Untitled

Again and again, I scrape through the dirt as I come to the brink and back. With each horrible exertion, I move closer to base camp. Through my blurred, fading vision I catch glimpses of more and more familiar sights. Of an oddly shaped rock I recall passing, a track of footprints in the dirt of our boots we left when we charged in, a dying tree that stood alone as if warning us of our similar fates. Before long I see a group of men in uniforms that match my own. Relief floods my body and I find myself losing strength rapidly. Before I feel the last of my energy leave me, I muster up what’s left and push against the soil. My head rises and my ragged throat shakes as I shout out to them. I see someone rush forward and hear their voices rising. I hear the concern in their voices as they move closer and I drop to the floor, assured of my safety and losing all strength in my body. I faintly feel gentle hands wrap around me and voices cry out for a response, but my hearing fades and my body numbs as I fall unconscious.

A while passes and I find myself waking up from a nap. I gently poke myself in the stomach before, after finding the pain tolerable enough, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the floor. As I put my weight onto my feet, pain shoots up my bandaged leg. It is then that I notice the two crutches placed beside me against the bed. I grab them and force myself off the bed. Limping and in pain, I slowly make my way to the entrance of the tent, passing a medic who looks back at me with weary eyes. As I brush the curtain door open, two medics carrying a stretcher enter and I watch them move the ferried patient onto the bed I lay on moments ago. I limp through the camp slowly, making my way to the tent belonging to my squad. I pass by several tents, some full of men wearing expressions dark with fear, some entirely devoid of life, and a few with men crouched and shaking quietly, bereaving the empty beds that occupy the tent. I… I keep going. I reach my tent and find it empty. I move over to my bed and sit, staring at the bed opposite to mine, belonging to Snake. It was the dead of the night when he ran through the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs about a snake, only for us to find a broken rope wrapped around him after he had fainted. I turn to my right, where the bed belonging to Pumpkin Pie was. The namesake pie he ate gave him the worst stomachache any of us had the displeasure of hearing, and smelling, in our life. I move my gaze to the beds beside it, blinking out the tears beginning to blur my vision. Rockhill, Joey, Dung, Claymore, Hourglass. I reach into my blood-stained uniform and pull out a ragged piece of cloth, on it is a cheaply painted image with all of us laughing. I stare deeply into the painted faces on the cloth before noticing a tear fall onto it. I fold it up and shove it back into my shirt, before the rest of my tears pour out. Without realising, my hand starts bleeding as my nails dig deep into my palm, but the pain of it is eclipsed by the tearing in my heart. The muscles in my chest tighten and pull me inwards, my heart squeezed tightly and beating fiercely against my flesh and bones. My throat is dry and painful, and each heaving breath I take is punctuated by my violent sobs. My cheeks flush with blood and my head spins. I feel myself fall onto my dirty pillow, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing out the tears that teetered on the edge of my eyelids. Crying myself to sleep, I slip away from the world and faintly hope to enter the one with all my friends.

