The Fields of Fire

Chapter 7: Michael Branton

"How long does it usually take for Frostbite to kill a man?" Michael asked. The question was not for the man standing next to him, instead it was a rhetorical question that Michael was asking the universe. The universe responded with a frigid breeze, that told Michael Not quick enough. 

"Frostbite isn't deadly, hypothermia is," Alexander replied, before continuing onto an entirely different topic, "So how do you like Fort F? I think it's my favorite place on the whole wall. I mean it's the only place I've ever been stationed, but I still like it the most. Working on the wall is a pretty alright job, it isn't very busy up here, I've only ever had to run over and light the signal fire twice. But we've got an important job, the Tribesfolk up here are vicious, if they ever got south of this wall they'd rape and pillage, they'd kill thousands. So like, you know, even though half of the people up here are criminals and traitors, were actually sort of heroes in a way. Despite the responsibilities, there are some upsides to working up here. I think the leadership is alright, Fortmaster Walton is a pretty neat guy, I think..."

Michael stopped listening to Alexander, listening to his voice was the only thing more painful than the cold. , gazing out onto the frozen taiga ahead of him. Supposedly, there were men out there, Tribesmen hiding out beyond the wall waiting to attack Zytria, and Michael was up there to keep them out. But that's not really how it works, most of the Tribesmen who get across the wall just climb over it, they don't attack fortified outposts like Fort F. Supposedly there were other things out there too, Werewolves, Witches, Ice Demons, but all anyone had ever seen for hundreds of years were just snow, trees, and the Tribesmen of the Frigid Beyond.

As Michael stared out onto the snow he sighed painfully. He couldn't imagine a more boring way to spend the rest of his life, staring at trees and snow for an eternity. He might have seen an endless plain of white snow and forest, but all he could think about was her. He used to have everything, now there was nothing more than snow and black steel.

"When do I get to die?" Michael finally asked, interrupting Alexander.

"Not until the Commander orders you to. It's illegal to die without the Commanders orders," Alexander temporarily ceased his vigilance over the static snow and turned to face Michael, "What did you do to get sent up here?"

Michael continued staring stoically. He thought to himself, honestly, why am I here? He realized  the truth, he was there because he had no other place to be. There was nothing left on this earth for him to be and no place he could call home, maybe with his family, but he was so different now he didn't even know they'd recognize him. He still knew he didn't deserve to be here, but the life he did truly want was lost to him. Where else could he even go? Brandon looked to Alexander an picked the most honest answer he could think of, "I loved a girl, and I did the right thing, that's why I'm here."

Alexander laughed, "Everybody has the same answer. It's always some variation on the same thing, "I thought I was better than the rules." "

Michael was irritated by the man's stupidity, "When do I get to die?"

"You already asked that question." Alexander frowned, "I get the sentiment. You know when I first got here I walked up to the commander and punched him straight in the face, with the hopes that I'd be court-martialed and executed. But Walton understood what I was trying to do and instead, he locked me in the brig with no food for 4 days. By the time I got out I was a changed man, and I held a more significant appreciation for my own life. I understand now that my job up here is important, but I'd be lying if there weren't some days when I wish that he'd just shot me. But I guess-"

Alexander's head exploded in flash of blood and bone as a Gunshot rang out from the snow beneath the Wall. The ringing in his ears and the wet blood on his face was all he could feel as the world seemed to shift into slow motion.