A Narrow Path
I never wanted to be a soldier. It never was my lifelong dream. I never owned a single damn G. I. Joe action figure in my life. I never wanted to fight for your freedom, nor did I want to defend mine. I never wanted to be drafted. I never saw the rising mutant population as a real threat until recently. I never wanted to walk in this stupid forest and on this stupid winding path, heading into a mission I know I won't return from. Suicide mission.
“…man and the way she moved that tongue of hers…” He snaps me out of my thoughts.
The trailing ends of Jackson’s senseless storytelling to Julian. I remain silent.
Jackson must have missed the memo on the last few evolutions that mankind went through. His mind couldn’t decipher thoughts in his brain or his cock. I bet he owned a shit-ton of G. I. Joes growing up.
“Oh man, dude, I can’t believe how fucking lucky you are,” Julian responds to Jackson‘s tales of loveless sexual encounters brought to you by his local sluts. Thank you, loose women of Stonelake, Wisconsin for these oh so lovely stories.
Julian tries too hard. It’s difficult to get to know someone who doesn’t know themselves yet. He’s a newer recruit and doesn’t look old enough to be out of his teens. He must have known the right people, or wrong depending on how I see it, to get to a team of this high secrecy. Maybe he was a general’s son? Makes no sense to me. I sometimes catch myself pondering what he’s thinking. See, for Jackson it was easy. Sex, Sex, Sex, Food, Sex, Sex, Sex, Army, HOOAH! Julian was a different case, I had no insight past his transparent bullshit of a facade.
I’m going to die with these two. It’s a reality I’m facing, but not one I’m facing too well. The army attempts to brainwash us to act as brothers with their propaganda-driven videos and never-ending seminars. At this moment of time, I’d like to think of them as very, very, distant cousins.
We’re a sad first string on a team no one wants to be a part of. We were chosen because the government saw “great potential” in us which to me translates to “Send in the guinea pigs.” The army finally found the location of a new mutant that is the recent root cause of a few couple hundred-thousand American deaths. The attacks started roughly 2 months ago. Accounts of a half-mile radius just simply collapsing. All pronounced dead before hitting the ground. Scary stuff.
“What do you think it looks like?” I say breaking my silence.
“It?” Julian speaks.
“The target,” I clarify.
“I picture this troll-looking motherfucker with a crazy shifting eye staring at its victims—killing them with just a simple thought!” Julian erupts like a child that suddenly remembered to tell a story about what happened at school.
“Alright, Jackson what do you think?” I say sternly.
“I think it’ll look like my ex-girlfriend Sheila,” Jackson answers.
God, I hate him so much.
“Seriously. What do you think?” I say putting on a bit more pressure.
“Tall, hairy, fangs, beady soulless eyes, and heart of ice,” he pauses, “Like my ex-girlfriend Sheila.”
I really hate him.
“I have dreams about it. At first, it looks just like an average person, then as I get closer it transforms into a 7-foot man with transparent skin and an enlarged brain. It was as if I could tell what he was thinking just by simply looking at him.”
“Transparent? Like a jellyfish?” Julian asks.
“Never thought about it that way, but exactly like jellyfish,” I say. My description sounds ridiculous being said out loud for the first time.
“Hey Jackson, what if it’s some fine ass chick?” Julian asks.
“Why would you even play like that?” Jackson says. “Sergeant Italiano and I would have to duke it out.” He laughs.
Ugh, He named his junk? And Sergeant Italiano? He’s not even Italian. I have to force myself to stop thinking about it, rolling my eyes as I grab the map.
“We should be there in a few minutes.” I say through tight teeth.
“Showtime!” Jackson grabs his automatic phaser attached to his belt, “Been dying for some action.”
“What’s the plan again?” Julian says with unsteady shaky hands.
“We get a good peek of the stronghold to seek out what security measures we take. If it seems secure, or when we make it secure, we get inside the building and seek out the mutant target,” I say with surprising strength. I’m not ready to die.
“What do you mean make it secure?” Julian says.
“He means we play ‘kill the freaks that stand in our way,’” Jackson says with too big of a grin on his stupid face.
“ Yeah. Pretty much,” I say grabbing my scanning device to get a read around the nearing stronghold—seeking any potential threats.
“That’s odd,” I say instead of thinking it.
They look at me waiting for my next string of words. “I get the major reading inside the building, but it’s the only reading I get. ”
“And?” Julian says.
“He was expecting an army,” Jackson says not missing a beat.
“Exactly, I was expecting something of this magnitude would be crawling with mutants,” I say just as surprised as Jackson. For once I agree with him.
We stop right at the point where the brush meets enemy lines. We remain hidden.
“It looks unnatural.” Julian says.
“Yeah,” I say.
Jackson, for once, is silent.
The site did look unnatural. The stronghold sits perfectly in the middle of possibly half-a-mile radius of dirt. Uninhabitable soil. Surrounded by a thick forest. I wonder if the mutant beast did this? It wasn’t even an honest decent stronghold. It looked more like an abandoned plantation house.
“You sure you get an active scan read on this place?” Jackson questions.
“Affirmative. Mutant activity confirmed,” I say.
“Ready for phase two when you are.” Jackson says. His demeanor changes as he prepares his gun.
“I’m ready.” Julian says shaking. Poor kid unhooks his gun with false vibrato and hope still gleaming in his youthful eyes.
