A Warrior's Death (Original Short Story)

John looked around his aging house before his eyes locked on the sight in his kitchen. A single beam of sunlight filtered through the window curtains above the apron front white sink. Off to the side, in front of the stove, was his wife making breakfast.

“How'sit goin’, beautiful?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist as he placed his chin on her shoulder.

“Fine, this should be ready soon.” She replied giggling a little, leaning into him. John nuzzled into her hair before suddenly his attention was snatched from his wife to the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!” John let go of his wife and turned around just in time to catch his daughter, Amanda, in his arms. He knelt adjusting her on his hip and then stood up as he kissed the top of her head.

“Hey, sweetheart. What do you have to show me?” He asked her, noticing a piece of notebook paper in between her small hands.

The little girl shoved the piece of paper towards him and he took it with a chuckle. Amanda had puffed out her chest smiling, obviously waiting for praise. The paper she had handed him was a crudely drawn picture sketched with crayons. It showed a pair stick figures holding hands standing on, what he guessed, to be grass since it was colored green. Above them, was a bright yellow sun. Only one other white cloud was there to compete with it in the sky.

John stared at the picture for a moment more, trying to decipher who the two stick figures represented. His daughter seemed to have a sensed his confusion because she suddenly yelled out who they were.

“It’s you and mommy, don’t you see?” She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He nodded, smiling before setting his daughter down and looking back at the sheet of paper. It was then that John noticed the green grass now had a strange gray tint to it. He squinted his eyes trying to remember if it had always been like that. Though he was forcefully pulled out of his thoughts when the sound of a plate clattering onto the dining room table startled him.

John looked up from his daughter’s picture to see his wife there. “Breakfast.” She barked out, a scowl set firmly in place. John stared after as she marched back into the kitchen. He shuddered realizing that her tone of voice reminded him a lot of a drill Sergeant shouting out orders…

He shrugged, figuring that whatever was bothering his wife, if given time, would settle down. He looked back down towards his daughter but he had found that she had disappeared. He raised an eyebrow before he moved into the dining room. John set his daughter’s picture beside him on the table as he pulled out a wooden chair. He sat down slowly before looking at his food.

On his wife’s favorite white china plate set two sunny side up eggs and four strips of bacon. But after a moment John realized that his food had a similar grayish tint to it, much like his daughter’s picture. John realized then, that it reminded him of ash. He shook his head concluding that must be the lighting in the room before picking up a fork and moving to start on his meal.

“John!”

John jumped and the plate banged loudly as he dropped his fork against it. He whirled around to try to find the panicked voice of his wife.

“Rebecca?” He tried to call out but his throat felt clogged.

“Wake up, John!” His wife’s voice wailed as he tried to move his body but it seemed to me made of lead and he found himself stuck, sitting in the chair.

“Dammit, John! Wake the hell up!” That made John pause, that didn’t sound like his wife in fact it sounded more like a male. Suddenly, John woke with a start as reality seemed to crack open like an egg. He then recognized the familiar sound of Lieutenant Percy’s deep English accent. He looked around wildly and soon came face-to-face with Percy kneeling over him.

“Christ, John! Get up; we’ve got to get these kids out of here!” Percy was yelling over the rapid fire of gunshots and he looked over to the side to see a group of kids, hidden under the rubble of a fallen building.

John nodded and quickly got to his feet, a new rush of adrenaline pulsing through his veins. But he only got a single step in before he felt a sharp sting in his right shoulder. He looked down quickly and cursed under his breath as he saw the accumulating amount of blood soaking into his shirt. John suddenly heard the familiar slam of boots as the enemy came into the city.

Suddenly, another man ran up to them. It was a soldier he assumed was friendly as he hadnt began shooting yet, suddenly John recognized him. It was Private Langdon Soleil, a local sent from the French brigade. The Privates face was full of fear but he stood firmly and John could tell by the look in his eyes no matter what, he was ready to give his life to the Army and for his country.

