A memory

She did not expect to survive this war. In fact, she was quite certain that she wouldn’t.

Every time they went on a raid, they lost someone. It was like rolling a dice. Whether it was today, tomorrow, or a in a few weeks, eventually her number would come up and she would become part of the mass of human remains that littered the streets.

This was a reality she had just accepted. For her fear of death was surpassed by the fear of losing this war.

The Invaders had made it clear that they intended to wipe humanity off the face of the Earth.

Earth’s military capabilities were devastated before they even knew they were under attack. Then the Invaders had burned the cities. Then the towns. Finally, they had moved out scouring the countryside, destroying crops and even obliterating individual farmhouses.

Humanity was on the run, with no shelter, no food, constantly hunted. The situation was hopeless.

She remembered vividly the day that things changed. Shivering whilst hiding in a drain, she had stared out at what looked like a meteor shower streaking across the sky. It was the Mothership, breaking up and burning as it entered the atmosphere. Someone, somewhere, somehow, had managed to shoot it down.

This however was not the end. It simply levelled the playing field. The invaders had been crippled and what was left of humanity was able to re-group and start to resist their extermination. Then begun a brutal stalemate. A war of attrition fought amongst the rubble of human civilisation.

Right now, as she ran, ducking and weaving through the shell of a destroyed building, all she was focussed on, was getting to the safety of the river so that she could live to fight one more day.

The morning’s raid had been a success. ‘Red Unit’, her squad of six, had launched a surprise attack and managed to destroy one black widow and damage another. The black widows were what they called the spider like machines that stalked the surface. About half the size of a car, their six legs could be individually extended or retracted, giving them freakish abilities to scale buildings or squeeze into tight spaces.

Red 2 and Red 4 had been killed within seconds of the skirmish beginning. She didn’t know either of their names, or the names of anyone in her squad for that matter. Likewise, they only knew her as Red 5. People were dying too frequently to remember names. It never helped to build a personal relationship with anyone. Grief was not something they had time for.

Even if none of her squad made it back today, six lives for one black widow was a fair trade. The one damaged was a bonus, making them ahead by a half. Lives were expendable so long as the Invaders’ capabilities were being reduced, or at least held in check.

She reached the end of the building. Leaning with one hand against the wall while she caught her breath. Out a window and across the street was another building with an open door. She knew that on the other side of that building was the river. And that meant safety.

Crossing the street however meant that she would be exposed. There was a high chance that she would get hit and for her the war would be over. She just had to be quick to reduce the risk as much as possible. There was no skill in it. It was a role of the dice.

She didn’t have time to think about it. As always, immediately after their attack, more black-widows came flooding to the scene. She knew they were right behind her.

After two deep breaths, she launched herself out the window and sprinted across the open ground.

A blinding flash, and in an instant, her world was a mass of flying dust and debris. The shockwave threw her forwards and she landed face first with her arms stretched out before her.

Before she was aware of what she was doing, instinct had her scramble back onto her feet and stumble the last few steps through the door, before she collapsed with her back to the wall.

Covered in dust, Red 1 and 6 burst though after her. Without breaking stride, 6 continued across the room and dove through an opening in the opposite wall. A second later, the sound of a splash signalled that he had entered the river.

Red 1 stopped and turned to her. “Can you move?”

She wiped the dust from her eyes and patted herself down with her hands. Everything seemed fine, but as she slowly started to get back on her feet, a sudden surge of panic shot through her core as she realised her satchel was gone. No!

“Come on Red 5! We gotta go!”

Ignoring her squad leader, she leaned around the door frame to look back across the street.

The dust was still settling, falling like fine grey snow on the body of Red 3, lying motionless in the open.

There, just to the left of her fallen comrade, was her satchel. Sitting in plain sight, horribly exposed.

The black widow that had fired the shot must know where they are now. Surely it had the whole length of the street covered, ready to destroy anything that moved.

“Red 5! We need to go NOW!”

She didn’t expect Red 1 to understand, but she had to retrieve that satchel. She couldn’t continue to fight this war if she didn’t.

There was a chance, a small chance, that there was still enough dust and smoke to cover her. Without giving it any more thought she was back out in the open street, dirty air rushing past her ears as she sprinted.

Skidding, she reached the satchel and scooped it up. For an agonising moment, she was stationary, feet slipping while changing direction. Surely this is where it ends.

The shot was fired, but by that time she had made it back through the door, which now collapsed behind her. Without missing a beat, she leaped through the gap in the opposite wall, sailing headfirst through the air before plunging into the dark water of the river below.

How the Black-Widow had missed she didn’t know. Perhaps it hadn’t expected her to be reckless enough to come back out into the open.

She continued to swim straight down till she located a line on the river floor. Pulling herself along, the line guided her to the submerged entrance of their bunker, and the network of tunnels from which their war was waged.

She broke the surface, gasping for air she threw the satchel on to the ledge. Red 1 was there waiting for her.

“What the hell were you doing 5?”

He stooped to pick up the wet leather bag. Shaking it free of excess water.

“Why would you risk your life for this?”

Not that she cared, but she expected Red 1 to be angry with her. As she looked back up at him however, he seemed more perplexed than anything else.

She didn’t answer him, but proceeded to climb from the water. As she did so, Red 1 opened the bag to look inside. “What is in this anyway?”

He reached in and pulled out a small metallic object. It glinted as he held it up in the dim light of the chamber, which revealed it to be a silver, heart-shaped locket. Engraved were the words “Kate. Love Mum & Dad”.

Taking care with the strangely sentimental object, Red 1 opened it. Inside was a photo of a family of four. One of those smiling back at him was a young girl, maybe 16 years old.

“This is you?”

She just stood there, dripping and exhausted, staring back at him.

He turned the locket around with his fingers. “I haven’t seen anyone from my family since this all begun. I have nothing to remind me of them. To be honest, I try not to think about them. I assume they’re all dead, but I wonder if I’d recognise them if I saw them now.”

With a sigh, he snapped the locket shut and tossed it back to her.

She caught it one handed, squeezing it in her fist. “It’s why I keep fighting”.

Red 1 gave her a thin smile. “Well. Kate. Don’t lose it again.”

He turned and left her clutching her memory of a past life.

Like Red 1, Kate never expected to see her family again. But unlike him, she would not let herself forget. Yes, it hurt to remember. The world in her memory would never be again. She knew that. But that memory was proof that it was possible for a wold to exist where anonymous death wasn’t a constant presence. A world that was so carefree that love, friendship and laughter were the norm.

She would never live in that world again. But the possibility that one like it might one day exist, even if only for others, meant that the war was worth fighting.

That is why tomorrow, she would roll the dice again.