Walk to Tomorrow

Smoke rose from the smoldering ashes of old, crumbled buildings and charred bodies alike. The smell of burnt flesh and hair ensnared Jack’s sense of smell, holding him captive, making him pay for his transgressions against the lives he and his fellow soldiers ended just a few short hours ago. He looks down to see blood on his uniform, unable to tell if it was his, his allies, or most likely, his enemies. Or at least he tries to convince himself. But, he knows. He knows they weren’t his enemies. It was blood of farmers, and workers, and mothers, fathers, sons, daughters. In a word: Innocents.

Jack  can’t help but remember the day of yesteryear. Enjoying peaceful days with his family on the farm. They weren’t all great memories, some stale, others heart-warming, all of them happier than the ones he creates today. All of that changed when their turn came. Although, on the farm, they were far away enough from the epicenter, the Country was in political turmoil. A small sect of people felt the government wasn’t performing up to par, so they picked up guns and began “recruiting” people to join their cause. Calling themselves “The Second Dawn” they went city to city, farm to farm threatening people to join their cause. They threatened people at gunpoint unless at least one person joined If anyone refuses, they will act on their threats. Jack’s mother was shot in the stomach. He still doesn’t know if she lives. He left while his mother writhed in agony, her wound painting the wooden canvas that lied beneath her body with globs of crimson. After they had left the house, the recruiter said one thing to him, “Follow all of our orders. If you don’t…” he turned around and looked to the house, and back to Jack, then continued walking. Jack had no choice but to follow orders as given.

Jack continues walking, searching for any life he can find, all the while hoping he finds no one. The orders are explicit: If it moves, kill it. Jack looks in a building, a church. Dilapidated. The benches are destroyed, lying atop another, fallen, split down the middle like wood being chopped for a fire. The crucifix, fallen and broken, the man attached has only his left arm, his right lies to the side. His face destroyed, The right side of his head is missing, presumably rubble. The whole church covered in the white remains of it’s followers. The top of the church had crumbed, hit by a mortar shell, exposed to the sky above. At the front, a podium. Only, as he sees it, he notices a head quickly sneak back into cover behind it.

Jack’s feet move toward the podium as if under control. He wants to turn around, pretend he saw nothing, but can’t. Fear of what may befall him or his family overpowers his sense of moral responsibility.

“Chris look at me!. Focus on my eyes!” He heard a whisper from ahead, confirming what he didn’t want to be true. Someone was there. 

“Don’t you dare leave me alone here,” the voice added, in desperation. 

Jack eased himself closer to the podium careful not to alert those behind it. He lowered his gun and walked around finally seeing the source of the voice, and to whom the voice was referring to. A young girl, no older than fifteen years old kneels above a wounded young man, her back towards Jack. She holds a soot covered rag on his stomach. He must’ve been shot, Jack thought to himself.

”You know better than that little sis. I won’t leave you  here to…” before finishing, his eyes met mine, then widened, and he began panting. His wound reopened and saturated the cloth, now dark red. The girls head turned around and saw a man tower over her, clad in thick Kevlar darker than night. They were designed to evoke fear, as well as protect the soldiers. That is even more so true for their helmets, which completely encase the head, made from strong, angular metal, and is black like the rest of the suit, with one exception: the eyes. Instead of normal clear cover for the eyes, they are bright, red lights that pierce through the courage of those who stand opposite of them. She jumps in front of her brother. Jack knows what he has to do, but he hesitates, and steps back and calls out, “Captain, I found two live ones. What shall I do?”

“I gave my orders already.”

“Sir, they’re just children.”

“You have my orders.” The captain said sternly, giving Jack a sharp look. At least he thinks so. Jack gives a sigh, then turns around and faces the children. “Stand up” he says, leans over and grabs the girl’s arm and lifts her to her feet.

“Move!” Jack said as he pushed her to the ground outside behind the church. He walks back in and grabs the boy, forces him up on his feet and similarly leads him to the ground behind the church. He throws him on the ground next to the girl.

Jack pulls his pistol out of his holster, and points it to the back of the boy’s head. He takes a deep breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. Jack could hear the girl’s scream as the boy’s body slumps to the ground, motionless. She runs over to her brother’s side, screaming at Jack, calling him a monster. Jack pulls his gun back up and points it at the girl, and once again squeezes the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoes throughout the town, followed by an uncomfortable, deafening silence.

Jack turned around and walked back to his formation.

“All taken care of sir.”

“Good. Move out!”

The girl’s eyes open. She looks over to her brother and sees him begin to stand up as well. They both look to the dirt to the side and see two holes in the ground. Unaware what exactly had happened, she remembers before the man “shot” her, he said “Go north.” Unwilling to question why she lives, she decides to trust him. The girl stands up, and wraps her brother’s arm around her neck and lifts up her brother, and they begin walking north, to tomorrow.

Reviews

[Meeks]

This is my honest and open critique, not meant to poke fun of you or your writing but help you fix and make your writing better.

The very beginning starts out in past tense, then Jack checks stuff in present tense, and then goes back to past once he finds someone. Just check the tenses again.

Plot wise, several holes. The town is mortared and obviously has been attacked; why would they waste heavy weapons like mortars on a church full of civilians if there is no military target in the city? If it's just civilians, it would be easier to go in and shoot them. Also, the girl doesn't put up resistance when he drags her outside? And somehow the rebels got organized enough to create scary metal uniforms for everybody? Both people fall silent when being supposedly 'shot' by Jack? And when does he tell her to go north?
Minor things, usually I don't point out plot holes.

In the beginning, it is obvious that you try to disgust the reader with describing he inside of the church, but seem a little disgusted yourself. Descriptions there are lacking; more puss, more blood, more pieces of torn flesh everywhere, squishing like wet toilet paper as Jack tries to not tread on the bodies.

Also, during the executions, you can see that Jack is either out of it today or a professional killer. He barely pauses, in the image I recieved, between shooting the boy and the girl, barely takes a breath before pulling the trigger. Time should slow down in moments like that, it didn't.
So, to solve your earlier problem and just help you in general, some advanced pacing tips.
Every reader subconsciously breaths at the periods (sometimes commas too). You can make the reader pant, giving the illusion of incredible action or emotion, by making your sentences shorter. Or you can make them longer to have the reader hold their breath before a climax.

"they begin walking north, to tomorrow" - so cliche. You know what I'm talking about, it's a scene where they walk off into the sunset, hoping for a better future and knowing they'll get one someday. WAY overused.

You change narrators in the end. Risky, because suddenly we don't see Jack through his eyes and we notice just how much of a monster he is. And so we dislike the main character, and stop caring about the story. (Worst end scenario)

Overall, I do enjoy having someone actually write something. Good job, and don't stop now! It's not finished yet.