Double meaning, that. I love those. I swear that I didn't mean it in the dirty way... rather, that instead of being unable to sleep, that's all I really would rather do... sleep. Just thought I should clear that up. At least with a title that risque, I can attract some readers, ne?
Anyway, I decided to go through my documents again. I don't know why... I was partly bored, having finished my school work/home work for the day and all before noon here. Bleh -- sometimes the quarter kicks my ass, and sometimes it doesn't. (Who am I kidding... the quarter always kicks my ass, no matter how "on-top" of things I think I am.)
(Wow... is also appears that I'm full of sexual innuendos today, as well. Please ignore my dirty mind as you read. Or not... it's up to you.)
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I wondered if I was a dirty as I felt. It had been a long time since I felt this dirty. The first time, I had just done my first garbage digging expedition. It was a good six or seven years. But all the same, I felt that dirty. I felt like the blood and smoke had soaked into my skin, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to get it out. There was dirt and dried blood and only God-knew what else under my nails. My right hand had a fair dusting of gunpowder on it, and my face and neck were covered with back-lash and brain-matter. My armor, a queer off-black-but-not-grey color, was complete and utter alabaster. In fact, I think it was darker than black, and had I needed to go right back out into the night, I would have been darker than the gloom.
I looked to my left. Dred stood next to me. He looked tired. His eyes – that exotic ash grey – were tired and slightly bloodshot. His usually sensual mouth was a hard, firm line. His broad shoulders slumped, and his steps were heavy. He was just as dirty as I was. Soot and dirt and blood and tiny bits of flesh covered him from head to toe. His obsidian hair was mussed and knotted, falling out of the elastic he used to tie to back. The right shoulder of his suit was slashed, the laceration cutting deep into his flesh, blood – both fresh and dried – trickling over his already blacker than usual armor. It would have to be sewn. There was an ugly purple-black bruise forming on his strong jaw near his ear. I winced, thinking about how much pain he must be in.
Mal was to my right. He limped slightly. I could see the bullet hole in his thigh. After the bullet was extracted, it would have to be sewn as well. The bleeding had slowed almost to a stop. Every now and then, if he put too much pressure on his leg, blood would trickle out, but it had slowed considerably. The cruor was also in his chin-length hair, making the yellowed ivory color angry red in some places where it was fresher and sickly brown in others where it had dried. Some of it was his; some was the enemy’s. His hands were scratched and raw. His left sleeve was torn, reveling a well muscled – though extremely dirty – arm. He sighed, pinching his nose between eyes the color of tropical waters.
Finally, we made it into the shower room. It was finally going to be time to have our wounds licked for us and hot water work the knots out of our tired, aching muscles. I had never been so happy to be in the drab compound before.
_____________________________________________________
Dear Genesis,
I already had one of these things written, but I’m rewriting it. Somehow those other letters just didn’t seem right. Talking to you is so much easier than talking to someone else. I’m not quite sure why. Since the first time that you and I sat and talked, it just seemed that you were the only person with whom I could. I didn’t have to be anybody else with you. You just wanted me, and it was nice to know that. To be honest, I kind of miss those times that we had together.
I’m going to say in this letter everything that I could never tell you in person. It’s going to be quite a lot to handle, and I’m sorry for dumping it on you all at once. I could tell you everything – anything – and nothing at all. Mostly what we’d talk about was the dumbing down of life, the endless numbing that tingles in our bodies after a good battle. Or at least we were told it was a good battle. The state of affairs at this moment is pitiful, and I’m not even sure why I’m fighting anymore. Maybe I was just an idealist fool when I thought that becoming a soldier and fighting for the Colonies was actually going to make a difference.
You say you wear the masks in this haphazard little clan, but you know that you really don’t. I think that we all know that you were the only one who really showed their face. You didn’t hide behind a fake name like the rest of us did. You went by your real name: not something that Pops gave to you. I respected you and I hated you for it. For being able to be you and not someone else. Even when we gave you your code name, you took that and made it into you – into the things that you believed in, into your fears, into your hopes and dreams, into your emotions. That persona, that became your mask. That and nothing but. Perhaps you lost yourself behind that mask. But at least you had somewhere to begin to find yourself again. Us – me – we didn’t have a place to start. The old men are dead. The new men have taken over their bodies. Their lives. And they live them in ways that I’m sure the old men would never want to live them. They’ve done things that the old men would never do. Inhibitions have been thrown out the window.
