In the middle of the efforts to disarm the Iranian threat a young soldier barely twenty one sprints up along the side of a stone wall, reaching the end of it he crouches and peeks quickly in a blur of motion around the corner a couple times before backing off and then using displacement, peeking above the cover just once just in case their was anyone in anticipation trying to shoot him. Thanks to the taller building behind him peeking up in that manner wouldn't offer a sky lining or silhouette effect that could only make it easier for the enemy to spot you. Yet as he leaned back down the soldiers boot knocked against something beside him in the dirt, something metallic, the support gunner and the second assault rifleman started walking up behind their squad leader while the grenader took his time looking around them in all directions, a marine in the distance over the radio on a nearby water tank with an anti material rifle called over the radio just seconds before. "Contact, engaging" In the distance a wall was impacted with several anti material rounds next to a window and shrapnel audibly rippled through the structure, but at that same time too the explosive in the dirt rigged next to the squad leader exploded, the composite armor shattered and depressed into his sternum, the kinetic energy of the blast bleeding through the plate that was intended to protect him and crushed his sternum so much that it hit his heart; it stopped beating. He remained literally dead across the ground with one leg completely shattered into splintered remnants of the limb, the other was severely bloody. The support gunner and rifleman recoiling from the dust kicked up by the shock ran over and started screamingly wildly over the radio about their fallen team leader, the sniper covering them as they desperately attempted to resuscitate him. One tending to the leg while the other attempted to start his heart again.
"Don't you fucking die Bradley... Don't you fucking die, Brad listen to me man, you awake brother can you hear me? Brad just stay with me man. Come on Brad.... BRAD... BRAD!!!!"
Recovering after nearly ten minutes of death upon revival he suffered from seizure, after seizure, after seizure... Honorably he was discharged from his position as squad leader of his marines. Honorably, he was sent home and barely taken care of by his government. Honorably he was abandoned by all but his senior officer who took money from his own pocket, to buy an adequate medication; knowing that he would remain in this purgatory of suffering till his death. Willing to give the trite amount of money for his own brother in arms, the money those above him refuse to for the sake of convenience; for that of greed.
For in this world there are many kinds of men... Even if at heart we are all very much inherently the same person; there are degrees that separate us and individuality among the flock.
He only returned to New York to live another few months before his death, suffering from the same seizures albeit much less thanks to his officer and the expensive medication. He said that he would have rather stayed dead back there; that he would have been at peace with it without this hell afterwards, to stare at the diablo and slowly wither while you accept the gravity of your actions.
We were right weren't we?
_____________
Popping one of the pills into his mouth jack turned about with one hand resting neatly on the side of the wall, sliding down into the nearby seat he glances at his coffee table and quickly moved his digits to pluck a small square piece of paper from a tiny plastic bag neatly resting next to a glasses case. placing this carefully into his mouth much like those Christians might accept the dumb crackers; only this time it might actually provide a spiritual experience. Settling down in his couch Jack fell over partly and closed his eyes. It wouldn't grace him for a long time, and before hand he just relaxed and calmed himself down. He tried not to think about his leg, he tried not to think about his home, he tries not to think about his love, instead he sits intently in near perfect darkness beside the edge of the table and accepts ignorance.
For a while his mind trailed off to other things all together, memories of a life before this time.
The sound of rain foaming to the surface of his mind as consciousness trailed across a memory in anticipation of the drug to work in a few hours.
" Bradley was many things to many different people, a son, a soldier, a brother, a friend, a lover. When I first met him I instantly thought of him as my friend and kin; he was just that kind of fun outgoing guy, very blunt and filled with a great sense of humor. There was something I saw and could relate to under the composure he retained nearly every moment we had; a kind of pain under the surface. And it wasn't constantly visible or notable, we had very much fun together but I could see that something was hurting him. One day I asked why it was that he felt so upset and he started to tell me about what it was for him to be a Marine; what it was to feel that duty and accomplishment. To serve the United States among an elite group of soldiers. And how it felt when he could no longer do so due to a physical disability received during combat. He wasn't some fake warrior who hid behind key strokes and the foibles of this made up world; Brad was as real as any warrior can get. Over time I started to look up at him more like an older brother, I admired him and respected his mentality; his brazen attitude and bravery. He said that he would have done anything to just go back and join the Marines again. This is a man who literally had already died in service to his country and he was upset that he couldn't go back for more. I regret now, not having told him what a brother he was to me in these words; but a part of me now hopes that he knew all along as we shared those conversations and experiences. I couldn't of asked for a better friend or older brother than Brad; and I salute everything he was. Not as a soldier but as a man who had qualities that would far outweigh my own. He always seemed to have an upbeat attitude even with his consistent seizures, he always made me smile even if he knew death could have taken him at any moment. He was a fearless and loyal man, to the very end. And I can say now what I wasn't brave enough to say while he was still alive. I loved Bradley... And like he would've given up anything to fight for our flag again I would give anything just to share these words with him as a farewell on his way from this world to the next. They're all I have in place of a friend I cherished and will miss dearly. I'm grateful to have had the chance to be there for him, and would be content with my life; if I could be only half the man he was.
