“The Last Week”
Hibiki surveyed the field through the large round scope of an American issued M1903A4. Sweat and fog clouded his vision. He wiped his brow. No survivors. He slowly moved the barrel left and then back to the right before honing in on a sudden movement coming from what was first thought to be nothing but a pile of corpse and rubble. He returned the rifle back to the hands of a rigid cadaver who couldn’t have been much older than seventeen. Hibiki gave a quick bow towards the fallen soldier, and ran towards the potential survivor.
Hibiki dodged large holes and jumped random metal debris, careful not to trip over any bodies as he ran.
“Hey Mister, are you okay? Hey! Wake up!”
Timothy awoke to a pair of overalls screaming nonsense at him. As the world came into focus, the first thing to hit him was the smell of burnt flesh and singed hair. Timothy coughed which sent an unpleasant stab from his chest all the way down his left leg. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Hibiki saw Timothy’s uniform, and he jumped back suddenly as to escape his own realization.
“Oh sh*t!” Timothy reached for his pistol, but it wasn’t there.
Hibiki threw his arms up in the air, the international sign for surrender. The two men stared at each other as the world around them seemed to close in all at once.
Just then an SCR-300 decided to interject with a disjointed voice: “This is station five seeking survivor status of squad nine. I repeat, this is station five seeking survivor status of squad nine.”
Timothy looked behind him to see the straps of an SCR still wrapped securely around a severed torso. I have to get to that radio.
Timothy’s eyes studied overalls closely. Can I make it?
He leaped in the direction of the radio but collapsed suddenly under the weight of his own eagerness. “Arrrrggg.” Timothy cradled his side for a moment, and extended his languid arm just enough for his fingertips to brush gently against the radio.
“No.” Overalls shook his head.
The small man in overalls reached down towards Timothy.
“Please, no,” Timothy pleaded. The hot August air was stagnant in his throat.
Overalls looked down at him quizzically, then said, “You come with me.” And with that, Overalls pulled Timothy to his feet and proceeded to become a human crutch.
The pain in Timothy’s body was a pulsing kaleidoscope, and it took every bit of strength to muster a full sentence: “Why do you smell like fish?”
Nothing but a blank stare from Overalls.
Am I going to die?
Timothy looked around at his surroundings. The armored caravan and all the carriers had gone. The orange smokey sky made Timothy’s face fall. I am going to die.
Hibiki rummaged around a wooden cart for what seemed like an eternity until he finally found what he was looking for. Hibiki held up a dull black crow bar; he held it high like it was a trophy he had just won. His wide smile revealing several gaps in his teeth.
Timothy threw a thumbs up in his direction. What is he doing?
The radio sang in the distance, a static melody that caused Timothy’s heart to sink. Though the message was unintelligible, the volume and cadence of the message continued to increase as he listened. I wonder if they are coming back?
While Hibiki wrestled with the truck door, Timothy reached into his pack and pulled out his last ration; a fresh baked bread biscuit, saying it was more of a mouthful than eating it.
Timothy caught Hibiki staring longingly at his breakfast. Ah, What the hell.
Timothy broke the biscuit in half and extended his arm towards Overalls.
The men sat side by side; two cows chewing cud.
The smoke was getting thicker, and it was clearly time to move on.
A few more minutes of crowbar vs door, and voila, it opened. Hibiki helped Timothy into the truck, throwing rods and metal boxes onto the ground.
“I hate to break it to you, but this old thing isn’t going to run.” Again, another blank stare from Overalls.
Just then, the ignition turned over and Overalls was back to rocking that goofy smile. “We go to big city. Get Help.”
This time, Hibiki received a blank stare from Timothy.
Timothy woke after being jostled by an angry pot hole. He readjusted his head against the passenger window and looked at the passing trees.
The sign racing beside him read, 出口 “Deguchi Kure”
He couldn’t make out the rest of the damaged sign, just some unfamiliar symbols and what was left of the letters “H I R”
“20 kilometer. Soon” smiled Overalls.
Timothy nodded politely and his eyes slowly closed again.
….a creative writing assignment…….