Side Affects of Decisions
“I’m looking for Marshal Jackobs.” Lieutenant Klowski demanded.
“Well, his leg is that squiggly thing kicking on that rock and there’s half his face leaking puss over the Sergeant’s good shoes.” Private Benetti pointed through the carnage. Klowski leant forward trying to make sense of the dissembled organs splattering the front of the tent.
“That complicates matters.” Klowski murmured to herself.
“Sergeant Khalessi is giving orders in the kitchen if you want to talk to her.” Benetti offered.
“That won’t do, dear one. Jackobs is the commander’s brother. We were meant to trade him in.” Klowski flicked a spot of blood from Benetti’s cheek. The fifteen-year old’s lips pursed together. He had a mole under his nose.
“Pretty sure I saw his brain get taken to the cafeteria. Would that work?”
“Depends. How eaten was it?” Klowski calculated the odds to be very low.
“It was chewy.” Benetti confirmed. “It was finished rather quickly.”
The sound of missiles and orders punctuated the rapid exchange. “It’s not good to eat brains. The prions in them can cause neurodegenerative diseases.” Klowski informed, recalling back to the biology class that she had flunked with flying colours.
“We’re starving on the front lines.” Benetti pointed to his rail thin bones.
“That foot looks mildly salvageable.” It was twitching. The bone was crushed in pulp but it had a quarter of the meaty calf.
“One word lieutenant; fungus.” Benetti shivered as it the mere mention of the word was enough to contract it.
“Three words: degenerative brain disease.”
“We’re all fucking crazy ma’am. Look, there goes Agnes.” Benetti pointed to the streaking figure yelling a whorl of slurs. They headed directly into the enemy camp with nothing but an m16 and a tangent of cocaine swirling through they’re blood.
“Yes, I remember them. Odd fellow. I s’pose that means we’re out of cannon balls.” Klowski assumed.
