A Penitent man-Conclusion

“What’s going on?” I ask Lukas.

He smiles but his eyes remain distant. “We found him.”

“Who?”

“Rogers.”

The peace I have, vanishes. Speaking his name breaks a spell or conjures one, I can’t tell the difference. My mouth goes dry and my heart races as the world moves like a rollercoaster. I knot my fingers together to stop them from shaking. We travel for hours in the dark, in silence. Each man lost in their own thoughts, reliving a nightmare that will forever haunt us.

False morning light begins creeping upon the land when our truck comes to a sudden halt. We exit in a cloud of dust. With each step my heart pounds faster, harder until I feel it may burst out of my chest. I stare at the ground for fear of stumbling. When everyone stops I look up and am gut punched by a memory I tried to forget.

We were in this very spot eighteen months ago. For a different reason. This time it was the enemy on their knees, Captain Rogers, hands bound, head down like a sinner waiting for the verdict.

Lukas takes charge the moment a pistol is placed in his hand. His demeanor changes from that of an ex-drunk to a commander with each step. Marching directly to Rogers he pauses then slaps the captains already battered face. The gun in his hand punctuates the hit. Rogers sways and collapses.

“Pick him up.” Says Lukas.

A pair of soldiers haul him back to his knees. Behind him his men are crying and pleading for mercy. Roger kneels unmoving, giving no words of encouragement for his soldiers, the fight gone from him.

“Shall I order you to execute your men. Your choice captain?” Asks Lukas.

With that statement Rogers looks up, his eyes grow wide as it dawns on him where he is and who we are.

“It was war.” He states.

“It still is.” Counters Lukas. “You’re still here.”

“Because you insist on resisting?”

“We’re pushing you out. It may take a little longer, but we will succeed. Look at you, look at your men. They gave up months ago. The only reason they still fight is fear of reprisal from their superiors.”

Glancing at the captive men behind him Rogers spits. “They’re poor excuses for soldiers. Do what you want to them. I however have information, detail plans, locations, numbers, anything you want.”

“Join your men… Captain.” Responds Lukas.

“You don’t understand…”

Marching forward, Lukas presses the pistol to Rogers head, “Don’t Understand? We all fucking understand.”

The man scrambles back like a crab, eyes radiating fear. His men spread away leaving Rogers groveling in the dirt at his captors feet. Lukas is no longer the same man who came to my door and saved me.

“Lay face down.” He yells.

Rogers mouth bubbles red, through his swollen lips. His head swivels about, eyes swelling shut, there was no place for him to hide. All the while slurring. “Please…please.”

Waving his gun towards the prisoners Lukas orders. “On your knees.”

One by one they kneel. Some quietly pray, others shed tears, most remain stunned in disbelief.

Turning to us. Lukas says. “Its time, line up.”

We shoulder weapons, amidst the pleas and whimpers of those across from us. To their credit a few keep their heads held high.

Raising his weapon to Rogers, Lukas speaks. “This ones mine.”

“READY.”

I cannot raise the gun. My arms are like a marionette waiting for the strings to guide me. My mind swirls with visions of mutilated bodies lying in this very spot. I try to speak but my throat tightens.

“AIM.”

I’m hovering with a birds eye view, witnessing the scene unfold. Watching mannequin men robotically raise guns, fingers tightening upon the trigger. Cries for mercy echo within these ruins once again. I Wait for the explosions, the smell of gun powder, the metallic taste of death.

Suddenly I cry. “STOP.”

The world becomes still. Wide eyed men on both sides stare in my direction.

Finding my voice I say. “We can’t do this.”

Lukas’s eyes bore into me. “No Grif. We need to avenge our brothers…Thomas….Mathew…all of them.”

Shaking my head. “Lukas, this isn’t who we are, not anymore.” Looking at the pathetic creature at his feet I say. “It’s who he is.”

Approaching Lukas, his shoulders drop when I relieve him of the gun.

I calmly say. “Take the prisoners to a containment camp.“

Pointing to Rogers I say. “He stays.”

In the quiet of dawn, there is a peaceful moment where you can sense it is over. Perhaps this was always the outcome, the destination after a painful journey.

I hear a hollowness in my breath, the melodic sounds of nature welcoming a new day. Birds have no concept of our problems. They deal with life one day at a time. Amongst the destruction they thrive. Where we see ruin they see shelter. I wonder if these same birds were here that day.