John looked back down the road of the ruined city and cringed at the sound of more bullets hitting the ground to his left. “Percy!” He called out to the black haired Lieutenant. The man instantly shuffled forward and John didn’t waste any time barking instructions. “Percy, I want you to take the kids and Private Langdon to the camp we have just outside the city.” John’s voice was gruff and he realized that he was quickly coming to terms with the fact he was probably never going to see these two men again.

Percy clasped his hand over John’s good shoulder and nodded. “It was a damn pleasure serving under you Cap.” John nodded back at the man before Percy ran and grabbed Private Langdon’s arm dragging him to the group of kids. John smiled grimly as the escape party of two soldiers and a bunch of children, cautiously made their way of through the rubble and into the outskirts of the city. But suddenly, Private Langdon stood to the side looking back at John as if expecting him to follow.

“Why are you still here!?” John yelled waving away the boy with his good arm. Private Langdon seemed to vaguely understand as he yelled out a response to his commanding officer.

“Mais, le capitaine!” Private Langdon’s eyes were cloudy with tears and although John didn’t know what exactly he said, he had a good idea.

“Hey, no tears kid. You’re a soldier!” He exclaimed, but the Private didn’t move and John racked his brain quickly before he shouted one word. “Partir!”

Privet Langdon took a step back in obvious shock before he gave a quick nod and ran toward Lieutenant Percy. They then quickly ushered the group of children into forest just out of the city.

John turned his gaze away when he could no longer see them. He shuffled over to a tree that had long since been dead and began listening for any sounds. He looked around the ruined city; everything was practically reduced to rubble. Ash hung heavily in the air and seemed to paint the countryside hills in the distance, a gray color. Suddenly, towards the west, he caught sight of a lone chapel. Its’ steeple standing high in the air and briefly John felt some hope.

He shook his head sadly “So much needless destruction.” Suddenly John’s breath caught in his throat. “That’s just what she said…” his mind was then transported back to the last time he saw his family.

“All this is… is needless destruction, John!” Rebecca’s brown hair was wild and it was obvious she had been crying. Behind her was a small child, gripping her leg tightly.

“Rebecca, please!” John tried to plead but she continued yelling "you're gonna be nothing but a murderer! A monster! Just go John! Be a good little soldier and go!". The last thing he could remember of that day was the sound of their daughter crying and his wife slamming the door as he walked off the property and into the awaiting recruitment truck.

He shook his head. Now was not a good time to be remembering that kind of stuff. John looked to the horizon as little bright flashes from the hills made themselves seen. Following closely behind them was the unmistakable sound of gunfire. He couldn’t help but think how ironic it is that those little sparkles of death looked beautifully elegant in the distance, almost as if they were stars.

A yell snapped John from his thoughts and out of instinct he quickly gripped the m1911 that was sitting beside him and fired toward the sound of the yell. His eyes focused to a building off to his side and he smiled triumphantly as he heard the sound of a body hitting the ground.

He got up and went quickly to the building at which he shot towards and looked upon a man with a gushing hole in his throat the man tried coughing out a cry, perhaps for help but it did not matter as it was cut off with another quick bullet between the eyes. John sneered and leaned down to the dead man. He looked to be ins his late thrities maybe forties.

“Damn, Kraut.” He spat out before leaning on to the wall opposite of the German. John sighed and pulled a cigar from his light green coat pocket when he suddenly felt dazed and tired. The American looked down to his still bleeding shoulder and groaned. Now that the adrenaline had run out, the pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable. He knew he was losing too much blood and from the one first aid class he took, he should be checking to see if there was an exit wound. But John didn’t move and instead continued to smoke his cigar.

A shot rang though the air and John suddenly felt a flare of pain in his hip. He gasped, his cigar falling from his lip, and looked to the right to see a German solider pointing a gun at him. John wasted no time before raising his own gun and shooting the man right in the nose.

Before he could check if the bullet had connected another soldier ran out from behind another wall and knelt down to the man he had just shot. The man was crying, it was then John realized that the enemy wasn’t just that, they consisted of people.

