The Music Room

Poisoned Youth

SEVEN MONTHS LATER
The rubble is still smoking from the regular explosive bombs and fire bombs that were dropped, killing 300,000 Americans over all. On top of that the hundreds of thousands who were slaughtered in plain sight and then those who were in the wrong place at the right time when the nuclear bombs were dropped. Most of the population has fallen under communist rule and are now functional human drones. Although there is still a minuscule fraction of the original Americans who are still fighting back.
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"Breathe Bohanan" I whisper under my breath, the blood pounding in my ears makes it impossible to do my job correctly. Taking several deep breaths to calm my giddy trigger finger to no avail, I quick as lighting spin and stand up. Gaining a visual on the Communist Squares. They march in squadrons of 24 and platoons of 30 squadrons. These troops based in Washington are doing rounds, shooting off survivors who retaliate and taking hostage those who come quietly. The nearest squadron is out of range. 500 feet or so but they are moving quickly like an army of pesky ants.
Sitting back down I spot Donovan who is 300 feet away and takes out his own squadron. I turn away, unable to handle the gore of watching men die. I try to calm the bird who is desperately fighting for freedom within the white walls of my chest. Giving up on calming down I listen for the drone of 48 pairs of boots clomping around in perfect unison. My trigger finger excitedly taps against the pin of the homemade grenade in my right hand. The squadron gets closer and closer until the sound hurts my ears.
Standing up and yanking the pin out of the shell and quickly tossing it into the middle of the men. Normal men would have scattered. Normal men would have jumped for cover, normal men would have screamed. These are not normal men. These are civilians, dead brained drones, mindless and dangerous to everyone who is considered the enemy. The government has drugged them so they no longer feel. They no longer have emotions. They die a silent death, even as their limbs are ripped to shreds they do not scream. They do not make a pained expression. They feel the pain, that much is true. They don't know how to react to the pain other than to carry on and ignore it.
I hit the dirt and roll to a sprint. Managing to escape just before the blast and the silent death of 24 civilian men. Sprinting out of range from the blast as to not get rained on by human limbs and pieces of papery skin that floats down to the surface of the earth. Remaining hidden from the other squares I duck down below an overturned utility sink and wait a full 30 seconds while they pass by.
The squares have infiltrated most of the east and those who haven't been drugged and have seen what the drugs do, or are just into freedom are fleeing the city and heading west to the huge encampments in California and Texas to regroup.
"Come on Lex!" Tyler shouts as another grenade explodes nearby and I get splattered with blood. I can smell the blood as it dries. My body refuses to move. Shrapnel rains down and mixed with the body parts. Donovan shouts for me to be careful but I can barely hear him. My exposed skin gets cut and scraped as well as a few shards getting stuck in my loosely fitting clothes. Still unable to move I see a rapidly moving figure that races towards me. Tackling me to the ground and somehow manages to get my body over his as we slide over the shards of glass from a broken window of a wall. The stranger rolls over and protects my body as another explosion disrupts a rubble pile. The squares have spotted someone and the tic tic of machine guns and automatics boom and I cover my ears with my hands. The stranger doesn't leave me alone during the barrage.
"We can't leave her!" I hear Donovan shout exasperated, he isn't close though. Not close enough to get to me and get back safely.
"She's probably dead Van!" Tyler shouts back at him, frustration obvious on his voice. All that I can think of at the moment is that I am pretty sure I'm definitely not dead.
"I would know if she was dead Tyler." Donovan retorts and I feel my chest swell with pride, just as a stray shell explodes near him. I feel my heart shatter and my brain turns off with agony that is not yet to be felt. I am numb. The stranger says something to me but I don't understand him. He shakes his head and rolls off of me, grabbing my arm pits and hoisting me to my feet. I am unable to move, frozen in shock that Donovan, my lovely Van is quite possibly dead. I saw him fall, he can't be alive. Too stunned to move I barely feel the stranger lift me off my feet and carry me off the battle field.