Roses & Bullets

XXII. Fallen Brothers

Erik had just finished his morning jog, so he went back to their base, panting and sweating like crazy. In their room, he found one of his roommates, Alan, reading a book.

"You look like s**t," Alan told him after quickly glancing at him.

"Thanks," Erik replied, smiling. He sat on his bed as he looked for a new set of clothes to wear. "You like reading?"

"I love reading," Alan corrected him, and they both chuckled.

"Oh yeah? What are you reading right now?" Erik never liked reading, no. He found it boring.

"War and Peace," Alan says with so much pride, it's like he was the one who wrote it.

"What is it about?" Instead of answering Erik's question, Alan closed the book and sat up straight. He gave Erik a puzzled look, and Erik returned it with the same confused expression."I thought you hated reading, Erik?" he asked."

"I do," Erik replied as he continued rummaging through his bag. "I just want to know what that book is about."

"Do you want to borrow it?" Alan asked, and Erik snorted.

"Not in a million years." Erik found a white shirt and set it aside.

"Suit yourself." Alan went back to reading his book while Erik dried himself up with a towel."Who's waiting for you back home, Erik?" Alan inquired, and Erik didn't exactly expect the question.

"Just my parents," he replied while removing his boots. "How about you? Got a girl back home?"

"Nah. I wish!" The two men laughed, and for a second, they forgot where they were. "I have a younger brother."

"Really? You got a picture?"

"Yeah," Alan replied, flipping the pages of his book until he found a small photograph in the middle. "Here."

Erik took the picture from Alan and was surprised to see the uncanny resemblance between the brothers. They could pass off as twins if it weren't for their difference in height and weight. Alan's brother looked so sickly and small, whereas Alan looked like an athlete, tall and buff."You look so much like him," Erik remarked as he returned the photograph.

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Alan answered. "He's sick, Erik, and I'm all he has."

"I'm sorry."

"I need to live and get back home to him. He needs his older brother." Alan's eyes looked misty, and Erik couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"We are all going back home, Alan," Erik told his friend sternly. Bear that in your mind."

"I hope you're right, Erik," Alan said, sighing. "I hope you're right."

The scene changed, and Erik found himself inside their convoy on the night they were ambushed. He wasn't satisfied with the intel they had gathered, but he had to trust and follow his captain, and so he did. They all did. After being hit by an RPG, four of their comrades died on the spot while Erik, Scotty, Jessy, and Alan managed to avoid the grenade when their vehicle swerved. Although they were wounded, they were still able to fight back. Unfortunately, not for long. At least fifty terrorists ambushed them, and Erik knew that they had no chance of surviving. He realized that he had been shot, and when he saw Scotty crawling toward him, Erik saw how seriously injured he was. Scotty wanted to call for back up, but Erik insisted that they retreat, for they didn't have enough time. Erik watched as his brothers got slaughtered in front of him, one by one. Alan, the other remaining soldier, sat against a huge rock, trying his best to shoot more enemies. A terrorist, at last, found him and killed him by putting a knife in his throat. Erik's last memory of his friend Alan was a horrible one, where Alan's blood gushed out of his mouth and throat, his body twitching. When he finally stopped moving, the terrorists cheered, and Erik was frozen in his spot. The radicals found Erik, too, and he was dragged like a dog through the dirt. Erik struggled, and he only made things worse for himself. The more he fought back, the more they hurt him. And they really loved hurting him. They were sadists. Every scream of Erik was like music to their ears. They covered Erik's face and mouth, and Erik was sure he was going to die. He didn't know where they were going, nor how far and how long they had traveled. When they finally stopped, the terrorists threw Erik inside a room that reeked of piss and s**t. It was so dark inside that he couldn't see anything. He lost consciousness a couple of times, but every time he opened his eyes, it was still dark, and the door was still closed. Days passed by without him eating and drinking, and he felt so weak. When the door finally opened, Erik's personal hell finally began.