The Others- Is humanity worth saving?

Prologue

    "Is that all you can do?!" The booming voice that held so much authority belonged to no one else other than Commander Asshat. That isn't his actual name obviously but it suited him rather than Commander Miller.

    To say younger me would've pictured myself here, doing push-ups with my knuckles burrowed into the gravel as I'm getting screamed at along with my fellow comrades, that would be a total lie. I didn't go to college to enlist. Major in psychology just to throw it all away before I could graduate. Not one of my comrades pictured themselves here.

    We all had lives of our own before the world went to shit. Before The Others came to colonize our world, trying to claim it theirs.

    Now here I was, my thick hair braided down to the scalp that I normally would have worn in butterfly locs or goddess braids, a sleeve tattoo of a King Cobra that matched the callsign I had been given, doing push ups.

    I could feel the skin on my knuckles tear open where the scabs that had yet to be healed used to be. Most of my comrades had given up by now until one-by-one, they tumbled like dominos. Their chests rested against the gravel road, cheeks pressed to the floor as they wearily tried catching their breaths.

    I was the last one. On my ninety-eighth push-up, my muscles that had already been trembling had begun shaking. My muscles vibrated and my heart thrummed inside of my chest, the once rhythmic thumping that had been under control had grown rapidly and uneven.

    "Look what we have here." Commander Asshat's tone was taunting and booming. He lets out a low whistle and I could feel him press his large boot on my upper back. I look at my comrades, who stare at me with a sliver of hope in their tired eyes. I could see the small spark ignite in them. As if me making it, for the first time ever out everyone was an act of rebellion.

    A big fuck you to the world and Commander Asshat, himself.

    I could feel him press down, adding weight which made me drop lower. I bare my knuckles deeper into the gravel, keeping me from dropping onto the ground completely. I ignored that stinging pain that had now taken over my hands until the pain had made it numb. My arms shook and my teeth clenched tightly as I fought back against him.

    Just one more. I make it through my ninety-ninth push-up and he only presses further.

    I could feel that same spark inside of me. Embers slowly rose as the spark turned into a singular flame. I could feel the familiar soles mapped out along my back as it pushed me down further.

    Just. Go. Up.

    I began to think about life before The Others came. Before they took a planet full of life and plagued it with fear. Life before this stupid military camp. Life when I was just a broke college student cramming study sessions in-between work breaks whilst slumming it up at parties and throwing back tequila shots on those late Friday nights. The nights when the cold air felt blissful in your lungs and not a reminder to stock up on warm clothes or else you'll freeze to death under the thin blanket in the barracks because the heater rarely worked sometimes. A time when I could make pop up visits in the city I felt so familiar with. Seeing the excitement shock through my parents' face like electricity as they embraced me and stuffed me with food and sent me off with leftovers and a wad of cash.

    Even though those days were long gone, they still flash into the back of my mind. Used as fuel as I push myself up despite the burning sensation in my arms and my core. Despite that sharp feeling of that singular breath I sucked in long ago burning in my lungs, begging desperately for me to set it free.

    And I go up. I could feel those weary, yet hopeful eyes on me. Soft murmurs that pushed me to keep going. And there I was, going up.

    But that wasn't enough.

    Those worn and scuffed combat boots pressed further. The deepened soles pressed into my back until my chest fell flat onto the floor. And just like that, the spark had been stomped out.

    By scuffed military combat boots that belonged to no one else other than Commander Asshat, himself.