A set of rapid pats on my face pulls me from my slumber, my body jerking violently upwards. Blinking rapidly, my eyes attempt to adjust to the dim environment I find myself in. I see the figure of a man standing before me. I squint up at him, his face hidden in the shadow of the single weak light hanging from the ceiling. He lifts his hand up and speaks. “Look at that, I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to still be here.” The man takes a step back and the light reaches his face. I finally recognise the man before me as Bucket, someone from another squad I knew. He extends a hand out for me to grab and lifts me into a sitting position. I spot a set of playing cards and a bottle of alcohol with two cups on the adjacent bed. Bucket searches his uniform for a moment before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. I accept when he offers me one, and he lights both of ours before grabbing the cards. “What do you think of a game of Stoneface?” “More fun if there were more of us left. Maybe Liar? “I’ve been playing Liar for weeks, how about Usurper?” “Alright, I’m fine with that.” He splits the deck in two and sets aside the jokers. Bucket starts first, placing down a 3 of diamonds. “So how did ya get back?” I place a 7 of hearts. “Crawled back after the lot of us blew up, you?” He places an 8 of hearts. “Got knocked out in an ambush, reinforcements came and found me.” I place a King of diamonds. “So where’d the booze come from, don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on us?” He places down a King of clubs. “I was gonna pop it open for my squad when we finished our deployment. Can’t exactly do that now can I?” My hand freezes for a second, before I place down an Ace of hearts. “Well then I’ll thank what luck I have that I get to drink it with you.” He painfully gives a soft chuckle and places down an Ace of spades. “And you better relish it, I had to starve for half a month to afford it.” I place down a 2 of clubs. “How fancy, with how much booze I see you drink, I’m surprised you only starved for half a month.” Bucket stops for a moment, staring at his cards, before quickly placing down a 2 of hearts. “Bought the others with the previous half a month’s worth, felt like an addict holding back after buying this.” My eye twitches and I place down a 2 of spades. Bucket sighs and straightens the pile, sliding it over to me. I put the stack of cards to my side while he retrieves the bottle and cups. “Loser drinks or winner drinks?” He asks. I chuckle and respond, “Winner, of course. Getting drunk ain’t a punishment tonight.” As he pours out a cup, he says, “Thought I could get ya to let me have the first taste” before handing it over. I take the cup and bring it to my lips. A thick oaky aroma enters my nose, along with some sharp pricks of alcohol and spice. I let out a breath thick with alcohol and take a long drag from my cigarette. Staring at the cards in my hand, I find myself speaking. “Drink a cup with me Bucket. No booze in the world’s good enough to enjoy by my lonesome.” He pours out a cup and sits next to me while taking a sip from it. “Hey now, a good cup of booze’s been my best night-time companion since I started drinking.” I raise my cup to him and he raises his in response, the sharp clink of our cups ringing out clearly. “I can tell you’ve never spent a nice night with a pretty lady then!” The two of us laugh together while drinking, the game long abandoned. An ember falls from my cigarette onto my bedsheet. I feel a warmth grow slightly beside me and rush to stamp it out, while Bucket laughs even harder at me. As the fire dies prematurely, I sigh and take a sip of my drink. Bucket takes another sip before knocking back the rest of it.

I look deep into his eyes for a moment, before gripping his shoulder. “I think you’re crazy, if there was such a terrifying enemy we would’ve heard about it before.” I force a smile, “And don’t even think about dying before I get a chance to show you that pretty escort I met last year! I’ll show you there’s a better partner than a decent bottle.” The tears roll down his face as he tenses up. I see his mouth twitch as he forces a smile. Our nails dig into each other’s shoulders, before we both release our grip. I pick back up my cup that I had accidentally dropped onto the floor and fill it with a little bit of alcohol. I hand it to Bucket before picking up his and filling it as well. “Come on now, we still need to drink up this good booze while we have it to ourselves.” He smiles at me and we raise our cups together. A bright flash fills my vision and I feel a strong force on my side. My feet leave the ground as my body flies across the tent. I crash hard into the ground and smash my head against the dirt. Right before I pass out I hear a guttural roar, like that of a dying man gargling thickened blood, and smell the rancid odour of blood and rotten meat.

The headless corpse of the man lifts up the black blade above itself, casting a long shadow over Bucket. I try to shout to warn him, but as Bucket turns back around his entire body collapses on itself as the sword cleaves him from crown to tail and splits him in two. I watch in horror as his body falls apart pathetically. The headless body stumbles before plunging the sword into the ground and falling to the floor. Alone in a field of mutilated bodies, and feeling as though I’ve seen enough horrors, I stare at the surface of that monstrous sword. My stomach drops as upon its rotting surface appears a seam which bulges out grotesquely. This seam splits open to reveal a large eye, blood-shot and dripping with yellow-green pus. The eye darts around, flinging pus as it does, looking all around the battlefield. The eye lands upon the head of its previous owner, the withered and balding head already attracting flies as it rots. Suddenly, it swivels to meet my gaze and I feel a pervasive sensation dig into me. I cannot look away as it stares into me. An unspeakable curse wraps around my throat and a strangling sensation squeezes around my heart, my breath grows haggard and my heartbeat drums loudly in my ears. Its iris glows a malicious purple hue, the many fibrous muscles undulating slightly as it focuses on me. The pitch-black depths of its pupils, like an endless void, seems to pull at my soul, trying to suck me in. The sensations of my body fades from my mind as my senses numb, I find myself rising up to my feet. My stomach rips open and dark crimson blood pours out onto the floor. I drag my feet forward, each step spilling more and more. My gaze remains fixed on the beckoning eye of the sword, drawing me close. I reach the sword, stepping over Bucket’s corpse, and stretch my hand out to grab it. I pull it back with my other hand, fighting with all my strength to resist. I look down at the eye and match its gaze. I bite my lip, and feel the pain spread through my body as I wrest control back. A deep horrible burning emanates from my abdomen and I can almost feel my stomach fall out of my body. My grip on my hand weakens as my strength is sapped by the pain spreading through my muscles. I dig into my skin to rouse some strength back. The eye’s purple iris and black pupil seem to blend together, my vision beginning to fail. I cough blood which splatters directly onto its slick surface. The eye snaps shut and I see it writhe in discomfort as more pus leaks through the gaps. It stops moving and snaps open. I feel faint as it glares fiercely back at me once more.

