Panic coiled in Dan's chest—one wrong move, and it would snap. Lloyd's low voice whispered beside him: remain calm. But calm had fled months ago.
For four brutal weeks, Dan trudged through the trenches alongside his fellow soldiers, his high boots caked with mud. Lloyd and Tucker were the closest things he had to friends. He'd met them before deployment, back at the training base—back when his aching joints found rest on a bunk instead of cold, wet earth.
The air reeked of sweat, blood, and the acrid tang of gunpowder—remnants of relentless combat. Ten-foot walls of mud and wooden planks hemmed them in. The stench of overflowing latrines clung to the heat, making Dan's stomach churn.
Dan glanced at Tucker's pale blue eyes. "I wish Tobias were assigned to the same squad as us."
"Sgt. Seth doesn't care about us staying together as a group of friends." Tucker replied. "He said Tobias would be a weak link if he'd stayed."
"This is no life. Luxury is a warm bunk, not a freezing foxhole and an overcoat."
Thud.
They froze.
A metallic ring followed by a sharp hiss shattered Dan's calmness.
"Duck!" Lloyd screamed and shoved Dan hard to the ground. Dan's face slammed into the mud. He spat out dirt, eyes widening.
"Fuck! The Ossarians are using shredder gas!" Dan gasped.
A green cloud seeped from a cracked canister, its grey metal sinking into the mud. He remembered the briefings: shredder gas—originally designed to destroy wasp nests by scientists in Anua caused people to have seizures before death.
Tucker had been too slow to drop, inhaling too much shredder gas causing him to writhed in the mud, his body convulsing violently.
Dan watched, paralyzed, as Tucker's lips turned bluish. He frothed reddish-white foam. Tucker's body stiffened, then stilled. His eyes rolled back, their soft blue clouding to milky white. A grotesque death—slower, crueller than a bullet. Around them, bodies twitched and fell like broken toys.
"Move!" Lloyd barked, he'd crawled in front of Dan.
He'd no time to grieve. Dan followed, panting, wishing he could turn back the clock twenty years, to when his body moved as easily as Lloyd's.
In his haste, Lloyd didn't notice the loose pile of dirt beneath his leather boots. His kick sent dust flying directly into Dan's face, stunning his vision just when he needed it most.
Dan shook his head violently, trying to clear the debris from his watering eyes. In his desperation to see, he lifted his head too high.
Shredder gas filled his lungs.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. He quickly dropped his head back down, pressing his face against the cold mud. Death had already begun its work inside him.
His throat burned. Discomfort quickly escalated to agony. The cough that followed was violent, uncontrollable. Each spasm sent fire through his chest.
Lloyd was too far ahead to hear Dan's whimpering. Dan watched helplessly as Lloyd turned right at the next junction, disappearing from his view. Time was too precious. Dan knew Lloyd couldn't wait for him to keep up with his pace.
Dan's vision blurred. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The chilling sound of his death seemed to echo in his ears. This was how it would end—not in glory, but choking on poison in a muddy ditch.
Tobias appeared around the bend, the sole survivor of his squad. He knelt beside Dan, dousing a bandana with bright blue liquid. "Breathe this," he said, pressing it to Dan's lips.
A soft, honeyed scent replaced the gas's burn. Dan's lungs stopped screaming, his breath easing as if by miracle. "You're a lifesaver," he rasped.
"Keep it tied over your mouth," Tobias said. "It'll shield you from the rest of it."
Dan complied. As relief flooded through him, a pang of regret struck like a knife. Tucker. If only this medicine had reached Tucker in time.
They crawled until they reached the wooden ladder propped against the wall. Dan ascended first, his legs trembling with exhaustion. Tobias followed closely, ready to catch him if he fell.
They emerged onto the battlefield, gasping at the relatively clean air. The sky was impossibly vast after the claustrophobic confines of the trenches.
As Dan removed his bandana to wipe the sweat from his brow, he spotted Lloyd hunched over nearby, coughing violently, clearly struggling with the aftereffects of shredder gas.
Tobias rushed to Lloyd, pouring medicine into the bottle's cap.
"Drink this!" Tobias urged, pressing the cap into Lloyd's trembling hands. "You'll feel better!"
Lloyd drank, his voice rough but stronger. "Where did you get this?"
"My grandfather. It's from cherry-lock bushes—the only cure for inflammation caused by shredder gas." Tobias explained.
"Why doesn't the army provide it?" Dan asked.
"Too expensive," Tobias answered simply. "Cherry-lock bushes rarely bloom in Intermarium."
"Then why not give us gas masks?" Dan furrowed his eyebrows.
"We're expendable." Tobias's voice was dark.
"We need cover," Lloyd said, scanning the open field. "Let's head for the forest before they spot us."
They slipped into what remained of the trees. Artillery had torn through the woodland like a scythe—splintered trunks stood like broken teeth' their bark stripped away by shrapnel. Branches hung at unnatural angles, some still smoking from recent shell strikes. The forest floor was cratered and churned, littered with twisted metal and wood fragments.
What had once been a canopy now gaped open to the sky, letting harsh sunlight stream through the skeletal remains.
They moved carefully between the devastated trees, whispering to distract themselves from the dread.
"Chemical warfare?" Dan's brow furrowed. "I thought that was illegal."
Lloyd shook his head grimly. "The Ossarians don't play by the rules. They're using cave wolves now, can you believe it?"
