Lost
Chapter 1
Surrounded by tall rocky mountains, white fog, and harsh winds whistling and howling all around him, it was easy to feel alone in the world. Marcaeu (Marcel to most) Coltaire Valentin was a soldier; aware of himself and trained for situations like this. Yet under circumstances like these the benefits of that were not awfully apparent.
I'm losing it, lost track of what day it is. I'm out of rations, water is scarce. I don't think I'm ever making it home... alive at least.
Giving up... giving in to the extreme conditions he was faced with was becoming an increasingly tempting choice. If he let that happen there was no doubt what his fate would be. Marcel got to thinking about his preference in death. Freezing, starving, drowning, being shot in the head sounded nice but he'd likely be captured as a PoW if he was found here alone. That's what scared him most.
This isn't what I signed up for.
He plunged forward on the icy path. The gorge was turning out to be an endless seeming abyss.
It's a f*****g black hole.
He wanted to shout out and swear but there was no extra energy to spare. His strength was dwindling as it was. Already he marched through the foreign land aimlessly.
He had a destination but hardly a clue how to get there.
My mission is compromised.
Getting home will prove to be more than difficult, but failure is not an option. It had nothing to do with bringing honor to his side, but to prove that he has not lost himself to this joke of a war. Marcel didn't know who the lesser evil was between the dictator he worked for or the one he was fighting. Marcel felt dizzy, he knew he was fading, and then suddenly he drifted into another place.
"Baby stop it! You're mom's gonna come knocking... She'll hate me."
His head was pounding, his body numb. His purple lips stuck out of the thick scarf covering his neck and chin. Over that was his heavy fur lined military issue winter coat. The fur stuck out of the big insulated hood that stretched over his forehead until the goggles covering his eyes stopped it. Under he had tight thermals layered with a black long sleeved shirt. The inside was fleece lined and there were three buttons at the top. His gloves were thick lined with fur, leather and more material to compensate. His fingers were still cold, but maybe this way they will not fall off. On the lower half of his body he wore cargo pants, with what looked like as many pockets as could fit. The belt provided space to attach more but he might have to think about the weight of all the gear. Thermal long johns were under, and it was all tucked into his heavy steel toed fading black combat boots. Underneath his body still shook. He came back to reality.
What's going on with me. I need to focus!
He saw nothing on the horizon to give him hope. Ahead lied blankets of snow and foggy darkness. He wondered if he might see anything when or if he gets through this rigid mountain pass.
I can't allow myself to be weak.
He kept going and never stopped until he was forced by the sun meeting the mountain. As it went down he'd be living in the shadow, and the later it got with no sun the colder it'd get. The winds pick up in the night so fast it could pick you up if you were out in a field during the frequent snowstorms and blizzards. Worst though, were the animals adapted to living here.
They're always watching.
Large bear and cat-like creatures roam these mountains, and are not to be taken lightly. The three clawed, alien bears were coated in heavy white fur making it easy to blend in if you're not on guard. They could easily grow to be six times the size of Marcel. The sabercats, on the other hand, were white, black, and grey in a striped camo-like pattern. Their most unique quality is the strong armor-like plates over their ribs, legs, back, spine and forehead. Of course they must have a weakness, that it would be good for you to take note of. They’re most vulnerable in the underbelly, but if you're desperate you can stab at the face, tails and paws to cripple them. Although, your best bet is never coming across one at all. You can keep an eye out for their tracks, and the types of areas they like to take shelter. Unfortunately for Marcel the favorite shelters of the beasts that inhabited this land were the same as his.
No where is safe.
Marcel missed his gun; he lost it back at the base. He'd had to escape in a hurry and never had any real logical opportunity to grab it. Without it; he would be put low on the food chain. With that being the case, he would have a hard time putting up a fight for shelter. The main cave system was entirely inhabited by a large pride of the cats. Even with a gun it would be nearly impossible. All Marcel had were his wits, a crossbow, a handful of arrows and a combat knife. The crossbow was useful for hunting younger bears but those cats were fierce no matter what the size. Unfortunately Marcel learned the power of one the hard way, and was not trying to repeat any detrimental mistakes.
