he falls from his motorcycle.  The rest continue undaunted.  Charlie takes another shot and another raider goes down.  By this time they are close enough that Delta starts shooting with his pistol.  However the raiders start shooting as well.

                Parts of the table start breaking off.  I can hear bullets fly past my head.  I crouch down and wait until it sounds like they are right outside the door.  Without looking, I pointed my gun over the table and fire a few shots.  Everything is so loud I feel like I have already gone deaf.  I’m barely able to hear Delta shout, “Smoke!” but it is too late to do anything about it.  One of the raiders tosses a smoke grenade into the building.  It lands right in front of me and blows up in my face.

                I get up and try to run but the smoke gets in my eyes and I can’t see where I am going.  It is in my nose and lungs as well so it’s hard enough to just breathe.  I feel a sharp pain in my chest as I stumble forward into the back wall.  After a few seconds the smoke clears and my eyes stop watering.  The room is littered with dead raider bodies and weapons.  Charlie is off in the corner applying a tourniquet to her leg and Delta is walking around whistling to himself.  He is collecting items off the dead bodies and, besides a small cut on his cheek, seems to be unharmed.

                Suddenly everything becomes blurry.  I try to wipe my eyes but as I bring my hand up, I see it is covered in blood.  I look down to see that my whole shirt is stained red.  Now the pain in my chest returns and is accompanied by a deep cold.

                I can barely make out Charlie staring at me.  “I’m sorry,” she says.  “There’s no way to stop the bleeding.”

                She raises a pistol toward me but Delta cuts in, “It’s not worth it.  He’ll be dead in a few seconds anyway.  Might as well save your ammo.”

                I try to raise my hand to stop Charlie but it is getting too heavy and not responding.  The best I can manage is to nod my head a few times in agreement.

                Reluctantly, Charlie lowers her weapon and rises to her feet.  She stands there a moment before limping away.  Delta is already a good ways off still collecting things from the raider’s bodies.  I just sit there against the wall feeling my chest rise and fall with each labored breath.  Slowly everything fades to black.