by A. J. Ramsey
So, why this man? A man who never left the city, never faced the monsters?
What does he know? A simple soldier. A Guardian of the city.
He is only a soldier doing his job. If he hadn’t pulled the trigger, it would have been someone else. This was life for those inside the walls. The worries of dead men weren’t his worries.
The flames eventually go out, and the man kicks the remaining bone and half-burnt fabric into the river below. He pulls the wooden plank back up, tying off the rope once it is raised out of view. Grabbing his rifle, he climbs back up the now muddy slope toward the cabin. Coming through the stand of pines around the cabin, he can smell meat frying.
He stands at the edge of the trees, listening to the laughter coming from inside and watching the shadows dance along the windows. Life is being celebrated here. Even as death stands outside the door.
The man with the flame tattoos stands just inside the tree line as the rain begins to dump heavily again. Raising his arms, he allows himself to be cleansed. Seven times now he has marched someone to their death. Someone he has been told was already dead. And yet, the tall man has a nagging feeling. An itch that begs to be scratched. Why him and not all of us?
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed this short read. Currently this is intended as a standalone story but if there is interest in more . . .
If robots and the apocalypse are your thing. Check out my other series, Apocalypse A.I.
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