For A Life

Bullets whiz past my head. Someone next to me falls. I don’t have time to see if they’re alive or dead. All around me are screams. Living, dying, it doesn’t matter. I smell fire, sweat, and iron. Ahead, mechanized soldiers with their impenetrable armor lurch forward, bladed arms swinging wildly.

One heads straight for me. I freeze.

Run! I scream at myself. Run, damn it!

But I know I won’t because it’s not a dream. In my dreams, I’m a fighter, not a coward. But this is a memory, and memories can only show the truth.

Something shoves me from the side. Flashes of light replace any sense of reality I might have. A sharp pain blossoms in my shoulder and leg. I writhe in agony as metal bites into my flesh.

“Jon!” the voice of my friend cuts through the nightmare.

I bolt upright, banishing the nightmare-memory as my eyes fly open. A youthful face shoves itself into my vision. I sigh in relief as I recognize those violet eyes.

“Col,” I breathe.

He frowns in worry. “You okay?”

I nod once then glance around, reorienting myself. We’re on a railcar headed home for the first time in three years. My wounds ache somewhat, though it’s been weeks since the incident. At least I’m going home now. Or I will as soon as we can finish this last mission.

“Are we here?” I ask, ignoring odd looks from other passengers.

“Pulling up just now,” Col tells me.

He sits back in his seat and looks out the window. The sunlight falls on his pale face, making him look weary and thin. But despite the horrors of war, the pain he’s suffered, his violet eyes dance with the color of life.

I reach up to touch my front coat pocket. He sees this and looks at me.

“You have it?” he asks.

I nod and pull the little black book out just enough for him to see it.

“Good,” he says, and I slip it back in.

Casting my eyes around to make sure no one else saw, I lean forward and whisper.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe you should carry it.”

But Col shakes his head.”

“They’ll expect that. I’m the spy here, after all.”

Part of me wants to protest, but I don’t. I trust him that much.

We lurch forward as the brakes are applied to the railcar. The entire body rumbles. I can hear the squeal of metal on metal. Then, it slows and eventually stops.

I stand on the prompting of the railcar master and reach up to get my bags. The not-so-healed wound in my shoulder twinges. I grimace and rub it.

“You could help a little,” I mutter to Col, who stands to the side, grinning a little.

“Er, need help, mate?” one of the other passengers asks.

I glance up sheepishly, noting his gray army uniform. He gives me an odd look as I shake my head.

“No, it’s alright,” I say. “My friend will help.”

Col nudges my arm. When I glance his way, he’s frowning.

“Jon, leave the bags.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

The soldier I spoke to whispers something to his own friend.

“You okay, mate?” he asks me.

“I’m fine,” I say as Col tugs on my arm. “Um, sorry. I’ve got to go.”

“Maybe you should stay,” the soldier tries to say, but I’m pulled away by Col.

“What are you doing?” I ask as we head against the stream of passengers.

“No time,” Col says. “Look.”

He pauses just long enough to point out the window. There on the bustling platform stands a man in a dark coat and bowler hat. The wisps of steam obscure his features, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a red beard.

“Who is that?” I ask as Col turns away.

“An Arthan spy,” he says.

I don’t ask how he knows. Col’s job is to know the enemy better than itself. My job? To listen to him.

He stops by the last door, hovering just near the entrance. As the flood of smartly dressed soldiers poor out the other doors, we step off the train. Around me, the joyous reunion of family and friends echoes like a rolling tide. Bowler hat man searches their faces carefully. We are elbow to elbow in the press of people. Their bodies are heavy. I can’t feel Col’s hand on my arm anymore.

Panic sets in. In my mind, I see the battlefield once more. Shouts, screams, explosions - each sound violently echoes in my head. I don’t know where I am. I pause, searching wildly. I can’t find Col. I can’t see him.

But then, Col appears in front of me. I slump in relief, and the memories fade.

“We have to move,” Col says, but seeing my pale face, he stops. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I turn to look for Bowler hat man. It’s the wrong move. Our eyes meet. Col swears.

“Come on!”

We dive forward, shoving our way through the crowd. Bowler hat man does the same.

“Sorry!” I say again and again.

Someone falls, but I keep moving. Col grabs my arm and pulls me behind a cartload of suitcases. My breath catches in my throat.

“We have to split up,” he tells me.

“What?”

“Jon, don’t argue. He’ll think I have it, so I’ll draw him away. You remember who to give it to?”

I nod, clutching the spot where the notebook waits. Col smiles awkwardly.

“Sorry, friend. I need you.”

Then, he’s gone. I’m scared, for him and me, but I steel my resolve. I peer around the cart. Bowler hat man isn’t there, but I’m still cautious. Ducking out from behind the cart, I go towards the end of the platform.

“Cabbie!” I shout as I reach the street.

A waiting hansom cab raises his hand to me.