You were right: destiny is preordained.
I could hate you for that. But… I don’t. I wanted to, but I can’t. I thought it would only be fair that since you seemed to have been right about every-single-fucking-thing you said about philosophy and theology, about the god of death with those great, silken, ebony wings._____________________________________________________
It was pitch black in the woods. The sun had completely set by the time we had made it away from the base. When I closed my eyes, I could still see the bright orange-red of the base after we detonated it. My heart was still pounding in my left breast, and my hands were still shaking. I wasn’t really scared about the mission. I was pretty ok with that. The blood on my hands and body didn’t bother me nearly as much as it should have. What frightened me more was the complete and utter blackness of the woods and the disorientation I felt in them. Not even space seemed this black. This was as black as pitch. I held my hand up in front of my face and waved it – I couldn’t see a single thing. I wasn’t even sure if the others were with me anymore. What if I was lost? What if I had gotten separated from the other five as we made our way into the depths of this immense, all-encompassing darkness? What if, in my complete and utter confusion, I stumbled into the enemy?
___________________________________________________
I wasn’t sure why, but a church was the place to be having a gunfight. It didn’t seem right. I felt like a blasphemer – which, in retrospect, I guess I was. At any rate, it just felt flat out wrong. I know that a place for a battle couldn’t exactly be planned out, but one would think that they’d have enough respect to at least move it outside. But neither did. Go figure.
Crypt and Morganti stood about five or six feet apart. Both men were imposing forced. I felt the air charge, but I wasn’t sure if a storm was coming or if it came from the two titans not far from me.
Crypt grabbed me by the arm. He pushed me behind him. I was surprised – not long before he had tried to kill me.
To be honest, what happened next confused the hell out of me.
I peered around Crypt’s broadness – for it can be described as nothing else.
Morganti was smirking. “Hello, Val. Been a while.”
I felt Crypt’s muscles tense. Was he Val? Or did Morganti mistake him? Maybe Val was a name Crypt used as a cover. After all, Morganti said it had been a while. Maybe the two were old rivals.
Crypt said nothing.
“I see you have a new plaything, Annerire la Luna. She’s a pretty one this time. Mind if I try her out one day?”
“Leave her the hell out of this, Nicholai,” Crypt spat. “This is between you and me.”
“Really? Well, that’s too bad. Looks like I’ll have to kill you and take her with me. It can get lonely in space at times.”
“You already have,” I said meekly. I don’t know what made me open my mouth. I didn’t realize I was saying the words out loud until Crypt spun on me, grabbing my shoulders.
Morganti’s face grew wide. He remembered me.
“He was the one?” Crypt demanded. I looked at him, my mouth open, my eyes wide. He shook my shoulders. “Is he?” he demanded again. Neither of us heard or saw Morganti pull the gun. I know I didn’t hear the bang. I don’t know about Crypt.
Suddenly, though, his face paled, his eyes became wide, and his mouth dropped at the bullet tore through his body. His hands then tightened around me as he pulled me tight against him. The bullet whizzed past my ear as it ripped through his left shoulder. Blood vomited from the hole, spitting at my face. I felt his full weight start to fall against me. I was glad for the weight-training. Faintly, I registered a gasp, but from whom I can’t be sure.
Crypt’s weight suddenly disappeared as he pushed himself up. He growled and spun, pulling a gun from somewhere in his coat. In one swift, fluid motion, he swung around and cocked it. He fired – one round, two.
Morganti had already started to move by then. The second round clipped his arm. He gasped. I thought for a second he would drop his metal, but he hung on and fired another round back.
Crypt pulled me close to him again, shielding me from the bullet. I heard it whiz past. He pushed me into a nearby pew.
“What is it with you and women?” Morganti asked.
“You mean because I can actually get them?” Crypt spat back.
“Val, Val, Val,” Morganti tisked. “She’s damaged goods, man. I got to her first. Made her scream real good.” I winced.
“You’re sick, Nicki,” Crypt said. “Real fuckin’ sick.”
“You’d have loved to see her writhe. No matter what the little whore says, she enjoyed it.”
“If you were smart, Nicki, you’d shut-up.”
“And the way she begged. Yummy.”
“I forgot – you were never smart.” Crypt lunged for Morganti. “She was a child,” he spat, dragging Morganti by the shoulders.