“We keep a solid pace, we stay together, and if you see anything don’t hesitate to shoot,” I place the scanner back in my back pocket, place my bag on the ground, and unclip my gun.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Without hesitation, we creep slowly in a triangle formation towards the abandoned house. I wonder if it was aware of our intentions?
“Alright guys, make sure to keep an eye out. Do not leave any section unviewed.” I say as we step to our own collective rhythm.
“Half way there!” Julian says.
“Julian, keep focus!” I snarl keeping him in check.
He doesn’t respond.
I’m not even the leader of the group. I’m just a temporary lead sent to his death. This thought circles my brain as if it were an endless drain. It drains me. I can’t die until I see its face. Who, What is it? What does it look like? The so many possibilities. What if it did look like a troll? A werewolf? A jellyfish? A monster of all monsters? A --
A deafening snarl pierces the stale air. My eyes catch glimpse of the first mutant I’ve ever seen in real life. He was hunched over next to the house keeping low-leveled eyes on us.
“Oh shit!” Julian says beneath his breath.
“What do you know! It does look like Sheila,” Jackson says, I’m sure he’s quite proud of himself right now.
“Not now!” I snap.
“I ain’t going to wait for a warning sign,” Jackson says taking aim at the mutant.
Jackson was right. It was tall, hairy, and had fangs. It looks almost like a werewolf stuck halfway in transformation. Kind of disappointed that this was it.
“Fire!” I say.
“Shoot the bastard!” Julian adds.
It charges full force towards us as Julian backs up and to the left, and I stand my ground. I’ve never seen anything move at such high speed before.
Jackson raises his gun takes aim and fires. The bullet soars perfectly for the kill. It will be done. The bullet reaches just an inch away before the creature vanishes while still in mid-run.
“What the -” I say
“Where the fuck did it go?” Julian asks.
“Keep an eye out.” I say.
Silence.
“Where you at bitch!” Jackson yells hitting his chest.
“Jackson! Now is not the time for that” I say.
Silence.
“Maybe we scared him off?” Julian says lowering his gun.
“It can’t be that easy. Keep your gun up,” I say.
“Maybe he went to recruit others?” Julian adds, “Maybe he wasn‘t even real? Maybe he--”
“Maybe you should shut the fu-” Jackson turns his neck around.
Something jerks the gun out of my hand and I see a terror painted on Jackson’s face. He drops his gun as I notice the fanged-beast hovering over Jackson’s back with its arms locked around him and its fangs pierced through his left shoulder angled towards his heart.
“Fucker,” he mutters, coughing, mouth colored bright red.
Julian backs away and runs back to the path we came in through. Coward. I pull up my pant leg and reach for the short-range pistol that I keep on me during missions. I point it at the toothy mutant, close my left eye for aim, and fire shooting it right between the eyes making sure not to hit Jackson. It falls to the ground taking Jackson down too.
“Shit.” I say, out loud, walking over to Jackson and my kill. I tear at Jackson’s shirt to see how bad the wound was. His skin was slowly turning shades of black around the bite marks and a path leading towards his chest. Of course this mutant would be poisonous.
“Good shot,” Jackson pauses to cough, “...bro.” He attempts a chuckle.
“Try to rest up, Jackson,” I say with a false smile reaching for my back pocket pulling out my scanner.
What? The scanner still indicates the strong signal coming from inside the house. This wasn’t it? Was this just his pawn? Are we a part of a game? Maybe he’s not fully dead yet? What does fully dead even mean? Do I try to pull Jackson back to the path? Do I continue inside and face it alone? I have to know. I just have to know…
I pick up Jackson’s gun and run towards the house. As much as I dislike Jackson, I couldn’t have him dying in vain. I had to know who it was.
I gain speed without thought. No time to stop. I crash full force through the front window glass and roll in with a gun in air ready to shoot the first thing I saw moving.
Nothing. Just an old TV and a couch.
My heart races faster with each quiet step I take. Where is it? I make my way past the first hallway and glance at the scanner. It’s so near. I place my back lightly against the hallway wall.
A faint almost-whining noise echoes down the hall. Whining? Was it hurt? Was it sad? I follow the noise. I had to know what it looked like.
I stop in front the last door in the hallway. Origin of the noise. I take a breath.
I’m ready to die.
I open the door. The room was all white, from walls to small bed that sat at the corner.
A toddler sits in the corner facing the wall and talking to himself.
“What the? What are you doing little guy?” I ask.
What’s a baby doing here? I put my gun down and squat to see the weird objects painted towards the bottom of the wall next to the door. There were famous city landmarks like the recently fallen Statue of Liberty and people with “x’s” for eyes. Then I get to a drawing of the mutant that attacked us outside. It looks like it was drawn, erased, and redrawn. A picture of a soldier that looked somewhat-like Jackson was next to it. He had his eyes crossed out. All created with crayons.
It hits me all at once. I can’t. I can’t kill a child! The child looks at me and I can’t help but to wonder if he knows what he was doing. If he knew he was killing people. Innocent lives lost.
I notice a drawing of two soldiers. One of Julian and one of me. It was too late for Julian, his eyes were crossed out just like Jackson. My picture has one crossed out eye and the baby looks at me and smiles.
“I,” I pause, “I can’t kill a child.”
It turns back around and puts the crayon to the wall.
I point my gun and ---
Silence.