end

Again and again, I scrape through the dirt as I come to the brink and back. With each horrible exertion, I move closer to base camp. Through my blurred, fading vision I catch glimpses of more and more familiar sights. Of an oddly shaped rock I recall passing, a track of footprints in the dirt of our boots we left when we charged in, a dying tree that stood alone as if warning us of our similar fates. Before long I see a group of men in uniforms that match my own. Relief floods my body and I find myself losing strength rapidly. Before I feel the last of my energy leave me, I muster up what’s left and push against the soil. My head rises and my ragged throat shakes as I shout out to them. I see someone rush forward and hear their voices rising. I hear the concern in their voices as they move closer and I drop to the floor, assured of my safety and losing all strength in my body. I faintly feel gentle hands wrap around me and voices cry out for a response, but my hearing fades and my body numbs as I fall unconscious.

A while passes and I find myself waking up from a nap. I gently poke myself in the stomach before, after finding the pain tolerable enough, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the floor. As I put my weight onto my feet, pain shoots up my bandaged leg. It is then that I notice the two crutches placed beside me against the bed. I grab them and force myself off the bed. Limping and in pain, I slowly make my way to the entrance of the tent, passing a medic who looks back at me with weary eyes. As I brush the curtain door open, two medics carrying a stretcher enter and I watch them move the ferried patient onto the bed I lay on moments ago. I limp through the camp slowly, making my way to the tent belonging to my squad. I pass by several tents, some full of men wearing expressions dark with fear, some entirely devoid of life, and a few with men crouched and shaking quietly, bereaving the empty beds that occupy the tent. I… I keep going. I reach my tent and find it empty. I move over to my bed and sit, staring at the bed opposite to mine, belonging to Snake. It was the dead of the night when he ran through the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs about a snake, only for us to find a broken rope wrapped around him after he had fainted. I turn to my right, where the bed belonging to Pumpkin Pie was. The namesake pie he ate gave him the worst stomachache any of us had the displeasure of hearing, and smelling, in our life. I move my gaze to the beds beside it, blinking out the tears beginning to blur my vision. Rockhill, Joey, Dung, Claymore, Hourglass. I reach into my blood-stained uniform and pull out a ragged piece of cloth, on it is a cheaply painted image with all of us laughing. I stare deeply into the painted faces on the cloth before noticing a tear fall onto it. I fold it up and shove it back into my shirt, before the rest of my tears pour out. Without realising, my hand starts bleeding as my nails dig deep into my palm, but the pain of it is eclipsed by the tearing in my heart. The muscles in my chest tighten and pull me inwards, my heart squeezed tightly and beating fiercely against my flesh and bones. My throat is dry and painful, and each heaving breath I take is punctuated by my violent sobs. My cheeks flush with blood and my head spins. I feel myself fall onto my dirty pillow, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing out the tears that teetered on the edge of my eyelids. Crying myself to sleep, I slip away from the world and faintly hope to enter the one with all my friends.