“That’s what made it so much fun,” Morganti laughed. Crypt struck his face with the butt of his metal once than twice – three times. He was beating Morganti’s face in.
But Crypt forgot Morganti had a gun. Hell, I forgot. Morganti got another round off and into Crypt’s stomach. I gasped and stifled a scream as Crypt fell to the side, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
Morganti pushed him off the rest of the way and sat up. He smiled at me. I felt sick.
“Ready to play again, Ducky?” he asked. I felt bile rise. I backed away and made ready to run, but Morganti was faster. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me back against him. His sick hands were on me in an instant. His breath was hot on my skin – heavy in my ear. “Ready for some fun?”
“No, she’s not. Now let her go.” Crypt. He was alive still. Thank God.
“You just don’t know when to stay down, do you?” Morganti demanded.
“I guess no one ever taught you the meaning of the word ‘no’ when you were younger. Oh, much too pampered for that.”
Morganti suddenly pushed me into the wall violently. I felt my head bounce off the cold stone column. Crypt winced.
“Look, Nicki, this is between you and me. Not her. You can leave her out of this. She’s nothing new.”
“But we had so much fun together. Didn’t you tell him about all our friends when he screwed you? Tell him about how much you enjoyed it,” Morganti said, cocking the gun and leveling it at my temple. I stayed quiet. “Damn it, you good-for-nothing colonial rat, tell him!” he spat violently as he spun me around to face him. He was just about to hit me with the butt of his metal when Crypt ripped him away.
“Enough! There’s no need to torture her like that! This is about you and me, Nicki. You and me.”
_____________________________________________________
Dear Crypt,
Still no sign of the spy. I kind of wish they’d have give me a picture or something!
It was the strangest thing! I woke up this morning, and the letter was gone! On the window were the words LONG WAY FROM HEAVEN. It’s so weird. I’m more than a little freaked out. I kind of wish that you were here with me, actually. Or at least Faye.
I don’t really know what to talk about, but I feel like I have to talk about something! If you were here right now it might be a little easier than trying to write to you one sided. I don’t know what you want to talk about.
I guess it’s my choice, right? Right. So…
Would our lives have been different if we had both lived through that? It’s so funny, sort of, because I was just working up the courage to tell you how much I loved you just before they sent me on that damned mission. I still can’t help but to wonder what you would have said. Sometimes I fancy that you pushed me because you loved me and didn’t want me to die. Other times I think that it just must have been habit. Saving lives is what you did after all.
I guess I’ll tell you now. I loved you so very much with all of my heart and soul and being. When you were around me, by God, I felt so happy. It was like everything before didn’t matter. You never once judged me, and you probably will never know how thankful I am to you because of that. You made me feel like I never did anything wrong. I just wanted to please you. I wanted you to be proud of me.
I’m actually crying! Crying, me? What in the Cosmos have you done to me? So I guess enough of that. You’re gone and there’s no way for you to know now. Oh, well. I guess I missed my chance. What the hell else is new?
It snowed again last night. The snow is collecting in front of the door. I’ve got to go dig everything out in a little bit. I have to remember to clean off the windows, too. After I found that message on the window, I took a picture and called for someone to send Faye. I hate to have her mailed, but I really want someone to be here. So I’ll go and clean off a window or two for her to look out. I really think that she’d like the snow, and I just can’t wait to take her to play.
It’s funny. I can almost see you standing in front of the desk with you hands on you hips shaking your head. You’re saying: “I can’t believe the Great God of Death is scared of a little hot breath on the window!” and “You can’t wait to take a cat to play in the snow? God, are you getting soft?” What if I am? What then? Well, I’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble, that’s for damn sure.
Maybe it’s time for me to get out. I’m sick and tired of all this killing and death. I’m sick of people – mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins; you name it – breaking into tears because of what I have done. I want to get these blood stains off of my hands, but it’s no use. Is there ever any getting out?
I’ve been thinking, which I know is a stupid thing to do, but what if it was you who left that message on the window? What if you’re trying to tell me that you’re not in Heaven? That, because of the people you’ve killed, you’ve been sent to Hell. That doesn’t matter. I want to be with you. Anyway, that’s probably where I’ll end up. At least I’ll be warm, right?
It’s snowing again! I swear it never stops up here! At least I have a bunch of food and wood. Where would I be without that? Probably frozen to death. I have a feeling that I won’t be able to search for the spy anytime soon. The radio just said that the main road from here to town was snowed over. Wonderful. But Faye should be here soon. The mail is airlifted in, so she should be alright. And we can have all the fun playing in the snow together.
