Travesty (SolarSide Book 1)

by Austin Aragon

  “I always liked a woman in uniform,” says Alex next to me, chewing on a stick of jerky.

  “They sure are some hot babes,” says Isaac.

  I continue to stare at that one woman. Isaac nudges me, “I see you already found yourself a girl?”

  I break away from my spell. “What? Oh no, yeah they really are hot, like you said.”

  “You sure are a lady’s man with your elegant talk.” Isaac stares at the girl I was eyeing one more time. “She is a dime, get out and talk to her.”

  A rush of anxiety breaks through my calm mind. I really need another—fuck I’m all out. “Hell no, I’d, I would miss the tour.”

  The others continued to pester me. Isaac goes to the conductor and convinces him to stop. He comes back to me, “Get out heartbreaker!”

  I lean in close to confront him, whispering, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “C’mon, you only have one more day before you probably get killed in a trench and forgotten. Carpe diem!”

  The unit continues to urge me on. Other passengers begin looking back at me to see what the hold up with the bus is about. “Shit, okay,” I get up and move down the aisle to the door. “Are you guys coming? There’s more girls for all of you.” I remember the paper and hand it towards Isaac for him to grab.

  Isaac steps out onto the street with me while grabbing the paper, and then hops back on quickly as the bus pulls away. “No way, I would miss the tour!”

  “Asshole.” I look over at the café. It’s across the intersection. The women are still there, and that one lady who captivated me still talking and laughing, oblivious that I even exist. I go through every known exercise to calm my mind and heart rate. Worry about Cloud latter, this could be my only chance. I start walking, weakly repeating the line. “Carpe diem, I guess.”

  I reach the intersection, the outdoor seating of the café only meters away on the other side. The light turns signaling that the crosswalk can be used. But as if there is an invisible brick wall before me, I cannot take another step forward, and instead I stand where the sidewalk ends, gazing at the girl. The light turns red.

  Next time I’ll cross.

  Again the light signals to cross, and again I stay solidified where the sidewalk ends. Eventually I turn around, sitting at the steps to a building behind me, and stare at that beautiful girl with her amazing simile. I pull out an ancient that Isaac gave me and light it with some matches we found back at base, taking drags as my eyes remain locked onto her.

  Maybe if Cloud was with me I could do it.

  I follow every move of her at the table as she talks to her friends. Something infatuates me about her. It’s not instant love like in those cheesy romances. I know nothing of her after all. There’s just something about her that intrigues me. Beautiful—when was the last time I saw something beautiful? The photo unnerves me—it was beautiful.

  Humans can make huge cities, then tear them down. But that one amazing ability we have is reproducing the human body. Her smooth pure flesh. Something that takes no planning from an architect or government official. And yet, we can pervert it still. My rifle can destroy it like the city. Turn the flesh into yellow lumps of gore. Why do we do this? But something about it all also fixates me. I too can become a yellow lump of gore. Any of us can. The beautiful and average, the ugly. We can all become the same thing. Reduced to the most common denominator: yellow rotting lumps. War is an equalizer. Whether the end sum is desirable is open to opinion.

  It must have been over ten minutes till she finally rose and left the café. She moves to the cross section that would lead her towards me. Shit. She can’t see me. I put my head down, and twiddle with another ancient, while staring at the thousands of pairs of shoes and boots that pass me. I never saw what she was wearing. She could be any of them.

  Numerous pairs of shoes go up and down the steps, each passing pair coming too close for comfort. “Why, I haven’t seen an old fashioned cigarette like that for ages,” says a lady’s voice above me. “Do you have an extra I could try? Or you busy rolling it around?”

  I look up. It’s the girl from the café. Oh my god, what do I fucking do? I rise to stand with here, I try to talk, but nothing happens. Finally I can, “Yeah, yeah I do, yeah here, use this one.” I hand her the ancient I was messing with.

  “Thanks,” she gives me that heart stopping smile. “Do you have a lighter too?”

