Month: May 2013

Come Back To Us
Vaudevue struggled towards the lakes edge, every step even more drawn out and painful as the last. Her tattered olive fatigues hung off her malnourished frame, every remnant of fat and muscle taken by M.L.5. But the hunger was not the reason she could not walk a single pace without pain reverberating through her entire being, the gas was responsible for that.
It had started like any normal day at the camp, early wake up, pitiful breakfast and a droning interrogation that gained nothing for either side. The wardens had seemed unusually upbeat in hindsight; there were far too few beatings for it to have been a “normal” day. There was talk of a high ranking officer arriving at the camp, not that any of the POWs or Vaudevue cared, but the wardens and the commandant were eying their next promotions and would not let a few dirty inmates ruin that for them. For that reason the wardens ushered them to the dank shower blocks, which despite being a prisoner for 3 months, Vaudevue had never been allowed to use. Caked in mud from months of hard labour and sweat from the roasting summer sun had made her crave for a good shower almost as much as a hot meal; it finally looked like she was going to get it.
Finally it was her turn, the pug nosed guards shoved her through the wide doorway, her weakened body could not keep its balance on the slippery tiles. The crack of her nose breaking against the floor echoed through the small building. Pain stabbed at her face, as blood splattered the floor around her. The guards wrapped their arms around her, yanking her up ungraciously to her feet, Vaudevue bit her lip so as to not cry out and give the guards their satisfaction. “Have nice fall, pretty lady?” Mocked the guard in the broken English all the guards seem to speak in this wretched place. His grossly muscled arms propelled her forward into the shower block, she expected to slide on the damp floor however the floor was strangely dry, too dry for a room where the rest of the camp had showered only a couple minutes prior. This should have been Vaudevue’s warning, but naïve as a child without memory she stripped out of her clothing, placed them on a bench in the corner of the room and then positioned her body under one of the twenty nozzles in the chamber. The call for the doors to be closed rang out and the guards left the room. A few things suddenly struck Vaudevue, she and all of the other prisoners had not been given soap to wash themselves with, which was odd considering the entire point was to make the prisoners of war “presentable” for this high ranking officer.. Probably most telling of all however was the door; she had never understood why a shower would need a reinforced steel air tight door until now. Almost as if spurred on by her suspicions, the hissing began. Slowly and steadily at first, but gradually it became louder and higher pitched, Vaudevue’s fear was almost tangible now as she threw herself at the door. Confusedly the other inmates looked on, perhaps they just though faulty piping was the reason for the venomous hissing that filled the room, but Vaudevue knew better. She grasped desperately at the door, holding her breath as best she could; it was too late for the others however. They were doubled over clutching at their throats, drowning in the deadly invisible sea surrounding them. Tears blurred Vaudevue’s vision; she could not hold her breath any longer. She felt the thickened air roll down her throat like boiling water, searing her wind pipe and making her choke and splutter. That was when something unexpected happened; the door was yanked upon by the guard who had shoved her earlier, dressed in a bio hazard suit and gas mask. He doubled back in shock, no doubt he had thought by now everyone would be thoroughly incapacitated. Vaudevue seized her opportunity, shoving past the guard she sprinted out of the shower blocks as fast as her skinny legs would take her, as the guard hit the floor mask first Vaudevue heard the satisfying crack where the mask broke, forcing the guard to breathe in the terrors he had unleashed.
Vaudevue did not know how far the lake was from the camp, not far she knew, the guards would already be mounting a search party by now. She now sat on a flat stone on the lake side, every breath more painful than the last. Knowing now what she must do, to finally end her suffering; caused by the gas or otherwise. She stripped down until she was completely naked and plunged in to the water, its icy embrace comforting her in her last moments.

Come back to us

You see me now gasping for air through my horribly burnt lungs. Down by the lakeside choking on my own lungs. There is nothing you can do for me now, the gas from the camps have done their work. My lungs felt like the fires of hell themselves was burning inside them. I scrambled for a drink, to quench the unquenchable, the bring an end to the flames in my chest. But to no avail. The pain ebbed out of my entire being, bringing me to my ultimate decision. Rising, staggering over the ground between me and the lake, my decision weighing heavy upon me, however there was no other option.

Pain shot up Micheals leg, he glared accusingly at the low coffee table as he hopped on one leg almost comically around the small cluttered apartment. “Dammit” he muttered under his breath, contempt lacing his voice, the sofa on the other side of the room attempted to seduce him into sitting down for a minute and wait for the pain to subside. He let that thought linger for a moment, savouring the idea of real rest, however he did not have that luxury today, he had already been late this week and he would almost definitely be arrested if he missed even a second of Enrichment. Hobbling across the apartment, picking his way through littered hallway he snatched his coat and identity card from there corrosponding pegs. Flinging the cold steel door open he stepped into the motionless streets of city 71, the acrid tang of factory smoke bit at his sinuses as he walked hastily around the winding chaotic streets, slowly worming his way towards Victory square at the centre of the city. Taking a short cut through one of the city’s many backstreets he took note of the familiar graffiti that usually lined the walls of the lower class districts, a red cross with a picture of a fox that smiled cunningly out of the wall. It was strange to see the symbol so close to victory square, usually they were reserved to small villages or the outskirts of the city. Few men, even the resistance themselves, would so openly defy the government so close to the site of their greatest victory. Forcing himself to continue down the dank backstreet, the sheen off the great twin towers rising high above the city almost outshone the grime of the city streets. The towers had only been erected a few years prior, costing unheard of amounts of money and with an army of workers. The crunch of gravel underfoot changed to the gentle slap of footsteps on concrete as Michael slipped into the surrounding streets of the square. As he glanced at his simple steel watch his heart jumped into his mouth, the watch read 9:10, he soon calmed himself however as he remembered that the watch was pathetically incorrect. Further reassurance came from the noise coming over the rooftops, hundreds of voices joining together until all they were was unintelligible noise. Michael hurried to join the sea of bodies in the centre of the square. The menacing looks of the police slightly unnerved Michael, as they always did, dressed in their black body armour and balaclavas. They had the entire square surrounded in case of a riot, although this seemed like a pointless precaution when Michael looked around, most people looked ill and others no longer had to will to fight the government, their sunken faces showed their lost resolve. Suddenly, music blared out of the loud speakers, everyone fell silent instantaneously, only the god awful tune of the music met Michaels ears. On the stage in the middle of the square, a platform rose slowly, the banner of the government hanging from its edges. A short fat man stood with his nose in the air on the middle of the platform, glancing boredly at the citizens below him. His black hair was slicked back with what looked like motor oil. He ran a hand through his greased hair and the snatched at the microphone. ” Hello citizens of city 71, my friends my colleagues” the lie reverberated around the concrete square.