Maybe I really am going soft. Wonder if it’ll affect my work too much? Maybe, maybe not, right? Right.
I feel so stupid writing you these letters. You can’t read them. You have no way of knowing what the hell I’m talking about.
I wonder what it’s like after we die. Do we go anywhere? Is there a Heaven and Hell? Do we just stop living and fade into blackness? Is there even a God? I feel so bad asking all these stupid questions that I know can’t be answered, but I can’t help but to wonder. What’s after this? You’re dead. You should know. Are you sipping champagne and eating grapes with old movie stars and people who were killed in the war? Is it peaceful where you are? Are you all dressed in white with beautiful feathered wings and a halo glowing over your head? Are you trapped in the fires of Hell with demons dancing around you in a most unholy way? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Or are you just gone? Just poof? That’s a scary thought. Just disappearing into nothing. Are our lives really that meaningless? Are we that worthless?
But look at the shit we pull. We kill each other. Granted, we have come a long way from the twentieth century, but we still have an even longer way to go. Maybe it we clean our acts up even more, everything will be alright. Or maybe it won’t matter at all.
I had the weirdest dream last night. We were together again. You never died. Everything was alright. We were happy. There wasn’t a war going on. There was peace. Anyway, Mal was the one who introduced us. Somehow he knew us both. We were good friends in my dream. But even in dreams my luck is horrible! Your heart belonged to someone else. But at least I was content to just be around you.
I have a question to ask you. If you were alive, it might make you angry; it’s about a touchy subject. Did you show up at that base because you wanted to die? Did you have a death wish not much unlike my own? If you did, you were stupid; so very stupid! You had so much more to live for than me! But no; you went and threw everything else away because you were being a bastard and thinking with the wrong head! Sometimes men make me so mad!
I can see the fire dancing in your eyes now. I always thought your eyes were beautiful when you were angry. I always thought your eyes were just beautiful. Your body would turn to liquid, and you’d move with a fluid rhythm that no one could ever figure out. I loved to watch you fight.
This is an awfully long letter. I have to go now and start clearing the snow.
All my love,
Genesis
That’s it. You win. I give up. I surrender. I can’t take this anymore, I just can’t. You left me. You hurt me. No. You did more then that; you killed me that day you left. I don’t know why you had to go and leave; you just had to play the lone wolf hero, didn’t you? You just had to break me more then anyone else in this damned thing I call my life ever did. You have to be the best at everything you do. Well, you certainly did. Bastard.
I have just one question for you now. Are you happy? Are you happy living wherever you are with your blue-eyed Hell angel? I know you didn’t die on that day. I know she didn’t either. The bodies were fake. The DNA didn’t match yours. Neither did the teeth. So, where are you? Where have you gone? Don’t you care about us? Who gives a shit about what I feel? You don’t. I hide it from the others, but you hurt me the most, you lying son of a bitch. I wish you were dead.
No, I don’t. That’s a lie. If you were dead, I would really have to kill myself then. At least with you out there somewhere, I can catch a glimpse of you sometime, if Fate allows.
____________________________________________________
I spent the day next to you. I didn’t talk. You said nothing. There were no words exchanged between you and I. We just sat there; I wanted to hold your hand. I watched as the sun went down, signaling the end to yet another day. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want you to go. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you. I couldn’t even think about me being alone.
I looked at the onyx stone again. The snow was slowly collecting on it. I always loved onyx. It was one of my favorite stones. I thought it did you justice. You were just like it, holding many of the same qualities. It was strong, beautiful, powerful. You were the same. It’s only fitting, don’t you think?
Everything looked so beautiful on the crisp winter night. I was scared to move in case I disturbed anything. The snow looked so beautiful, and I hated the thought of having to walk through it later when we parted. But nothing perfect can endure. I knew that as the night wore on, we would be forced to part. But in my heart I knew that you had already left me. I knew that you were gone. You weren’t mine anymore. I hated it. I wanted to burst into tears at the thought. I wanted the ability to grab onto you hand and nuzzle my head into your shoulder and tell you how much I love you over and over again. Now my words would fall on deaf ears.
It was getting colder. The sun was now fully down, and the raven sky was disturbed only by its frozen tears. I felt a few of my own slide down my cheeks. I batted them away quickly; I didn’t want you to see me cry.
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