A set of rapid pats on my face pulls me from my slumber, my body jerking violently upwards. Blinking rapidly, my eyes attempt to adjust to the dim environment I find myself in. I see the figure of a man standing before me. I squint up at him, his face hidden in the shadow of the single weak light hanging from the ceiling. He lifts his hand up and speaks. “Look at that, I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to still be here.” The man takes a step back and the light reaches his face. I finally recognise the man before me as Bucket, someone from another squad I knew. He extends a hand out for me to grab and lifts me into a sitting position. I spot a set of playing cards and a bottle of alcohol with two cups on the adjacent bed. Bucket searches his uniform for a moment before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. I accept when he offers me one, and he lights both of ours before grabbing the cards. “What do you think of a game of Stoneface?” “More fun if there were more of us left. Maybe Liar? “I’ve been playing Liar for weeks, how about Usurper?” “Alright, I’m fine with that.” He splits the deck in two and sets aside the jokers. Bucket starts first, placing down a 3 of diamonds. “So how did ya get back?” I place a 7 of hearts. “Crawled back after the lot of us blew up, you?” He places an 8 of hearts. “Got knocked out in an ambush, reinforcements came and found me.” I place a King of diamonds. “So where’d the booze come from, don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on us?” He places down a King of clubs. “I was gonna pop it open for my squad when we finished our deployment. Can’t exactly do that now can I?” My hand freezes for a second, before I place down an Ace of hearts. “Well then I’ll thank what luck I have that I get to drink it with you.” He painfully gives a soft chuckle and places down an Ace of spades. “And you better relish it, I had to starve for half a month to afford it.” I place down a 2 of clubs. “How fancy, with how much booze I see you drink, I’m surprised you only starved for half a month.” Bucket stops for a moment, staring at his cards, before quickly placing down a 2 of hearts. “Bought the others with the previous half a month’s worth, felt like an addict holding back after buying this.” My eye twitches and I place down a 2 of spades. Bucket sighs and straightens the pile, sliding it over to me. I put the stack of cards to my side while he retrieves the bottle and cups. “Loser drinks or winner drinks?” He asks. I chuckle and respond, “Winner, of course. Getting drunk ain’t a punishment tonight.” As he pours out a cup, he says, “Thought I could get ya to let me have the first taste” before handing it over. I take the cup and bring it to my lips. A thick oaky aroma enters my nose, along with some sharp pricks of alcohol and spice. I let out a breath thick with alcohol and take a long drag from my cigarette. Staring at the cards in my hand, I find myself speaking. “Drink a cup with me Bucket. No booze in the world’s good enough to enjoy by my lonesome.” He pours out a cup and sits next to me while taking a sip from it. “Hey now, a good cup of booze’s been my best night-time companion since I started drinking.” I raise my cup to him and he raises his in response, the sharp clink of our cups ringing out clearly. “I can tell you’ve never spent a nice night with a pretty lady then!” The two of us laugh together while drinking, the game long abandoned. An ember falls from my cigarette onto my bedsheet. I feel a warmth grow slightly beside me and rush to stamp it out, while Bucket laughs even harder at me. As the fire dies prematurely, I sigh and take a sip of my drink. Bucket takes another sip before knocking back the rest of it.

I look deep into his eyes for a moment, before gripping his shoulder. “I think you’re crazy, if there was such a terrifying enemy we would’ve heard about it before.” I force a smile, “And don’t even think about dying before I get a chance to show you that pretty escort I met last year! I’ll show you there’s a better partner than a decent bottle.” The tears roll down his face as he tenses up. I see his mouth twitch as he forces a smile. Our nails dig into each other’s shoulders, before we both release our grip. I pick back up my cup that I had accidentally dropped onto the floor and fill it with a little bit of alcohol. I hand it to Bucket before picking up his and filling it as well. “Come on now, we still need to drink up this good booze while we have it to ourselves.” He smiles at me and we raise our cups together. A bright flash fills my vision and I feel a strong force on my side. My feet leave the ground as my body flies across the tent. I crash hard into the ground and smash my head against the dirt. Right before I pass out I hear a guttural roar, like that of a dying man gargling thickened blood, and smell the rancid odour of blood and rotten meat.