People with families and kids just like his own; they were just following orders just like him…. Suddenly the other soldier stood up from his friend’s side and raised his gun at John. The American raised his gun as well and shot the man before the other had any time to put his finger on the trigger. John dropped his gun and he realized that he was quickly going into shock.

He didn’t even think about it before he shot the man he just…did it. John hissed and yanked off his jacket, moving out of the building and into another. Settling against another wall he looked down at the jacket clutched in his hands.

The stitching of his name on the coat pocket had unraveled some, making his name Jonathan Bracket look more like ‘Jon h n racke ’. He laughed though it came out more like a croak as he suddenly thought of his father. The old man had grown up in the country and never went to school since he had a farm and a family to worry about.

“Now, son.” John remembered his father once saying. “School is very important, you gotta go, at least until you can write your own name that way you can teach me.”

His father fought in the Great War and died serving his country his mother afterwards had always said he died a warriors death and that she would always be proud of him for that, it was then that John knew he wanted to be in the army.

To protect the people he loved from tyranny and oppression. He got married and had a kid instead, all that and a stable job working in construction left at least for a little while what it would have been like had he joined up. But John didn’t regret those decisions even for one second. He will never forget the day he first laid eyes on Rebecca.

It was on a Sunday, at the park and it only took a moment before he was following her around like a wolf would it’s prey. He remembered with a smile on how he followed her around the park twice before he made his move. John would have liked to have said that he came upon her like an eagle but in all reality he was a stuttering, blubbering fool all through his introduction. Though, he must have done something right because throughout the next few weeks he snuck out to meet up with her in the woods. They stole shy kisses as they watched the stars together.

The wedding was only a few months later he can still remember how the belles of the church sent trembles up his spine as he uttered the two words to seal their lives together. ‘I do.’ It was only two months after when Rebecca sat him down in the bed room and told him she was pregnant. He doesn’t remember much of what happened next since it was a blur of happy tears, kisses and hugs.

Waiting nine months for the baby had been taxing for the both of them but waiting at the side of his wife's hospital bed was by far the most nerve racking part. John didn’t know at the time if he could be a good dad. But only a few minutes later, when he held his baby for the first time, he knew that he would do anything to be the best he could be for her. It was then that John realized that his life had meant nothing before his wife and daughter. He swore that nothing would ever hurt his family for as long as he lived.

It was the last thought that brought him back to reality. His breath became ragged and the pain in his shoulder and hip combined made him queasy. He hunched forward and narrowed his eyes noticing that he could no longer focus them. But suddenly he could see two hazy figures approach him speaking a language he could not decipher.

When the two stood in front of him one of them poked him with the barrel of a gun. John suddenly let loose a roar of fury as he forced his eyed to focus before he picked up his gun that was lying beside him and shot one of them. The other had jumped to the side and quickly revealed a knife.

John lifted up his gun intending to shoot the other but when it didn’t fire he swore under his breath realizing that he had run out of bullets. He hurled his gun to the side and looked back at the German who gave a look of surprise. “Come and get me.” John then said to the man. He didn’t believe that the man understood what he said but he charged at him anyway.

John threw himself to the side, just barely missing the poorly aimed knife. The German muttered something that sounded an awful like a curse before he slashed to the side. But John was prepared this time and skillfully knocked the knife out of the others hand before gripping it and stabbing the man in the neck.

John clasped his side in pain, using his free hand he made a final move for his jacket that at some point in the fighting found its way to the ground he grunted in pain and took a picture from the pocket. It was a portrait of his wife holding Amanda.

They were both smiling so brightly that John couldn’t help but smile as well. He stroked the picture longingly before looking up into the horizon realizing the sun was setting. “Must’ve been amazing back when this place wasn't a war zone. Rebecca, Amanda, I'm sorry I left, but at least, if anything, I died fighting for something worthwhile.

I hope at the very least you're proud of me for that.” Muttered John as his eyes slid shut, a smile still lying on his face. The image of his daughter's loving smile and the feeling of his wife's warm touch filled his mind with peace as he slowly accepted a warrior’s death.