The Runners

Baggage

We sit around the campfire celebrating our victory and subsequent survival when I remember when Ries saved me which made me ask him something " Hey Ries, Back at the storage yard you went full ballistic. What was up with that?" He looks at the shot glass in his hand, sets it down, and answers. "The reason I got kicked out of the military, those bastards wanted a reason to kick me out, and one day during a battle." He cuts himself off and grabs the shot glass in front of him, downed it, and continues. " One day during a battle, we got pinned down and I was trying to help one of my comrades. He took such heavy shrapnel wounds that he wasn't going to make it." He stops for a moment and pours another shot and drinks it.

"Let me preface this by saying that I didn't carry a gun because I was a pacifist, the idea of taking a life disgusted me but I still felt like I needed to serve. The man I was aiding was a good friend, He was the only person who actually liked me. Everyone else hated me, thought that because I didn't have a weapon I was extra baggage, He was the only one to not fuck with me and I let him down. I actually dont remember what happened next and not because you dont remember what happens when you go into a blind rage I just think I've repressed it. But I do know what happened because I was told about what I did. Apparently what I did was sit there for a few moments and grabbed his rifle and stood up, I started firing into the enemy crowd and eventually ran forward and attacked the enemy with anything I could find lying around. I was finally stopped after someone pulled me off of a person I was beating to death with my own bare hands, they had to knock me out to get me to stop fighting back. After getting out of the hospital they had me in for all the injuries I had they kicked me out for being unfit for duty." 

He grabs his and another shot glass and pours them and hands me it. We both stare at our drinks and I reflect on the path its taken me and I ask Ries a question. "What was his name?" While continuing to look at the shot glass he answers "Jack, his name was Jack." I give a glance to the others and they nod and we all raise our drinks and yell out "To Jack!" and take our shots.

"Thank you guys, It means a lot." He says and stands up and pour out his shot. The rest of the night was filled with stories and drinking, after a while we finally extinguished the fire and went inside to sleep.

I open my eyes In a dark concrete room. The room is all too familiar, It's one I've seen in my nightmares for years. I take a step forward and hear the sound of stepping in a puddle of water but looking down I realize it's not water, It's blood.

 After years of the same nightmare the feeling of dread still never lessens. Across the room is a door covered in either rust, blood, or both and I have the feeling that going near that door would be a bad one. On their own volition, my legs walk me towards the door. 

Every step my heart beats faster and when I stand in front of it I feel like my heart is about to explode. My hand slowly moves towards the knob of the heavy metal door. I grip the knob tightly on open the door and pushing it open. Inside is a man tied to a chair, Disemboweled. 

The room stank of iron, copper, and death. The feeling has been burnt to my mind forever, stuck like a piece of chewing gum to the underneath of a table. If I hadn't gotten so used to the smell I would've vomited.

The man probably didn't pay up in time, He also probably had family and friends, I wonder what having friends is like? I walk towards it and prep the room for clean up and disposal before I'm seen dawdling and get yelled at.

 After moving the furniture and tools away I call for someone to take the body. No answer, I guess once again I'm left with clean up. After 4 hours of grueling work, the room is somewhat clean and I take a second to breathe since the air is slightly better than before. "I thought I told you to work not to slack off!"

The hand slapping me across my face sends me to the floor. I look up and see my mother, her face is shrouded in black scratches swarming around her face and obscuring it, after years I've blocked out what she looks like but not the feeling being around her was like. Terror, "Sorry mam!" I shout.

 "Dont raise your voice at me." My mother says in disappointment as a second slap hits me and awakes me from my nightmare, the scent of blood and death lingering in my memory for a moment as I sit up In a cold sweat.