Timelines Collide

Chapter 6: Lincoln

After that shot, it isn't long before the building becomes quiet again—the silence that my squadmates complain so much about. Only if we knew then that scars would be formed from that silence.

With the battle won in the eyes of Lincoln's men, they thrust in cheer and applause among themselves. If not, they're shipping off the wounded and silent back to base. How can I celebrate with them when I was the one that failed? 

I share that thought alone with the dark blue skies and a glaring fire, all upon an empty log. My eyes dwell on everything I learned from 76 as I picture it through the flames.

They ended up uncovering the bodies of Cliff and Buzzard from a dumpster outside the main gate. Something deep down within me wanted to believe that the acolyte girl was bluffing about Joltxs; that somehow it was a tactic to make us more afraid. Even I can't be in denial forever. 

They found his body, as 76 describes, as "two slabs of hanging meat." She will serve justice as she is shipped to a faculty that deals with these acolytes and people like them. Though she deserves more than that. For killing my friend, I wish she died at my hands.  

Ethan was the least deformed corpse I've heard with only a slit across his throat near the east gate. As for Heavy, they say he 'should' survive if they treat him back at the base immediately—at least he will have Hardcase's company. I didn't even get to say goodbye to the two, leaving only me and the fire to share my pain.

To try and ease the stress from my brain, I begin a mind-cleansing process. The first step is to look over at my surroundings and enjoy the nature around me. I list; no trees, barely any grass, and brown that stretches on for what seems like miles. 

At least the tiniest glimmers of stars can be seen above the fire. Sometimes if I'm lucky, I might see a couple of leaves. I'm fortunate enough to see one hitchhiking its way in the wind.

My arm draws towards it and catches it mid-flight. My eyes see that the leaf has lost a part of itself, forming an arrow shape with the end going out near the stem. I softly smirk at the fact that I can almost relate to it. Though as enticing as it is, I softly place it on the ground, looking past it and back into the fire. 

The next step is to wipe off our guns to near perfection. Sadly, Bertha sacrificed herself for me. So, I borrow one from another soldier who doesn't seem to notice. It's covered in black clothes and oil yet still isn't worse than my hands which are stained with invisible blood. The substances come off easily when my eyes can actually see them.

"You know, old sport, it would be a lot easier if you didn't have black clothes covering that gun," Lincoln says, his British voice always finding ways to surprise me.

"Well, I can imagine it being even harder when you're wearing all black." I chuckle, trying to attempt multi-tasking.

"Hmmm, perhaps you're not wrong." His presence has the flames vibrant as he takes a seat along the log, especially with his signet that glares into the fire like a raging bull. "Looks like you can use some company." Both our eyes start staring into the ever-growing flame.

"So, what's going on?" I ask, still trying to find the gunk that pulls at my nose with a string from the gun. 

"For one, I wanted to see if 76 told you about the status of–"

"Yes, he did." My words cut him off. His eyes look away from the flames to see a much greater burning pain as he reaches and presses down on my weighted shoulder.

"Don't bring yourself down, they couldn't have been in better hands."

"Maybe if these hands weren't tainted in their rotten blood. They needed hands like yours. Powerful and mighty." To my surprise, my words don't make him flinch.