Chipped Heartz & Broken Smilez

A Heart (1)

"I thought you might want this." Yolinda placed a box on my bed. It held a few dozen packets of strawberry milk and a picture of a small girl who wore hair in a short boyish cut. Her smile was bright enough to make the clouds dissipate on a rainy day. Strewn among the milk packages were letters that had been folded and unfolded countless times and tied with red ribbons.

I remembered his face as the guards had taken him away. I shouldn't, but... I reached out and took the photograph of his little sister. She had lost her older brother. Her guardian. She might need someone to look out for her in the future. Ivan and I weren't exactly friends, but I respected him and owed him that much. I whispered, "You can burn the rest."

Since Ivan didn't exist, neither did any of his possessions. If someone was caught with any of his mementos, they might be whipped and given an official warning. Some cold-faced officer would tell them that if they continued to interrupt the smooth functioning of society by breaking laws, they would also be sent to the labyrinth.

It was funny how time passed slowly when we wanted it to go fast and fast when we wanted it to go slow. Once we ceased to exist, our pain and memories faded into the dark.

But even though we know death awaits us, as a by-product of being alive, our fragile hearts chip and ooze blood every time something hurts us. So, even if we don't feel the pain, it's still there, just hidden beneath many layers of indifference. And sometimes that unrecognized pain will cause us to take unnecessary risks in exchange for a brief moment of happiness.

***

The snow thawed, and hundreds of boots punched the muddy ground. We held our guns close to our chests as if they were an extension of our hearts. The enemy showered us with bullets. Without hearing their captains' orders, instinct took over, and soldiers secured themselves behind trees and metal shields. Dirt and smoke rose from where bombs exploded; bits of flesh flew. A forearm landed near the toe of my shoe. No body or head to tell who it belonged to. The ghastly white arm sat on the grass, bloody and covered in dirt. Smoke obscured my vision of the front.

My heart was in my throat as I waited for it to clear.

The only thing that kept me calm was Olivia squatting behind a bulletproof shield next to me. Its heavy frame rested on the sturdy base of a mature oak tree. Lines etched into the tree's surface, long and jagged, reached towards the ground where the oak's muscular roots were implanted in the soil. For years that tree had been there, wounded by bullets and minor explosions, but still, it stood.

Similarly, by some miraculous means, Olivia and I were still here. Though our education system taught us that gods were imagined beings conjured into existence by a primitive race who had been lacking in knowledge, I felt that there must be some greater being, some unseen protector keeping us safe.

Olivia's brows pinched in concentration as she lifted her rifle and peered through the scope. "Stay calm," she seemed to say without talking. "They are planning to storm us."

Next to her, I waited behind my own shield with a skinny translucent strip that served as my eyes. The thick smoke rising from fires and the metallic scent of artillery shelling stung my nostrils. Above the smoke, mutants swung from bough to bough using a network of ropes.

There were more of us than them, but they were used to war, and some of us were still scared. A handful of soldiers still panicked whenever a gun was fired. The mutants' shots were surer, their attacks fiercer, but though my platoon and I were young and immature, we also learned and improved through our interactions with them.

I inhaled and peered through the scope, waiting for a man clad in green to hang suspended for a split second while switching ropes, then squeezed the trigger. The bullet pierced his chest, and he fell to the ground, setting off another mine. My ears rang; the voices of my teammates became muffled background noise that occasionally fell into an ocean of silence though their lips moved. I focused on my duty. On killing the enemy and surviving.

***

Eventually, everything ended, even my time in the military.

Two years after my service began, I stood on a wooden stage with the rest of my platoon behind the main building. Blue streamers hung from black poles planted in the ground; a final send-off. Two years ago, my platoon had started with twenty-five girls, but now there were only seventeen of us. Yolinda accepted a box of medals from the colonel and turned to face the team members she had grown to love and hate during our time together.

While the rest of us wore our green army uniform, Yolinda looked like the lovely woman she would have been if she hadn't gotten caught up in a pointless war, and suddenly that made the guys in the audience see her differently and propose to her half-jokingly. The colonel silenced the audience with a glance, but even he was mesmerized.

The sunset was captured in the beautiful fabric of Yolinda's sleeveless dress. Her train spread across the wood as she moved towards us. Sunlight broke through gaps in between the clouds and scattered across her warm ivory skin and dirty blonde hair.

Yolinda placed the box on a stand near the centre of the stage and called us to the front individually. Some soldiers received medals and a kiss on the cheek. Others only got a kiss, and a 'thank you for your service'. I stood in the second row, at the end of the line. When she called my name nearly ten minutes later, I was the last to face her.

Yolinda squeezed the final medal till her fingers were white. And for a moment, sadness contorted her face. Since her back was to the audience, only her platoon members could see the frustration that wrestled through her.

I made my way forward, feeling their gazes on me. Everything was for this moment: the hurt I had suffered, the emotions I had buried, and the child I had killed.

I stood in front of Yolinda, bowed before straightening, and raised my hand in a military salute.

She returned the gesture.

We acknowledged each other for a moment. But Yolinda knew she couldn't dally long, or others might read into her actions. It was one thing for our platoon members to know about our intimate relationship because we all had dirt on each other, but it was best to hide our hearts from the rest of the army. Yolinda cleared her throat and said, "To Avah Reese, I give the silver medal of growth for facing her fears and becoming a soldier we can depend on in battle."

I owed most of what I had become to her and Olivia, but I didn't say that. Instead, I stayed quiet, lowered my hand, and bowed my head.

The audience clapped.

Yolinda's fingers brushed my skin as she hung the medal on my neck. She bit her lip as if she were thinking of kissing me, then nodded. My platoon members applauded, and relief crossed their faces. We had survived the war, and now we could return, a few thousand dollars richer, to our real lives while another set of young women took our places.

***

I felt different after the war; there was a certain hardness to me that hadn't been there before. A coldness that would take years to thaw. The train ride was gentle, but I spent most of it alone as the others got off earlier. T-73 was located near the southwestern part of Frisen Valley in the heart of the manufacturing district. The air was polluted and stinky compared to the clean air of Grid Y, where most things were done by hand. As I got closer to home, I watched land filled with trees and grass turn into clusters of buildings fashioned from concrete, wood, glass, and bricks.

When the train stopped in an underground tunnel, my father was waiting on the platform, carrying a box of my favourite chocolates, the expensive kind that was filled with caramel and peanuts.

My father's build was smaller than I remembered, as if he hadn't been eating well. And either he had lost some of his height, or I had gotten taller, but something had undoubtedly changed.

I grabbed my luggage from the carriage and alighted the train.

Wishing we could meet sooner than later and not wanting to waste another second of the time we could be together, I dropped my luggage and ran into his waiting arms. We embraced for what felt like an eternity; his muscular arms pinned me to him, and I realized that while he might have lost some of his weight, his strength was still there.

"I missed you," I said, unable to stop my voice from cracking before I finished my sentence.

"I missed you more."

***