  “Yeah I do, kina, hold on,” I fumble around in my pockets looking for another match—where the fuck are you! I find it and strike it against a piece of tape on my boot side containing sprinkled on phosphorous from a broken shell—a trick Isaac showed me. “Yeah, here you go.”

  She looks amused at my display, and lights the ancient, leaning against the stair railing close to me. “You sure like that word a lot.”

  “What word?”

  “Yeah, you used it like four times already,” she lets loose a slight giggle at me.

  “Oh yeah, I uh, like it I guess.”

  I am a fucking idiot.

  “So were you ever going to get a drink?”

  She knows! God I am this world’s biggest loser. “Well, I decided she was too hot out today.”

  Shit I meant It, the coffee!

  She laughs more. “Too hot? Which girl?” She teasingly looks back at the café with her hands above her eyes in the shape of binoculars.

  How do I save this? Take a chance Peter—do it.

  “Hold on, let me help you look so I can point her out.” She looks back at me in surprise and I get closer to her, mimicking her with my hands above my eyes too. “Huh, she’s not at the café, wait a minute,” I turn to her, “She’s right in front of me. The gorgeous lady I couldn’t stop staring at.”

  “Oh, you are a sweet one. What’s your name marine?”

  “Peter,” I look at her arm badge, it’s the Peace Core. “And you’re Ms. Anderson?”

  “Alison is my first name, nice to meet you.” She takes a drag, tosses it on the ground and steps it out. “I don’t actually like them, I was just thinking of a way to start a conversation,” she grins away from me quickly.

  “Same, I used to never smoke, not even vapsticks when I was back on Earth. But me and the other marines in my unit, we kinda made a rule out of it, and we ended up smoking these ancients a guy has.”

  Her eyes shoot up in interest, “What kind of rule?”

  “To smoke every time we survive a battle. Now I guess it’s just catching on everywhere else I am.”

  “You have already fought! I thought you were fresh in like me, with it barely being the second month since the Coalition arrived.”

  “No, I am fresh. Three weeks ago I was on the landing ships storming Jericho, then that same day I was at Tionem rescuing a surrounded detachment of rangers. We got an early leave as a relaxation thanks.”

  “God, so you’ve seen the worst part of the war so far?” she stares at me in wonder now, completely forgetting I was socially terrified of her a few moments ago. “You charged and liberated a city, but were too afraid to meet a girl?” she laughs. “You are cute.” Never mind, she remembered.

  “War is a lot simpler than women I found out recently.”

  Alison’s friends start calling her name to hurry up, looking at us almost surprised too that our encounter didn’t entirely turn into an awkward bust. “Damn, well my friends are begging me to go. Sightseeing and what not before we’re shipped off, probably to your city you just freed. How much longer are you here for, on leave that is?”

  “Just tomorrow.”

  “Well I’ll be here tomorrow as well, I would love to hear about your stories so far, you know, so I could get a grasp of what things are like and stuff,” she begins walking down the steps, I look after her, she continues, “and oh, I don’t know, you could maybe show up and buy me a drink like you wanted today, just the two of us.”

  I stumble slightly, accidentally falling down a step. “Yeah, I would
love that, yeah.”

  “There you go with your yeah’s,” she says as she walks down the street with her friends.

  I yell back hurriedly, “What time?”

  She looks back and smiles. “Same time as when you turned around and sat on those stairs, marine.” She is gone in the crowd with her friends.

  I stand on the steps a little longer, smoking in awe. I can’t believe I actually just did that. I leave, the DT is wearing off since it is nighttime, but for once I don’t feel the rushing attack of anxiety. I feel full of glee and raw energy. I feel alive.

  For once I feel like I am living my normal life again.

  I return to the hotel and rest on the bed for a while, later some people from Easy enter. “How was your date?” says Isaac as he goes for the mini fridge.

  I rest my arms behind my head on the pillow. “It went well. I’m going to see her tomorrow, actually.”

  Isaac grabs a luxurious grade water bottle and twists the cap. “Bullshit, you seeing her tomorrow is as likely as this water being fairly priced.”

  “Honestly, after you assholes left me, things kicked off.” I get up and put on my jacket. “She really is a dime.”