The headless corpse of the man lifts up the black blade above itself, casting a long shadow over Bucket. I try to shout to warn him, but as Bucket turns back around his entire body collapses on itself as the sword cleaves him from crown to tail and splits him in two. I watch in horror as his body falls apart pathetically. The headless body stumbles before plunging the sword into the ground and falling to the floor. Alone in a field of mutilated bodies, and feeling as though I’ve seen enough horrors, I stare at the surface of that monstrous sword. My stomach drops as upon its rotting surface appears a seam which bulges out grotesquely. This seam splits open to reveal a large eye, blood-shot and dripping with yellow-green pus. The eye darts around, flinging pus as it does, looking all around the battlefield. The eye lands upon the head of its previous owner, the withered and balding head already attracting flies as it rots. Suddenly, it swivels to meet my gaze and I feel a pervasive sensation dig into me. I cannot look away as it stares into me. An unspeakable curse wraps around my throat and a strangling sensation squeezes around my heart, my breath grows haggard and my heartbeat drums loudly in my ears. Its iris glows a malicious purple hue, the many fibrous muscles undulating slightly as it focuses on me. The pitch-black depths of its pupils, like an endless void, seems to pull at my soul, trying to suck me in. The sensations of my body fades from my mind as my senses numb, I find myself rising up to my feet. My stomach rips open and dark crimson blood pours out onto the floor. I drag my feet forward, each step spilling more and more. My gaze remains fixed on the beckoning eye of the sword, drawing me close. I reach the sword, stepping over Bucket’s corpse, and stretch my hand out to grab it. I pull it back with my other hand, fighting with all my strength to resist. I look down at the eye and match its gaze. I bite my lip, and feel the pain spread through my body as I wrest control back. A deep horrible burning emanates from my abdomen and I can almost feel my stomach fall out of my body. My grip on my hand weakens as my strength is sapped by the pain spreading through my muscles. I dig into my skin to rouse some strength back. The eye’s purple iris and black pupil seem to blend together, my vision beginning to fail. I cough blood which splatters directly onto its slick surface. The eye snaps shut and I see it writhe in discomfort as more pus leaks through the gaps. It stops moving and snaps open. I feel faint as it glares fiercely back at me once more.

Again and again, I scrape through the dirt as I come to the brink and back. With each horrible exertion, I move closer to base camp. Through my blurred, fading vision I catch glimpses of more and more familiar sights. Of an oddly shaped rock I recall passing, a track of footprints in the dirt of our boots we left when we charged in, a dying tree that stood alone as if warning us of our similar fates. Before long I see a group of men in uniforms that match my own. Relief floods my body and I find myself losing strength rapidly. Before I feel the last of my energy leave me, I muster up what’s left and push against the soil. My head rises and my ragged throat shakes as I shout out to them. I see someone rush forward and hear their voices rising. I hear the concern in their voices as they move closer and I drop to the floor, assured of my safety and losing all strength in my body. I faintly feel gentle hands wrap around me and voices cry out for a response, but my hearing fades and my body numbs as I fall unconscious.

A while passes and I find myself waking up from a nap. I gently poke myself in the stomach before, after finding the pain tolerable enough, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the floor. As I put my weight onto my feet, pain shoots up my bandaged leg. It is then that I notice the two crutches placed beside me against the bed. I grab them and force myself off the bed. Limping and in pain, I slowly make my way to the entrance of the tent, passing a medic who looks back at me with weary eyes. As I brush the curtain door open, two medics carrying a stretcher enter and I watch them move the ferried patient onto the bed I lay on moments ago. I limp through the camp slowly, making my way to the tent belonging to my squad. I pass by several tents, some full of men wearing expressions dark with fear, some entirely devoid of life, and a few with men crouched and shaking quietly, bereaving the empty beds that occupy the tent. I… I keep going. I reach my tent and find it empty. I move over to my bed and sit, staring at the bed opposite to mine, belonging to Snake. It was the dead of the night when he ran through the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs about a snake, only for us to find a broken rope wrapped around him after he had fainted. I turn to my right, where the bed belonging to Pumpkin Pie was. The namesake pie he ate gave him the worst stomachache any of us had the displeasure of hearing, and smelling, in our life. I move my gaze to the beds beside it, blinking out the tears beginning to blur my vision. Rockhill, Joey, Dung, Claymore, Hourglass. I reach into my blood-stained uniform and pull out a ragged piece of cloth, on it is a cheaply painted image with all of us laughing. I stare deeply into the painted faces on the cloth before noticing a tear fall onto it. I fold it up and shove it back into my shirt, before the rest of my tears pour out. Without realising, my hand starts bleeding as my nails dig deep into my palm, but the pain of it is eclipsed by the tearing in my heart. The muscles in my chest tighten and pull me inwards, my heart squeezed tightly and beating fiercely against my flesh and bones. My throat is dry and painful, and each heaving breath I take is punctuated by my violent sobs. My cheeks flush with blood and my head spins. I feel myself fall onto my dirty pillow, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing out the tears that teetered on the edge of my eyelids. Crying myself to sleep, I slip away from the world and faintly hope to enter the one with all my friends.

