Chapter song: Can't Pretend - Tom Odell
The three men stood there, eyes locked on the tiny figure in front of them.
The kid was in bad shape, covered in dust from head to toe. His cheeks, stained with both fresh and old tears, made him appear even more fragile. His clothes barely clung to his slender, malnourished frame. Kenneth felt a sharp pang in his chest. The boy's big brown eyes stared at him, as if he were the only thing anchoring him to this world.
"Shit," he whispered.
Kenneth had always believed that, among all the creations on this planet called Earth, humans were the worst. Now, it was abundantly clear: this child was being used as bait. They were walking right into a trap. No, in fact, they were already caught in it. He knew things couldn't be this easy. The smartest thing for them to do now was to dispose of the child. That was the only way they could make it out alive. Saving the kid, or even moving him, would be a death sentence.
They all knew this. It was a cruel and inhumane technique some enemies used to let their opponents' guard down. Use an innocent and helpless child to get what they want. It was a tactic they were all familiar with, having seen it on the front lines. A moment of silence fell between the group. Not even Nina or Darren dared to speak.
It was only after another second had gone by that Kenneth spoke. "Commander."
He didn't need to finish his sentence because the word alone said it all: "What the hell do we do?"
Elias stared blankly at the boy, a string of curses running through his mouth. The child was close in age to his little girl back home. His jaw clenched. This was an important mission they couldn't afford to fail, and since this was an Elite Recon, it wasn't officially recognized by the government. Any action they took now would be swept under the rug, including the murder of this child.
Kenneth's breath hitched in his throat when he saw the look on Elias's face; anguish, then cold acceptance. Kenneth understood, without needing words from the commander, that Elias had decided the child must die today. The realization broke Kenneth's heart, one he'd thought was hardened by years of horrors and tragedies. He knew he was no saint. He never claimed to be a hero fighting for his country. Kenneth had taken hundreds of lives himself, never hesitating because he couldn't afford to. Hesitation was death. He always chose survival, not morals. For Kenneth, dying or deserting wasn't an option. Even as he questioned the future of his country, he found purpose in this job, for better or worse.
The commander gave Kenneth a look that signaled what had to be done, and Kenneth understood immediately. His arm moved with a speed that was almost inhuman as he raised his rifle, aiming it at the child who remained motionless, his tears still falling. Kenneth felt as if the child, too, understood what was about to happen and accepted his fate.
Kenneth's finger hovered on the trigger. He needed to fire. One shot, quick ending. The child at least deserved mercy. But he hesitated. Why couldn't he do it? His muscles locked, his hand shook with sweat. It felt like his body had betrayed him, refusing to obey what reason dictated.
Amir glanced at Kenneth and then at the commander, signaling his readiness by blinking twice. Elias nodded to Amir.
Following the nod, Amir pulled out his weapon and aimed at the boy, finger on the trigger. Kenneth, noticing Amir's intentions, felt a twisted relief that he wouldn't personally have to kill the child. But as Amir prepared to shoot, Kenneth moved with astonishing speed, throwing himself in front of the child and blocking the shot, using his body as a shield and shocking Amir.
"What the fuck, Sanchez?!" he yelled, immediately lowering his weapon. "I could've killed you!"
Kenneth blew a breath. "But you didn't."
Amir's eyes went wide, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, and perhaps he had, for a brief moment, he saw his little sister in that boy's face. A face he hadn't seen in decades, but one he remembered and would never forget for as long as he lived. Her warm smile, sun-kissed skin, and hazel eyes froze him on the spot. It made him unable to see this boy die senselessly. It wasn't fair to him.
Amir and the commander looked at each other, not knowing what to say. It was protocol to eliminate anything that could hinder their mission, and this boy was a hindrance, as cruel as that sounded.
"Listen…Sanchez, I know he's just a kid, but for all we know, this could be a trap. He could be working for them. Don't forget, kids can be soldiers too. We can't afford to get ambushed—" before he could finish his sentence, they heard a cracking sound coming from right beside them.
Commander Elias Monroe looked down in horror as he watched the device, an old model that hadn't been used for decades, ready to detonate any second now. He acted on pure instinct, jumping in front of the device and shielding Kenneth as he grabbed the kid in his arms, bracing for impact.
An enormous boom shook the earth, knocking the three soldiers, child included, off their feet from the thunderous impact.