  “Well, I guess you are a stunner after all.” Isaac yells down the hallway, “Vance, Alex, come over here! We got ourselves a pretty boy here.”

  The other guys come pretending to gossip and giggle around me. Isaac grabs a towel and whips me with it as he makes mock female orgasms.

  “Alright, knock it off guys,” I say, clenching the towel and threatening to strike back. “Where are we going tonight?”

  “Drunk, somewhere,” says Isaac.

  “East Downtown is where I heard all the other units were planning on heading to, lots of bars and clubs,” says Alex.

  “Perfect, that’s where my type of ladies will be too,” says Isaac.

  “What, dollar whores?” I say.

  “He prefers the term, Lady of the Night, actually,” says Vance.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Isaac moves to the bathroom and starts gelling his hair with a black comb. “Stick with me tonight, and maybe you’ll all learn a little something about getting laid.”

  “I bet the ladies will only see a little something,” says Vance.

  Isaac aims his comb to throw at Vance, then Blake comes down the hallway with a big box, pausing in between our room and the other room across the hallway with the rest of the unit. “Before we go tonight, I just got news from Command,” most of us begin bitching, “Hold on, it’s not that at all. Our replacements are meeting us tonight.”

  “Replacements?” Rommel pokes his head out from his room, his necklace of rotting appendages dangling from the doorknob. “Like for who we lost?”

  Blake looks at the doorknob. “First Private, get rid of that fucking thing, I won’t warn you again, it’s against regulations,” he glances our rooms again. “Exactly, you guys didn’t get two rooms to be comfortable. It’s three new marines, and all foreigners from other armies on request of the Marshall’s policy to increase international cooperation in the war.”

  “Well shit, I only know English, sir,” says Tommy.

  Blake chuckles. “They all speak English. I’ll fill you in as we go down to the lobby to meet them.” He places the box in the middle of the hallway. “These are letters and gifts from schoolchildren back in the States. Come grab one and read it.”

  We take turns going to the box. I grab an envelope and go to my bed. I open it and a small, worn, black stuffed bird falls out—I pause numb for a moment—the bird finishes rolling over, it’s just a hawk, thank god. I open the letter and read what the kid had to say.

  Hello soldier,—should I give this to the Army?— I am Mary, I am eight years old and live in North California. Thank you for fighting. I am supposed to give you a toy of mine. For good luck. I gave you my old best friend Rosa. She guarded my window at night from bad dreams. She can guard you now.

  I look at the hawk. It’s all black besides its red beak, and overall, pretty beat up.

  “What’s that?” says Isaac.

  “Rosa,” I say, “My new best friend.”

  “That’s cute. Whatcha going to do with it? I got a clown fish. I think I’ll tie it to my water bladder. You know, like it would be its aquarium or some shit.”

  “I don’t know yet. It’s supposed to guard you from bad dreams, so maybe I’ll put it on my helmet.”

  We take the elevator, where Blake addresses us about the replacements. “We have another NCO, Corporeal Conal Bartalinie, an American Italian duel national who joined the UN Peace Keepers as a professional soldier before the war. Our next one is Field Engineer Specialist, Dmitry Boris, Russian marine. His unit was practically wiped out on the frontlines in the Confederate States campaign a few days ago, so he’s been reformed with us. Our last one is Private Yahir Drackavick, Ukrainian national who also joined the Peace Keepers shortly before the war, he is our new LMG support.”

  “Cool I guess,” says Isaac, “having a full unit never hurt.”

  “No it does not.” The elevator door opens to the lobby and Blake leads the way out. “Take this opportunity tonight to get to know them—not have them feel like outsiders in the unit. We’ll come to count on them with our lives just like they will on us when we’re back in combat.”

  The lobby is crowded with dozens of servicemen and citizens talking and going their ways. A tough reserved man with a stubble beard stands out from them all. Blake goes up to him. Moments later the two men return. “Men, meet your new Corporal.”

