A Silent Lullaby

Chapter 4- in the present

The next morning, he awoke from a non-dream sleep, with not a stir in the night. As usual, he stands and grabs his prescribed medicine bottle, and opens it up with a twist of the cap. He looks inside and sees... an empty bottle (the empty bottle). The wastebasket was positioned thoughtfully on one end of the wall, at the end of his desk, and he carried the bottle there with a smile on his face. All sorts of things he would throw away: gears, poorly constructed gadgets–failures. He would throw away failures. After tossing it in, Azod turns to his work table and begins to tinker with the invention he had left there the night before. These goggles were the same thing he had been working on for the previous three weeks. He was attempting again, although it was difficult and tedious work.

This morning, unlike many mornings before, he had skipped breakfast, unsure of why it happened. It must have slipped out of his mind. But why? It had hardly ever occurred before. His routine was strictly constant: wake up, change, eat breakfast, work, then sleep. He'd done that for so long that it was almost second nature. Now the room was occasionally spinning slightly and his heart was beating quickly. To notice, you would have to essentially gaze at something until your eyes started to cross. And even though his stomach was growling at him like a monster hiding under a six-year-olds and waiting for the right opportunity to attack, he ignored it.

He reasoned that he must not have slept well. But given that he had already, that seemed a bit redundant. As a brand-new infant, it was a lovely sleep. His chest was always rising and falling. A constant stream of saliva and gentle snores emanated from the corner of his mouth.

Most of his lonely nights would be spent working until very late in the night when there came a point at which he just knew it was time to quit. He had been at it for hours and needed a halt in the creative process. It was an internal conflict–almost as if it was an acute case of OCD– a war waging back and forth, crossing front lines with soldiers dressed in combat gear with knee pads, helmets, and flak jackets everywhere armed to the tip with weapons of such: guns– machine guns, M4/M4A alternating in fire, M24 snipers hidden in the high hills and bunkers and trees or any hillside, upturned vehicle or building. Also used to return cover for returning fire at the enemy.

A constant shower of bullets and bombs, mortars and grenades. Walls of steel and stone stood strong in their position to defend what they believed was their country, their life. Those who came to fight were those who held their ground. It's one of the most important parts of modern warfare if we're not unprepared or handicapped by our lack of assets and buddies' lack of stamina.

Everything was a game– a deadly game. A helicopter flew back, landed, and disgorged a precious crate of M16A2 rifles, a case of armor-piercing ammunition, a cardboard box of red dot scope scopes and ammo cans filled with night vision goggles and infrared goggles, every single item a treasured item for the offense in this 1st Special Forces unit. They were a special unit, at a special time and location. They knew it, and they knew the enemy was expecting them to attack and breach their offenses Army trench lines and seize their wooded hills at any minute.

There were mutual feelings of shock, confusion, and anger.

Azod felt lost in a sea of emotions and feelings. He was drowning in the fact that his various feelings and emotions were mixed in with his thoughts, creating a maelstrom of confusion. It was all he could do to keep his head above the surface.

Almost a labyrinthine of imaginary death (only those who were present could witness the heinous events), love of coming home, and wanting the glory of winning against the enemy. That is war: the good guys believe the bad guys are wrong, while the bad guys believe the good guys are evil and they are correct.

It goes back and forth for the better of almost an hour.

Eventually, the enemy would surpass any counterattack and triumph over 'evil'.