Love and War - (Book 2)

Chapter 1 (Part 4 - The Middle-East)

The landing shook the plane, causing all the passengers to jerk upwards. Out of his window, Alex could see sand and desert plains for miles. It seemed as if that was all there was here. The sky, a dark navy blue, with the moon and its pale white colour shining brighter than Alex had ever seen. Staring at it like a wolf, yet all he could think about was how many Rebels are seeing the same moon, rather than the beauty of what it is.

Alex saw Chet throwing up in a new brown paper bag; the previous one had been filled to the top with his vigorous puking. 'What a bitch,' he thought. Chet began looking very sweaty once again, giving Alex a sickly look, which Alex dismissed and looked out the window once more.

Jonathan returned to Alexander, informing him they could get off as soon as the engines had stopped, which wouldn't be too long.

When the hum of the metallic noises ceased, Alexander jumped out of his seat and rushed to his closest exit. He opened the door with a tough push, then threw down the ladder, which was put together with rope and wood. Alex made his way down, skipping the last few steps and leaping to the ground, landing on both his feet. He saw Chet attempt this, however, he stumbled when he landed. Alex scoffed.

The night here was warmer than those in Britain, which Alex couldn't help but to smile at. He turned to face Jonathan, saying, "Where do we go from here?"
"There's a Military base about a mile from here. The general at the base will escort us. It would've been Erik, but you sent him to England. He'll be arriving there by now." Alex smiled gleefully.
"Good. Everything's coming together. Where are the closest Rebel bases? I feel like fucking someone over soon," Alex continues.
"We can all look at the map when we get to the base," Jonathan answers.

In the distance, the soldiers could all see Military army trucks speeding down the runway. When they neared them, they all collected their belongings and weapons, ready to board the trucks. "I hope you don't get sick on the road, either, Chet," Alex says, with a crooked smile.
"No, Sir. It's just flyin' tha gets me," he responds.

The escorts eventually reach the Military Army base, making Alex cheerful, evident by his face: smile stretching from both sides, dimples bulging out. They are admitted entry, and find rest inside. Alexander, however, seeks out the general of the base; he was not present at the escort.

"Excuse me," Alex says to a young soldier, appearing to be no older than twenty. "Where might I find the general of this base? Do you know where I could find him?"
"She is usually in her room at this time," answers the boy.
"A woman, how modern. And say "Sir" when speaking to me, boy, or I will have your severed head in a jar."
"Sorry, Sir," he whimpers, then proceeds to go the way he was going before Alex stopped him.

Alexander manages to find his way to the general's room. He knocks two times on the door, in no particular rhythmic pattern. "Come in," commands a voice on the inside. 'It really is a woman. Well, nothing wrong with that. It only matters if they are in the correct mindset of slaughtering fucking Rebels,' Alex thinks when he opens the door. "Alexander, Sir," she says, standing to attention from her desk.
"Please, sit."
"Thank you, Sir. How was your flight?" she asks him. He noticed her short black hair, liking how it was an appropriate length. Then saw her emerald green eyes when he spoke to her.
"It went well, thank you. For me, at least. For Chet... it was indifferent, I suppose. We need to talk... about the fucking Rebels."
"Alex, Sir, if that could wait until the following day, it would be most appreciated. I need some sleep. It's late and I'm tired."
"Alright, then. I just can't wait to kill them all," Alex confesses.
"I think we all know that (!)" she jests. Alex only smiles, then leaves, wishing her a good night's sleep.

Alexander finds his quarters after some searching. It would suffice in Alex's mind, although he did not care for the room, he did care about planning to exterminate every Rebel in the Middle-East.

-John-

Training soldiers again. John had not done this for a decade, but despite all that had happened since then, the world was still at war. It had been for almost fifteen years. 'How many more will die because I choose to stay in power?' he ponders.

John watches them go through assault courses, some failing, while the majority succeed. Witnesses their target practice. All of them manage to hit their targets with precise accuracy. When the shots were fired, John remembered the last times he had heard gunfire. He never took part in the action, yet people still attempted to assassinate him. Mostly when he gave his speeches. They never hit him, though.

When the day was over and the training had ended for day one, John retired to his miniature office. He saw the papers he had to sign on his desk. He almost felt like singing them for a moment, then realised that he is only being used for whomever is actually in charge. 'Now I have my army, the people in charge don't need me. I need to dispose of them. They really must go,' John realises.

He borrows a lighter off of one of the new trainees, knowing they wouldn't know if he were a smoker or not (John disapproves of smoking, which only a few know). He also takes a small amount of gasoline from the storage room, now hoping no one will find him. John returns to the tiny office, setting the paper alight and placing some gasoline around the room.

The bright orange flame burned across the papers, leaving only black and ash behind. "This is what must be done," he says aloud. The fire rapidly spreads, marking the table. He goes to his bookshelf and sets the books alight, hoping the fire would spread across the room.

After some more burning, the carpet sets alight. John smiles.  He watches from outside the office as the table is ensnared by the flames. He throws the lighter into the room, causing the gasoline to burn away what remains. "Now for the ones in charge," he mentions, turning away from the blazing fire.

-Holly-

A knock at the door caused the two to leave Holly's bedroom. 'Daniel was right about him making early arrangements. We've only been up an hour,' she says to herself when they reach the door. Holly welcomes in Daniel's dad, proclaiming how they look similar. He appeared hostile - not a smile, not a warm hello and no happiness in him when speaking to his son. 'I guess this is what becomes of us when our families are torn apart by the war. Me and Daniel will never end up like this,' Holly thinks.

Daniel's dad takes a seat on her sofa, with Daniel to his left. Holly takes the cream coloured leather chair. "So, Peter, what do you do for the Government?" Holly asks him.
"I don't discuss matters of war with the public," he replies, cold.
"Well, then, don't tell me anything of secrecy," she comments, appearing somewhat mockingly, however unintentional.
"I was one of the war generals in the office, now I work for communications. The communications on my part are encrypting messages involving the Rebels and most importantly, the Military. See, it's boring," he answers, as if rehearsed.
"No, it sounds like fun. Better than being unemployed, I imagine," she says.
"The war?" he asks her. His voice was hoarse and cold, however, Holly could sense some emotion in-between all that.
"What else?" she replies, rhetorically.
"Are you thirsty, Dad? We've got Diet Coke," Daniel asks, making Holly laugh.
"I'm quite alright," Peter says, sternly.
"Holly?" Daniel asks his girlfriend.
"Okay. I'll have water," she says.

When Daniel leaves to get her some water and make himself a tea, Peter gets to the side closer to Holly on the sofa. "So, what do you think about my son joining the RF?" he questions her.
"I'd rather he wouldn't," Holly answers.
"I feel the same. I've lost my other two sons and my ex-wife to this bloody war. Thankfully, none of them have died... yet. I still believe that I'll be saying goodbye to at least one of my sons by the time this war ends. I do all I can to try to make them come back. But soldiers in the RF have rough time if they leave; the Military do all they can assassinate anyone involved with their enemies. You should take care when Daniel leaves," Peter explains to her.
"I'll be fine. No one will hurt me; I've got connections," she tries explaining without giving away the most important detail: her brother. Peter appeared confused, scratching his brown-blonde hair, squinting his deep blue eyes, the same colour as Daniel's.

Before Holly could explain any further, Daniel returned with his tea and her water. The three had some more small talk before Peter told Daniel that lunch was scheduled for the two soon. Daniel and Holly hugged before his departure. 'Hopefully I hadn't made him too suspicious,' she worries when they drive off, closing her door.