An echo of boots dragging upon the dry earth bring me back to the here, alone with the one man I truly despised. Still grizzled and worn, eyes hollow and empty of remorse. Searching for sympathy he denied others. Hands bound, curled into a fetal position lying on the dirt.

“Kneel.” I order.

Like a well-trained mutt he struggles to obey. Head down shoulders rounded. With his hands tied together he appears to be praying like a penitent man. His body shakes, and his pants become wet when his bladder releases.

“This place is full of ghosts.” Staring at him I add. “One more won’t make a difference.”

Lifting the pistol, I pull back the slide and chamber a round. The sound reverberates throughout the abandoned buildings. Raising his head he watches me remove the clip and eject the remaining shells one at a time into my palm.

“Only need one.”

"You and I are the same.” He pleads.

“No, we are not.” I state.

“You’re lying to yourself if you think that.”

“I never killed civilians or children.” I reply.

“But you have killed, and they were some ones child.”

“They weren’t children, or innocent.”

“You’re not innocent.”

“I never said I was. War stripped my humanity and innocence long ago. What little I had left you took that day.”

“I only wanted him, the Ghost.”

“Who?”

“The sniper.”

Blood drains from me and I suddenly feel like a ghost. I mumble “Number five.”

His swollen face produces a smile. “Then you heroically stepped forward and I realized something. You were brothers, so I adjusted the plan.”

My knees lock to keep me from falling into darkness. “You forced us to kill our own people.”

A slow lopsided smile stretches across his deformed face.

The tendon in my hand tightens as I grip the gun, my breath became shallow and quick.

“Why?”

“I have my reason.”

Clenching my teeth I growl. “You forced me to kill my brother.”

I swear his eyes lit up. “O tempora o mores.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Why?”

“Payment was due and I collected.”

Raising the gun I yell. “WHY?”

He shouts back. “He killed my brother.”

And there it was.

All became silent as our eyes lock upon each other. That feeling of Déjà vu burst through me again. Minutes drag by until I finally lower my weapon and say. “Our father went missing in action.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes blinked in bewilderment.

“We discovered mass graves filled with Soldiers and civilians. Their hands bound.”

Rogers eyes dart in every direction but towards me.

“Your brother murdered them.” I State.

“We all did… horrible things.” He whispers the word horrible.

“My father was one of them.”

“Things done in war…”

“We’re done talking.” I’m shocked at how calm I am.

Suddenly I notice something different about him. I stare until I see it. “You shaved your mustache off.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Taking a step closer, I raise the gun, pointing it at his head. He shuffles backwards then stops as the realization hits him. Blood bubbles from his nose, his chest heaves in sporadic convulsions. Glaring at him I breathe deep, slowly squeezing the trigger. He begins whispering a prayer. I see Thomas laying there, his vacant eyes searching for me. Suddenly, I step back and drop the gun. The instrument of death lays between us, harmless without the devil guiding its aim.

“You’re not…?” He stammers.

“Your life isn’t mine to take.”

“You letting me go?”

My mouth tightens. “Where are you going to go? “

His head swivels like a gopher emerging from a hole. “Anywhere.”

Narrowing my eyes I reply. “You can’t stay here. You can never go home. Every man in your platoon heard you offer to share information. You’re a traitor. Right now, your men believe you are telling me everything. I’m guessing once word gets out, and it will. Your life is worthless. You are alone.”

Driving my point home I add. “Memento mori.”

His shoulders drop, along with his head as reality dawns on him. I tap the gun with my boot. While backing away, a haunting wind whips through shattered windows creating a forlorn train whistle howling in the distance.

Rogers never understood. I was just a guy trying to protect his brother. “You made the wrong choice. I shot your brother. I'm the sniper.“

His face drains of color while I watch his mind spin with confusion. He has only one bullet and a decision to make.

Rounding the building, the last prisoners are being loaded onto a truck. I glance at the dawn sky and for the first time in a while I witness a fiery glow of pastels splashing the bellies of clouds with life as they hover above the horizon.

Lukas approaches when he sees me. “Where’s Rogers… did you?”

From behind, a dry crack like a broken branch echoes across the land, and a flock of birds suddenly cry and take flight.

“I gave him a choice.”

The End

O tempora o mores (oh, the times, oh, the morals)

Memento mori (remember that you must die): a reminder of mortality

In Honor of Remembrances day (Canada) - Veterans Day (USA) - Armistice day (England)

https://vocal.media/serve/a-penitent-man-part-1

Thank you,

Jason