Encounter

This is actually a small piece, of something that I am thinking of expanding to be a longer story, or perhaps a novella.

An excerpt from A New Tide

 

“Beans? We never get beans ‘less ton of us are gonna die tomorrow,”

I pushed the remark out of my mind and held my inverted helmet out to the camp cook, who ladled slop into my improvised bowl. The thick mix of black beans didn’t garner much intestinal desire, but I moved forwards to claim my hardroll and stepped to the end of the line for a spoon. As I was passing the end of the long tables I noticed a figure in the corner of the food tent, sitting far away from any group of people. The gaunt and lanky man sat awkwardly, as if trying to see the whole room at once.

“What’s his deal?” I asked Sable as I sat next to the other members of my company.

“Why, he bug you one, Elise?” she replied.
            “Nah, he’s just, out there.”

“Him? Don’t give him no mind, he’s totally lost it, greenie,” Mariana said, leaning to me, “They say he went mad, seen too much death or sometin nuts like that. Frickin putas won’t even touch him.”

 I watched the man as he sat, curled inwards in the corner of the food tent. He toyed with his food, not as someone who didn’t want to eat it, but as one who was trying to discern what kept the heavy mixture of beans held together in their thick brown sauce. He stuck two fingers into the stuff, running them through the beans before letting them fall back. Looking up, he caught me staring, and he twitched once before my eyes whipped back to my own helmet of food.

“Schizophrenia, actually. You can almost hold a conversation with him some days,” Brendan said, motioning with his spoon, “Other days, he thinks you’re an alien from mars sent to kill him.”

“Yeh, ok, Mister Doctor Professor man, he’s just off his friggin rocker, he is. I swear to god if he reaches for me though I’ll break his friggin hands,” Sable entered, with venom.

 There was a break in the normal movement of men and women and through the edges of my eyes I saw one of the more butch soldiers aim a kick, hitting the man’s helmet of food over himself. He jerked, and stared at the soldier, who chuckled and tossed her hardroll as she walked off, which bounced off his head, falling into the now semi-empty helmet. He did not rise, but simply sat awkwardly wiping the meal off his ratty and stained fatigues.

            “If he’s so f*****g out of it, why’d officers let him stay around?” I questioned.

            “You really don’t get jack, do you, greenie.” quipped Kyle through a half full mouth.

            “Greenjack, when you’re revoltin’ against a tech-no-logically sooperior enemy, all hands on deck counts. Them shiny boots officers don’t give a hot damn how much you can think- long as you shoot the right guys,” Jamerson explained to me in his thick, slow southern drawl

            “I think that’s kinda sad,” I replied, turning to my food.

            “Ah yah friggin greenies don’t know s**t coming in all new and all- Jamie, you’re wasting yourself,” Baker spat, grinning at me through his broken teeth. I raised an eyebrow and let the insult slide as so many others.

            “You haven’t seen him fight though- dude’s a monster. Saw him bite into a guy’s neck once, like a dog.”

            “Yeh, shut yer trap Brendan, that same rumor passed through three goddamn companies ‘fore it came out ‘cher pie hole.”

            “He’s still an agile bugger, seen him jump some s**t one time, and he fights no holds barred, seen him rushing, almost with a death wish!”

            “Yeah, ok big man, keep talking…”

            I completed the rest of my ‘meal’ not paying attention to the drivel, and pushed it out of my mind, but when I glanced at the corner of the meal tent while leaving, the figure was gone. Thinking nothing but of the cold of the night, I was more than surprised when I was grabbed bodily and flung into an alley between two more solid buildings. Before my pistol was halfway out of its holster the man was on top of me, pinning me to the ground, rancid breath splashing across my face as he twisted my gun out of my grasp. First thought, not here, not now, losing your virginity was supposed to be nice. But any thought of rape was pushed out of my mind when he opened his mouth.

            “Who-ho-o are you, what do you want! I’ve told your superiors everything I know, who sent you?!” stuttered the man in anger, the torchlight glinting crazily off of his wide eyes. I recognized the face of the man in food tent.

            “Whai- What? Get the f**k off me, who do you think you are!?” I struggled vainly against his surprising strength.

            “WHO!? Who are you, you’re new, I know, I’ve tried so many times! I know it, I know it, finally they’ve sent someone to complete the job!”

            “What? What job? Get off me, a*****e!”

            “To kill me! To kill me! Oh finally, someone who will kill me!” Like a flash he was off of me, lunging for the pistol he had so recently cast aside. “No more no more no more! They told me this day would come! The Voice never lies!” Turning the pistol in his hands, he presented it to me, kneeling, as I scrambled to my feet. Not willing to move around him towards the torchlight, I stood, uncertain how to proceed.

            “Please. Don’t make me wait now,” He reached forwards, shoving the pistol into my hand, pressing his head to the barrel, “Pull the goddamn trigger, do it! I don’t want to hear the screams anymore, please!” I tried to pull away, holding the gun, but his grip was much better than his gaunt frame betrayed. “Only in fighting do they leave, the screams, only can be covered by others, please, I hear them, my wife, just make it stop. The Voice keeps me from doing the job myself!”

            I stared at the thing, this man, this sad sack of humanity, as tears began to run down his face. I didn’t know what to do. There was no class in boot camp for dealing with suicidal schizophrenics. I tried to speak, but there was no words to come forth.

            “DO IT, F*****G DO IT ALREADY! PLEASE!”

            I didn’t want to pull the trigger, I couldn’t pull the trigger, something, some deep seated consciousness kept me from ending the life of this sorry little man. I felt pity, and sorrow, overwhelming the fear. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t give him what he so desperately wanted.

            “GAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHHAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Ripping the gun from my hand, me pressed it against the side of his own head, tears running down his cheeks as his finger tightened on the trigger. But just as the hammer was to fall forwards and hit the firing pin he whipped the gun away, pointing into the air, and the discharge shot into the cold night sky, the report filling the alleyway.

            “DAAAAAAAAMNIIIIIIIIT! God damn it. God f*****g damn it” Stuttering into sobs he collapsed forwards, dropping the pistol as Mariana and two guards ran around the corner, weapons drawn. I was frozen, as the man sobbed onto my boots.

            Mariana kicked him to his side, and pulled me away.

            “Friggin puta, he hurt you any, huh? You good?”

            I shook my head, adrenaline still shooting through my body.

            “Welcome to the resistance, green horn.”