I had never experienced the cold like I had here, the intensity of mother nature's pure hatred for us was unreal, sometimes I felt like it was for a reason, as if this was all part of some greater plan - that this was a test to prove myself to a force unknown to ourselves as mere mortals nothing more than pawns in the almighty's sadistic game of chess. My hands quivered as I lifted them away from my knees and up along the Kalashnikova RPK's smooth wooden body taking care not to touch any of the exposed metallic surfaces, a glint of moonlight seemed to glide over the ice-encrusted barrel as I tilted it in my arms. I was on watch, it was my duty to ensure the safety of those in the barn, watching for wild animals, hostile soldiers of the federation and the 'others'..
We had decided on a system of shifts - I originally wished to take the latest, Four AM 'til Nine slot every night, after around three days my mind was beginning to acquaint itself with the reality of my situation, my impossible life became some sort of unfinished jigsaw puzzle - A thousand pieces of wood, cut out and placed inside a box - only this puzzle was blank, weathered and, the more I think about it, missing a few pieces.
"Drakopv, Here!" a voice rasped out from beneath me, causing the skeletal cat laying beside me to pirouette two feet up into the air, landing on the frozen floorboards with a dull thud.
"What is it, Nika; are you trying to wake the younglings?" I whispered back, hardly any quieter than he had done so, my voice raised slightly as I flashed my frustration towards him - glaring down through the cracks and notches in the ancient wood.
"The Thirty-Third are on their way, sir!" - I froze, of course I was already frozen in this amazingly cold part of the country, but that number had my every muscle in a dead lock. A few seconds passed before I opened my mouth to speak, my lip trembling as I spoke.
"Get Patikk, tell him its time." I spat, jumping up into the air and bounding over to the open archway of the barn, pulling violently on the para-cord that dangled, care free in the wind, triggering the flares and the large tin-can and ball-bearing alarms; a noise that wouldn't fail to awaken the dead.
Snow began to shift as a dozen hatches flipped open, powdery snow filling the lowest levels of air as heads began to emerge - nobody spoke - nobody had to, we had trained for this moment a million times before.
YOU ARE READING
Stained red.
Short Story{{ I don't write, if you got a problem with this and you're smart enough to complain and hate then I'm sure you're smart enough to know exactly where to stick it :3 x All views expressed by those in the story and those of the narrators are not those...