A set of rapid pats on my face pulls me from my slumber, my body jerking violently upwards. Blinking rapidly, my eyes attempt to adjust to the dim environment I find myself in. I see the figure of a man standing before me. I squint up at him, his face hidden in the shadow of the single weak light hanging from the ceiling. He lifts his hand up and speaks. “Look at that, I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to still be here.” The man takes a step back and the light reaches his face. I finally recognise the man before me as Bucket, someone from another squad I knew. He extends a hand out for me to grab and lifts me into a sitting position. I spot a set of playing cards and a bottle of alcohol with two cups on the adjacent bed. Bucket searches his uniform for a moment before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. I accept when he offers me one, and he lights both of ours before grabbing the cards. “What do you think of a game of Stoneface?” “More fun if there were more of us left. Maybe Liar? “I’ve been playing Liar for weeks, how about Usurper?” “Alright, I’m fine with that.” He splits the deck in two and sets aside the jokers. Bucket starts first, placing down a 3 of diamonds. “So how did ya get back?” I place a 7 of hearts. “Crawled back after the lot of us blew up, you?” He places an 8 of hearts. “Got knocked out in an ambush, reinforcements came and found me.” I place a King of diamonds. “So where’d the booze come from, don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on us?” He places down a King of clubs. “I was gonna pop it open for my squad when we finished our deployment. Can’t exactly do that now can I?” My hand freezes for a second, before I place down an Ace of hearts. “Well then I’ll thank what luck I have that I get to drink it with you.” He painfully gives a soft chuckle and places down an Ace of spades. “And you better relish it, I had to starve for half a month to afford it.” I place down a 2 of clubs. “How fancy, with how much booze I see you drink, I’m surprised you only starved for half a month.” Bucket stops for a moment, staring at his cards, before quickly placing down a 2 of hearts. “Bought the others with the previous half a month’s worth, felt like an addict holding back after buying this.” My eye twitches and I place down a 2 of spades. Bucket sighs and straightens the pile, sliding it over to me. I put the stack of cards to my side while he retrieves the bottle and cups. “Loser drinks or winner drinks?” He asks. I chuckle and respond, “Winner, of course. Getting drunk ain’t a punishment tonight.” As he pours out a cup, he says, “Thought I could get ya to let me have the first taste” before handing it over. I take the cup and bring it to my lips. A thick oaky aroma enters my nose, along with some sharp pricks of alcohol and spice. I let out a breath thick with alcohol and take a long drag from my cigarette. Staring at the cards in my hand, I find myself speaking. “Drink a cup with me Bucket. No booze in the world’s good enough to enjoy by my lonesome.” He pours out a cup and sits next to me while taking a sip from it. “Hey now, a good cup of booze’s been my best night-time companion since I started drinking.” I raise my cup to him and he raises his in response, the sharp clink of our cups ringing out clearly. “I can tell you’ve never spent a nice night with a pretty lady then!” The two of us laugh together while drinking, the game long abandoned. An ember falls from my cigarette onto my bedsheet. I feel a warmth grow slightly beside me and rush to stamp it out, while Bucket laughs even harder at me. As the fire dies prematurely, I sigh and take a sip of my drink. Bucket takes another sip before knocking back the rest of it.

I look deep into his eyes for a moment, before gripping his shoulder. “I think you’re crazy, if there was such a terrifying enemy we would’ve heard about it before.” I force a smile, “And don’t even think about dying before I get a chance to show you that pretty escort I met last year! I’ll show you there’s a better partner than a decent bottle.” The tears roll down his face as he tenses up. I see his mouth twitch as he forces a smile. Our nails dig into each other’s shoulders, before we both release our grip. I pick back up my cup that I had accidentally dropped onto the floor and fill it with a little bit of alcohol. I hand it to Bucket before picking up his and filling it as well. “Come on now, we still need to drink up this good booze while we have it to ourselves.” He smiles at me and we raise our cups together. A bright flash fills my vision and I feel a strong force on my side. My feet leave the ground as my body flies across the tent. I crash hard into the ground and smash my head against the dirt. Right before I pass out I hear a guttural roar, like that of a dying man gargling thickened blood, and smell the rancid odour of blood and rotten meat.

