Just English Bull

Dulce Et Decorum Est Short Story.

Part Three of Three

"One...Two...Three!" Hamish grunts as he lets go of the arms of the body they were flinging into the ditch beside us. I walk up to the body Mark was trying to get a hold of. I grabbed the legs and helped him pull. I got a sight of where the wound was. INstead of the compulsory olive green and brown uniform that was used for everyone under the age of 30, was a massacre of blood in its place. The lower stomach had been chewed up to the point where I wasn't able to tell where the wound began or ended.  My eyes travelled up to the chest area, the view wasn't much better there. The chest was less chewed up, but still had a very impressive amount of blood, still slowly leaking out as the victim's heart was gently slowing to an excruciating stop. HIs chin was soaked in blood as the lungs had been ruptured, making the poor boy breath and suffocate in his own blood. His jaw was hanging open, slack from the loss of movement. His eyes were the main thing that struck me as familiar. A gentle brown with a ring of hazel around the iris. I almost dropped the body as the realisation had struck me. I am carrying the boy that I had known almost all of my life. Rory. He was gone, and about to be shoved into a dirty ditch instead of being taken home to his lovesick mother. I can't bear to see her face in a look of disappointment. "One... Two... Three!" I said grunting with the effort of holding and swinging someone who weighs the same as me. As soon as my hands let go of his legs I turn away and walk. Holding my head up high, I walk away, a little bit away from the group. My body turned so they can't see the despair on my face.

I sigh gently knowing that my brother, nor my best friend would be able to make it home to their lovers and mothers. A small burning sensation begins as I breathe in softly. It gets worse as I keep breathing. A stinging feeling erupts on the surface of my face. "Gas boys! Masks on!" I turn around and scream as I fiddle and fumble with mine to get it on my face. I watch as the clouds of choking white smoke come crawling towards us, their poisonous tendrils creeping over our bodies, forming a solid wall of smoke around us all, discombobulating us and our senses. Losing sanity I begin to creep forward, hoping to make it to the edge, the burning feeling in my throat slowly disappearing. I put my hands out and feel around blindly and walk forward, hoping not to stumble on misplaced bags or guns. As I walk forwards a screaming cry for help could be hear and rang off the trees. The further my feet took me, the less smoke there was, the less it blinded my vision. As I made it to a clearing, there was 2 bodies on the ground. One still, the other swimming in the dirt and cloud of poison. His green eyes that were once full of life looked as though they were going to pop out of his head and explode. His once beautiful clear olive skin was now covered in open sores and blemishes, bleeding from his nose. He managed to get up on to his knees and slowly stand up. His left hand was around his neck, scratching and clawing, trying to breath. His right was pointing towards a gun positioned at my feet. He was motioning for me to shoot him. I shook my head, saying no in a whisper. He lunged towards me attempting to tackle me to the ground, but tripping half way and face planting in the mud. His eyes lifeless, his lungs filled with foam, he reached out to me one last time.

I closed my eyes and turned away. I gunshot could be heard, ringing around the area. I fell to the ground, my head bouncing as it hit the ground. I felt the life leaving my body as Mark rushed to my side, trying to stop the blood. This was how I wanted to go. I closed my eyes and let out one last breath. She was all I could see...