Ashes to Burn (Work In Progress)

Ashes to Burn - Chapter Fifteen

***This story is intended for mature audiences, as it contains graphic violence, gore, coarse language and some sexual content. Viewer discretion is strongly advised. 

December 21st, 2015

05:20 hours

Smolensk, Russia

I was standing in a crowd of people. I heard nothing my own breathing.  I asked around, trying to find out where I was. No one responded, however. I saw an exit sign over on the other end of the room. I tried to fight my way through to the door, but no one was moving. They were all wearing the same black uniform with a gas mask. They stood still and silent, unwavering to my pushes and shoves. I finally grabbed one of the masks off of one of them. The image before me was rattling.

There was no face.

It was a pale, slimy skin-wrapped skull. There was blood gushing from the veins beneath it. I threw the mask down and started to back away as the person cocked its head. Slowly, eyes popped out and a mouth was carved in. The nose pushed its way through the white flesh and a face was born. 

It was Rachel.

I screamed, trying to get away as more faceless people took off their masks. Slowly, they too, turned into people I knew.

Martin, my mother, my father, Kyle, and some other soldiers that died during the ambush. I screamed and shut my eyes, desperate to block out the nasty image. I felt the ground shake and the earth shift beneath me. I reopened my eyes to see the battlefield.

The one where everyone died. 

I saw hordes of people and machines fighting each other. I saw people I knew, people I didn’t. I looked down to see a machine gun and my helmet on the ground. I picked up my helmet and looked at it. There was a crack in the glass and dents and scratches everywhere. I looked closer and saw someone in the reflection.

Rachel.

I spun around to find nothing, but the burning battlefield before me. There was screaming, yelling, the sounds of grenades and fire power surrounding me. I watched, horrified, as children, with guns too big for them to even hold, were slaughtered by the stitch punks. They hacked and shot the children, no mercy whatsoever. I watched as a little boy, just shy of thirteen, was stabbed in the chest with the dagger from the muzzle of a shotgun. 

I ran forward, sprinting, as he fell to the ground. There was a sickening crunch as the stitch punk walked over him, crushing his spine. He walked on, like nothing was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

I leaned over and saw his eyes were open. They were glassy and red. His gun was still clutched firmly in his hands. 

“This is what the world has come to, Julie.” I heard a voice sound from behind me. I turned to see Rachel. She was standing still, dressed in a white uniform. She had no blood or scratches and her eyes were clear. I stood up and stumbled over to her.

“Come with me.” She said, reaching out her hand. I looked at it, then back at her, before taking it and walking with her. We made our way through the battlefield, stepping gingerly over the dead bodies and blown apart machines. The once green grass was stained a crimson red. The sounds of gunfire grew louder as we made our way up a hilly ridge.

I looked down below to see our squad fighting. There was me and Sarge in the front, shooting down the first lines, and Mouse and Derek flanking us. John was struggling to help a few of our other members to no avail. I watched in horror as the man that John was helping, Parker, I think his name was, got shot down. John screamed for Mouse and she rushed back, but was thrown to the ground as a grenade exploded. We were all sent flying back and blood was smeared across the rocks where we stood. I watched as through the dust, the remainder of us, John, Derek, Mouse, Sarge and I, scrambled up and into the high mountains - to the forest.