Mimic of a Beat | Teen Ink

Mimic of a Beat

December 8, 2012
By TheCbailey07, Windsor, Connecticut
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TheCbailey07, Windsor, Connecticut
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“A decimated city
Dying. And deadly the dead.
All lying uncried for. But crying
Matrons and mothers graying
At every altar praying.
Till the Chiming sorrow of digres
Is splintered by the shouts of the paean:
Rescue! O golden daughter
Of Zeus’s with your smile.”
~The Oedipus Plays of Sophocles
Paul Roche
Page 13, Antistrophe II

As I fall, pain is all I’m thinking about. Excruciating pain…throbbing discomfort rushes through my hip, spreading to my chest cavity, and then to my legs. As my body collides with the ground, the pain spreads to my back and arms. Everything in my midst is moving in slow motion. Shark gazes into my vacant eyes. He seems to think I’m dead; well, I kind of am. The smell of burning flesh engulfs me and his hands quickly depart my chest. Blood spews out of my mouth right before I cross the threshold into darkness, wishing for someone to rescue me.

The sound of my heart beat pounds in my ear. Its rhythm reminds me of my time in the Congo; the pound of the drums during their festivals and their casting away of evil spirits. Good memories. As I lie there, my eyesight starts to return in blurs that mimic my heartbeat. I can make out some sort of truck driving through the streets of Manhattan; my vision continues to reappear steadily. Soon, I start to make out a blue sky up above, which is weird because I’m colorblind. The streets are newly paved with that fresh novel smell of concrete and road paint. It’s then that I realize I have feeling in my legs. In actuality, I can move them.

“What are you doing on the bench sleepy head? Come on, if were going to make the parade we better get moving,” Avery pokes.

“Is this a dream or am I dead?” I say in an abrupt tone.

“What are you talking about silly?” she leans in to kiss him. I push her away and quickly get up. In shock, I look around. Manhattan looks like it did when I was a kid. A sunny clear blue sky reflects off the majestic glass of the soaring skyscrapers. A pigeon makes a nest in the windowsills of some high-rise buildings; some are flying around, others looking for a dropped hot dog to pick up and bring back to the nest. When my gaze returns to the ground, Avery, my fiancé, looks at me puzzled. I feel so confused that she’s standing right in front of me.

“What’s wrong Masson?” she asks.

“Why are you here, you’re dead…?” I say in a slightly angry tone.

“What are you talking about? I’m not dead!” Avery responds.

“What am I talking about? What am I talking about? YOU’RE DEAD! You died nine months ago in a plane crash. I just convinced myself to get over you and now I wake up in Manhattan and here you are, messing with my mind!”

“Mason, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?” she asks.




“Get out of here!” I yell. She turns around and runs away crying. Frustrated, I turn around and do the same. I bump into a group of people, knocking most of them over like a bowling pin. I stumble around a corner and I smell… a bakery? No, fires weren’t allowed for cooking after 2020 to prevent pollution due to smoke inhalation. I quickly glance to my left, and sure enough. It is a bakery. Tom’s Pastries and Such, the sign reads. I shake my head. I must be hallucinating. I continue to sprint my way down a sidewalk, but what’s strange is there are no masses of people to push through now. Again I question hallucination, but when I round another street block, I stop dead in my tracks to see no cars anywhere in a four-way intersection. Stunned, I call out “Hello?” After a few moments, there’s no response, just the echo of my voice fading away across the skyscrapers.

Confused and in a panic, I quickly decide to go uptown to look for any signs of life. I walk onto the street and look both ways. No cars. I start to trot across the pavement when I hear a lone radio playing country music, my favorite kind. I stop in the middle of the street and look around for the source of the song. I search in a full circle with no luck of finding it. The melody gets louder and louder, moving closer. I continue to look around until I hear the screech of wheels behind me. I twist my body to see a van screech around the corner, and headed right for me. My legs begin to burn intensely, almost as if they’ve been crushed. The vehicle swerves but then continues to head straight for me. I try to wave my hands but they are frozen, just like my legs. I hear a gunshot blast out of my left ear and blood starts to seep from my chest in correspondence with my heartbeat. The van comes within what must have been 100 feet of me. I close my eyes.

