Down and out Again

Dave dug with his hands, severing strands of loose flesh from the being’s core. The soldier’s photon-deprived eyes pierced the darkness. Bled and bitten as they cowed under the force above them. Dead trees lumbered with sorrow, and a thin mist enveloped the ground. Wire lay and flowers bloomed. Distant drum roll and steady paces—boots moving up and down again. Of it all, however, pseudo-viscera torn by teeth was the only actual sensation. Others were mere ghosts of their lives.

They ate mindlessly. For a moment, they lost themselves, partaking in communion. Finishing their meal, the soldiers found themselves content for the first time in a while. Neither found any fault in their behavior, and all the forest creatures shared the bounty. Like dragoons swirling and swarming a pike square, tearing chunks for themselves from the greater whole. Each little specimen chewing holes in the mass. They noted how the animals skittered from their holes to dissolve this apex before rooting themselves again. From afar, the fungal creatures kept to themselves in quiet gratitude. For a moment, Dave cupped his hands and made a yell, only to realize no one would respond to his call for eats. No one, save the mink next to him covered in red.

The two soldiers rose, no longer stumbling over themselves. Leaving the scene of the disaster, their rifles clacked in silence. Their caps felt uncomfortable, but they kept them on. The geyser burned behind them. Watermann had jam and juice all over his face, and Dave watched as he licked himself clean. The light grew, and soon they were naked before it. Not a word.

It had been a long road, but the clearing of the forest was within reach. They walked out, haggard. And as Dave looked back, the forest swallowed itself. Not a trace remained of the pit, nor her children or the shadows. The geyser faded into obscurity last, screaming all the while in furious lucidity. Subsumed and integrated into nothing. The only evidence dripping from their hair.

They continued. Forgetting their goal of true north, they wandered until they found a beaten path as the suns came down. Camp came up in record time.

Two suns. Though caught in the same globules and shared coronas, his eyes could barely make out the subtle discoloration. It was hard to tell without damaging the iris. The soldiers set up camp and pitched their tents. In the glowering, navel-orange colored heat, Watermann stared silently. Still, not a word. Dave looked up, and His majesty was present before them.

Tendrils of jade, flowing and crossing the skies in bands and streams. Clouds of distant life, heated and speckled with stardust. Nebulae, colored sections, the aftershocks of great rebirths. Distant vagabonds wandered, rebelling against the plane. Tying it all were the three moons. One blackened like theirs. Another, white and weeping, leaving an icy trail across the sky. Hiding in the shadows, a smaller rogue moon followed the dark one’s lead. They could only stare in awe. Even in their wildest imaginations, nothing like this existed. The most learned astronomer could only hypothesize about such phenomena, stuck on their ordinary Ehreth. A fortune befell these pitiful creatures.

A beautiful night sky just like this one. The Ides of March itched in the back of Dave’s skull. He remembered how the stars fell then, and how they painted the sky with an impressionist’s touch, swirling and dancing in the murky indigo. A long time ago, just enough to remember, but not to feel, he saw a painting of that same meteor shower. The Genids—they were called. How the early morning streaked white and saffron with their tears, with her watchers thinking nothing of it. But on 16th, those same falling stars stole away, and fraudulent ones of burning magnesium rose from the earth and hung there with silk parachutes. His hand burned from the hot brass of the verey pistol. In the distance, the drumroll marched across the countryside. That terrible crime. Yes, he and the guns must have been the witnesses that night. Whereby first daylight, a firebrand had crashed into their small world. The War to End All Wars. A catastrophe upon us all.

Watermann stared deeply.

“Reminds me of the skies on the farm.”

“Yeah,” Dave muttered. “Funny how war takes you places…”

But what remained untrod? Nothing of the sort.

With their bellies full and hair clean, they hit the hay.

In the distance stood a hill. It would have to do.