He knew this was wrong, even as he gave his first Yes, Sir! to the command. As he walked toward the city border, he knew it was wrong even more. Each face beyond the fence shone a glow of horror and it tore at his soul. He checked his rifle, gear, and from beneath veiled eyes, the faces of his fellow soldiers. Each face was an echo of his own. No one wanted to be doing what they were told to do now. He approached his deployment point and waited. . . waited for the time when his morals took a backseat to his duty.
Caged animals, that's what they looked like to him. He couldn't place it as such as he was walking up, but he saw the unbridled form of human emotion taking place before him. If what was on the other side of the fence escaped nothing could stop it. It would go from city to city, country to country, devouring the entire race before a person could bat an eye. He wanted to believe this, but he knew that it might not be true. It could be stopped. It could be contained. A cure could be found. The lives already lost could be the only ones needed to be sacrificed. The images from inside the quarantine zone showed otherwise. He never knew, before going to the briefing two days ago that a person could be reduced to what he was seeing. He wasn't sure what he was seeing was real or some film directors imagination. He cradled his gun closer, safety off, and tried to block the sounds of the poor souls beyond the chain link fence from his mind.
There were shouts coming from all around him, both sides of the fence. There is a breach. There is a command to kill all suspected of infection. Negative, no breach. Someone escaped. Someone outside is infected. He couldn't tell what was the truth any more. He looked around for his commander, silently pleading, asking what he should do. He couldn't shoot his own countrymen. He couldn't shoot a mother cradling her baby. He saw the commander on the radio, yelling emphatically, demanding to know what the orders where. A hand gesture activated his training and before he even realized, his rifle was pointed towards the crowd. The roar of jet engines sounded above him. He glanced around at other soldiers and saw the weapons shaking in their hands. This is wrong. He kept telling himself he had to do it, but this was wrong. Who wasn't affected? We should be saving those that could be saved, he thought. His eyes glanced to the commander, watching in slow motion as his arm fell. His eyes moved slowly to the crowd before him, staring into the soul of a little girl, nose bleeding and eyes burning red. With hot tears streaking down his sweat chilled skin, he pulled the trigger as fire ignited the city before him, begging God to forgive him for what he is doing.
1 comment:
Aww, this is really sad but really good. I loved this bit :) Keep going!
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