Travesty (SolarSide Book 1)

by Austin Aragon

  “Hold on!” he walks around in a circle as if he’s earnestly critiquing it. “She is cute, but she’s not your style. Got no titties showing.”

  “Okay, give it over.”

  “Don’t be salty.”

  “I am not salty.”

  Isaac returns the photo and takes out his box of ancients. “You know, that was the saltiest way someone ever said they’re not salty.”

  “Get out of her, unless you’re gonna hold it for me.”

  “Sorry,” Isaac lights his ancient and brings it to his mouth, “mine requires both hands, unlike you.” He winks.

  “You are a dick.” I close the door.

  Isaac taps the side of the structure. “Make sure to aim while you’re in there too, don’t want to sit on your piss.”

  “Jesus Christ. Can I go in peace? I’ll fucking piss all over the door if you don’t go.”

  “Saaalty,” I hear him yodel as he walks away.

  With him finally gone, I can get to why I’m really here. I plant the picture against the wall, and unzip to stroke. But after a while, I can’t even get hard. Her image has been tarnished for me somehow—or maybe it was the lack of the buildup I am used to that I don’t have access to anymore. I put the photo away, but something still plays at the farthest boundaries of my mind. I know it’s something else.

  “Anyone in there?”

  “Almost done.” I zip up and open the door for the next guy, and walk back to the unit. It’s something…all well, there’s more important shit to worry about.

  Supply trucks coming back from the frontline pause near us, their engines rumbling. The camp we hastily set up last week is completely broken down and in a few big piles. Only a few craters and depressions in the dirt remain to mark where tents and trenches were placed, and some trash that has by now become an invasive species to this planet ever since we arrived.

  “Hop on!” says Tarnus.

  The whole platoon of Love is present, but after the siege and Tionem we have been reduced enough to be able to fit squished inside two utility trucks. Only twenty nine exhausted marines remain. The rest injured at medical in Jericho, or in a wooden ark in hyperspace back to Earth. Our truck bogs down the side of a freeway on a makeshift dirt road. The entire freeway has been retained for forward traffic to the front only, all eight lanes transiting supplies and soldiers. Those of us going the opposite way are lucky enough to get rides on the return vehicles if we can catch one—Tarnus has his benefits.

  After an hour the outskirts of Jericho present itself. Endless lines of vehicles going forward pass us on the left. Black smoke still fumes from within the city, wrapping around the skeleton remains of skyscrapers and feeding an ugly cloud that rests above the city. A horde of civilians cross our way, dragging supplies on carts and in huge cloth bags. The truck pauses and honks. We look over the side at them.

  “Going to the city?” says a guy from Golf.

  “Yeah, I guess,” says another. “But where did they come from?”

  “East,” says Tarnus, “where the war is heading.”

  They’re dirty than us. Filthy and mud covered, that if I were superstitious, I would think them golems rising from the earth to enact revenge. One man carrying a bag stops to grab a child by the wrist, causing all of his contents to spill out. Gold and silver coins of different varieties fall into the mud. He drops to his knees, shoveling piles of mud and coin back into the bag. The truck honks a long roar this time, and begins moving forward. The man grabs as many coins as possible as the truck approaches, and then digs into the depressions the tires left behind after we pass. The kid grabs a particular coin and shows it to his father. The man stops all of his previous work and hugs the kid while he cries. They leave back with the refugee line, the rest of his coins and stuffed bag left behind.

  “Shit, isn’t the rest of it still worth a lot?” says Vick.

  “I would think,” says Isaac.

  “Not as much as that one,” says Blake leaning off the edge of the truck, holding something tight in his closed hand. What could it be?

  A booming siren echoes from the city and down the freeway. The trucks stop and we hop out at the ready. “Herc barrage coming in hot!” says a microphone somewhere. We dig into the mud, becoming our own golems. After a few moments, one of the guys has to crawl back out to scare some civilians away trying to loot our abandoned trucks. We quickly learn that only Jericho is the target and we exit our sloppy defenses to watch.