A tear falls down my cheek as I hear a soft voice in my ear. “Its ok Mason, just hang on a little longer.”

My eyes impulsively pop open and my lungs gasp for air. I breathe heavily trying to fill my lungs with the chemical infested air. The stench of death and decay has mixed with the smell of burning metal and smoke, making breathing difficult. Bullet casings and chunks of building slide off my chest as I regain consciousness. I wipe the debris and pull myself to the nearby overturned car.
Pulling myself upright against the ancient Honda, I look around. Shark lays facedown about ten feet away from me, clothing almost all burned off, blisters lay across his charred skin. He deserves it. I quickly turn away and spew vomit in disgust. All around me are strewn other bodies similar to Shark’s. A pile of them lay on the other side of the road, their faces swollen and eyes blankly staring for help. If I had anything else in my stomach, I would get rid of it, but instead I just gag.
I wipe my mouth and look up to the orange, smoggy sky. I shift my gaze to the soaring, once majestic skyscrapers. Almost all of them have absolutely no glass on them as it now lies splintered in the streets of the city. Other than that some buildings look fairly intact while others have whole sides missing. The insides of these buildings that once were offices now are just heaps of steel and overturned desks and cabinets. I return my gaze to the street level and assess my wounds. No doubt in my mind I’ve broken both my legs. I feel a streak of dried blood from a scabbed over gash in my forehead. My ballistic vest is ripped to shreds from bullet impacts.
I tear the vest off my chest and throw it to the side. Next, I check over my weapons. About five feet away my M4A1 lay on the ground, from what I remember, jammed. I pull my Desert Eagle from its holster. The weight of it tells me there are a couple of rounds still in it. After checking the chamber, I click the safety off and put it back in the holster. I look to my wrist where my BAT (Battleground Ammunitions Transponder) sits. I wipe the debris from it and turn it on. The LED screen lights up as I touch it. I select the picture of the M4A1 and it gives me data back. It reads, “Currently Jammed, Not enough lubrication in the chamber.” I then look at the ammo amounts: “Ammo in current box clip, 8 rounds. Ammo remaining total, 38 rounds.” I then select the picture of my Desert Eagle; the data reads back, “No Current Jam, Ammo in box clip 4 rounds, Ammo remaining total, 4 rounds.
Satisfied, I power down the BAT. Checking my radio to see if the HEMP (high-altitude electromagnetic pulse) has faded away yet. Obviously since the BAT was operating it must have faded away, but the radio still only picked up static “...odd, where are the other squads?” I think to myself. I speak into the radio: “Soldier 30393, heavy causalities in India Squad. I’m the only one left, anyone copy? What’s the status on NY?” The radio only replies in static. “Soldier 30393, heavy causalities, what’s the status of NY?” I try again. Again the radio replies in static. “Hello? Anyone out there?” I try once more. This time, I hear a soft bang over the static, followed by voices. I can just barely make out a male’s rigid breaths before another bang and static returns. I set my radio on the ground and put my head into my hands. “How am I going to get out of here?” I cry.
I look up when I hear the sound of metal against metal. The sound creaks on and I begin to panic. I franticly look up to the sky and along the sky-scrapers. The noise suddenly stops and I feel a rush of wind come falling straight down towards me. My instincts kick in and I quickly roll away from the car, into the middle of the street. A second later, “Bang!” Three large steel beams land where I was sitting just moments ago and splits the smoldering car in half.

The adrenalin still pumping through me I try to stand up. I jump, but fall right back to the ground. I hear a snap, and then a burning pain in my right leg when I hit the rubble. I seize the limb and scream. I roll over the ground praying the pain to stop, but it only gets worse. I pull my pant leg up and see a black swelling on the back of my leg. I try to touch it but it aches with more pain.