They'd eat my stomach out in a heartbeat.
He wasn't sure if it was the snow or the fog, maybe even his goggles, but his vision was blurred. It might be a sign that it wasn't an equipment malfunction when his knees gave out. He caught himself with his arms and crawled towards the wall of the canyon. His fingers shook under the sheets of rock as he used them with other mountain and snow storm debris to make a small hut. When he was done he'd be enclosed in the rocks, and hopefully have a decent camouflage. He was losing consciousness before he was done yet he pushed on until the job was at least mediocre. He passed out almost as soon as he sat back and shut his eyes. Probably too quickly.
"Marcaeu Coltaire Valentine! Hey what did I tell you? Leave the chickens alone! Wash up for dinner now."
His mother was 15 when she got pregnant with Marcel and 16 when she had him. She was short and skinny with dark, brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair and olive skin. To get to work in the house she'd tuck her button up into some loose jeans and secure it with a belt. She'd cut up her own clothes and ones Marcel grew out of and repurpose it to make more. She hid their struggle gracefully. Marcel always appeared well dressed and when she left the house it was in one of her few nice sun dresses, gloves and a big hat. Sometimes she'd go out with the umbrella but he knew she didn't mind the rain.
They used to play in the rain and the mud, back when they lived on the farm with his father. After he died his mom put everything into supporting the farm for about a year and a half before the economy dropped and it all became too much. They lived with her parents for a while, until she refused to let them arrange for her to remarry. Then they moved to the slums in the outer city. Marcel moved schools and his mother got a job at the local bistro.
"Okay honey, remember to walk straight home from school now, alright? Don't ever stop or talk to anybody. You're not going to go after with your friends and you're not going to get a ride from anyone anywhere. Do you understand me, Marcel?"
He deliriously shook his head, slowly regaining consciousness. His eyes felt heavy and hard to open.
"Mom.. I'm coming back. okay?"
Marcel became painfully aware of his freezing skin. His whole body was numb and there were pins and needles radiating throughout his fingertips and arms. His clothes were irritating and the skin felt raw. With violent haste and no consideration for the state of his hut camouflage he shed each article of clothing one by one. Under his goggles and hood his head was actually sweaty. His feet were asleep to a point that felt more like death. Moving them the slightest bit would cause him serious pain. He drifted off into a dream-like state, reminding him of all that occurred to bring him to this place in the snow.
"Baby you hit snooze on the alarm! I set that for me, now how am I gonna get out of here on time?"
Warm memories filled his dreams with the woman waiting for him back home. She was gazing into his eyes with that smile he fell in love with, when a bullet flew through her body and she faded into a much darker dream.
The alarm was sounding, nobody was in the sleeping bay. Marcel had already been in thermal undergarments to survive the cold night in the base. He threw his shirt, pants and belt on, and laced his boots with the speed of a soldier who'd been drilled on it consistently for the past five years. Grabbing the thick winter coat and back pack next to it was already a habit. In less than 3 minutes Marcel was fully geared with the fatal exception of his gun. As he sprinted through the halls it was obvious to see the base had been in chaos.
How did I sleep through this?
Marcel stopped in his tracks as he heard a familiar voice. It was Henri Clovis the new recruit in a small puddle of his own blood. There had obviously been a struggle. The Bookshelf was pushed on Henri and the entire office was a mess of broken and stirred up office furniture and materials."Sir..? Do you know what's going on? I was scared and I thought I'd come get a gun from the armory like every other idiot. Valentin, I already know I'm not gonna make it. Just..." Marcel doubted this kid was even old enough to drink.
Why do they station kids at a base like this?
"Remember my name, Valentin… and tell my parents..." The boy looked ready to pass out. Marcel nodded but he wasn't about to leave him there. Henri seemed like he wanted to be put out of his misery, but Marcel had survived much worse, and was more than confident Henri would do the same. He made haste to get the tall, heavy shelf off of his comrade.
