The Sound of Silence

Chapter Nine

Word Count: 4,151

We didn't dare stop again until the sun was setting. Mike pulled some food from out of his bag and silently handed it to me: a package of beef jerky. I opened it, taking a few slices of the thick, salty meat before handing it back for him to take some as well. We had paused for a moment while we ate, resting our legs and allowing Mike the time he needed to check on my ear. With the bandages off I found I could hear significantly better. It was still soft, as if the world's volume had been turned down low, but I could hear Mike talking when he was on that side of me. I let out a long sigh, the stress and anxiety from it flowing out along with the breath.

"What's wrong," Mike asked when I sighed.

"Nothing. My hearing is a lot better without the bandages. Soft, but there."

"That's good. You might need a hearing aid or some shit, but you'll heal."

"Yeah." The moments continued ticking on, and soon we were up on our feet again.

Night fell quickly as well as the snow. It wasn't long before the inches began to accumulate. The snow made it hard to see. I was slowly becoming more and more thankful for the bandage around my head keeping me warmer that it would be without it and my helmet. The time seemed to pass even slower than before as we made less and less progress. Mike would occasionally curse at the snow falling, but I was thankful for it covering our tracks.

The temperature continued to plummet as the snow came down harder and before long it was difficult to see even our hands in front of our faces. Still in the trees, I tapped on Mike's shoulder, pointing to a general outline of trees. We trudged over and sure enough it was a group of pines. Quickly, we dug underneath the lowest branches to find a surprising lack of snow and slightly warmer temperatures. At least we weren't in the wind. Mike and I shuffled closer together, our backs against a tree, its thick branches preventing the snow from falling on us, the snow around us preventing the wind. It was almost serene; one could barely hear the wind and the air itself was so cold and still that it seemed unreal.

"We should sleep," Mike mumbled, his breath floating in the air before dissipating completely.

"I'll keep watch-"

"No," he interrupted. "We both sleep. With this storm I doubt they'll be out searching for us. Might as well get the rest while we can. Who knows when we can stop next?" I nodded, and he nodded, and then we shifted so we were sitting back to back, assault rifles on our laps in case we were to need them in a hurry. Within moments, we were both asleep.

I dreamed again that night, but it was weird and disjointed. My brain seemed to be trying to latch onto the song that the wind was creating, but there was little to no melodic quality to it. In it were splashes of old missions. The smell of black forest cologne one of my soldiers wore a lot mixed with the smell of his blood as I carried him out of the combat zone with the image of a letter I had sent him home with for his sister to read. The moment when I was trying to convince my higher ups that this mission was suicide. It was another cold night, and the faint memory of lipstick on my commander's cheek and the flash of blonde hair from inside of his tent pulled at my brain. Finally, watching Billy Lockwood get blown to the ground from the land mine, except this time it was Aaron, and he wasn't going to make it out alive.

I jumped awake, my hands flying to the rifle on my lap. Mike was still asleep against my back, and I took a few gulps of air to try and steady my heart beat. I glanced toward the snow above us, a soft grey light shining through. I let myself have a few more minutes to calm my nerves and steady my breathing before shaking Mike awake too. He also jolted awake, but I reassured him everything was fine and he calmed down a lot faster than I did. We dug our way out of the makeshift igloo, satisfied that the accumulated snow was going to make finding us significantly more difficult.