Shadows of the Past

by Samuel Small

  The bottom of the purple cape came into view. That was when Leal realized he’d been looking at the ground, trying not to make eye contact with the man. Leal lifted his head and looked into those green eyes, the shaved orange hair, and flat features.

  “Did he tell you anything?”

  He’d might as well have asked Leal, “Do I have to kill you?” based on his jaded stare. Those dead eyes, they were considering him for destruction. Leal knew all he had to say was “no” and he’d survive, but for some reason he couldn’t spit out the words. He’d faced armies of men trying to kill him, but that was nothing compared to the Führer’s murderous gaze.

  Then something lightly wrapped around Leal’s shoulder. As if on autopilot, he slowly turned his head. He saw General Iroh, but didn’t recognize him. “He didn’t say anything, right Leal,” General Iroh said, then focused on the Führer. Leal nodded absently at the statement, not understanding the question, but knowing that agreeing would allow him to live. Führer Bellator scoffed then stomped out of the factory and into the night.

  Epilogue

  A little over a month later, Leal filled out paperwork even though his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t difficult anyway, just plug and chug information regarding the increased attacks from that rebel vigilante. Whoever they were, they were getting antsy.

  His mind began to drift again, like it always did, but not to the war. Those memories were done for. Now, a new fear haunted him, one of the man who led this country. He couldn’t stop thinking of the way he looked at him, of the way he left the Major, who’d been through hell and back and could tell the tale, utterly frozen.

  There was one time when they were reclaiming this very kingdom that he’d seen the aftermath. After hearing that General Bellator had gone into the administrative building alone Leal rushed up the steps, despite the protests of his comrades. He’d been stabbed in the arm, but to him that man’s safety was tantamount to the safety of the world, so he continued upward. Before he knew it he arrived at the top floor and tore the door open, shouting the General’s name.

  Despite the fact that Leal had nearly shouted it at the top of his lungs, General Bellator did not whip around. Rather he slowly looked at him from over his shoulder, so casually that you’d think they were in a breakroom instead of a battlefield. Leal was left speechless, but not by General Bellator’s attitude. The entire room, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, was drowned in blood. Leal thought it was a trick of his mind now, the gore on the window filtering the light in just the right way, but he could have sworn he saw a tear running down Bellator’s blood sprayed cheek.

  A trick of the light, or the truth? What were those devices, who was that cloaked boy, and what did he know that made the Führer come out to deal with him personally? Was there any truth to Jason’s words?

  The device sitting on Leal’s desk began to crackle and moan. Broken from his thoughts, Leal grabbed it and asked the person on the other end to repeat. They did, and Leal shook his head with a sigh, then scrolled through the portraits until he found the one designated ‘all units’. Leal clicked it, then held the device to his mouth.

  “Rebels, Center City. All available units respond.”

  The story isn’t over!

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