The sounds grew louder, more distinct now – the sharp crack of a rifle, followed by a human cry, then the rhythmic thump of a machine gun.
Silas hugged the muddy wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew he couldn't stay hidden in the trench forever.
The voice had said he needed to be the last man standing, which meant confronting whatever lay ahead. But confronting it blindly was suicide. He needed a plan.
He recalled the worn-out map he'd found. Though faded, perhaps it held some crucial detail, a forgotten trench line, a hidden bunker, anything that could give him an edge.
Pulling it out, he spread it carefully on the muddy floor, trying to make sense of the blurred lines and smudged markings. It was a crude depiction, likely hand-drawn, but it did show the rough layout of the immediate area, including his current trench. A faint, dashed line, almost imperceptible,
snaked away from his position, leading towards a cluster of symbols that looked like heavily fortified positions. And just beyond those, a larger, bolder symbol: a skull and crossbones.
A command post? A dangerous area? Silas couldn't be sure, but the skull and crossbones intrigued him. If there was a command post, there might be intelligence, perhaps even other soldiers, or, more importantly, supplies. He needed a clearer picture, something beyond this rudimentary map.
He continued moving, slowly, cautiously, his rifle held ready. The trench occasionally opened into small, muddy dugouts, some containing skeletal remains, others empty save for discarded equipment. He picked up a few additional bullets that he found in a tattered pouch. He also found an unopened can of what looked like sardines, a welcome find.
Walking,
As he rounded a bend in the trench, he heard voices, muffled but undeniably close. He froze, pressing himself against the wall, straining to listen. The language was guttural, unfamiliar, but the tone was aggressive. Two distinct voices, arguing. They sounded close, just beyond the next turn.
Silas considered his options. Retreat and try another path? Unlikely, given the map suggested this was the most direct route. Wait them out? They might be stationary. He had one advantage: surprise. If he could ambush them…
He gripped his rifle, his knuckles white. This was it. His first real test. He took a deep, shaky breath and, slowly, carefully, peered around the muddy corner.
They were wearing a similar pale yellowish uniform to his own; one was a tall young man, probably in his late twenties, the other was a shorter but more dominant middle-aged man. He had a thick mustache on his face.
Silas calmed down. 'If they are from my side, they wouldn't shoot me, right? Right?' He looked at their weapons; neither of them was holding one, so even if they were enemies, Silas would have been faster. He focused on their guttural language, which weirdly sounded as if French and Spanish had a baby whose nanny was Sanskrit.
After focusing for some moments, the voice returned:
"Silas Volkov has been granted a Language interpreter."
He looked up at the sky, and the drone was there.
Somehow, now the words started to make sense to him.
"You are sending us to death, for all I care!" The tall man said, probably in lower ranks than the other guy.
"Useless mob like you shouldn't have taken arms if they were gonna whimper at the sight of enemies."
The older man took out his old-fashioned pistol, "Let me end that Pathetic life of yours!"
The younger soldier jumped on him, pulling his senior by his collar, "Kill me then! I am going to die anyway."
Silas smirked.
Just before the old man pulled the trigger, Silas appeared from his hiding place.
"STOP! Both of you, enough of your toomfoolery."
Both soldier stopped amidst their brawl and looked at him wide-eyed.
"If we fight amongst our own ranks, how do you expect we would win our war? We must snatch from them what is ours."
For a few seconds, they were stunned as if they saw a ghost, then both of them stood on their feet again.
'Was my wording wrong? Are they gonna shoot me?'
Adrenaline shot up in Volkov's body.
"What happened to you, Soldier?" The old man said with concern in his voice.
Silas looked down at his body and touched his face.
How did I miss this?
His uniform was soaked in blood, his face bruised. Silas decided to keep playing the part.
"You haven't seen death, I have…" Silas said, "They killed everyone. I was the only one who survived."
Both soldier had sadness in their eyes,
At least they won't shoot me now.
"And now when I see the soldiers of my country fighting like this… " His eyes turned glassy.
"Aren't you ashamed?"
The soldiers evaded Silas's eyes.
Damn, College drama clubs did come in handy. Now for the last part.
Silas's knees wobbled, and he lost his balance. He fell directly into the arms of the soldiers.
"Steady there, Soldier."
Silas tried to get on his feet again, but he couldn't.
"It hurts… "
Both of the soldiers looked at each other and then said.
"Don't worry, we will carry you to the camp."
The older man ordered the younger soldier. He picked him up on his back in a piggyback ride.
Damn, he must be strong if he could lift me like that
Well, that worked like a charm.
With no extra effort, Silas was going back to safety.
They won't suspect of being a imposter now.
The trench was narrow, only wide enough for one man. The older official was walking ahead of Silas and a Tall soldier.
"You're a private, aren't you?" The taller soldier said.
Silas stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at his uniform to confirm his rank, but he didn't understand military symbols anyway.
"Yeah, I am."
"What's your name?" The soldier said, turning his face slightly to look at Silas.
"Uh.. Volkov, SIlas Volkov"
The soldier frowned, "That name sounds foreign."
Silas blinked, trying to come up with something.
"Mother! My mother was an outsider. She gave me my name."
"I see." The soldier said, "A northener."
"Yeah"
"They killed everyone, didn't they?"
Silas nodded.
"You were in Lieutenant Rashmore's company, weren't you?"
"Yes, Lieutenant died with everyone else. I am the sole survivor."
For a few seconds, he kept silent and then said, "Well, you have shown great bravery, Private. I am Lieutenant Krystoff Neimor. I was a good friend of Rashmore."
Silas nodded in confirmation.
Krystoff continued," You must know the man leading us. He is our commanding officer, Colonel Furdem Sysmer."
What weird names they have
Before he could memorise the names, he noticed that the coiling routes of the trench had ended, and a cave-like concrete opening appeared on the dirt walls.
It was a crude, reinforced structure, dug deep into the muddy earth, its entrance a dark, gaping maw in the trench wall. Sandbags were piled haphazardly around the opening, offering a pitiful defense against incoming fire. A thick, rusted metal door, half-buried in the mud, stood.
"We arrived, private."
A bunker!