The Sacrifice
by Coleen V.
Part 1
What do you do when your world falls apart on you? When you feel like you’re being squeezed and you can’t get that breath of fresh air you need so desperately? That is the question I’ve been asking myself for the last… oh, let’s say, fifteen years. It seems my life has slowly been torn to pieces during that period. I’ve lost so very much… And the more I try to hold on to what is left, the faster it slips away. Mom, Dad, Loren, Jill, Dave, and little Mack… Gone, all gone. I feel so old yet my image in the mirror always proves me wrong. Well, I guess time isn’t the only thing that makes you old. No, experience can do so much more…
I had a happy childhood. I never wanted for anything and knew my parents and siblings loved me. We were a close family. I naively thought that nothing would ever tear us apart… Then the Wars came. It plunged our whole planet into a bloodbath that made all previous wars look like minor scuffles in comparison. Entire countries disappeared within the first few weeks of the Wars—their peoples obliterated, and even the land was disfigured beyond all recognition. I could almost hear the Earth cry out in pain and anger while her children were callously being destroyed. Oh, it wasn’t only humans that were dying… Nothing survived.
What would cause such violence, you ask? Greed, lust for power, and the petty jealousies possessed by our supposed wise and benevolent leaders. A serious of economic collapses and instability within key leading countries caused a rush to hoard land and money. You can guess what followed.
My father was one of the first to be conscripted for the Wars. My eldest brother Loren went soon after. As the Wars went on with no end in sight, the armies began running out of eligible men to send into battle. That’s when they grabbed the elderly men and young boys. I can still see Dave being dragged out of the house, kicking and screaming. They threw him onto a truck loaded down with other boys and sped off. The next time I saw him was when I was out scavenging for food. He was lying in a building, shot through the head, and his cold hands were still gripping a rifle. He had been ten years old.
The truck came again to take Mother, Jill, and little Mack. Men were now so much in shortage that they began conscripting women to fight and children like Mack were used to sweep the minefields. They would have gotten me but I was out at the time, hunting for more food. I came back to a quiet house and an empty neighborhood. They had taken everyone, leaving only those who were too sick or injured to fight.
I sat in that lonely house as the feeling of grief overwhelmed me and I cried for my lost family. I cried because I was alone and scared. I wanted to die. Soon that feeling of grief gave way to an equal if not stronger emotion—anger. I remember the thoughts that galloped through my mind. Why did they take my family? They had no right! Why should people die for them? Why? Why should others have to starve and suffer while our leaders stayed warm and well fed at home? It’s not fair! It is not fair! And it was in that cold, dark house that I swore revenge. I would get them. I would get them all.
Revenge to an eleven-year-old is a vague thing. “They” and “them” are shadowy concepts to a child that age. I knew it to mean the ones in power but I still had to learn exactly who it was. I eventually did find out. I spent the first four years on my own dodging conscription agents and the military police. In the larger cities, I found gangs of kids who were avoiding the military just like me. We lived in burned out and abandoned buildings, stealing valuable items and selling them on the black market for food. It was through them, that I found the underground movement, or rather, it found me. It was one of many worldwide but they were all connected by the same desire to end the wars and to build a new civilization. I began as a runner, traveling between various groups, carrying important messages and plans, until I worked my way up quite high in the my particular organization and into the esteem of the others.
Yes, an eleven-year-old cannot completely comprehend revenge. But now I am twenty-six and revenge is a sharp, cold, and clear concept in my mind. I know who is going to pay for my family’s death. I have lived my life for no other purpose. That is why they chose me. They say I will be a hero to many, but one man’s hero is another man’s villain. History will judge my actions even though I care not. Heroism will be the furthest thing from my mind when the time comes. Of course, the people of the world will be in my thoughts, but it is my family that will be in my heart and on my lips.
“They told me you were going.”
I look up, startled at being interrupted in my careful study of the plans. Operation Sacrifice will take place this very evening and I had been busy memorizing everything I am supposed to do. “What?” I ask, more to gather my thoughts that from not understanding what was said the first time.
A pair of angry green eyes stare at me but the face of the man they belong to looks more hurt than furious. “Dammit Thea, I know you heard me the first time,” he says.
It’s scary how well he knows me. I shake my head. “I was going to tell you,” I reply.
“When? Right as you were going out the door?”
“Steve…”
“Out of all the people to choose from, why you? Why do you have to go? Why can’t someone else do it?”
I gaze at him helplessly. I had tried to explain before what I felt and what I must do but it was the only thing about me that he could never seem to understand. “Because I have to,” I say softly, “I want to.”
Steve reaches out as if to touch my face but slowly drops his arm back to his side. “I wish…” he says in a voice choked full of emotion. “I wish you… that we…” he tries again but stops and blinks back the tears that threaten to fall. He studies my face for a few long moments, almost as if he were memorizing how I look. “Goodbye, Thea,” he whispers and then he is gone.
I sit down heavily in my chair. It had not been an encounter that I had looked forward to but it went better than I thought it would. I had been afraid he would say something that would haunt me when I least needed it. But he didn’t. He could have said, “I love you”… but he didn’t. I know he wanted to. He wanted to beg me to stay, to run off with him, to love him back, but he didn’t. He knew that I did not want anything said between us that would torture me later on. It might weaken me enough to endanger the mission. May the gods bless that man.
I sigh and stare at the wall. “If it had been another time or another place, Steve… I would have…” I whisper to myself before clamping down on that thought. It was no use wishing. This wasn’t another time and place. Steve and I can never be. Somehow that thought adds fuel to the rage that is already burning inside me. Again the familiar phrase dances through my mind. It’s not fair. It hardens my resolve to accomplish my task, no matter what it demands of me. Yes, what happened to millions of others and me wasn’t fair, and many people would say life isn’t fair, but that doesn’t excuse anyone from trying to make it that way. And that is exactly what I am going to do.
To be continued...
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