It All Came Falling Down

fifteen

    Some part of me trusted her, and for what reason, I did not know. I sheathed the blade and extended my hand, which she took and helped me to my feet. I winced at the pain that overcame my body, but the woman took it slow and gave me physical support. Throwing my arm around her neck, on her shoulders, she began to guide me in walking forward. With nothing more than limps, we made progress and left the area. 
    “Come on, Kanston!” she said. 
    “How do you know my name?” I questioned with suspicion. “Who are you?”
    “Look, I— we— were something special before this. I’m Hero Kamisteo. Do you really not remember?”
    “I… remember that I am in Southern Anfaria with my unit on an anti-insurgency mission. Where is my partner, Jorlan? Where is he?” I told her. I took heavy breaths and struggled to keep moving. 
    As I looked up, I noticed silhouettes of other people emerging from the mask of dust and ashes that darkened the air. Another second later, three Esdrusian combat medics were visible. They caught sight of us and aimed their rifles straight and ready. 
    “Comrades!” I cried weakly with a sense of relief. 
    “He’s a battle buddy,” said one of the soldiers, lowering her rifle. “Goodness, it’s that guy from Daven’s company! He probably got caught in friendly fire or the mortar strike!”
    Immediately, they came to my assistance; they told me they have a stretcher nearby and that they were going to take me to a field hospital. Mistaking the woman for a comrade, they offered help, but she just waved it away and turned around, disappearing back into the destruction.

    “You’re alright,” said the field doctor who finished the last of her check up on me. “These injuries would all heal eventually. Let me go find you something for the pain, soldier.” I shook my head to myself as she hurried away. Whatever remedy she’s going to give me might help and heal my physical pain, but the emotional and mental pain of war— those were going to linger for quite awhile.
    The doctor returned with a small bottle of medicine; they were some kind of painkiller. Two soldiers were also with her, waiting until she smiled and left to talk. 
    “Comrade,” said one of them, who was a sergeant. “You must come with us back to town. We are searching for survivors.”
    I acknowledged what he had said and immediately, to the best of my ability because my body was sore all around, began to fix up my fresh set of uniform clothes. I was also provided with a new rifle and helmet, which I placed on my head over the bandages. Once I was neat and orderly, I slung my weapon over my shoulder and followed the two men.
    “We have lost all senior leadership in the attack and possibly even to friendly fire,” the sergeant continued. “But we have also managed to crush much of the remaining Resistance forces, as well as several of their higher ranking members.”
    I only nodded, but I could not seem to remember a thing that happened. I kept recalling that I was in a peaceful town in Southern Anfaria. I was on an anti-insurgency mission with Jorlan Gabros. But then, bits and pieces rushed through my mind: a mortar strike, our villa collapsing, and Jorlan crushed underneath the debris. I shook my head and did not think twice about it. It didn’t matter at this point, and I just needed to follow orders.
    The three of us had left the hospital and regrouped with several other comrades, all visibly injured and simply bandaged and given painkillers before being sent back out. We boarded a military truck that once had a covered back, which took us back to where we were rescued. It was a small town, by the looks of it, or at least the remains of it. Most of the buildings were completely destroyed, leaving the streets with burning ruins, ashes, debris, and parts of structures that could never be put back together. And there were bodies— some of old, some of the younger, and even some of children and babies. It was a fiendish, sanguinary sight that made my stomach churn and my soul feel burdened. 
    “Alright, everybody out!” ordered the sergeant. The bits and pieces returned, this time of a lieutenant telling us to do the same. Again, I ignored it, but I gripped my head in pain. The headaches did not go away. Once outside, standing over the devastated cobblestone road that was lined with pits from exploding shells, he spoke again. “You know the drill! Grab a battle buddy and start searching for anyone trapped in here alive wearing an Esdrusian uniform. And if you see survivors that are not one of us, you shoot them. Hail victory!”
    “Hail victory!” the rest of us groaned loudly in our pain before disbanding and seeking for a partner. 
    “Hey! You’re one of Daven’s men!” said a soldier, who walked up to me and recognised me. “You’ve got quite the reputation nowadays, surviving the Resistance strike a couple towns away and now this one. I’m gonna stick with you, comrade. You’re like a lucky charm.” He laughed and tapped me gently on the shoulder. Walking with me side by side, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I got two of these magnificent things left. You want a smoke?”
    “I don’t smoke,” I told him, suddenly bringing back flashbacks of a certain patrol duty with a female corporal. “On a second thought, yeah, I’ll take that cigarette.” I wanted something to keep my mind straight. 
    “Of course you would! Ha, everyone’s huffing and puffing out here anyway,” my battle buddy smiled. He stuffed the cigarette butt in between my lips and lit the tip for me. 
    After taking a good puff, I took the tobacco and blew a cloud of white smoke into the air. It wasn’t the best thing that I had consumed, nor was it the worst. I didn’t like it, but at least it gave me something to do as we stumbled through the massive heap of corpses and demolishment. I didn’t want to look, but the mission was to do just that: to find and save Esdrusians. But what about the others? The innocent men, women, and children? The thoughts from before had left with the smoke, but with another puff, new ones came in unwelcomely. 
    “What the hell happened here?” I asked my comrade. 
    “The Resistance attacked us last night. So we retreated and called in an artillery strike. You don’t know?” He looked at me with raised eyebrow, and I returned with an expression of puzzlement. “Everyone knows about it. One of the worst freaking ambushes ever, second only to the one you and some of us survived a couple towns away! Unless… you don’t remember.” 
    I shook my head upon hearing that last comment. 
    “Well, shit, comrade! I guess you really don’t! Eh, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “Come on!” We kept on our path, looking closely at the piles of debris. A breeze blew through and lifted the dust off the ground and sent something soft flying square into my face. With my free hand, I pinched it with my thumb and index finger to pull it off. But in the process of letting it go, I stopped and felt the soft, flat material. Beneath the white stains of the dust and ash, I noticed, was a dark red that was unmistakable. The shape, the texture, the colour— it all made sense: it was a rose petal.