My screams continue to echo over the skyscrapers, never seaming to fade away. It’s a scream that could break glass if there were any left. I start to feel dizzy as my vision begins to fade again. I gag and taste the bile in my throat. As I begin to slip into shock, a figure appears in front of me. “Great, I’m caught,” I assume to myself. But as the shadow walks into a ray of orange sunlight, I realize it’s Avery. She walks over to me and gets on one knee in front of my face. Her golden blond hair flows in the wind as her hazel eyes look into mine. She rubs my face as my eyes droop, and I fall into another sleep.

Shark pulls his P99 standard issue from his holister and aims it at me. I slowly turn around and drop my weapons to the floor of the basement. We’d been asked to make sure all civilians had evacuated these buildings. As we checked the area, he pulled his gun out and pointed it at my head. “Listen...we don’t deserve this. The military used to be a choice and humane, now its just a sick joke. It’s death row. You don’t obey orders. You get shot. No one cares. They burn your body and your family doesn’t know you are dead until you miss your weekly letter home. That’s it. End of story. The great legacy to Mason Ilheart. So, nothings gonna change now.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out 20 or so small spheres and hands them to me. “You take these and throw them into the wind when no one is looking. You got it?” He cocks his gun as he waits for a response. I nod. “Good, come back here when you’re done. If you give wind to anyone, your gonna be in the body count.” I nod again and walk upstairs.
“Mason, those buildings clear? We have ETA one hour...get moving! Put sandbags in the intersection near the PT-76,” shouts my comanding officer.
Quickly jolting to attention, I exclaim “Yes, sir!” I cross the street to the tank and pick up sandbags from the sidewalk. Screams, panic and confusion bounce off of the buildings as other squads clear structure after structure of civilians. About two blocks down a woman is sitting on the road crying while another soldier carries her dogs out of her apartment. On the other side of that road, a man tries to throw himself at another soldier for his gun. The National Guard private shakes him off, throwing the man on the ground. He pulls his secondary from its holister and puts a round in the man’s head. The gunshot silences all the other noises of the city for a moment. Then the air is filled with other screams as the mans two children come running out to their father’s dead body, crying over him. I think to myself they couldn’t be more then ten years old.
I try to focus on the sandbags and what to do with the spheres Shark gave me. I look over my shoulder to the building I just left. Shark walks out of the facility and locks it up. When he turns back around, he nods at me and then reports to the comanding officer, not seeming to notice the sounds of the enviorment. And thats when it happened.
American fighter drones screamed over the city, letting lose ATC missiles. “Get ready!” In a flurry of excitment, everyone sprints to pick up their weapons and get to their posts. Civilians run in the opposite direction. The children sit there still crying over their father as people run by, trying not to make eye contact with them, soldiers and civilians alike. I quickly jump into action and go over to the PT-76 and grab my M4A1 and the Ammo crate marked “Mason I.” I then run over to the sandbag wall. It stands three bags thick and 37 long, stretching towards the building on my left. A car lies about ten yards behind me as a fall back position. I take my box clips from the ammo box and attach them to my ballistic vest. When all of them are in my vest or in my pants pockets except for one, I put the clip in the chamber, flick the safety off and wait for orders.
Our squad was the second line of defense in this sector. Five blocks in from the shore, we continued to wait for orders. I turn my radio on in my headset to hear how the first defense is being handled. At first, the men are just checking in with each other, making jokes. “THEY’RE COMING FROM THE WATER!” shouts one of them. “Tanks, open fire from right and left flank, boys, any contact is ok to open fire,” commands the officer. Large bangs come from the head sets as the tanks open fire, smaller bangs can be heard sparsely. The soldiers in the distance begin to engage the enemy.
After five minutes everyone starts to get on edge over the radio.
“They’re pushing forward, someone get some rounds on the right flank,” commands the Officer, but the order is only met with the yell of one of the center comand pilots screaming, “EMP! Eject! Eje-!” Then the radio instantly goes to static. I look up to the sky in horror. A yellow, web like band stretches across the sky as an HEMP detonates. I quickly look down to my BAT, the screen blinks off almost instantly and won’t turn back on. I look back up. All of the drones that were engaging in high altitude dogfights all of a sudden fell out of the sky. The enemy’s drones remain in the sky and swoop low across the skyline, shooting its heavy artillery machine guns at other units. One passes a few blocks away from us and we hear the high pitched scream of its electric engines. Our PT-76 makes a large metallic scream, then comes to a halt.