Despite being an older model, the bomb packed quite a punch. Had the circumstances been any other, Kenneth would've found the device fascinating. It wasn't common to find such ancient relics these days, and being a military nut, something like this would've had the young man excited for days.
Unfortunately, the realities of the world would make such a discovery more terrifying than exciting. Because right now, they were about to meet their maker.
~*~
Have you ever been knocked out by a bomb before? Pushed back by a force out of your control? Probably not. Most people never find themselves unfortunate enough to be caught in a situation like this. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case for Kenneth or his team.
No matter how skilled and proficient you might be, no human being could survive a bomb of that magnitude. The situation happened in a matter of seconds. Elias used his body to shield Kenneth, taking on most of the impact. Amir, who wasn't far behind, took in some of the heat as well.
The next thing Kenneth knew, he was on the ground, his entire vision was covered in smoke. His ears rang, sharp and piercing, like they were on the verge of exploding. His eyes darted around, mind still alert and conscious despite having almost been torn to pieces.
He looked to his left and saw a body lying lifeless on the ground, half charred and unrecognizable, but he knew who it belonged to. It was Amir. He felt a pang in his chest and a sudden heaviness that made it hard to breathe. Just as he was about to shift his body, he heard a thud.
Kenneth paused. Not daring to move a single muscle. He took in a breath before looking down to see a body lying on top of his own. Half of the body had been torn apart, leaving only his arm and torso, but Kenneth knew who it belonged to. The marking on the right side of his arm indicated his rank and role in the unit. Commander Monroe.
He'd died trying to save him from a mistake he'd made. Kenneth remained completely motionless as the reality hit him. His actions had caused half of his team, as far as he knew, to be wiped out. He was certain the shock wave of the attack had reached them, too. All to save a child. A child who would've died either way. He frowned.
The child… where was he?
Kenneth looked around him, eyes heavy as he tried to find the little boy, but the entire place had been leveled out, the residual smoke obscuring his vision, not that he could see much from where he was lying. He attempted to get up, but found himself unable to do so on account of the commander's dead body lying on top of him.
His breath shook, eyes watering as he pushed the man he had known for five years and came to see as a friend.
Kenneth's movements were shaky as all the strength had left his body from that blast. Still, he mustered whatever juice he had left and got himself up only to feel a pain worse than death. Getting injured on duty was nothing new. He'd had his fair share of knicks and bruises, hairline fractures and broken bones, but nothing like this. It felt like his lungs had collapsed, and breathing had become the hardest thing he'd ever done. The pain was searing, all-consuming.
He noticed he'd been cut badly on the leg, but that was the least of his problems. There were gashes on his sides, large enough to see inside his stomach. If he didn't put pressure on the wound, he'd bleed out. But Kenneth didn't care about that right now, he needed to find the kid.
He got himself up, groaning as he searched for the child. Sweat soaked his forehead, dripping down his face, mixing with the soot and blood, but he persevered.
He looked around the destruction the bomb had left in its wake and caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eyes. His entire body quivered as he stumbled forward, his hands digging into the rubble to drag himself toward that glimmer. It was small and metallic, catching the faintest glimmer of what little light remained through the haze.
As he got closer, gritting his teeth, his heart started to pound, and a deep sinking feeling began welling up inside of him. Kenneth clawed his way closer, leaving trails of blood behind him in the dirt, his body barely more than a husk driven by sheer stubbornness. That's when he saw a scene that made his blood run cold.
A child's frame, limp and lifeless, lay there in the destruction. The little boy who looked like flesh and bones was actually a fabricated human. His skin was split at the shoulder, revealing grey wires and synthetic bone. One of his eyes, brown and doe-like, reminded Kenneth of those little chocolate balls his father used to bring him whenever he came back from a long trip to the lower Americas. It was those very eyes that had softened a part of Kenneth he believed had hardened over the years as a soldier. But as he looked closely, there was nothing warm nor pitiful about them. Instead, they flickered like a light dying out after overuse. There was no pulse, no red blood.
He wasn't real.
The young man stood there, staring.
His body was half crouched, eyes vacant. He stood there for what felt like hours, unable to move until a single sound came out of his mouth.
