Author's note: I got the idea for this when my family and i tooka trip to Ukraine. Specifically what inspired... Show full author's note »
Cold, Dark Eyes“Cold, Dark Eyes”
Strange how seeing things can have such a profound effect on the human mind. The mind doesn’t forget, it may block these things out but the veteran witnessing war atrocities is most likely to commit them himself, as is the child witnessing violence committed against mother most likely to commit violence against his wife. Even seeing a simple image can haunt you, images of the dead, grinning in pain from their violent and gruesome death. Minds don’t forget, they just put it by the bowl nobody likes until someone brings the subject up again, and then you’re reminded of the painful vision.
At around nine o’clock Michael awoke with horror on his mind. He dreamt of the sentry man and the family. The face of pure muscle, grinning in its last moments of pain. The family of ash, together happy in their final moments.
After his moments of looking around and forming an idea of his location he heard a noise at the door. A light scratching, eyes wide he silently got his rifle and walked towards the sound. He placed his rifle barrel in the corner of where the opening would occur. Turning on the flashlight attached to his combat vest he opened the door slowly. With that the hairless pink head of a dog poked its head through. Momentarily blinded by the light the dog sniffed. Michael was left uneasy by the animal’s appearance; pale white skin, red empty pupils and disfigured teeth, arranged in a manor not intended by evolution, merely altered by radiation. The dogs sight came back and he began staring at Michael and growling. Michael pulled the trigger, putting the dog down, and kicked the door wide open. The two remaining dogs ran from the noise and light down the south tunnel.
Now fully awake, Michael decided to continue his trek back to the Pichkin Outpost. The tunnel was damp, but not frozen, as though it had been recently moistened. When he reached the next station he found a map on the wall. Opening his own map he learnt that he was only a few streets south of his outpost. Before he could leave however he heard a voice from behind him. Turning around it was a man, skin white with cold, dark eyes. The man was dressed in a winter coat and cargo pants. Looking at Michael deeply, the man spoke.
“You can’t escape what you’ve seen. You who are the destroyer, you who are the controller. You point your death stick at me, because you know I speak the truth. You know who I am. You are no different from the animal you shot in the tunnels. You kill to keep the peace. In the end you will be judged. All of your friends have already had their judgment. They already are at peace. When a man goes tyrannical it is his own freedom he destroys.” Spoke the pale one, slowly walking towards Michael from the bathroom on the platform.
“Stay back, or I… I’ll… I’ll.” Without anything to say, Michael aimed and shot the man. The round hit the pale one in the mid chest. Dropping to the floor he uttered his final words: “I am prepared, but are you.”
The next five minutes seemed a blur. He walked for a couple of minutes then he ducked into the store were Eric and Winston patrolled. He broke down, crying silently with confusion and sadness. Soon his crying stopped, when he looked down an aisle to see a lone foot and leg. Walking over he found Winston, dead because of some unknown occurrence. He appeared to be putting his gas mask on but it was too late. Michael rushed to the outpost. Inside were the corpses of Ulrich and Eric, dead from the gas.
While Michael was gone a chemical gas cloud had blown in and wiped the area out. Distraught he dropped his rifle on the ground and decided to go for an evening stroll. He began singing a song from his youth, screaming the lyrics.
“Daisy! Daisy! Give me your answer do! I’m half crazy, all for the love of you! It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a…” at this point Michael had troubles breathing. Falling onto the ground he struggled and gasped for air, until finally slowing down to a final stop.