"Connathan had another nightmare last night." Rebecca said. "I noticed." Samuel replied. "He's still shaken up from that raid the other night, poor kid hasn't slept properly in weeks." He added. "He lost his parents to a bombing when he was six years old, he can't stand the thought of losing anyone else to one." She said with a slight stutter in her voice. "Connathan is a seventeen year-old tribute of war. He doesn't belong here." He said, "It's not right that the conscription is putting twelve year olds in here." He added. "It's time to open up." she said.
Rebecca got up with a grunt and walked out to the front gate, she looked up at the massive steel doors. They were crystal clean on the inside, everything looked amazing. A nice little Haven. Women and children stood behind her, the look of fear in their eyes. She dared not to turn around because she knew that if she met the eyes of a child she would break down crying, she had never seen what any of the people had seen, not in the middle of a battle. She was a police officer, not a soldier. She called up to the gate tender to open the doors, and the gate slowly opened.
The wind blew in through the gap that gradually grew larger and larger as the door opened. The smell of rotting flesh and death came in. It went right to her nose, and her eyes widened and teared. As the doors came to a stop, all that was heard was the sound of a hammer in the back of the camp. Not man, woman or child said a word. Thirty seconds had to have gone by until everyone went on their way. Rebecca walked out the gates, and waved to have them shut. She walked on and on through the corpses of animals and humans. The cold dark city covered in dark red snow. Everywhere she stepped either had blood on it or the insides of someone, maybe something. She drew her pistol as she came to the middle of the street. "Never know if any of this shit's still alive." she said quietly to herself.
She came to the small camp on the edge of the city, the mercenary site. These people weren't soldiers, although with the equal ability to kill with sword or gun. Men and children were all that were left. Boys from fifteen to nineteen years of age. Men no older than twenty-five. They all looked at her, some with respect, others with disgust to her arrival. A man with a torn unifrom came up to her. "This is all that's left sis." he said. "It's a damn shame." she responded. "Where's Connathan?" She asked. "He's in his tent, just got out of the shower rooms." He said. "I'll talk with him later then." She replied. "He wasn't taking a shower." He added. She looked at him puzzled. Then he gestured to his wrist. The lashes he gave himself from his teen years. She immediately ran by him and ran to Connathan's tent.
Connathan runs through flame litten streets of Alrenheim, all he hears is screaming, explosions, and men calling for help. He doesn't hesitate to knock anyone out of his way, some rebels try to hold him down, and rob him, but he runs through them and continues on his path. "She told me to go to the haven, that's where I'm going." He thinks to himself. "Get them behind the gate!" He hears someone call out, "Shit!" He says then goes to full sprint. "Hey, keep it open! Wait!" He yells out to the gaurdsman. The gate slowly closes as he inches closer to it. His heart grows heavy, tears roll down his face now. "Please!" He yells with all he has left. "Please, please, please!" He falls to his knees crying. He stares down at the ground, he's kneeling in blood. His own blood. "Are you alright lad?" The gaurd asks, "I saw you runnin' out there so I held the gate as long as I could." He added. "I...I made it inside?" Connathan asked. He got up, he was sweating like crazy, his heart was pounding as though it felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. A smile came to his lips as he looked around, no more flames. Just small houses. He turned to his left, and walked. He saw clean water. Something he'd never though he'd see again. He goes to take a drink. Then wakes from his dream.
"Gasp! Where the fu-who are you! What do you want from me!?" He says. "Hey, hey lay back down okay." Rebecca lays her hand on his chest and pushes him back into bed. She leans back into her chair and looks at him, "Are you ok...?" she asks him. He looks at her, studies her up and down. He looks at her eyes, her hair, her entire face. Every detail of it. "Rebecca? When did you get here, and...how?" he asked her. "I'm part of the police corps now Connathan, I went in my Dad's place." She told him. He laid back down in the bed slowly. "Rebecca Trauf, met her in highschool back in grade nine, she graduated I quit, I got a job she didn't, been friends since I heard she was killed in a bombing in New York when she visited her Father." He sat up again, "I thought you were dead."he told her. "I'm very much alive Connathan." She said with a smile, "I happened to be one of the few who got to the Haven in New York." she added. Her smile faded at the thought. He looked down, "Your Dad...he uh." Connathan began. 'He's dead yeah." She finished. They took a moment of silence. About two minutes later Connathan spoke.
"What's it like in the Haven?" Connathan suddenly asked her. She glanced at him quickly and looked back down. "Do you still dream about it?" She asked him. "Yes." He said, "I never get to go inside them though due to...my mental illnesses." he added, then looked up at her. I cheerful yet shattered look in his face. "I always feel like they don't think I'm good enough to fight with them, like I'm useless in a way. I just feel hated nowadays, I saved thirty-four soldiers last night, and the medic gave me nothing for it." He said with his voice growing deeper. She put her hand on his shoulder, "Connathan we are living in a war, don't expect to get anything from anyone around here." she said. "Except me, I can get you food." She added with a smile. He looked up, and smiled back. Then got up off the bed and grabbed his coat, she watched him walk away, then followed after him. Connathan walked through the street camp, men looked at him. Some saluted him, and others nodded. A wounded man grabbed his leg as he walked by him. Connathan looked down. The mans arm was missing and he was breathing heavy, but. There was a smile of gratitude on his face towards Connathan. He put his fist out and Connathan knuckled it, smiled and continued walking.
"The camp is half dead, the men are just barely alive." He said to himself as he looked around at the people, and environment around him. The wind began to blow the cold winter air across his face, he shivered and put his coat to his chest. "Why was I forced to do this?" He asked himself. "Why am I even here?" He thought. "Connathan Mcchoir!" Someone called from behind him. The man walked up to him slowly with a slight limp in his left leg. He had a clean shaven face and head, but he looked bigger than most of the men in the camp. His jacket was torn and bloody, and his pants were mud covered. Most men just had blood on them which made Connathan wonder who he was. "There aren't any fields for miles from here." He thought to himself. "Who is this guy?" The man walked up to Connathan and saluted him "My name is Leuitenenat James Carther, who is your commanding officer?" The man asked. Connathan saluted back, and answered, "Sir, that would be Commander Bradley Nellington his tent is at the south side of the camp." The man nodded to Connathan and began to walk off, Conathan stopped him, "Sir." He said, "How are things at the front lines?" He asked. Jmaes looked at him in suprise, then Connathan gestured to the mud on his uniform. James rolled his eyes and smiled. "You'll find out tomorrow morning I assure you kid." James answered then walked off.
