What Once Was

Jamerson: Torn

"I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE." Mamma didn't even look at him. She kept her eye on the military leader who had come to claim her son. "Surely there is another way? He's only thirteen!" The man was unfazed. "So was I when I started. He's passed all the tests. We have to take him ma'am." Mamma squeezed his hand and slowly pushed him towards the man. "NO! Mamma!" She knelt so her face was level with his. "I love you. I'll see you again Augustine. I promise." The man grabbed his arm. "Mamma? Mom don't leave me!" The man pulled him out the door into the truck. "MOM! MOM I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE!" She waved to him in the doorway as the car moved. His eyes blurred with tears and before he could clear them, she was gone. He pounded on the window until his knuckles spilt and blood covered the glass. The man looked away from the steering wheel and yelled for him to stop. He didn't. He screamed and screamed for his mother, and the damn glass just wouldn't break. The man in the front took his hands off the wheel and reached for him... The car crashed, slamming into a tree, spinning down down down down, away from everything, including her..."NO!"

"NO!"

Jamerson shot bolt upright in his barrack, panting. It was still dark and still incredibly hot. Sweat even coated his dog tags. Jamerson lied back down slowly, breathing in his pillow's musty smell. He'd woken up Willams a bunk away, who shot him a dirty look before turning over. Jamerson's nightmares were getting steadily worse after it had happened. It had only been a week when he heard that she had- Jamerson didn't even want to think about it.

Someone landed a firm poke on Jamerson's back and jerked him from his thoughts. The overly-freckled face of his best friend peered at him from the ladder on his bunk. Jamerson frowned at him. "Go back to bed Mickey! Mister will hear you." Mickey ignored him entirely. His normally smiling face was somber. "There was nothing you could've done Augustine." Normally Jamerson would've of told him not to call him that, but he didn't have the heart for it. Mickey pulled himself on the bed, his shiny red hair turning white in the moonlight. "What was it?" Jamerson sat up and rubbed his eyes. "The day I left. The car crashed at the end though." Mickey was the only one Jamerson really spoke to about his nightmare-memories, and even then it was rare. Micky looked at his toes. "She's in a better place. You'll see her again man." Jamerson sighed. "Go back to bed Mickey." "You gonna be okay?" "Yeah whatever." Mickey disappeared down the ladder. Jamerson was afraid to go asleep again, so he counted the cracks in the wall until the sun came up.

"JAMERSON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? FOCAS! I WANT TWENTY
PUSH-UPS NOW!" Mister only ever seemed to yell. Jamerson dropped to the floor and burst out in push-ups as Mister continued yelling. "JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE THE HEAD OF THE HS DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! YOU HEAR ME?" "Yes Mister." "GOOD." Jamerson finished his push-ups and stood until the HS was dismissed from
formation. Jamerson was part of the US CBPG, or the USA Canadian Border Protection Group. This was a line of self sufficient military bases that tried their best to keep the hybrids out of the USA. America was the only country that managed to not be overrun by the hybrids, and the CBPG intended to keep it that way. Such a big base required at great deal of food, especially meat. HS, the hunting squad, went out to supply that need. And Jamerson was the head.

"Fifteen and lower, go west and drive anything you find this way. Everyone else, scale a tree and wait." Jamerson didn't feel much like walking to find game today. Shooting right here made it much easier to carry into base. The seventeen year olds disliked taking orders from a kid a year younger, but Jamerson was by far the best at this. Hunting and tracking. That was his element. "There should be deer to the west." No one asked how Jamerson knew this. He had never been wrong before, so why should they? Jamerson heaved his shotgun over his shoulder and cocked it. The squad followed suit and they all knelt amongst the trees to wait.

The gunshots broke through the air after a few minutes, followed by the rapid pounding of hooves. Jamerson tensed and exchanged a quick look with Mickey. He was ready, so that probably meant everyone else was too. The noises came closer. Jamerson narrowed his eyes before bursting out into the clearing, aiming a hail of bullets at the deer stampeding towards them. The rest of the squad opened fire too, as the men driving the deer jumped out of bullet range. Jamerson observed the deer and noticed an abnormal one towards the back, running like the rest of them. Jamerson squinted and realized with a start that that the deer's face was human. "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" The squad didn't hear him over the sharp bangs of bullets. "I SAID HOLD YOUR FIRE MEN!" The men stopped but it was too late. The hybrid flopped to the ground. Jamerson ran between the deer and observed her with sadness. She was beautiful, her back covered in smooth deer fur specked with white spots. Her legs ended in cloven hooves and were covered in the same brown fur. Her lifeless eyes were warm and completely brown, framed with long delicate lashes. The HS didn't seem fazed by her at all, only peered down curiously at the thing they had killed. "Just bring her in with the rest." Someone said. "No." Jamerson replied. "Leave her there." "Maybe we should hold her a frickin funeral too." An older kid scoffed. Jamerson ignored him and grabbed the first deer. In all the HS had brought now eleven deer, enough to feed the whole camp. Deer was good and meaty. It was always his target. Not harmless hybrids. Guilt chewed at his insides, but of course, Jamerson said nothing.