Wanna tell me your thoughts in a review? It'd be much appreciated. Why Me?
Musky, green water filled the bottom of the sewer. Leaves and branches floated through the water, rushing towards another turn, never slowing down. There was a narrow strip of concrete on both sides of the water, the ground a little higher than the rest. The concrete was darker than usual from the rush of water previously splashing against it and going into ditch.
On the far corner of the sewer, against a dead end, was a man, shivering. He had on his army greens, which were drenched to the bone. His breathing was heavy and fast, sounding strange against the rushing of the water in the dirty sewer. His feet, clad in a pair of combat boots, were quivering, as if supporting his weight was suddenly too much.
It took a few moments for his breathing to get back to a semi-normal rate. Thunder rumbled above the sewer, and the soldier seemed to realize that it was too late to climb out of the sewer without getting drenched all over again. With a sigh, he settled himself against the dirty wall of the sewer, his legs stretched out on the narrow pavement. He watched the water rushing around, thoughts racing through his mind as fast as the water next to him.
What happened to the other soldiers?
Were they okay?
Oh, no, man, what happened to Jimmy?
Wasn’t he hurt?
The soldier knew that things weren’t good out there- they couldn’t be. The situation was already bad, not to mention the storm blowing in. The soldiers had abandoned their posts, running to find shelter to protect themselves from the hazards weather. Jimmy, a pal of his that he used to joke around with, had already cut himself on a branch once. The cut wasn’t too bad- not deep enough for stitches- but it was deep enough to need to be cleaned and wrapped in some kind of bandage.
He couldn’t focus on the bad- the pounding of rain and more water falling into the sewer was starting to get to him. The pace of his heart was starting to match the beat of the steady rain fall. Trying to distract himself, he racked his mind to come up with something to do. Focus on the good. After all, they always said to focus on the good, right? Count your blessings or some other crap like that?
One, I’m not dead.
Off to a good start. That was good, being alive. Definitely a blessing.
Two, he wasn’t out in the storm directly.
He continued the list in his head; though it wasn’t turning out the way he had planned. As he quickly ran out of ‘Blessings’ to ‘Count’, the discouraged feeling he was chasing away began to return. As he searched for one last blessing, he could hear a loud boom, followed by loud screams of terror. His first instinct was to get up and go help them. Then he thought about it; what could he do? Get himself injured as well? What’s the point?
No man left behind.
The words echoed through his head. Swiftly, ignoring the screaming voice in his head telling himself to sit his butt back down and wait till the storm dies down, he stood up as much as he could before steadying himself. Trying to avoid thinking about the aching in his shoulder, he crept towards the ladder to get back out of the sewer system, and began his climb back up-ground. The scene that played before his eyes made him want to run away in horror.
Soldiers layed scattered across the ground, puddles of blood soaking the ground around them. Most of them were unconscious from the blood loss by now, but a few were screaming or triggering in pain. “Oh, God, oh, God, why me?! Why me?!” a soldier, his face dirtied, his blood soaked clothes sticking to his skin, was screeching at the sky.
That was a good question; why them? Why did God choose to put them through that? It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and, heck, most of them were perfectly good people. What did they do to deserve that punishment? The tainted thoughts echoing through the soldier’s head, who was forcing himself to take the last step off the latter and back onto solid ground. Why me?
A terrifying crack went through the air, and the Soldier for a moment couldn’t move, or even think. Everything blackened for a moment, before he opened his eyes, black splotches blurring his vision. The spots slowly went away, and the Soldier realized he was looking up at the sky. The dark clouds didn’t look nearly as threatening now as they had a mere hour before. But the question was, why was he facing the sky? He lifted his head carefully, looking down at his body and, as he noticed the blood gushing out of the gash in his stomach, the world seemed to go in slow motion. The world around him spun ever so slightly, but he forced himself to focus on the gash. Then the pain hit.
The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt before. It was the only thing he could think about. It hurt like crazy. The pain was the feeling of glass shards going into your skin, only a hundred times more excruciating. He didn’t feel like he could breathe, but somehow, he was. It was the kind of feeling that you couldn’t imagine unless you’d gone through it before. To put it simply, it sucked. God, please just make the pain stop.
He returned his eyes to the sky. It almost looked welcoming now. It didn’t cast nearly as dark of a shadow as it had done a while ago. It was clearing up. He could see something, what he assumed was the sun, shining through the clouds, and, as it did so, the clouds began to open up. The pain, much to the soldier’s surprise, started to subside, and in its place was warmth. His eyes began to slowly close, and, as they did, the pain went away completely. He felt actually good, for the first time in a long time.
“This young man died serving his country. He made us all proud, during the short but eventful years he had here with us, in this world.” A preacher spoke softly into a microphone, smiling wistfully at the people there to mourn the loss of Joey Adams Murry in the church. “So, today, lets celebrate Joey’s life, his triumphs and victories, and lets be glad to have known him.” After a pause, he looked at a weeping woman in the first pew. “I understand that Joey’s mom would like to say a few words.” With a nod, the Preacher stepped away from the microphone, as Joey’s mom staggered up the platform and stood sadly in front of the microphone.
“Joey,” she began, tears still steadily streaming down her face, “Was my only son. He dreamed since he was a little boy of being in the army. I was so proud on the day he told me good-bye and boarded the army bus.” A sob suddenly racked her body, and she took a moment to compose herself. “After I found out Joey… I asked God why. Why He decided to take my baby.”
“And, after screaming for a while at God, He sent me an answer. It was better that Joey be out of that pain and with Him then be in some foreign country, miserable.” She took a moment to wipe away the tears, and forced a small smile. “The Joey Adam Murry I knew, the one who I held in my arms twenty two years ago, wouldn’t want us to be sad. He’d want us to know that he was fine.”
Joey’s mother, looking straight up, towards the heavens, smiled, blew a kiss, and closed her eyes for a moment. There would be a time when she’d be with him again. There would be a time when she could hold him again. And that was enough reason to keep smiling.