  “Getting the shit beat out of them,” mumbles a marine.

  The city lights up with explosions and the chronic smoke is given new ferocity.

  “Those fucking Herc’s,” says Tarnus after turning his radio off. “Our boys are getting pounded on the front too. Part of some attempt to counterattack our beachhead here.”

  The bombing goes into the evening. The freeway that was closed off for overwhelming forward traffic is now empty. The question on everyone’s mind was where the hell is our fleet? The answer comes as the sun sets. In the skyline above as far as the eye can see, thousands of tiny red trails descend towards the earth. A meteorite show of munitions and crispy flesh.

  “Jesus,” mutters everyone once or twice in the unit.

  The bombing of Jericho eventually ends. The sirens stop.

  “Pushed them back,” says Tarnus, his head leaning against his radio. The red trails in the sky begin to crisscross and overlap each other as they fade. Only the smoke billowing from Jericho remains as new fires feed them.

  We get back into the trucks and move against the opposite traffic, only their engines can be heard as we drive lightless. Coffee we hastily made is passed around while we wait and vape. Isaac pulls his tin box out to smoke an ancient.

  “Lemme see that,” says Vance.

  Isaac pauses in the motion of lighting an ancient between his lips with the lighter and hands it to Vance. He inspects it, giving it a round-about. “This is some antique stuff. What’s the little quote say?”

  Isaac takes the lighter back, flicking the cap open. “We are all orphans of the American Dream.” Then he flicks it again to shoot out a flame, igniting his ancient.

  “Tell me about it,” says Alex, lying against a pile of supplies in the corner of the truck eating jerky. We all look up at the sky, red like Isaac’s flame.

  “There it is,” says Vance.

  “There it is,” we all agree.

  We reach the outer city, nothing but piles of rubble and demolished buildings. Tractors exit the city carrying large loads in their front buckets that leave behind the smell of rotting flesh. Tarnus orders us off, and we gather into a semi-circle around him in the dark. “Setting up camp here. We are roughing it as before till we get our turn in a barracks, which is hopefully soon. After set up, you get dinner then some time off, we’re working tonight too since the Herc’s decided to fuck around some more. You are not to leave this area though, the city is in chaos still and I don’t need a bunch of grunts running around making it worse. Enjoy your rest time, because tomorrow we are on dig duty.”

  “Digging?” says Vance.

  “Well more specifically, rebuilding the main freeway here. But first we got to clear away all the shit on it. Your new weapon will be the lethal shovel! Good thing we trained everyday with it in basic. Well quit scratching your balls, go set up!”

  I am handed a bundle of tents from the truck, then I feel the rough uneven pavement smack my body.

  “Peter?”

  The darkness ebbs till it covers my eyes and repeats my name.

  “Help!” It’s completely dark.

  I am falling! I don’t see anything and I am falling!

  “Help!”

  “Peter.”

  There’s talking and rumbling of machines.

  “Peter, hey.”

  I open my eyes. I am on my back against a sleeping bag. I look about. My unit is resting around some portable fire stoves and sitting against sandbags and rubble.
Isaac is crouched over by my side. “You keep shaking terribly in your sleep, bud.”

  “I guess it was another nightmare.”

  Isaac inspects my body. “It was a full on body tremble though. Like when you passed out a few days ago, when we first got back here.”

  I rise to a sitting position. “I remember, they said it was just battle fatigue. I’ll be fine.”

  Isaac hands me a bowl with today’s breakfast. “I just can’t imagine it’s healthy is all.”

  “I’ll be fine, okay. I’ll talk to Blake later.”

  Isaac returns to his container of food, glancing frequently at mine. I haven’t eaten much the past few days, but he really doesn’t need to worry—I’ve just been tired. “I’ll be fine, dude,” I say.

  He takes a few bites of his meal, but coughs as he laughs. I elbow him, “What?”

  “I never bought you a pizza for those midterm notes you gave me.”

  “Or a beer you fucker.”

  “What did you get on it anyway?”

  “A.”

  “Of course.”

