✔𝚨 𝚸𝛐𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 ➳ 𝚩𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝚩𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

Chapter 11

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighbourhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Melora finished the poem and closed her book, pushing it underneath her pillow as she looked at the piece of paper lying on the desk. The new orders for her and the rest of her platoon. The realities of war had hit everyone, falling like domino bricks.

Many of them no longer wanted to go, the last battle had been horrible. The 107th was becoming smaller and smaller. The rest of the platoons were the same as her own, and she wanted nothing more than to tell them they could all go home.

She sniffled up the last of her restraint and tightly clutched the paper in her hand, knuckles becoming white in an instant as she with full resolute walked towards her units briefing tent.

They all looked with horror as she entered. The men could see it on her face, and she hated having to do this, but there was nothing she could do to change it. There was no care left for them, clothes dishevelled, defeated faces, and she watched Stevens shake his head in disbelief.

"We're shipping out again," she said, jaw tense and gritting her teeth as she spoke. They had barely been back for a day, and she did not think they would ever be back again. The meetings she had to attend told her enough of the war. Melora knew.

"The Italian front need more men." Kirkland frantically ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it. "We're leaving out at 0800 tomorrow..." she unfolded her hands, voice falling. "Try and get some sleep."

She stepped down from her place at the front and headed straight out of the tent. Looking any of them in the eyes was not something she could bear, and she hoped to God they would not truly be put on the front of the frontlines.

The walk towards the front felt surreal. No enemies in sight as they advanced. The tension in the air was incomparable to anything else, and even Melora keeping all her senses open were unable to detect anything.

Morning was still above them, trotting through the tall grass of Italy in the dawning hour with guns tightly clutched and being as silent as they could. She was in the lead, other Sergeants behind her and the rest behind them, walking in rank.

They knew where they were headed, and supposedly, they were already far behind enemy lines. The town around them slowly rose, truly in slow motion. The outermost buildings were only walls, and they walked multiple blocks before roofs appeared.

Her hand was in the air, she was sure there was movement ahead of them, somewhere not too far. Everyone stopped, getting into cover as she motioned for Jackson to go around the right while she went left.

She heard the breathing as she walked closer, and immediately her mind was on the plants, plants beneath the ground. Her head rounded the corner, instantly recognising the German soldier. A vine appeared from the ground, slowly rising.

He had not noticed her yet, and the plant pinned him to the wall, silencing his sounds as well. Her feet moved on their own, seeing the fear in his face as she thought of the dark, feeling cold rush down her spine while her hand reached out for him.

The skin glowing, and a surge of darkening purple energy poured through the man as she made contact. Jackson rounded the corner at the same time, fear in his eyes, and she put her finger to her lips.

He nodded and they continued to advance as the dark green vine made sure the body fell silently. A bitter wind swept across the hillside town and their stealthiness did not matter. Within a second, gunshots were sounding all around them.