Panic erupts in my squad. The expression on my officer’s face was one of grim reality. He then re-engages to our situation and starts barking orders to the tank commanders. All of the men inside the tanks crawl out of their now worthless heep of metal quickly, and grab RPG’s from a weapons box around the corrner of the road. They’re told to line up along the walls of the surrounding buildings. He then turns and gives an order to everyone else.
“Hold your position men! We don’t know the status of the first defense squads, they may have gotten by them, but they sure as hell ain’t getting by us. Aim for the chest and shoot straight,” he yells.
We all take our positions and wait for the enemy as 20 minutes pass without incident. Just then an enemy one man jet passes across the sky above us, leaving my ears in a ringing silence. Enemy FGI (Flamibility Ground Infantry) storm around the corrner. Along with them, a modified tank with two seats on top missing a gunner. In my haze if silence, I hear my officer faintly. “Open fire!”
We open fire on the enemy infantry as the tank crew fires RPG’s at the tank. The bullets simpily bounce off the other soldiers as they return fire and continue to move up. The rockets explode on contact with the tank, but does nothing more then dent the sides. Shots ring out from a building five blocks away as three enemy infantry drop dead from headshot wounds. I see this and adjust my aim for the infantries heads. I manage to get a couple myself as they aproach 100 yards out.
Quickly we start to lose our ranks. Some of our men begin to run while others drop dead. Our commanding officer desperately tries to make them stay and fight, but gets shot himself and drops to the ground. I sprint across the line of fire rolling into cover, narrowly dodging a flame that rips just above my head. I jump up and move along side the buildings, walking backwards while returning fire, trying to get to the officer. The tanks two empty chairs have been taken by men in gas masks operating an intense flame thrower, mowing over our front line. Soldiers now start running away not returning fire. Those who do this are brought to the ground instantly by the remaining infantry.
Three of our soldiers across the street near the former front line desperately try to enter a locked building. They throw their shoulders into the door until their elbows must have been bleeding. One tries to shoot the lock frantically, but misses and the bullet ricochets towards me, striking my vest, knocking me over, and stealing the wind out of me. I look down at my wound and see it didn’t penetrate the vest. Knowing this, I scramble up and run around the corner. Two more bullets strike the back of my vest while rounding the corner, I don’t check the wounds though. The officer is bleeding badly from a wound in his neck, left arm and is unconscious. I reach into my pockets to try and find something to stop the heavy blood flow.
The spheres. I throw them to the side and quickly put my hands over the gaping wound in his neck. I decide to pull him up along the side of a building so gravity can help stop the bleeding. I pull him five yards to the structure and lay his back up along the wall. I check his chest for breathing, none...I check for a pulse...none that I could feel. Sudden anger and sadness comes over me. “S***” I whisper. I bang my hands on his chest before grabbing my weapon and turn away. I stand up and see the spheres blinking a dark green light on the side walk in sync. I turn and look around the corner. Suddenly, I’m yet again pushed to the ground as an enemy soldier bumps into me. We both exchange glances for a brief second before pulling our weapons.
He fires the shot off first, puncturing my pelvis, tearing through muscle and bone before exiting. I return a shot from my primary, striking his head. The man falls over in a slump as another guy takes his place and shoots. This shot hits my vest, causing me no harm. I try and hit him with my shot, but the gun just clicks an awkward click, Jamed. I drop the gun on my chest and pull my Desert Eagle from its holster and finish the guy off before he can fire another round. As he drops, I happen to look back over to the spheres. They’re all blinking faster now, still in synchronization. I crawl closer, Desert Eagle still in hand with the intention of figuring out the spheres. About 30 yards before them, a red fireball ignites with a Boom. I’m picked up off the ground and thrown like a rag doll, becoming airborn. I land hard on the concrete near another car, in the middle of the line of fire.
As I fall, pain is all I’m thinking about. Excruciating pain…throbbing discomfort rushes throughout my hip, spreading to my chest cavity, and then down to my legs. As my body impacts the ground, the pain spreads to my back and arms. Everything in my midst is moving in slow motion: the tanks, the troops, even the falling pieces of buildings. Shark rushes over to me and gazes into my vacant eyes. He seems to think I’m dead; well, I kind of am. The smell of burning flesh engulfs me and his hands immediately leave my chest. Blood spews out of my mouth right before I cross the threshold into darkness, wishing for someone to rescue me.