  “You?”

  “Like a C or something.”

  “You kidding me? I practically gave you the answer sheet with those notes.”

  “I know,” he laughs again.

  “Goddamn, what?”

  “No, nothing.” But he can’t stop chuckling. Some of the guys from the unit look over.

  “What the fuck is it?”

  “I can’t, you’d hate me,” he giggles.

  I nudge him harder, curiosity burning. “You’re acting like a fucking schoolgirl, what the hell is it?”

  “Okay, okay. I never looked at the notes.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “No, no,” he represses a chuckle again. “It was because…”

  “What the fuck is it dude?” I catch my voice rising. “What?”

  “I took Serena out to the bar that night is why.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, man. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Look where we are. You think I care? That’s what had you acting up just now?”

  He wipes a tear off his check. “I was going to tell you, but the invasion happened and I forgot.”

  “She’s hot, though?”

  “I am impressed with you. You really dated her?”

  “Don’t be jealous.”

  He looks away smiling, “Eat your food.”

  After I find any interest in actually eating, Blake stands up. “We’re moving out!”

  Groaning resonates through the unit as we pack our stuff and stand-to. Isaac shoots me a frustrated look at my still full container. Rommel grabs it from me, and picks at it before Blake slaps it out of his hand into the dish crate.

  “Where now?” says Vance.

  “Excuse me?” says Tarnus.

  We stiffen up into order.

  “Sir,” says Blake.

  “Rowdy, disrespectful lot here,” Tarnus mutters to Blake. He addresses us, “Same place as before, but farther up the freeway. We’re clearing it out till it looks nicer than before the Herc’s came.”

  We meet our regular truck and squish in with the rest of Love, and move out to the main freeway that runs through Jericho connecting it to its neighbor cities. We figured we escaped occupation duty since we were sent right away to Tionem. But like the men who died taking this city, it eventually called us back to suffer in it too, but instead we are rebuilding it, righting sins in hopes the rubble god will forgive.

  “Lifer bitch,” says Vance inside our truck. Tarnus does not reply from his lead vehicle ahead, meaning we’re out of earshot. “Fourth day of this,” he grunts.

  “Almost makes me regret destroying the place,” says Alex.

  “At least no one is dying,” says Isaac. “Not that I like it any more than combat.”

  “Too much of us died, only reason why we’re here, and not out there,” says Rommel. We all look at him. He said it with an undertone of disappointment.

  “What,” he says, “can’t handle the truth?”

  “Don’t need to talk like that,” says Tommy. “Disrespectful.”

  “To whom?” says Rommel.

  “What do you fucking think,” says Vance.

  Rommel leans over the side of the truck, fiddling with his rotting necklace of human and Herculean flesh. “The dead don’t care, ‘cause they’re fucking dead.”

  We near the spot we have toiled at the past few days, and are given orders by Tarnus before our boots reach the ground. “Boys found a submerged ambulance that must have been abandoned since the first day, I need a few of you to clear it out. Bring back any intact supplies to add to Motor later.”

  Blake tells Alex and me to go deal with it. We crawl over piles of rubble leading up to a part of the freeway that has collapsed, dragging shovels and cutting tools with us. We find the ambulance, broken apart and halfway submerged into the collapsed overpass, and its interior supplies strewn about the brick and mortar.

  Alex reveals a large potato sack. “Guess we just fill it up then.”

  “Don’t know what else we would do.”

  We get to work digging away the rubble and trash to find salvageable medical supplies. Most of it unused dress kits, morphine, and DT or Buzz chemsack refills. A horrible odor attacks my nose. Alex and I both look at each other. I dig away more at a pile I was working on inside the back of the ambulance and the smell grows. I remove a crushed metal cabinet door, and a face stares at me from underneath it.

  “What the fuck!” I step back.

  “What is it!?” says Alex.

  We look into the ambulance at the thing. It is actually only part of a face, stuffed into a bag of other pieces of flesh floating about in a light green liquid.

  “Must be where they put all the amputated limbs and random body parts they found,” says Alex.