Again and again, I scrape through the dirt as I come to the brink and back. With each horrible exertion, I move closer to base camp. Through my blurred, fading vision I catch glimpses of more and more familiar sights. Of an oddly shaped rock I recall passing, a track of footprints in the dirt of our boots we left when we charged in, a dying tree that stood alone as if warning us of our similar fates. Before long I see a group of men in uniforms that match my own. Relief floods my body and I find myself losing strength rapidly. Before I feel the last of my energy leave me, I muster up what’s left and push against the soil. My head rises and my ragged throat shakes as I shout out to them. I see someone rush forward and hear their voices rising. I hear the concern in their voices as they move closer and I drop to the floor, assured of my safety and losing all strength in my body. I faintly feel gentle hands wrap around me and voices cry out for a response, but my hearing fades and my body numbs as I fall unconscious.

A while passes and I find myself waking up from a nap. I gently poke myself in the stomach before, after finding the pain tolerable enough, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the floor. As I put my weight onto my feet, pain shoots up my bandaged leg. It is then that I notice the two crutches placed beside me against the bed. I grab them and force myself off the bed. Limping and in pain, I slowly make my way to the entrance of the tent, passing a medic who looks back at me with weary eyes. As I brush the curtain door open, two medics carrying a stretcher enter and I watch them move the ferried patient onto the bed I lay on moments ago. I limp through the camp slowly, making my way to the tent belonging to my squad. I pass by several tents, some full of men wearing expressions dark with fear, some entirely devoid of life, and a few with men crouched and shaking quietly, bereaving the empty beds that occupy the tent. I… I keep going. I reach my tent and find it empty. I move over to my bed and sit, staring at the bed opposite to mine, belonging to Snake. It was the dead of the night when he ran through the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs about a snake, only for us to find a broken rope wrapped around him after he had fainted. I turn to my right, where the bed belonging to Pumpkin Pie was. The namesake pie he ate gave him the worst stomachache any of us had the displeasure of hearing, and smelling, in our life. I move my gaze to the beds beside it, blinking out the tears beginning to blur my vision. Rockhill, Joey, Dung, Claymore, Hourglass. I reach into my blood-stained uniform and pull out a ragged piece of cloth, on it is a cheaply painted image with all of us laughing. I stare deeply into the painted faces on the cloth before noticing a tear fall onto it. I fold it up and shove it back into my shirt, before the rest of my tears pour out. Without realising, my hand starts bleeding as my nails dig deep into my palm, but the pain of it is eclipsed by the tearing in my heart. The muscles in my chest tighten and pull me inwards, my heart squeezed tightly and beating fiercely against my flesh and bones. My throat is dry and painful, and each heaving breath I take is punctuated by my violent sobs. My cheeks flush with blood and my head spins. I feel myself fall onto my dirty pillow, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing out the tears that teetered on the edge of my eyelids. Crying myself to sleep, I slip away from the world and faintly hope to enter the one with all my friends.

A set of rapid pats on my face pulls me from my slumber, my body jerking violently upwards. Blinking rapidly, my eyes attempt to adjust to the dim environment I find myself in. I see the figure of a man standing before me. I squint up at him, his face hidden in the shadow of the single weak light hanging from the ceiling. He lifts his hand up and speaks. “Look at that, I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to still be here.” The man takes a step back and the light reaches his face. I finally recognise the man before me as Bucket, someone from another squad I knew. He extends a hand out for me to grab and lifts me into a sitting position. I spot a set of playing cards and a bottle of alcohol with two cups on the adjacent bed. Bucket searches his uniform for a moment before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. I accept when he offers me one, and he lights both of ours before grabbing the cards. “What do you think of a game of Stoneface?” “More fun if there were more of us left. Maybe Liar? “I’ve been playing Liar for weeks, how about Usurper?” “Alright, I’m fine with that.” He splits the deck in two and sets aside the jokers. Bucket starts first, placing down a 3 of diamonds. “So how did ya get back?” I place a 7 of hearts. “Crawled back after the lot of us blew up, you?” He places an 8 of hearts. “Got knocked out in an ambush, reinforcements came and found me.” I place a King of diamonds. “So where’d the booze come from, don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on us?” He places down a King of clubs. “I was gonna pop it open for my squad when we finished our deployment. Can’t exactly do that now can I?” My hand freezes for a second, before I place down an Ace of hearts. “Well then I’ll thank what luck I have that I get to drink it with you.” He painfully gives a soft chuckle and places down an Ace of spades. “And you better relish it, I had to starve for half a month to afford it.” I place down a 2 of clubs. “How fancy, with how much booze I see you drink, I’m surprised you only starved for half a month.” Bucket stops for a moment, staring at his cards, before quickly placing down a 2 of hearts. “Bought the others with the previous half a month’s worth, felt like an addict holding back after buying this.” My eye twitches and I place down a 2 of spades. Bucket sighs and straightens the pile, sliding it over to me. I put the stack of cards to my side while he retrieves the bottle and cups. “Loser drinks or winner drinks?” He asks. I chuckle and respond, “Winner, of course. Getting drunk ain’t a punishment tonight.” As he pours out a cup, he says, “Thought I could get ya to let me have the first taste” before handing it over. I take the cup and bring it to my lips. A thick oaky aroma enters my nose, along with some sharp pricks of alcohol and spice. I let out a breath thick with alcohol and take a long drag from my cigarette. Staring at the cards in my hand, I find myself speaking. “Drink a cup with me Bucket. No booze in the world’s good enough to enjoy by my lonesome.” He pours out a cup and sits next to me while taking a sip from it. “Hey now, a good cup of booze’s been my best night-time companion since I started drinking.” I raise my cup to him and he raises his in response, the sharp clink of our cups ringing out clearly. “I can tell you’ve never spent a nice night with a pretty lady then!” The two of us laugh together while drinking, the game long abandoned. An ember falls from my cigarette onto my bedsheet. I feel a warmth grow slightly beside me and rush to stamp it out, while Bucket laughs even harder at me. As the fire dies prematurely, I sigh and take a sip of my drink. Bucket takes another sip before knocking back the rest of it.