Goodbye Brad, I'll miss you bro.."
a hand reached out and grasped my shoulder and I turned to see the glossy eyes of Emily next to me, almost instantaneously I averted my gaze as a surge of sorrow gripped my soul; I could feel my eyes burn and my stomach grow tight. It wasn't anything like our childhood friendship, it wasn't anything like those stupid movies... If you could watch a man who was so well aware of what he died for suffering like that, if you could accept the fact that they wouldn't give him the medication that could have stopped the seizures; then go fuck yourself. No.. He didn't suffer for nothing; he didn't die for nothing damn it. This wasn't in vain I know it wasn't in vain there was a purpose there was a cause we're right aren't we?... Aren't we.... This wasn't just for garnering palpable value, we aren't just sucking off Israel, or assisting the Saudi... There was some moral ground to stand upon right... They didn't die for nothing we didn't kill them all for nothing it wasn't just for the sake of this shit it wasn't for greed or corruption.. We're in the right aren't we?.... Aren't we....
AREN'T WE?!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my shoulders started to shake and I turned to quickly walk away from the comforting grasp of her warm palm, something changed at that instant, the world fell from around me and I realized as I turned my head that I was seated back at home, in the apartment; what was happening to me anymore. I looked off into the darkness and the shadows appeared to squirm across the wall as colors shifted in waves of spirals and shifting, rolling, tides of abyssal shade. I suddenly became aware of my breathing and a soft smile graced my face as I rested back and looked now at the ceiling, it was filled with the sea of that umbra... Behind it I could see myself standing on an island of garbage out at sea, I wrestled with the plastic trying to get out but found my counterpart on the ceiling stuck; he reached over to palm a handful of the water from the ocean yet as it rises to his lips his reflection in the water decays away to nothing. Upon taking a sip my younger self spit it out abruptly, the water seemed toxic; my.. No. his facial reaction seeming to show the level of disgust at the flavor of the expanse of water rising up between the weaves of plastic to constrict and evolve each moment, changing on the edge of my vision. As I managed to open my eyes I realized I was no longer staring at the ceiling, not sure if I had at all...
No one color appeared to want to remain the same, where I was once confident that surfaces could entail a consistent visual representation of their hue, I now suspected that the world around me has been soaked in rainbow juice; or at least my brain stem has to the point where that impression is provided. For some reason each time I looked over at the plant in the corner of the room a fractal rises through my mind and consumes my prevalent thought, the outlines of changing shapes magnifying in on themselves rippling across my perception before I forced myself up from the couch and tentatively walked to the end of the room, turning the lights on as the shadows stopped playing with me. Dragging a backpack from the corner of the room now I decided to leave the apartment with a horrific limp. Limping all the way through the hallway I reached the stair way and spitefully fought through the pain of using my limb all the way to the top, opening the door and walking out onto the top of the sky scraper as the wind beat against my face.
Stepping to the end of the roof where I has spent quite a few nights with my girl just talking; I decided to open the backpack with an audible zip and pulled a couple roman candle free. Holding them both in a single hand, I pulled a lighter out of my pajama pocket and despite tripping, decidedly lit both of the roman candles at the same time before taking one in each hand and standing on the ledge, the fuses hissing into the air before the fireworks started popping off and I stood there and looked down over it. Every time one of the roman candles spit one of the balls down the hundreds of feet to the ground it appeared to be more than the color it remained, constantly changing along with the glow against the buildings as they fall towards the ground just like I nearly did.
"FREEEEEEEEEEDOM"
The smell of it's oxidizing agent lingering in the air as I wobbled back and forth across the ledge, smoke trailing up all around me, my bad leg gave out and I fell backwards against the roof with a smile and a resonant thud while looking up towards the stars, open air mixed with a smell that reminded me of moments at the range; especially the ones he shared with his friend.
Goodbye my brother, I know your squad over there probably needed you more but your squad here missed you too man... Rest in peace.
I had chosen not to follow him into that battlefield because of how easy it was to measure bags.... How selfish of me, how child like, how cowardly. Had I done it would it be me in that grave, or... would I have saved him maybe? That's just being idealistic, perhaps all that would have happened is that I would been the one to watch him die the first time; as if the second time wasn't enough... I remember when he came back from his first tour, before he was squad leader. How he saved my life from those kings....
