Field of Vision

Chapter 11: Wake of Oil, Path of Fire

Chapter 11: A Wake of Oil, a Path of Fire

Glancing down the slope of the 'impassable mountains,' Wilson stared at his hometown, with his one good eye, glowing faintly at night, and dull at day.

. . .

Year ninety-eight of the 100-year war

. . .

"Happy twenty ninth Birthday, Will!"

"It's Wilson," he corrected Patrick, who'd been repositioned into long-range support, sniping and recon.

The two friends watched as the dregs of the sun went down on the fourth day of observation, and sighed in unison at the sky that no one could hope to capture in paint. But perhaps Kunden would capture it in a black cloud of death and smog. Hopefully without the death.

"Tomorrow we go in, right?" Patrick asked.

"I know you heard me yesterday, so be quiet," Wilson snapped as he absentmindedly felt the linen bandage encompassing his right eye. They turned and hiked from the middle of the slope to the top of the 'impassable mountain' range, eating their rations at their make-shift, bolted-down camp. There was no flat, or even gradually round terrain atop this particular section, so they dug their tents' pegs into the dirt along the most gradual sloping parts.

Then their radio jolted with life.

"... All right then, guess that's our cue," Patrick muttered obnoxiously as Wilson turned to survey the darkened town with his night vision goggles.

They already had their old Nara uniforms on, torn, no doubt, but on. That way, when they arrived by the jeep Patrick stowed away on, people would expect them to be back only because of a medical excuse. Finally, Kunden had caught up to Wilson's hometown. Its latest capture was the pass adjacent to Wilson's goal.

. . .

Year seventy-four of the 100-year war

. . .

At the pass that would later become known as the battle of Brothers' Blood, Lloyd stepped onto the dark metal bus, waving goodbye at his crying parent. His dad was relocated for his job before Lloyd was born. Honestly, he didn't know what they were so upset about. He had turned four a week ago, and finally got to go to school.

When he found himself in the inorganic, imitated 'school,' it was... surprising. He wanted to explore the school, know the layout, everything about it. He wanted to do something like that when he grew up; being able to see everything and go everywhere. The human teacher nodded briskly at the cadets that walked into his classroom, and eyed Lloyd's curious smile with anger.

He immediately cut it off, understanding this was a serious environment. He took a seat, keeping his habit of swinging his legs carefree restrained with care. It took every muscle in his body not to cry, not to speak unless spoken to, not to poke and prod the big meanie to his right, and worst of all: not to swing his legs.

At the end of the day, he was told that they would start their training to be soldiers. And if not them, then warfront coordinators, everyone's dream job, apparently. Sounded boring to Lloyd... and worse... meat production would be offered to those who failed. When the three-shot pistol fired at the end of the day, he started for the door, but everyone else remained in their seats. Sensing immediate danger, he tried backtracking but the instructor was on him before his first step.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked softly, so softly, it made Lloyd cry out in fear as he picked him up by his noodle arm.

"Oh, I hope you kissed your mum goodbye. Since there's no one at home left to care for you, you'll be staying in the school." His voice rose, as if it would make his next statements more horrifying than they already were. It worked. "The same goes for all of you! Welcome to Nara's Academy! You'd better scurry, cadets," he spat with extra vigor. "Because lights out happens in... how long ago were the conclusive rounds of the ceremonial pistol fired?"