  But I’m hardly listening. The face—or half face, only one eye and part of his mouth that is floating about in the bag of gore and blood—stares at me. I have to look away. I sit against the side of the ambulance. My hands tremble. I can’t breathe!

  “Peter, Peter!” Alex shakes me.

  I cough and take a breath. “What?”

  “Are you alright?”

  “I just need a minute, okay. Wasn’t expecting to see that.”

  “Alright. I’m going to take the bag back, it’s full.”

  Alex leaves and the anxiety comes back. It starts at my shaking hands then moves up my arms. It invades my chest and I can’t breathe again. I fall over heaving. I crawl near the back of the ambulance. What do I do? I haven’t felt like this since the assault onto the city. I go into the ambulance—I need something. I need it now! My vision goes blurry. I am crying. I can’t breathe still. I press the control panel on my forearm to give me DT. Nothing happens—fuck, I forgot they disconnected our chemsacks!

  I grab a pouch of DT capsules. I find a syringe. I stick it into the small pouch and pierce one of the capsules. I suck its contents out and inject myself through my bluest vein. A rush of dumbness takes over. I feel like I am on a cloud. Whiteness surrounds my peripheral forcing me to close my eyes for a second. I sit sprawled out against the ambulance as my conciseness comes back to me. In moments I am calm, breathing again. I am blissfully tranquil.

  I’ve never done DT sober before. The cord to my neck distributor that connects it to my chemsack has been disconnected since we have been here, with there being no combat activity to warrant it hooked up. But even so, I couldn’t shoot up through it anyway as they would know I did so unordered, leading to punishment. But this way, they would have no idea.

  God I needed this. What was I even worried about?

  “There you go my little warrior.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Peter!” says Alex, returning.

  I pocket the pouch and needle. “Was that you?”

  Alex comes around the corner of
the caved in ambulance. “That just yelled your name? Yeah.”

  “No, before that.”

  “Before what? I just got here.” He looks around, then pulls out a stick of jerky and bites it. “You alright now?”

  I get up, but it feels like I just jumped, shooting high up into the sky where my mind was moments ago—it feels amazing. “Never better.”

  He takes another bite. “Good, let’s finish this and get out of here.”

  PART II

  Jericho, in process of reconstruction

  After liberation by Coalition

  XVI

  “Peter stop!” giggles Serena. She is on the bed pushing away at me with a pillow. I jump on top of her, grabbing the pillow and hitting her playfully with it. I am full of bliss. Finals have just ended, and Serena has invited me over to her parent’s house when they left for the weekend. Our relationship is getting stronger. I continue to toss the pillow back and forth at her as she laughs. The pillow flies pass her face covering it, then when the pillow passes over again and I look down at her it’s the mutilated face of the marine I had fallen into during the assault. I jump back from his twitching eyes and tongue that pokes out widely to the side.

  “What the fuck is going on!”

  There is no response. The bedroom turns black then morphs into Professor Martin’s classroom from college. I stand before his desk, the paper with the quote he showed me reappearing again. “It’s just an illusion, an illusion we are all born into, society, class, war, hatred,” repeats a harmonious voice. The paper turns into that awful face and seizures about on the desk.

  “Get away!”

  Blue combat helmets, with the white circle of a unified world on the front and UN stamped on the sides, begin to fall from the ceiling like rain and fill the room. All of them riddled with bullet holes and blood stains. The desk is overturned by the helmets as they relentlessly crowd the room. I try for the door but it won’t open.

  “Just an illusion,” continues the voice.

  Next I run for the windows and bang against them with my fists. They won’t break. I shuffle through the helmets and grab a chair, and smack with all my might against the glass, but the window still won’t break. The helmets are up to my waist now! Out of breath I drop the chair. The scenic landscape of the college outside transforms into the battlefield for Jericho. Endless fields of the dead and dying in the assault wail and cry at me. I see the little girl running, followed by Julian. He runs after her as ruined buildings appear on each side of them and the chase turns into a maze of alleyways.