The Crimson Truth

A round of bullets whizzed past Kevin's ear. He looked back into the trench and saw his closest companion, Raj, reloading his assault rifle. Somehow, the word 'magazine' had taken a new form, and quite opposite in feeling, at that. All the while, his trusty Glocks pressed up against his legs. He just wished that there wouldn't come a situation when he would have to fall back on those. He turned his attention to the enemy trenches ahead, pulled his helmet down and aimed his rifle.

A bullet barely missed the soldier he was aiming. His mind began to wander. How long will they be able to hold out? How soon, if at all, would the enemy give up and retreat? Right now, it was a delicate balance. The task of counter-proliferation was becoming more and more daunting. A glint of metal caught his eye and he noticed that Raj was back in position, three feet away to his right. Bobbing his head up, Kevin surveyed the scene again. No one in sight. Wait, there he is, emerging like a snake out of the basket, slowly. And before he knew it, the enemy soldier had fired a shot. Instinctively, Kevin fell back to the ground. Realizing that everything was alright, he turned to look at Raj. Oh, the horrors. There he lay, lifeless, face down in the dust, now crimson in colour. The crimson strengthened with each passing minute. He went over to the stiff body of his dead mate and turned him over, so that he could pay his respects one last time. And the sight that met him made him feel giddy. There was a bullet hole, right on the forehead, and yet, there was no expression of anxiety or any kind of discomfort on the face. Kevin vowed to avenge his friend's death, even if its the last thing he did.

Kevin tried thinking fast, but everything had been slowed down by the gore he had just seen. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an ovoid object flying in. Instinct told him it was what he thought it was, but he looked up to make sure. Sure enough, a grenade was flying in and landed right behind him and his deceased friend. No sooner had he thrown it away a few metres, it exploded. Hallelujah! God has given us five senses, he thought. He counted them, as, one by one, each went numb. When he opened his eyes, it seemed like a completely alien world, and the ringing in his ears just wouldn't stop. So, the value of life had been reduced to a naught? Would it matter if he died right there, in the middle of nowhere? He shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated first on getting his senses back, and then, forming a strategy to see out this fine mess.

Since he was the only one remaining, he thought of getting an idea as to how many of those bastards over there were actually alive. One easy way was to stand up and risk taking a hit, but in return, he would come to know exactly how many nozzles are pointed towards him, that is if he survived. What the hell. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He stood up.

 He ducked as a bullet whizzed past, over his head. He could make out only one active rifle. What next? Taking out the guy would be easy if he planted himself under cover at a higher altitude, and he noticed a slight rise some metres to his left. That would open up his angle too. He crawled to what he thought was the most optimum position and planted the rifle. Two shots later, the enemy was clutching his leg and writhing in pain. With a Glock gripped tightly with his two hands, he made a mad dash for the enemy trench. Whatever bad is supposed to happen will happen now, he thought. When he did reach the other side of the enemy trench, he saw the soldier going for the rifle. He calmly kicked it away and pointed the revolver right between the soldier's eyes.

 Amazingly, the soldier didn't flinch. In fact, he didn't even bat an eyelid. He just stared at the nozzle and made it seem like he was waiting for the trigger to be drawn back.


 "You killed my friend, you know that?"
"Forgive me, but I was just doing my job."
"So you wouldn't mind if I do mine?"
"Go ahead."
Then, as if he'd read Kevin's mind, he mumbled, "Our life, anyway, has no value. We are the skin against which muscles flex."


Kevin pulled the trigger, and he couldn't understand why. Something made him do it. "All in the name of World Peace, when the world itself is divided by frontiers." He chuckled to himself as he sensed a growing desire to break away. And why was it so hard to achieve anyway? You always have a choice to start anew, right? Its just that people get way too comfortable in their safety net to take the plunge. Patriotism aside, it wasn't a very good thing he was doing for a living. Our life, anyway, has no value. The words kept hurtling through his mind like a freight train with failed brakes.

"That's it. I've had enough." He tossed his assault rifle on the swirling dust, along with the pistol he had used some time back. He emptied the bullets into his backpack before throwing the pistol away, though.

All he had now was his backpack and a single Glock, which he had decided he wouldn't ever give up. The backpack contained a map, some field ration, a couple of dry uniforms, some money, and some bullets for his trusty revolver. He had a very foggy idea regarding what he was going to do now. He was heading for the hills, which was home to the nearest friendly civilization, but he didn't have an inkling of what he would do there. Maybe take some time off with a well deserved vacation? Try and set up a business in the hills? With his skill set, it wouldn't be too hard to find a job either; but first he needed some time to cool off and get things straight.

 The trek to the foot of the hills was uneventful, albeit tiring. The only way to reach civilization was to hitch-hike to the town nestled in the hills. The sun was just dipping below the horizon and this phenomenon filled the atmosphere with an orange glow. Kevin felt easiness gushing inside him after a very long time.