Again and again, I scrape through the dirt as I come to the brink and back. With each horrible exertion, I move closer to base camp. Through my blurred, fading vision I catch glimpses of more and more familiar sights. Of an oddly shaped rock I recall passing, a track of footprints in the dirt of our boots we left when we charged in, a dying tree that stood alone as if warning us of our similar fates. Before long I see a group of men in uniforms that match my own. Relief floods my body and I find myself losing strength rapidly. Before I feel the last of my energy leave me, I muster up what’s left and push against the soil. My head rises and my ragged throat shakes as I shout out to them. I see someone rush forward and hear their voices rising. I hear the concern in their voices as they move closer and I drop to the floor, assured of my safety and losing all strength in my body. I faintly feel gentle hands wrap around me and voices cry out for a response, but my hearing fades and my body numbs as I fall unconscious.

A while passes and I find myself waking up from a nap. I gently poke myself in the stomach before, after finding the pain tolerable enough, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the floor. As I put my weight onto my feet, pain shoots up my bandaged leg. It is then that I notice the two crutches placed beside me against the bed. I grab them and force myself off the bed. Limping and in pain, I slowly make my way to the entrance of the tent, passing a medic who looks back at me with weary eyes. As I brush the curtain door open, two medics carrying a stretcher enter and I watch them move the ferried patient onto the bed I lay on moments ago. I limp through the camp slowly, making my way to the tent belonging to my squad. I pass by several tents, some full of men wearing expressions dark with fear, some entirely devoid of life, and a few with men crouched and shaking quietly, bereaving the empty beds that occupy the tent. I… I keep going. I reach my tent and find it empty. I move over to my bed and sit, staring at the bed opposite to mine, belonging to Snake. It was the dead of the night when he ran through the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs about a snake, only for us to find a broken rope wrapped around him after he had fainted. I turn to my right, where the bed belonging to Pumpkin Pie was. The namesake pie he ate gave him the worst stomachache any of us had the displeasure of hearing, and smelling, in our life. I move my gaze to the beds beside it, blinking out the tears beginning to blur my vision. Rockhill, Joey, Dung, Claymore, Hourglass. I reach into my blood-stained uniform and pull out a ragged piece of cloth, on it is a cheaply painted image with all of us laughing. I stare deeply into the painted faces on the cloth before noticing a tear fall onto it. I fold it up and shove it back into my shirt, before the rest of my tears pour out. Without realising, my hand starts bleeding as my nails dig deep into my palm, but the pain of it is eclipsed by the tearing in my heart. The muscles in my chest tighten and pull me inwards, my heart squeezed tightly and beating fiercely against my flesh and bones. My throat is dry and painful, and each heaving breath I take is punctuated by my violent sobs. My cheeks flush with blood and my head spins. I feel myself fall onto my dirty pillow, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing out the tears that teetered on the edge of my eyelids. Crying myself to sleep, I slip away from the world and faintly hope to enter the one with all my friends.