Seconds to Midnight

Seconds to Midnight

By Juan Sauceda

As the fog cleared, I saw a faint light gliding like a serpent among the once rich soil. It is in these predicaments you realize the men in charge are playing God, a keeper of the kingdom while the souls of the innocent feed on the elements, sucking the life from the flowers that had once blossomed. We fought in the name of anti-communism, not anti-human, yet all I see are my fellow men strewn across the battlefield with nothing but a dog tag and a Cross to keep them company. One minute we were young men, joking and discussing everything we missed from baseball to apple pie, and the next, we were opening fire on an enemy whose faces lie buried in the forest. What proceeds such carnage is silence. A silence unrivaled as the distant light grows closer; stalking me through the jungle.

"Till death do us part," A man says under his breath as the picture of his wife and child are strewn with ash that no light can penetrate. He kisses it once more before his lips are stolen and the heavens have sucked away his final breath. For these men, freedom has come at the cost of death. A different war is being fought back home, a war of ideas as the young in spirit cry for peace, while the men behind the levers continue to send their army of angels. This war has taught me is in every man, woman, and child the color red shines like an apple. With my blood now glimmering in the light, I took the time to pull out my notebook, brushing away the lint that jammed its crevices.

"June 1976,

My name is James Marson. Being of sound mind and body in my final moments, leave all my worldly possession to my brother Robert Marson."

I then tucked the notebook back into my breast pocket.

That was the first time I've smelt the faint aroma that comes with death. For 52 years that smell has lingered, bringing with it a smug reminder that she won't be gone for long.

Sitting alone in this room is the second time I've smelt the mistress's perfume. While everyone lay nestled in their beds the carousel of progress will come to a screeching halt.

"Mr. President, we just confirmed these missiles are not an error, Great Britain and China are now exchanging blasts, we have a little over three minutes until one hits American soil."

The door closed and with that, my hope for a Christmas in the white house was no more. I wish I can say the spirit of God was in the room, but he was vacationing away from the nuclear winter that was on its way.

Now, those who have never had the chance to live will be repaying sins they did not commit. Yet, the sins of the father lay buried in the rubble of past grandeur. The power to hit the extinction button stands as my sole responsibility. By pushing such a button, I stand to let humanity fall in debt to mother nature. If I don't, there is a future where we all stand as one ancestor to the few who make it, leaving a world that is to fight the next Great War with sticks and stones. Indeed, the missiles of China and Russia have my name on them in big shiny letters. With my finger over the trigger, I find myself questioning my liberty. Not launching the missiles, I can recall the mistakes of a country that lost its beauty long ago. By not participating at the end of the world, I find my consciousness quite clear.

"Two minutes, Mr. President."

Sweat dripped from the agent's face as he stood in the doorway of the steel box I was escorted to moments ago.

My heart pulses as her scent grows near.

There is blood on every leader's hands, but is there a place in heaven for those who kept the number low? Surely Truman found a comfortable place to rest.

"Come here sir," I said. The agent sat down at the chair facing mine.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jared."

His hands shook, as did mine.

"Last name?"

"Freeman."

As I stand on the edge, I look to see the mess we have made. In a world where we are connected at the tip of our fingers, how could we grow so far apart? For so long, the sands of time have turned in favor of peace. Now I can almost hear Nero picking up where he left off after Rome had fallen. My eyes welled with tears as every smiling face of recent memory floods into eye line. With adequate time I would burst through the doors and tell my fellow Americans that this is the time to look at the flowers, look at the faces of your loved ones and let that be your final goodbye to a world whose leaders failed it.

"Jared, do you have a coin?"

"I believe so." Jared reached in and grabbed a quarter from his pocket.

Shortly, this land will be filled with ghosts of those who had not yet had the chance to find their way in life, much less death.

"I want you to flip that coin and tell me the outcome, then I want you to walk out of the room and hug the first person you see. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, I can."

The coin went up, landing in the middle of Jared's palm.

"It's heads."

"Thank you, Jared."

Jared placed the quarter on the table next to the button and made his way out of the room.

'In God, We Trust' gleamed in the fluorescent lighting.

I took one last look around, tears flowing, then, the world ended.