On the dying


The whole field has lost it’s color and now it stood as washed out specters of what it was before the war. Some grey grass grew few metres away from us, bending as the wind blew, rustling and whistling at times. Roytar was shoveling the wet ground getting pissed because he might created a spot for water to accumulate in a form of a pond. Air stanked of a black powder and mold, probably the old wooden beams that held the trench were releasing that fragrance, or was it just the rusted cars that lied in the middle of the road – blown away by the bombers. Whatever it was, we were alone in the back. Sometimes an officer comes to visit, but doesn’t stays long. Boredom will get us far faster than a bullet.

– Did you hear that? – I asked looking up with one of my half-closed eye and a smoke touching my moustaches.

– What? – Roytar asked with shallow breaths, resting form the heavy digging, – Was it close? Damn Zarians. – he nodded away and stuck his shovel in the ground, – Why are we digging this trenches? The line is kilometres away, all of our army in pushing forward while we sit here – do nothing.

– If Zaria breaks our line, it will sat on their path to return fire. Villages are unprotected, we took all men out and gave them plasma six-shooters in their hands to defend the realm. Don’t be shallow and daft… Zaria won’t miss chances to attack our rear and draw our troops away from a fight. Their city is at our feet, just like you are at mine. Either way, it’s better to sit here and do nothing, take your wage, than go out there, get shot at, chased, blown, even pierced by a spear. Yes, I heard the basstards carry those too. – my eyebrows rose but the Roytars face cramped with disbelief.

– Spears? They truly are worse than savages. Who in the Aramons name uses spears in the age of pulse rifles?… I guess some questions don’t have answers. – he got back to digging, while I looked at the road.

A strong wailing sound approached us from above and exploded a dozen metres behind us.

– Head for cover!!! – I shouted jumping in the dirty pond beneath me.

Roytar held his shovel in front of him like a shield. He maybe thought of the spears. Sound of an engine started to vibrate as the caterpillars rolled on the ground, breaking rocks. Zarian shouts overlapped the gunfire and red comets flew above us. Second shell broke our trench in half, showing us we were digging to shallow for an effective defence. Third round landed just before us and elevated the mound straight in the air. A truckload of dirt started to rain upon us, sticking for our clothes, then it all fell in the trench burying us in a very shallow grave we built ourselves.




8 thoughts on “On the dying

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