Memorial Day

[Minorikawa]

Memorial Day

There was a time the cobblestone road of the old city bustled with the laughter of children and their parents leading them from shop to shop, stopping by neighborhood friends to discuss pleasantries and the latest gossip around town. Now, the smoke from the diminishing flames flooded the street as if God were sweeping through to claim all the first born.

If only it had been so selective.

Mira lowered her hood and unstrapped the mask from her face, allowing her hair to billow in the wind. It went against regulations, keeping it down like this. Long hair had a tendency to get in the way in the middle of a fight, but this fight was long over. Their foe was a stubborn one, refusing to flee and instead pulling off the most grand final stands. She expected it, they always expected it, yet they could never predict in what manner their last desperate strategy would take.

They dropped mortars on everything and everyone. Didn't matter which side. Most of the buildings weren't even useful cover, as any blast shattered the windows, and if the shards of glass didn't shred through your tactical armor and limbs then the flames would swallow you whole. Mira's ear drums were ready to split not just from the concussive force of each explosive, but from the shrieks of her comrades over the radio. She still couldn't believe she survived, tossed into an alleyway and buried by just enough rubble to provide protection from the searing heat. Yet through it all she could hear the screams of her fellow soldiers, some of whom she'd known since boot camp, piercing through to her very core. Anya, her closest friend, was pleading for her older sister to save her.

Her older sister had died two years ago, before there was any war.

The stench was the most wretched thing. The stories were true, humans really did smell like burning pork. It made her stomach lurch just thinking about it, and Mira doubled over to expunge her stomach's contents. There were a few others that did the same, it sounded like, though some struggled to remove their masks in time.

Looking along the street, Mira began to recount the events of the battle. The blurry haze of events, of bursts of gunfire and splashes of blood, cries to move in and shouts to take cover, began to take shape. It began with a simple patrol, an erroneous message informing them the city had been cleared and deserted. Daniels was in the middle of a story about some blonde floozy with an insufferable accent he'd managed to bed in the last town when a sniper round punched through his throat and pierced the abdomen of the soldier behind him. Was it Miller? Adams? She couldn't recall the marching order, just that everyone immediately dove for cover as enemy fire burst from the windows and grenades fell from the sky.

She had taken a position beside a wrecked old car, tossing more than a few grenades into the windows above her before spinning around, laying down fire on the opposing street. Rubble came down from above as her grenades went off in the floors above, as well as the warm, wet bits of human flesh confirming at least one kill. "I'm gonna make for the-!" Trixie Malner began by the hood of the car, only to catch a bullet right in her eye. During boot camp Trixie would often give Mira her carrots. She didn't like carrots. Carrots were supposed to be good for developing one's eyesight. Why did Mira think of that now, aiming down her sights and firing a volley into one of the shooters across the street?

Someone tapped her shoulder, letting her know they were right beside and helping provide suppressive fire as a squad entered the building behind her. She could hear the heavy boots stomp up the stairs even as the firefight continued outside. Though her earpiece let her know the squad made contact, the muffled sound of weapons fire from within had already informed her of that fact. Enemy fire across the street reduced, indicating a push was also being made on the other side. Pretty soon they'd have this portion of the road-

She was suddenly knocked forward, her face slamming into the car door, blood starting to ooze down her forehead from a cut on the jagged panel. Rubble fell, rocks pounding into her from above as her ears rung with the infinite chime of a bell. Looking up, smoke billowed out from across the street as well as above her. She couldn't hear anything, just a sudden jerk on her back, Sergeant Jessica Childs yelling something, shoving her into the alleyway just as the mortars began to fall. Mira was already loose on her feet, but the shock of the blast sent her flying backwards even further, tumbling, distant enough from the concussive force that she was spared being shredded by the explosion. The smoke flooded the alley and Mira began to cough, prompting her to seal the gas mask. The ringing began to subside, hearing only the sound of her breathing. Deep, desperate gasps for air that surprised her. She didn't realize she'd been in a panic. If anything she felt calm.

Her eyes turned downwards, to the ground, a chunk of what used to be the Sarge right there on the ground. Everything quaked around her as the mortars continued to go off, the shrieking of her companions filling her ear, the pounding in her chest becoming a jack hammer. Her earpiece began to hiss and sizzle as the noise all mixed together, too much noise to process coherently, her eyes lingering on that hunk of meat, that chunk of someone she was glad to see promoted, of someone that saved her life so many times, the sizzling only growing louder as the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils-

 

"GRANDMA!"

Mira startled, gasping, her arms reaching to her sides and finding the small, fragile shoulders of her grandson. "Grandma, are you okay?" he said, a look of concern bursting from his bright blue eyes.

"Yeah, ma," came her sons voice, standing beside her at the grill. "You just... kind of started zoning out there." His spatula slid under the burger she had been staring at, red blood pooling atop the pink, uncooked meat before he flipped it over. Orange flames burst and sizzled as the blood dropped in.

"I am quite alright," Mira said with a smile, her fragile fingers gently patting her son's back and giving him a kiss on his cheek. She then ruffled the hair on her grandson, her smile reassuring him. He sprinted back out into the lawn, lifting his water pistol and firing at his cousins, shouting "I killed you!" His cousin declared that it was, in fact, she who killed him first. She inhaled to let out a sigh, but only shuddered as the scent of cooking meat filled her nostrils.

"I think I'm going to get myself a drink," she smiled to her son. He nodded and smiled back, oblivious to the memory she had relived in her mind. She hated cookouts. Were it up to her, they'd just order out for pizza. Yet it was tradition, every year, pool parties and fireworks and grills. She sighed, pouring herself a glass of lemonade.

There were so few left to remember, and too many lives lost that have been forgotten. Raising her glass, she silently toasted to all of them left behind. Sergeant Jessica Childs, Trixie Malner, Daniels, Miller, Adams, Anya, and so, so many more. She would carry on their memory for as long as she lived, no matter how painful it was to remember.