“Government plaza,” I say. “Will you take me?”

He nods and gestures for me to get in. I breathe a sigh and open the door. I climb in, but before I can shut the door, Bowler hat man appears and grins as he also clambers in. The cab begins to move.

“Greetings,” he says in a thick, Arthan accent. “I’ll take book now.”

My heart sinks when I realize Col’s plan didn’t work.

“What book?” I ask, playing dumb.

I’m worried for Col. I knew he should have taken it. We never should have split up in the first place.

“Little black book. Give me, now.”

“No.”

I’m surprised by how confident I sound. Inwardly, I tremble like a leaf in the wind. I didn’t expect to face death here at home.

Bowler hat man sighs and shakes his head.

“Is too bad.”

He pulls a knife from his coat pocket. I freeze at the sight. It’s just like before on the battlefield.

Sorry, friend. I need you, Col’s voice says in my head.

I’m not going through this again! I scream in my head.

I’m not a soldier for nothing, and I want to live. As the knife plunges towards me, I reach out and grab his arm. I can’t dodge. The hansom is too small, but I twist his arm back towards himself, using his momentum against him. The knife point disappears into his neck. Hot blood spatters across my face. I flinch.

It’s not fun watching someone die, but for the rest of the cab ride, I’m forced to watch him bleed out in front of me. By the time we get to the plaza, I’m numb from shock.

I stumble from the cab, face still splattered with blood. The cabbie recoils in horror, but I ignore his shocked cries, walking into the grand white government building. The receptionist, when I try to speak to her, is the same.

“I need to speak to the Chancellor now,” I say.

“Sir?”

“Please, I don’t have time. It’s important.”

“Y-you’re bleeding?”

I look down at my hands stained with blood and shake my head.

“This isn’t mine.”

Not the best of lines, I realize too late. She panics and stands up.

“No, wait!” I say. “Please! I need to see the Chancellor now!”

“Sir, you have to leave.”

“I have important information for him!” I say, pulling out the black book Col entrusted to me.

“Leave now!” she screams.

“What’s going on here?”

Those words are spoken by a tall, regal looking gentleman, who steps between me and the poor, frightened girl.

“Chancellor!” she squeaks.

The Chancellor doesn’t even give either of us a chance to explain. As soon as his eyes fall upon the little black book in my hands, he gasps.

“Where did you find this?” he asks me.

I hand it over to him.

“My friend asked me to bring it to you.”

“Friend?” the Chancellor asks. “Ah, Colvin Duvant? Might you be Jon Erastas? He talked about you. Said you were trustworthy.”

I nod, then feel self conscious as I realize there’s still blood on me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, patting myself awkwardly. “There was an Arthan spy…”

But the Chancellor shakes his head. “I don’t care. Whatever you did to get here, it will have been worth it. When we heard of Duvant’s death on the battlefield, I was sure we lost this information. But you’ve saved us. We can mount the defensive against those mechanized soldiers now that we know their weaknesses.”

Something cold fills my chest. What is he talking about?

“Death?” I ask.

The Chancellor looks at me and nods, confused. “Of course. We just got his body back today. A crying shame, really. He’ll be named a hero now.”

I backpedal, my mind spinning. My hand goes to my head. Dead? But...he was just with me. Right?

“Are you okay?” the Chancellor asks, but his voice is distant.

I can feel myself slipping. My feet go out from under me, and suddenly, I’m on the floor as the rest of the world goes black.

Bullets whiz past my head. I hear screams. I smell blood. The mechanized soldier comes for me. I feel pain as he slashes my leg and pierces my shoulder, but it isn’t done with me. It raises one arm, impenetrable armor glinting in the sunlight.

But just before it comes down, someone pushes me out of the way, saving my life at the cost of his own. And that someone?

I clench my fists as I stare out the window of the hospital they put me in five days ago. I know the truth now, but it’s still hard to accept. Col is gone.

The Chancellor visited me twice. The first time, he wanted to know how I was feeling. By then, I already knew my hallucinations were just that. I feared the red-bearded man was also a figment of my imagination, but he assured me that he was a well-known Arthan spy and his death would be celebrated by the Vouyan government. At least I hadn’t imagined all of it.

The second time he visited, he came with many officials. They stood around my bed and offered up a medal and a great many honors for my service. But as I sit here, staring at their last “gift,” I can’t help but feel a little disgusted.

“Col’s commission,” the Chancellor had said.

Twenty-thousand dollars will go a long way to helping me get back on my feet, that’s for sure, but I’m still not sure I want it. My hands shake slightly as I close the case and push it back under my bed once more.

“Is that really the cost of a human life?” I mutter. “What a joke. I’d rather have Col.”

I close my eyes and lean back. Someone laughs.

You aren’t rid of me that easily, Col’s voice says. I open my eyes.

In the corner, in the shadows, violet eyes that glow with the color of life twinkle back at me.