Tobias' eyes widened. "I thought Cave wolves were extinct."
"No," Lloyd shook his head. "They survived in Cascadia. Sgt. Seth saw one on patrol."
The thought of ancient predators unleashed for war was chilling.
"I hope we win this war," Tobias said, though his voice lacked conviction. "The citizens in Ossory are just misguided. They don't understand that their taxes support infrastructure improvements in our province of Cabotia."
"I wish they wouldn't complain about James taxing their wages by forty percent," Dan clenched his fists. "Mining pays the highest wages in the country."
"My home badly needs repairs, my roof leaks water every time it rains," Tobias responded.
"Blame Technate for shipping poor-quality wood to Intermarium for roofing," Dan answered. "Corruption runs deep."
"I can't wait for this war to end. Lloyd, Dan and I have made plans together to introduce our families to each other," Tobias said.
"I need to take a leak," Lloyd replied. He headed towards a nearby walnut tree.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a cave wolf fitted with an elongated spike collar, lunged out of the thick, dark green bushes. The orange rust on the collar indicated that the wolf has been roaming around in the forest for a while.
It slammed into Tobias with a bone-crushing force, knocking him flat. The impact was jarring, and Tobias let out a piercing scream as the wolf's sharp claws tore into his face, causing warm blood to cascade down his flushed cheeks in a vivid display of pain and shock.
Struggling beneath the weight of the wolf, two hundred pounds, Tobias thrashed desperately, attempting to free himself from the creature's grasp.
Dan aimed his assault rifle at the menacing three-foot-tall beast, but heard rustling behind him. A second wolf burst out of the bushes, clamping its teeth into Dan's leg. Pain exploded up his body. He dropped his rifle, flailing for anything—his fingers closed on a handful of dirt, which he hurled into the beast's eyes, blinding him. The wolf yelped, releasing Dan's leg as he gasped in relief.
Dan scrambled back, dragging himself through the dirt. His gaze flickered between the menacing wolf and the crimson flowing from the deep gash in his leg.
The wolf shook dirt from its eyes and snarled, baring white fangs. Its snout wrinkled, ears flattened, tail raised, brown eyes locked on Dan.
A loud bang rang out. The wolf yelped in shock and collapsed onto the grass, its body hitting the ground with a thud. The bullet struck with lethal precision, shattering its rib cage and puncturing a lung. Blood seeped from the wolf's wound, staining its sleek black fur—a stark contrast to the dark green grass beneath it.
Dan turned to see Lloyd lowering his assault rifle, smoke curling from the barrel.
"Come on," Lloyd said softly, slinging his rifle. He helped Dan to his feet. "We need a medical truck."
Dan leaned against Lloyd for support. "What about Tobias?" Dan's voice broke.
Lloyd shook his head. "It's too late for him."
Dan's mouth dropped when he turned his head to the corner to look at Tobias. The wolf lay on its side beside Tobias's body, and blood oozed out of its ruined eye.
Tobias's face was mauled beyond recognition,. His lips, and nose were torn off. His flesh stained the grass with blood.
They limped from the forest to the paved road, where an olive military truck rolled to a stop. Sgt. Seth stepped out.
"I'm fine. Dan's injured. Where should I go for help?" Lloyd asked.
Sgt. Seth shook his head. "It's over. We've surrendered. Too many dead."
Splash.
Dan jolted awake, his leg throbbing as if the wolf's fangs were still embedded in his flesh. A raindrop hit his forehead, pulling him back to the present—safe, but not whole.
He glanced up at the roof's rotten wood as more raindrops landed. The memories of war lingered like shadows, but the warmth of Anna lying beside him reminded him of what he'd fought for. Yet, the roof leaking above him was a reminder of the promises unfulfilled by their government.
He nudged Anna's shoulder. "The roof's leaking again."
Anna groaned, half-asleep. "Buckets. Again."
He swung his legs off the bed, wincing as his injured leg throbbed—a reminder of the cave wolf's bite. The scar was still raw, a jagged line of puckered flesh.
"We can't stay here," he said. "Not with the roof caving in, the taxes bleeding us dry, and the government treating us like cannon fodder."
Anna joined him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. "Gem City's a fantasy, Dan. Twenty thousand just to apply for the Workers' Party of Intermarium? Even if we scrounged it, they'd turn us away—a grocer and a broken soldier?"
Dan's jaw tightened. "There's got to be a way," he said. "For Kacy and Felix. For us."
Anna hesitated, then softened, "You're not the same since you came back."
"You've no idea what it's like to lose your best friend, while fighting in a war." Dan held back his tears. "I'd wanted to introduce Felix to Tobias' triplets."
"Maybe fate will bring them together one day. It's three in the morning." Anna yawned. "I'm tired. Let's talk later."
Anna slid the mattress against the wall. Dan stepped into the living room—Kacy curled up on the makeshift bed, Felix sprawled on the blue pull-out couch—before slipping into the kitchen under the tin roof's steady patter. He eased open the cupboard beneath the sink, the hinges groaning like old bones, and lifted two dented buckets by their wire handles. The metal clink tugged at memories of mortar shells and muddy trenches, but he shook it off and carried them back to the bedroom.
He wedged the buckets under each dark stain on the ceiling. The plink of rain in the buckets filled the room with a strange lullaby after months of war. Dan lay back down, eyes heavy. He stared at the ceiling, the dark stains spreading like the gas clouds from his memories.
For Dan, the war would never truly end.