Work Text:
Chapter 1
I stare at my rifle, leaning next to me on a log.
I look at the fire in front of me.
I glance at the strangers across from me.
Americans. One, the kind of peasant farmer. The other, much more unfamiliar. They saved me from nearly being shot and robbed.
This place, so hostile, yet better than the war. Only the most hellish of worlds could be worse.
The war.
I cannot seem to find the strength to leave.
It looks as though this company of killers will have me fit in. They look just as depressed as I am. Truly, a sadder lot there never was.
The girl, the stranger of the two, cleans a pistol. She has something of the man about her. Fights like a cornered animal. She is dressed in blues. pants and shirt. Vagally, like the shirts I am familiar with. Some form of canvas athletic shoes. My eyes are drawn to the tattoo on her arm-a moth surrounded by vines.
I've never felt more empty and alone.
The man lights a match on his boot and puts it to a cigarette.
"You want one?"
How I'm able to understand English, I don't dwell on. I haven't had a cigarette in far too long.
"Shure."
He is a killer, shoots better than anything I could ever imagine. He carries two single-action revolvers alongside a carbine. I wonder why they saved me? Why am I here? These questions are fruitless, and I am very tired.
We set up our bedrolls.
I dream of artillery.
A soft kick wakes me up. We are to leave soon. With the morning light, I get a chance to look at the landscape.
It's simply a forest. The land untouched by shell or shovel. It gives me a sense of emptiness. I might have liked walking here a long time ago.
We walk at a steady pace. They tell me the destination is a town—a hub for traders, vagabonds, and all others. How this place works is confounding. I am told about local law. There is just enough to keep order in town. Anything else requires contractors. I do not think I can return to any life most would consider normal.
Anyhow.
The man walks slightly ahead of me. The girl is far off. She slows till I'm next to her. The girl turns to me.
"You're a soldier, right. We're getting a group together for a job."
"What do I get out of this?" I ask.
"Getting shot, maybe." The man jokes.
"He's right. This won't be quiet. But if you survive its enough weapons and ammo to arm and feed yourself for a while. This place uses trade for anything. It's worth it."
I shoot a man and stab another. This makes me a model coworker now. Not much different than the front, I guess.
"Alright."
"Good. What's your name?"
"Paul."
"I'm Ellie. This is Arthur."
"Hey."
"Hello."