He's gonna make it.
Without a word he was hoisting the boy up and slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Sir, I'm dead weigh- Agh!" Henri grunted from the pain of being dragged from the floor and back onto his feet. "I can't do this," he choked out as his superior officer forced him to stagger on.
Poor kid. He’s got to learn surviving may not be the easiest option, but it's the only one his brothers out here will give him.
Marcel dragged the boy down the hall, but he wasn't without mercy when they ran into a desk chair passing one of the rooms. He didnt have a choice. After all, it made it faster to pull him than carry him anyways. "Thank you, sir." Henri fidgeted awkwardly, maybe being pulled was hurting his ego. Marcel just gave him a blank stare and continued on. "So... you dont talk a lot do-"
"Shh!" Marcel practically threw Henri to the distant corner across the room and moved a cabinet to block him.
"I guess you don't have to tell me not to move, eh?"
There was the slightest glint of acknowledgement in Marcel's eyes before he left him. He got low and pressed his back to the wall then peeked out to see the suspected intruders. What he saw, however, was more of a shock than he'd expected.
Marcel shot awake and his senses were immediately overwhelmed. He was blinded by a bright spotlight from and deaf from the sound of the chopper blades overhead. He was in agonizing pain and he wasn't sure if he could move his face or limbs under his snow debris hut.
Marcel was surrounded by men but not conscious enough to distinguish who they were. He being moved to a gurney as he passed out.
______________
Chapter 2
"It's a miracle you survived this, Officer."
Lieutenant-Colonel Gregoire Joseph Rolande is making an official appearance. I must be in worse condition than I thought.
"I hear you've made tremendous progress in recovery and rehab and it's only been what? Five months?"
"Weeks. Six weeks now, sir."
"Wow,” The Colonel was visibly surprised. “Okay of course," it was obvious the man was attempting to steer the conversation in an awkward direction, and Marcel couldn't help but wonder what he was trying to get at. The reporters snapped pictures from anywhere they could get through to see. Marcel imagined their headlines on the picture of this visit reading something like: 'Lieutenant-Colonel Rolande Honors War Hero at Hospital'. "So how has it been here for you, Valentin?"
"Sir, can I be honest with you?"
"You should use your own better judgement with that one, son."
"I've been waiting for someone to tell me something. When do I go home?"
"That's actually exactly what I needed to come here today to address with you," it didn't seem like good news was coming as he shut the door and pulled a stool out from the corner of the room. "We can't let you go home yet, officer."
There was a short tension filled silence as Marcel processed the new information. "Do I get anything else to go on?"
"You're on a need to know basis right now and I will brief you on deployment."
"Look just let me talk to my handler and I'll sort it out myself."
This couldn't really be serious, right? They're going to try to send me back out into the field so quickly and not even tell me a thing about it?
"You don't have a handler anymore, Valentin. Look, I understand you're upset but we-"
"Yeah I am upset," Marcel was gradually raising his voice as he became more frustrated. "I've been patient for months while you people won't even tell me where I am!"
You could see the empathy- and guilt in Rolande's eyes. It was his job to decide what's best logistically and issue orders to units. That came naturally to Rolande but an entirely different feeling was seeing their pain first hand. It was justified by the comforting thought that this was all meaningful and worth something. They were brothers in arms protecting their home, it sounds glorious and honorable that way. Yet, he remained uneasy. Maybe that is because he was telling himself that, but he did not honestly believe a bit of it. This war had innocent intentions in the beginning; to protect their land, homes, and families. Now, it was about the power. They kept all these men on conscription when this could’ve all been over with two years ago. That’s the cold hard truth hidden from the entire population. A truth that was only protected by Rolande for the sake of another harsh reality. If the public knew, the streets would be breaking out in riots. Would any man like imagining his family mixed up in all that back home? While they’re here? “Check yourself, Officer. Don’t you wanna go home after all this?”
Marcel was filled with rage. His blood boiled and his heart started beating like he’d been running a marathon. Yet he remained silent.
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