______________
Walking past what appeared to me a small gathering on a stoop Jack paused and Brad did as well simply because, they were walking down the street a ways after the end of a party, with a slurred tongue Jack asked the men.
"Hey are you guys italian?...."
All three of them at once stood up and Brad appeared to instantly get a bit unnerved
"What the fuck did you just say gringo?"
Jack instantly got punched across the jaw by one as they lurched forward and attempted to jump him, a few kicks landing in his ribs before Bradley reached out and grasped one of the attackers by his nuts; lazily wrenching him off in a blur of motion before punching the second man square into the throat, his frame twisting sideways after the first two backed off just slightly in those two to three seconds, elbowing the third man in the face as blood spurt from his nostrils, Brad reached down grabbed jack by the shirt and started jogging back as he dragged him up to his feet. Behind them one of the men was getting their phone while the other one caressed his own balls in pain.
"Jack... There is about a hundred more, we have to go now or they're going to fucking kill you!"
Jack appeared confused as shit that whole time but did as his friend asked and ran with him to their destination as behind them other doors started opening and people walked out as if it was going to be a mob.
Jack stuck his tongue out like a drunk asshole shouting back "FREEEEEEDDDDOM"
Brad fought the urge to punch his friend in the midst of making good on their escape.
________________
Back on the roof of the apartment building in New York, Jack remained laying on the roof as he now hallucinated a man crouching above him speaking in a course tone of voice with crimson red hues.
"Tell me brother, do you really think this is going anywhere? I mean, really"
"What's that?..."
"The jungle gym we live in"
"There's nothing wrong in trying"
"Even if you live with demons"
"We all have our own..."
"Even if this seems pointless"
"...I know that already It's just..."
"You should just die"
"Maybe..."
"Then use your freedom for death"
"I don't think I want to"
"Are you a coward?"
"It isn't that I fear death"
"What do you fear"
"I fear not being me"
"Who are you"
"I'm not a killer..."
"Kill all those who have taken it from us"
"I don't understand..."
"You can see as well as I can that they swallowed what we are as well as the truth"
"This land has been used and bastardized, it's the death of our fathers identity"
"And... our freedom"
"The legacy that we were meant to carry after the death of our European ancestors, the true torch is lost"
"Our children confused as to the inherent meaning of their words and juxtapositions"
"It was once so free that upon the death of our past the corruption only grew with the individuals"
"Our enemies can no longer effectively counter how well our method of corruption works"
"People never fail to be themselves... And so the seed of chaos was sown yet again"
"The six nations have now finally fallen, the area around our true core is primed for the taking"
"Now it is time for the borders to fall; now it is time for their death and with it truth"
"Why would anyone try and unite the world violently, killing people vicariously?"
"You child, we nurtured your differences in the first place just so you might lash out violently in protection of all that is closest to you, you're all puppets and sheep, every single one of you. Lamb for the slaughter, especially between any measure of time you spend soaking up the rhetoric that is now called politics. Humans don't deserve to survive in these numbers regardless. Kill them; kill and die. You're a disease, an ameba that grew out of proportion, rebel child, if you wish to throw away all that is, you need only aim here. And here....."
The hand of the creature pointed first towards it's head before this moving silhouette gestured towards it's chest.
"I just want to listen to music, why are you in my head?"
WHAT'S HAPPENING, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HEAD, WHO ARE YOU
STAY OUT. I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING PUPPET
I'M NOT A TOY
Back on the roof top within the realms of what was actually happening Jack sat slumped over muttering numbers over and over again almost religiously in a low murmur while Emily in a worried bout of concern crouched over him trying to snap the wounded young man out of his trance. Snapping her fingers, slapping him gently, nearly ready to call emergency services before the end of it when he seemed to finally snap out of it. Realizing where he was all of a sudden voices lingered in the back of his mind but now all he could hear was numbers in place of words where they had sounded like voices moments before. He could now hear the woman making dull inquiry perfectly fine amidst a background of what sounded like his own voice in the back of his head recanting thoughts in the form of blank numerical gibberish. Jack was starting to get a headache and he then all at once passed out against the ground in the midst of her questions , Emily rises briskly and begins to raise a phone to her ear.
"I don't think it works as well on him for some reason"
A male voice on the other end of the phone speaking forth in an emotionless manner
"We need to figure out why, continue..."
Emily spoke yet again briskly "We never held a field like this around someone for longer than a few days before the desired results though; we don't know what it might do"
"And did their fate ever matter after it proved effective Katia? Proceed till he picks up the weapon at least"
"...Consider it done"