  “Greetings, I am glad to be able to meet you all on a night of fun than a battlefield.” We get acquainted with our new Corporal Conal, and inform him of our plans which he seems excited for. Then somewhere across the room a crowd forms as a group of yelling men gets more rambunctious.

  We gather around rubbernecking. Before us is a group of Russian servicemen talking rapidly to each other, and yelling at another man who is being held back by additional Coalition soldiers. “God sake’s,” mutters Blake, “Those are our two other guys.” Blake walks up to the group of Russians surrounding a man, who is holding a rag to his bleeding lip. “Are you Private Dmitry Boris?”

  The young man, who still seems frightened by recent events, puts his cloth down and stands at attention. “Yes, sir! I swear start nothing!” The other Russians clamor in agreement.

  “Hold on, we will talk about that later. I am Sergeant Blake Walter, your new commanding NCO. Our unit is behind me over there,” he points over at us.

  “Pleasure meet you, sir.” Dmitry holds out his bloodied hand, then retracts it quickly realizing his mistake and nods instead. He speaks in Russian to his neighbors as he grabs his duffel bag and joins our group. The Russians leave the lobby, continuing to shout at the instigator on their way out.

  Blake comes back. “Why don’t you all start going out. That other guy,” he glances at the yelling man that Dmitry stares at uneasily, “is actually the last replacement to our unit.”

  “But he attack me!” says Dmitry, surprised.

  “I know, can you tell me why?”

  “He came out like crazy racist denouncing Russia people and calling monster for things never did.”

  “Thanks, I’ll have a talk with him. Head on out without us, enjoy yourselves tonight.” We exit the hotel to the night lights, and grab a cab as Blake confronts our Ukrainian replacement.

  I am in another crowded bar, musky with sweat and beer—when did we come in?—or maybe it’s the same one. I stare at the glass of alcohol. It’s my third I think. I watch the bubbles rise up the side of the glass and into the foam on the top. I’m not drunk—yet—it just isn’t the same though, drinking. Not like Cloud gets me. I feel good. But at the same time, I fear it will go away, collapse. The thing that threatens it all—what is it?—the thing that threatens it, it is sitting behind a door, and I’m barely holding it back. The beer doesn’t seal the door shut, no, it just puts anoth
er object: chair, table, shelf, against the creaking frame. What is it? What is behind the door? Why, why does it scare me? Cloud, where are you? What is it? What’s back there? I don’t want it coming out!

  I pound the glass down empty. A bartender instantly gives me a new one.

  My fifth? I look at the bubbles rising up the side, where they explode into the foam on the top. What is the door?—behind it? All my clutter I pushed up against it has hidden it, but I still feel the presence behind it, breathing, seeping out. The tendrils of the thing escaping out of the slight creak it has created, whisking the air about my face, begging me to open it. But Cloud wouldn’t want that? Why is something scary acting kind?

  I don’t want to open you. I down the glass.

  The bartender comes, but holds the pint back from my reach and stares at me. I push the glass forward. “It’s the door, sir.”

  “Door closed. Go outside if you are going to vomit.”

  “No, the door, the door sir. Would you open it?”

  “Of course not, it’s cold out.”

  Isaac slaps my back and slides me a glass. The bartender hisses with defeat and continues down the counter. I look at the glass. The bubbles rise up the side of it into the foam on the top.

  “Hurry up,” burps Isaac. “We got more to hit.”

  “It’s cold out there.”

  “That’s why you drink this.”

  I sip the glass. Isaac lights an ancient. Alex and Vance come over to get one. The bar gets smoky. “Hey!” says the bartender. “What the hell?” Isaac extends the tin box of ancients towards him with one sticking out. The bartender laughs and smacks the box down. “No smoking inside!” Then I think I hear him mutter, “How the hell did he get ancients?”

  “Shit,” Isaac grabs them and gets up, to only fall down on Vance behind him. Vance turns around and punches Alex yelling about his spilt drink. Alex grabs Vance’s arm and smashes his ancient’s butt into his wrist.

  “OUT!” screams the bartender, like an injured marine begging for a medic, that most people pause to look at the mess.