Black Source #theWattys2016

MARSHAL V

Sun's first light painted pink hues on the morning sky, erasing the night and bringing birth to the dawn. Pinkish rays filtered through the barred windows of the colony's guardhouse, twinkling over the soft silkiness of Chloe's dark hair. She was so mesmerizing that Marshal could barely keep up with the group's discussion. He just had to find the right time to make his move.

"Marshal," Felix called.

"Huh," he answered.

"What're your thoughts on the strategy?" Felix asked. Marshal looked around the circle of Infidels, not saying a word to break the silence. "We'll take your silence as confirmation."

Marshal rubbed his forehead. "Oh, sorry I...what did we decide on?" Felix sighed. Maria and Lisa shook their heads. Smith had no comment. Molly stood alone rubbing her ring finger as she looked toward the ground. After a while Maria escorted her from the guardhouse.

"We've actually decided to go with your initial idea," Smith said as he polished his revolver. "The plan to leave soldiers at the colonies while we make our march on the war camp," Marshal hadn't taken his mind off Molly, remembering her loss and the many others throughout the colony.

"What if the plan doesn't work and they beat us? We can't lose anyone else." Marshal said.

"War has casualties, Marshal. This one is no different." Smith seemed apathetic, like he could relate, could feel.

"How can you stand there and say that!" Marshal yelled, his voice carrying through the guardhouse. "Those people weren't just numbers...they had lives!" his voice trembled. "I know nothing hurts you, but we normal people care about others." Chloe pulled Marshal by the arm and started for the door.

"You have to think of the others before yourself, Marshal."

"I didn't shoot Clyde because we're not like the Mod Army. Life to them doesn't mean anything; they're just blank faces in a sea of soldiers. To us it has to be different." Marshal spoke as Chloe tugged him by the arm, forcing him to the door. Emotions were high.

"I'm doing this for the family I care about," Smith raised his voice. "You need to learn that to be a leader you have to feel the pain of the people who follow you, but that pain is to keep you focused, not to break you down...remember that." His words held a sharp sting of disappointment.

When they got outside Chloe led Marshal by the hand to the infirmary. While they walked, Marshal admired the warmth and softness of her hand. Inside the infirmary, survivors with an aptitude for medical treatment volunteered to serve the wounded and dying. It smelled like and old people's home. The inside of the building was cluttered with cots and mats taken from the barracks and holding cells. Medicine wasn't plentiful, so for many of the wounded survivors, the prognosis was bleak. While they ebbed through the isle of cots and mats, Marshal wondered why she had brought him here, looking away from the more grotesque survivors as they passed by.

Before Marshal had a chance to ask, Chloe stopped in front of cot and knelt down beside it. She stared at him, not saying anything or even looking up at Marshal. After a moment she broke the tension.

"It's never taken this long before," she said in a small voice.

"What do you mean," Marshal asked, studying the cuts on Ellis' face. "Won't he be alright?"

"He's been hurt really bad before...but never...like this."

"Can't you both heal?"