No Man's Land

Chapter 7

        Wind whipped around him as he moved through the stillness of dusk. He had been traveling for hours, never once stopping nor resting. He never once turned his head back to try and see her, but she was in front of him the whole time. The image of her burned its way deep inside of him. Every time he blinked the darkness brought forth her crumpled form smashed against the decay of her old world. It would not stop. The deep black crimson glistened against the cold, orange corrosion of time. Her fragile body turned more ghostly and faded from what little life it clung to. In death she seemed more alive than ever. She knew what she wanted, she knew it was her moment, the final piece to the enigmatic puzzle that was her existence. He was missing many pieces to his own view, but, ultimately he took away the last defining piece from hers. He thought about her now dying alone but not on her own terms. She was let down again by someone she persisted with. He remembered her comment, of desperation, it driving her to her most regretful actions. He was the one left with the regret now alone in his flight. Dusk turned to night as he drove through the freezing black. His skin clung to the searing cold steel of the craft, burning his body with chills. His shoulder ached from the stab wound and grew painfully sore from the biting cold. Despite the pain he couldn't stop, he couldn't stop when the full moon rose above the acrid clouds nor did he stop when the vehicle began to falter as the sun peaked above the distorted horizon. The rig started to cough thicker, heavier exhaust out of its sides and slowed to a crawl. With a sudden jerk and thud the craft dropped to the ground and gave its last groan before it slipped into dormancy. He slid off the side off the rig and continued his march westward. Fatigue, the gnawing pain of sleep loss and dehydration, crippled his advance but with some powerful driving force from within him he limped onward. He did not know what day it was and he did not know know long he had been walking. His feet grew bloody and his legs grew stiffer and stiffer upon the road.

        Turn back.

        He spun his head around, startled from the voice that reverberated through his mind. Was it real? He thought, is anyone one there? Nothing was around him, nothing but burned buildings and charred stumps, barren fields and dead earth. He pressed on.

        You failed me.

        He pressed on.

        I hate you.

        He clutched his head, trying to silence the soundless voices.

        Coward.

        Killer.

        Failure.

        You're not a man, you're nothing.

        His teeth were clenched tight, his fists were held even tighter. The sun burned his skin and his blood boiled from within his veins. Sweat ceased to exit his pores. The voices in his mind were deafening but he tried as hard as he could to press on. He walked until the black earth slowly gave way to patches of green and the burned stumps of phantom trees gave rise to healthy, brown trunks burgeoning with leaves. The air grew less stale and purged itself of the heavy decay that riddled the atmosphere as he pressured against the road. His surroundings slowly gave way to a verdant incline of increasing foliage. His heart lifted itself from the blacked depths. He knew he was moving close to the border of the human side. Salvation was only a stone throws away. The voices even seemed to quite themselves for a second as the distant chirp of a bird entered the air. His mind cleared of doubt and worry. He would be able to return. He would be able to fix everything. He would be able to hold her once more and rebuild the bridge that had succumbed to the fires. Boom. Crash. He looked above his head and looked on in glee as three fighter jets broke the sky close enough to him that he could grab their wings like toy planes. They flew beyond his vision over the tree strewn hill he was summiting. A smile cracked his face as he sprinted with what little energy he had up the sloping road. His heart lifted higher than the jets' flight. He just had to get over the ridge and maybe, just maybe, he would be home free and able to see the familiarity of his old life. The setting sun illuminated the hilltop, burning intensely through the tall silhouettes of living timber and closing the land behind him in darkness. When he reached the crest of the hill he dropped to his knees. His bone hit the asphalt hard but the physical pain could not reach him. His eyes were locked on the tragedy that stood before him. Tanks were firing with tracers from weapons all around traveling across the air to their frantic targets. Air craft dropped their bombs, displacing fresh earth, as grenades exploded violently in clouds of sharpened smoke. The tree trunks of the country side before him burned and the grass blackened as forces both familiar and alien waged a destructive and all-consuming war across the green. Tears broke his eyes, drifting down his soot filled face at the sight of the carnage. His spirit finally broke as the humans' defensive line fell back and they retreated deeper into unspoiled land. The Leather Skins pursued, dragging No Man's Land with them, ripping apart new earth and searing fresh reminders of man's folly into the ground. He felt his heart heave and his body surge with pain. His will dissipated as the victory he craved for those few seconds succumbed to the extending wastes. Kneeling on the asphalt before the theater of destruction, he closed his eyes as a single, final voice drifted through his mind.

        If you leave, don't ever come back.

The End