Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

In the Mud and the Blood: Part Two

Ludovic leaned his head against the wall of the trench. He was so tired he couldn't think straight, and his eyes felt like they'd been scrubbed with sand.

He and Edmond had worked tirelessly, making their way through the long length of the trenches, digging trapped soldiers out where shells had blown up the walls, and carrying the ones who couldn't walk. They'd saved a lot of lives. But not enough. The gas had rolled in, an eerie green cloud of chlorine, and claimed the lives of dozens of soldiers. Dozens more had died in the bombardment, blown apart by shells or shredded by explosive shrapnel, and many more were so badly wounded that they wouldn't survive the night.

The raiding parties had been driven back, and the bombardment had finally ceased, but so much horror had been wrought since it started.

Ludovic had seen men reduced to nothing but bloody lumps of meat. He'd seen grown soldiers sobbing and begging for their mothers. He'd seen blasted limbs and shattered bones, and guts spilling into the mud, and pieces everywhere.

His hands tightened on his rifle, and tears of horror and exhaustion burned his eyes.

"Is this your first war?" Edmond asked, leaning his head on the wall next to Ludovic's.

"Yes."

"It's my third."

Ludovic swallowed. "Does it ever get easier?"

Edmond was silent for a long moment. "No," he said at last.

"I didn't expect to see another vampire here. I thought I was the only one," Ludovic said.

"You're not the first I've seen."

Ludovic sat up straighter. "Really? Where are the others?"

Edmond turned his head to look at Ludovic, and his eyes were filled with shadows. "They didn't survive."

Were they friends of yours?"

Edmond sighed. "Honestly, not really. I barely knew them. But there seem to be so few of us in this world, and it hurt to see them die."

Ludovic had so little experience with his own kind that he didn't know what to say to that.

He stared around the trench. After ferrying wounded soldiers to safety, he and Edmond had worked with survivors to shore up the damage caused by the attack, but the smell of blood and death was like smog, a constant reminder of what had happened.

"How long do you think this war will last?" he said.

"I don't know." Edmond's voice was sombre. "But there'll be another one. There's always another one."

"That wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear," Ludovic told him.

Edmond just looked at him.

"But at the same time, I appreciate the honesty," Ludovic said.

Edmond cracked a small smile.

After that day, they were rarely apart. Their friendship had been borne of blood and pain, but it became something more, something that Ludovic had never had before.

He could tell Edmond anything, and he did – confessing all the dark, ugly parts of his past, and in turn Edmond told him of his own sins. He understood Ludovic. He became the kind of friend that Ludovic had never known he needed.

The trenches were still a nightmare, but for the first time, Ludovic felt that he had someone he could draw strength from. Even when things were at their darkest, Edmond's steady, loyal friendship was a glimmer of light.