Anthem

Chapter 4 - Jesse

           She hadn't heard the shots yesterday. She hadn't smelt the smoke burn from the forest. She had been in peaceful slumber, oblivious to the world. He knew this because she hadn't said anything. But then again, maybe she'd seen it all and hadn't batted an eyelash.
          He had led them here. He had led them here and they had killed him. Ashlee was gone. The loss grated on Jesse, made even worse by his feelings of keeping him away from the girl. Reagan. That was her name.
        Perhaps it was her fault too. But he couldn't blame her. It was his decision to save her and it had cost lives. He couldn't say he regretted the decision. It wasn't his place to decide whose life held more value, but that could in no way compensate for what he had done.
       Ashlee. Without him, Jesse would be alone.
Without him, Jesse was no one. Ashlee. Too late. The words resounded in his head, reflecting the pain. Your fault. You should have been there. You could have saved him. Your fault. Too late.
  Reagan had sat beside him. At least she showed some shred of emotion, even if she didn't know how to express it. They sat in silence like that first moment of understanding, her face softened in a mournful expression as they stared at the water. Her company had been appreciated. He wished he had said something other than 'thank you'. She deserved more than that. But if he showed her pity, she would do the same. She already felt sorry for him—he hated that. He hated her for the strange feelings he got when she was around. He hated her for what had happened to Ashlee. But that wasn't her fault. He shouldn't hate her for anything. No, it was his problem. It was all his fault.
Jesse sat there for a long time. Sitting, watching, thinking, waiting. But waiting for what? There was nothing left to do but suffer for his mistakes. Alone. It seemed he would always be alone now.
He might as well get used to it.

+++

It was a dark day. The grey clouds encircled the camp, suffocating it in a swirling opaque mist. The air was thick sounds more poetic and the heat was relentless. A storm was brewing on the horizon.
        Jesse breathed in the smell of petrichor, it's earthy scent carrying eucalypt and moss. There was something calming about storms. They seemed to bring an acceptance of what was to come.
       "Hey dreamer," a familiar voice laughed into his ear, "You coming on patrol?"
Jesse turned. "Not today, Ashlee," he said, shaking his head, "I need to keep an eye on the girl."
"Course you do," Ashlee smirked knowingly, "Just don't watch too closely, lover-boy. Weren't you the one that told me to give her some space?"
         Jesse only laughed again and lifted his hand to shove Ashlee, but he stepped back.
"Tsk, tsk. I don't think so, lover-boy," he teased, "See you when I get back."
Ashlee embraced him, clapping him in the back. "Duty calls!" he said mockingly. "Maybe today's the day she talks. You never know."
Jesse sighed and held up a hand in farewell.
"Goodbye Jesse, I'll see you tonight."
"See you then, Ash," he smiled, watching Ashlee turn and walk back through the brush.
Jesse would never have guessed that would be the last time he'd see Ashlee alive.

+++

Ashlee twisted his body, trying to look around. It was dark. All he could make out were four walls and a minuscule beam of light creeping down from the floorboards above. It smelled musty, almost like mildew, as though the room hadn't been inhabited for years. It did not seem like the type of place to welcome visitors. No, this room had been designed for sinister, ungodly purposes.
            Ashlee knew he was not getting out. He had known that the moment the patrol was ambushed by the Scouts. He had known it as he saw Chrys' leg shredded. He had known it as he helplessly watched Esther bleed. And Miko impaled with a basic spear. It enraged him. But the Xori did not kill anyone.
         Torture was what awaited. After that came death. Jesse had been right. He had always claimed that storms foreshadowed the future. It seemed his point had proven itself. He supposed that wasn't such a good thing. If the storm prophesied death, Ashlee wanted no part in it.
         But as he lay helplessly on the cement, gravel digging into his spine and he felt paralysed and realised that perhaps death would be a mercy. He didn't want to know what the Xori had planned for him. But with his movement restricted only to his head and chained feet, he'd have to wait it out.
         The door banged open. A male silhouette stood in the doorway. A curved blade, similar to a scythe, with a serrated edge formed a deadly shadow on the wall. "Welcome home," a low voice growled. The reaper had arrived.

+++

Jesse wiped his eyes on the edge of his sleeve. It was getting late. He should probably head back and see how Reagan was going. At least he had one thing to be thankful for - she had actually spoken. Granted, it was only because of the circumstances and she likely pitied him, but still, it was a step, albeit a little one.
           He didn't know how to act. Strong for the people or hide away. Supportive to Reagan or angry for what she had done. Celebrate Ashlee's life or mourn his death. He was conflicted. Conflicted and unstable. If Ash was here, he would have helped him sort out these feelings.
           But of course, if Ash was here, Jesse wouldn't have to deal with the emotions because his best friend would still be alive. He would be beside Jesse. He would joke and flirt. He would tease Jesse and mock him for not being on patrol.
        Jesse didn't know if he could handle being on patrol again. It wasn't because he was scared that the same fate would await him, but because—
A scream sounded in the forest. Reagan. She was in trouble. The words barely registered within him.
        She's in trouble, Jesse. She's your friend. Your friend. Just like Ashlee. Jesse immediately stood up and began running.
       He would not lose anyone else.