He hitched a ride into town and was pleasantly surprised by how much he had missed the mellow glow of the street lights, the shrill calls of the street-side vendors and the gentle aroma in the air. First, he needed to change into something that was less intimidating. So he bought a couple of items of clothing and changed into them in one of those paid lavatories. Then, Kevin decided he would catch up with the world and so he got a newspaper. He knew sleep would not visit him until he was completely relaxed. This will give me company through the night. Unlike his friends, he didn't rely on company from the opposite sex, or even the same sex, to get him from darkness to light. All the night needed now was a cozy room and some means to experience a little high, since returning to civilization called for a small celebration. He set about getting the first item out of the way. He already was in the cheaper part of the town, so finding a place wouldn't be very difficult. He walked down a couple of blocks and came upon a not-so-shabby-from-the-outside motel. The prices seemed reasonable enough, so Kevin booked a single room with a window for the night. Now to find something to satisfy his growing craving, he asked the errand boy what was available in town. Not wanting to do anything hard, yet not willing to settle for something so mainstream as alcohol, he kept on firing questions at the boy. Marijuana, or Ganja, as it was commonly known as, was not Kevin's thing. It really was ironic that he was in the army and he hated any kind of smoke. After a couple more minutes of nudging, the hapless boy settled on an answer that intrigued him.

"There is a type of mushroom that grows on these hills, which give you a pretty nice high. If you want, I can get you some, but I need the money up front."

He had never tried mushrooms in his life, at least not the magic kind anyway, although he had heard a lot about it from his mates in the forces.

There's always a first time, he said to himself, as Kevin handed over the money. After a hearty meal at the roadside stall, he settled himself comfortably on the single rickety chair available in the room and pulled out the newspaper. What he saw on the first page brought him down to earth. The corrupt chief minister of a state had been assassinated, and an even more corrupt official was taking over the mantle. There was a sharp rap on the door as Kevin was devouring the second paragraph.

"Here's your dose for tonight. Don't be depressed when you take them, OK?" The boy shoved a roll of paper into Kevin's hands, and left.

He had heard his friends talk about how these mushrooms didn't agree with the stomach during the initial phase. The stomach of an armed forces personnel could certainly endure more, though. He consumed his mushroom dose as quickly as possible, and flinched at the taste. He had read somewhere that the effects would start kicking in after about an hour, so he went back to the newspaper.

After the news of the assassination came an article that stated that the multimillion rupee iron ore scam was still under the scanner. In the 'World' section, Kevin found out that one of the most advanced nations of the world had declared war on yet another nation. After skimming through that, he came to the 'Local' page. It had a lengthy article about how a newly-formed gangster had taken hold of a local business and the mysterious disappearance of the previous owner.

He threw the newspaper away. The initial disturbances to his stomach had faded away and he started to feel light. The effect would last for about four or five hours. He would be out of the effects by the crack of dawn. Kevin stared at the fluorescent light in the room. He started noticing a glow around each object. The light had a halo over it. The walls started to feel more and more vibrant and the creaking of his chair felt like it had a certain cadence to it. He had heard people say that this was the right time to introspect. He had also heard of people keeping a handy pen and paper around to write down their thoughts and ideas during the creative outbursts. He too, did the same thing.

The light felt too bright. So he switched it off and lit a candle instead. The warm, orange-yellow glow of the candle soothed him no end. Time passed by like tiny ripples as he thought about all the cherished moments he had experienced. He remembered how his parents used to tuck him in when it got cold. The accident left him without his beloved mom and dad, left to fend for himself in the real world. Would they be proud that I signed up for the armed forces? They weren't particularly happy with the way humanity treated humanity. The dead soldier's face appeared before him. Our life, anyway, has no value. Kevin shifted in his seat. That guy was obviously talking about us soldiers, but even in a general sense, those words are profound. In this dog-eat-dog world, no one's life really matters. All that matters is who is in charge and for how many days or months or years. Once a term is completed, or cut short, a clone of the same 'who' comes to fore, doing the exact same things his predecessor did. Frankly, after reading the newspaper, it feels like the world of battlefields and bombs and rifles aren't as ugly the world outside. They talk of gaining peace and then exercise war like it was bread and butter. People should stop enlisting as soldiers altogether, throughout the world. That would serve them right. Without manpower itself, who would man the guns, throw the bombs or steer the tanks? And once the borders are done away with, unification is the only option.

The effects were beginning to wear off. Darkness was giving way to daybreak, Kevin noticed through the window. A new life beckoned. He put down the pen, and closed his eyes. This new life that he was looking at, in the outside world, with all its murkiness; was it what he had wanted? He always was very sensitive, in his own unique way. The physical ugliness that existed in the war zones was mirrored in the mental ugliness outside them. Survival of the fittest, they say; but what is the point of survival, survival that is taxed and tormented by fear and apprehension? Kevin turned towards the window. The first light of dawn was now visible.

He picked himself up and moved towards his backpack. He took out the Glock and checked if it had bullets in it. Yes, it did. Then he checked to see if the safety was off.  Yes, it was. He sat on the floor and propped himself up against the wall. Then he put the nozzle of the revolver in his mouth.

The revolver dropped to the wooden floor and gradually got immersed in flowing patches of red as the first rays of the sun bathed the room in a crimson glow.