I’m awakened from this dream by a boot smashing into my jaw. I accidentally bite my tongue, adding to the pain of my face. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as I open my eyes. All I see is white. Everything around me is the cleanest, brightest white that could ever be imagined. I try looking around but I can’t move my arms, as if they were bound to something. Trickles of water fall down my face and out my nose as I inhale the clean air. I turn to my right and see Avery squatting before me again. “Hey you,” she says with a smile.

“Hi...” I respond with a returned smile. “Am I dead hun? Is this what death is because it’s not so bad,” I continue. She looks into my eyes and chuckles; a tear runs down her cheek.

“You’re not dead, I promise you that. But don’t worry, it’ll… be coming shortly,” she holds Masons hand and continues. “This isn’t death either. It’s a great deal better than this I promise you sweetie.”

Trying to keep from choking up, I ask her “Does it…hurt?”

“Easier than breathing,” she answers. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
“I love you,” I whisper softly.
“I love you too,” she replies. “I have to go now…see you soon…” she continues. She kisses her hand and puts it to my forehead as she fades away. Tears flow from her eyes as she continues to stare back into my eyes. A single tear comes down my face as she completely disappears from my view.

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage”
~Lao Tzu

The boot’s force knocks me awake from the dream. Now I’m brought back to the familiar sight of war stricken New York City. Nothing has changed since I was last in reality. I look down to my broken leg. The dull pulsing of pain … I try to pull my pant leg up, but I find my hands are cuffed around a pole. Blood streaks from wounds on my face. I cough out into the open space, drooling out a foul substance that burns my throat and mouth. I look up and around; the sky is darkened, as nightfall must be coming. I look back to the street level…empty, just rubble and dead bodies. I shout out loud, “So when are you going to kill me? Huh? Just gonna play more games with my head….WHERE ARE YOU?!?”
Out of the blue, a punch comes across my face, throwing my head to the other side. I spit more blood and a bit of chipped tooth before looking up. A man with wild eyes and in uniform looks directly into my eyes.
“Well there you are. How’s life?” I ask. Again the man throws a punch across my face. I chuckle.
“So they sent you to kill me huh? You sound like someone sent you just to do the dirty work.” The man still with the furious look in his eyes speaks in a different language I don’t understand before punching me yet again in the gut. I cripple over. More men start to come over and watch him. Another man grabs my hair to pull my head up so the furious man can kick me in the face. This brings my head to the ground and my body lying in an awkward position. One of the men then unlocks my handcuffs. I roll over onto my back and look to the furious man calmly. He pulls his secondary from its holster and pulls the hammer back. Hair in my face, filth covering my body, pants soiled; bleeding all over. I close my eyes. I reach into my pocket and grab a little silver necklace. It was a gift from Avery before she died. I run the chain through my fingers and begin to cry. Tears streak down my cheeks like flooded rivers, but I don’t weep. In fact I’m happy, happy that I’m going to be with the one I love in a minute after years of not being together being apart.
I inhale one last time, clearly hearing the beating if my anxious heart, opening my eyes, wrapping the chain around my hand.

Epilogue

We walk along the beach at sunset. The soft grains of warm sand around my feet, the cool breeze blowing in the smell of the salt water. Her beautiful eyes, golden blond hair, are finally a reality to me. She sees me staring at her and smiles her famous smile. We stop and just stare at each other, never leaving each others gaze. I get down on one knee, pulling the chain from my coat pocket.

“Avery, I’ve missed you so much. Words can’t describe my joy of seeing you now. I know what it’s like to be away from my better half and I never want that to happen again. I talked to your dad yesterday and he told me I could ask you this. And I know this didn’t work out last time, but…will you marry me?”



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