War For The World

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Hey Sarg. Wait a moment will ya"

Michaels stopped. He knew what Benson had to say, could predict already the type of things on his mind. This wasn't going to be easy for either of them.

"What's the matter Benson?"

The Irishman looked up at Michaels and for the first time in a while the Sergeant realised the type of emotional person there was under the joking exterior.

"Are you sure about this Sarg?"

A simple question, though one that Michaels found much difficulty in answering.

After a less than reassuring pause, he nodded.

"I am"

"Because ya know I can't go risking my life on a hail Mary" he continued, "I got drafted for the military last year. Left behind three young girls to fend for themselves. Three little Irish girls forced to grow up young without their big brother to look after them. Told 'em I'd come home I did. Sarg... You should've seen the looks on their faces..."

Benson now leaned close. A determined look on his face that made Michaels slightly uncomfortable.
"Don't get me wrong Sarg. Im willing to die for the war... Just not your war. You get me? Lady Hersch is nice and all, but I can't leave my sisters to themselves all because of some Dame"

Michaels had had enough.
"Benson. Very soon this town will be decimated by those things"

He pointed out the window, as if to make his point.

"Think of how many young girls just like your sisters will be burnt to ash if we don't step in and do something"

He'd said his piece. May have been a tad harsh in some places but Michaels was certain he'd managed to get his point across.

He knew the power that those tripods held and understood that if he were to survive he'd need every man he could find.

Michaels found his thoughts returning to Abigail and he clutched the stump of his left arm subconsciously.
"Look Benson. Yes, I admit those things are strong but all we need to do is evacuate the town, kill Braltr and his goons and we're out scot free. They might not even show if we get to Braltr fast enough. It's that simple, trust me"

"It's that simple..." Benson repeated, letting the words simmer on his tongue.

The two men, who had fought side by side and were willing to give anything and everything for what they believed in stood facing each other on the same side for the last time. The nature of their doomed conversation destined to fall on deaf ears. Neither one truly capable of convincing the other.

"Look" Benson started. "Jones is a soldier, no doubt about that. He'll kick up a fuss and throw a few threats around but when push comes to shove he'll follow orders... but I"-
A beat.

Benson paused. Caught on his own words. The moment passed quickly and he continued

"I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth Sarg, Just promise me... promise me that this aint gonna all be for nothing. Promise me you're confident that it'll work"

Michaels heart went cold and he felt ill. These were his brothers, the men he was sworn to protect. And yet...
He sighed, looked Benson dead in the eyes, and lied.

"I swear"

***

The bright mid-day sunlight that overlooked the Hersch manor quickly descended into the dull glow of the evening moonlight. With such a fall came unease and a feeling of uncertainty for the coming days ahead.
Michaels was nervous, though he tried not to let it show. With his clammy hands clasped together and heartbeat that was sure to be visible, he sat down by the indoor bar.
Situated off to the side of the library, he could hear the others enjoying their final night together. Pouring himself some scotch, he watched.