A deep and guttural scoff at first, before turning into a full fit of hysterical laughter. Kenneth stood there laughing maniacally for thirty long, excruciating seconds until it hurt so bad he started coughing up blood. Then the pain hit him again at full force. It was white-hot and blinding. The kind of pain that makes you whimper and your eyes water. All the strength he had left vanished. He collapsed backward with a strangled gasp, his body falling to the ground with a dull thud.
With his back to the scorched earth, debris all around him, Kenneth looked up at the sky that had been clouded by ash and war, chemicals and gunfire lingering in the air. It made it hard to breathe and even harder to blink. Still, he stared.
Kenneth couldn't help wondering how all of this happened. How they got here. He knew in his mind that he should try to connect with Darren or Nina, see if they were okay, but a part of him knew that if they were, they would've tried to contact him by now. Help wasn't going to be coming since this was an off-grid mission kept on the down low, requiring minimal assistance.
It would come eventually once they realized that no one had reported back for hours now, but again, that wouldn't be for a long time. By then, Kenneth would already be dead. He coughed once more, blood trickling down the sides of his mouth. His breath came out in a ragged wheeze. He tried to force air back into his lungs, but it was no use. His airway was already full of blood.
He was going to die here, no doubt about it. Still, a lump of regret shoved its way into his heart with every inhale he took. Kenneth knew he'd made the wrong call. That no matter what he felt about the kid, as a soldier, he should've pushed his emotions down and followed orders. Follow protocol. It was what was expected of him. They were in a war.
People died all the time. Lives were sacrificed, even children's. So why take pity on him? Was it really because he saw his little sister in the boy?
He put not only his life, but the lives of his comrades at risk, all because he couldn't keep it together, and for what? The child turned out to be fabricated.
Angry tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. His hands, which were now lying limply on his sides, curled into fists, his nails digging into his skin. Kenneth was tired, and he could feel his body shutting down. He probably had a few minutes left until he'd go into sceptic shock or his body would start hemorrhaging or whatever the hell happened when you suffered a severe loss of blood. By the time the para rescue team would arrive on scene, he would be dead.
Still, he hung on despite the pain. He held on because this was the least he could do after killing his team, his friends. His bleeding out like this was his comeuppance. Kenneth had never been afraid of death, as it had been a constant in his life, the moment his parents died, the moment his little sister died. He was a soldier who came face to face with death every day, and every time he walked on the battlefield, he knew his last breath would follow. It was only a matter of time.
Time's up I guess, he thought, as he coughed another mouthful of blood.
In his delirious state, he saw a world where people got along. Where resources weren't stretched thin. A world where people were treated like human beings and not disposable objects. But did a world like that even exist? Could this reality he'd just cooked up actually come to be?
"...Unfortunately…I'll never get to find out," he choked out.
He didn't want this to be the end.
Kenneth didn't really believe in God. He wasn't even sure if there was one. He'd always thought that if there truly was a God, then someone like him wouldn't be allowed to exist. All the pain and suffering he endured was evidence that he was being slighted by the universe. Maybe he was finally coming to his senses and decided it was time for him to go. He'd suffered enough.
But something in Kenneth made him want to believe in God , or any God, for that matter, just for a couple of seconds. He was most likely going to hell anyway, so he might as well try. He had nothing to lose.
"Hey there, big guy…or girl…woman? Almighty being? I don't know, whatever the hel—I mean whatever you are. If you're up there… listening… which I'm sure you are, given all the things I've heard you were capable of doing…I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but if you could just listen… even for a moment—cough…that would be great."
Kenneth brought one of his limp arms over his chest, clutching it for dear life. He tried to focus on his breathing and avoid any sudden movements.
"…The world is a shitty place, as you can see, and nothing seems to be getting better, no matter how much we fight. Of course, I'm not blaming you or anything. This is clearly a human problem…but still. You didn't exactly make it easy for us either…" he paused, realizing he was coming a little too critical towards the guy he was trying to bargain with right now.
"Sorry, that was rude. I don't know how this praying stuff works, to be honest….I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd like a second chance…if possible. A chance to do right by my people, a chance to save those in need. I'll do anything in my power to live another day. Getting to atone….for my mistake."
Kenneth lay there in the silence, waiting. A second went by. Then another. But there was no response.
Maybe I'm being ignored, he thought. That seemed to make him chuckle a little. Well, can't blame him. I wasn't exactly a Samaritan in this life. Perhaps in the next one, if there is an after.
With that last thought echoing through his mind, Kenneth Sanchez took his last breath.