Clocks

1

It was a cold wintry night and the temperature was below -30 degrees. The harsh slap of icy wind hit on his face like sharp claws, making his face numb despite of him wearing his helmet and thick goggles with his army uniform.

He was on a mission, a mission he thought he was going to win, but sudden invasion from his enemies on his base camp smashed his confidence and all his planning into smithereens.

As he staggered through the ten inches snowy path, his left thigh covered with blood, a gash prominent in such a way that it showed his inner muscles; he took a look at his surroundings and cried internally.

Lifeless bodies upon bodies of his fellow men were laid in front of his eyes. It was a dreadful sight to see someone's mouth covered with blood or someone's leg missing or someone's hand lying on the cold snow, marking it with red splotches.

This all happened in a moment of blur. They threw bomb at their base camp, while his team was planning how to move forward in the morning to attack their enemies. It was a full proof plan on his part and he was confident it would work in his favour. Little did he know that one amongst many of his fellow army men had joined hands with them and betrayed his troop, the results of which he had to suffer.

He never thought he was going to face a situation where his foreseen win would turn into a trauma for him. Never thought he would be the one to pick up the shards from a losing battle and never thought he would be the one left, to survive or to see this horrendous, terrible sight of his fellow men.

As he took one more step forward confused as to what to do in this state as there was not one person he saw survived besides him; he heard a moan, and he stopped in his tracks.

It was barely audible at once, but when he approached near, it became louder. He looked around in a desperate attempt to see from where that sound was coming, but his gash was not letting him move faster along with the dark night that was looming above him like a demon. Still, he stumbled and moved forward, trying to hear the voice again. And, that's when he recognised the voice. It was of Jack. A small golden glow of fire, which was a cause of the bomb attack earlier, made him see his fellow man; he was lying on the cold icy ground in a destitute state.

"Jack!" he called, and tried to run towards him, but that only made him fall onto his knees.

"Jack!" his voice cracked, but still he was determined to reach to him, to see him, to help him.

He crawled towards him, dragging his legs when failed in getting up again.

When he finally reached to him, he called again, "Jack," this time in a whoosh of murmur and put his head on his lap.

"Albert," came the broken response from his fellow mate. " I..I..I am dying Albert," he replied, his mouth struggling to make a coherent response as his whole body was covered in blood, his guts were cut open and blood pooled from it like a tap of water.

"No, Jack! You are not, let me help you, please try and get up Jack," Albert urged, trying to hold him with his thick gloves.

"How?" asked Jack.

"There is no one around, no one," his voice sounded tired, fearful and devoid of any hope.

"Someone might have informed the head office Jack, they are coming, they are coming to get us,"

Oh! How relieved he was to use that word, us, instead of just me. It sounded strong, more bright and hopeful. He was holding on to that thin thread of hope, which was working like a strong rope in this state.

"I...I... don't want to die Albert, I want to g...g...go home," he pleaded and stared into his eyes deeply with furrowed brows.

He sighed and looked at the dark sky above them and replied "Me too," as he remembered Amelia's face the last time he was with her, and remembered how he had left her only to come onto this mission.

"I don't want you to go!" she shouted as soon as he told her the news.

"It's only been a month Al, what do you want me to say? Go? Go, because your country calls you? No, I am not that generous, thank you very much!" she folded her arms across her chest and stood glaring at him with tearful eyes.

"Amy..." his words were cut by a sharp "No!" when he tried to go near her and she held up her hand, staring up at him, stopping him to move forward.

"You have to understand! They need me!" he stated, trying to reason with her, but at this time, all her practical senses were passive, what was active was only an emotional turmoil that was whirling in her heart and head, making her feel dizzy.

"And, I don't need you? Tell me, do I not? What do you think is going to happen when you leave, again? Tell me Al! You have been there on your so called mission for more than a year! You have to understand that I need you here! With me..." her lips quivered and her voice broke in the end.

It was hard for her to let him go this time considering , it was not only her who needed him; it was their baby too, about whom she hadn't yet told him.

"I know! Do you think I want to go? No Amy, I don't want to go! But, it's me they need this time," he tried to explain her but all she was doing was shaking her head vehemently and was refusing to listen to him.

"It's going to be only three months at the most," he sighed and tried again, in the hopes she would understand. It wasn't going to be easy he knew, but he didn't expect her to react badly, considering she was always supportive.

"Our baby needs you too," she whispered and broke down in front of her husband. She didn't want to, but thinking about the mission, made her sobs to escape from her delicate lips.

"Amelia," he whispered her name; a forlorn expression marked his face with creases.

It wasn't something he had expected, but hearing her say the word baby, made his chest swell with so many emotions he didn't even know existed in him. He was ecstatic, even to think that he was going to be a father, sad and disappointed that his country needed him and he was not going to be there for her when she needed him the most.

All he could do was to rush to her and engulf her in his arms; despite her earlier reservations, she let him hold her while she cried.

"Please don't go, Al, please," she murmured in his chest, holding onto him and trying to gain her bearings, but it was all futile.

"I will see what I can do," he replied and kissed her forehead when her eyes met his.

Nothing changed though, he tried, but in the end, he didn't have the heart to tell his wife that he was not going to be on her side when she goes to the doctor for her appointments.

She felt that too, when he slept by her side holding her and stroking her hair while she pretended to sleep. She knew in her heart that he was not going to stay.

"When do you have to leave?" she asked to break the silence, and to console her heart that at least she had some time before he had to leave, again.

"Tomorrow," he sighed and replied. His voice was thick with emotions. His throat choked and despite being an army man, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"It's only three months, right?" she asked and looked up to see him. She caressed his cheek when she saw his gloomy eyes.

"I hope so Amy, I so hope this so is the case," he answered looking back at her.

Both of their eyes were mirroring each other and it was like they were one soul in two bodies. His mind was telling him to go and his heart wanted to stay here, right by her side. As for Amelia, her heart wanted to clutch him tight and never let him go, but her mind knew that it was her country as well and her services were required, even though they were in the form of letting her love go.

He couldn't stay and as the clocks ticked by, letting seconds and minutes pass in blur, his emotions took over him and that was the night he spent telling his wife how he was going to come home soon, to her because at the end of the day, she was his home.

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