“Want another swig?”

I handed the bottle to Mike, who waved it away.

“Give it to Laura, he needs it.”

His voice was horse after he’d broken down and spent the last half hour balling silently into his knees where we sat along an aisle of books. He called his daughter who he left with his sister, and he couldn't maintain face anymore after that. He had himself under control now for the most part, but what he described as his ‘home personality’ came to the forefront. He was soft-spoken and relatively meek outside of work.

“Laura!”

Silence, or for the most part, silence. The first truck gunner, Volasgis, and one of the two from third squad, Montaigne, could be heard having sex from one of the back rooms.

“Goddamnit, Laura!”

I yelled in the tone I’d used when scolding a troop. There was the muffled moaning once more.

“Lau–”

“What, Cat!”

I thought I made them fuckin stop with the cat puns! I’d like a modicum of fuckin dignity before I blow my brains out!

“You little fuck–”

I started to take stride, the liquor and the situation, making me want to fight more than I should have. What stopped me, was the sorry sight of Laura and Castillanos huddled in the corner, a variety of children's books scattered on the floor between them. I passed another snus pouch from one side of my mouth to the other, calming myself.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

I held out the bottle of wine to Laura.

“We’ve drained ours dry, Sarge.”

Castillanos smiled weakly, tossing the empty bottle onto the carpeted floor at my feet.

“I’ll take more.”

Laura muttered quietly, limply reaching for the bottle I held out. I knelt, checking on the two for all it mattered.

“You two holding up well?”

Laura rolled his eyes, taking a long swig from the bottle before gasping.

“We’re about to fuckin die, Sarge, no, the fuck we are not ‘holding up well.”

I nodded, pulling the can of dip out, and offering them to the pair.

“Just wish I could get my dick wet one last time.”

Castillanos whispered, though not quite enough to hide it from myself or Laura as he took the can.

“I mean–”

Laura raised a brow, trying to make a light joke.

“Fuckin– Laura, with–. Maybe if you had some tits, but a straight-up?”

Oh god, they're actually entertaining the idea.

“Iii’m gonna go sit with Mike.”

I stood, doing my best to ignore the conversation.

“About that, I’ve been taking meds–”

Is that all the young bucks think of when they're on their damn deathbeds?!

I walked away, slumping back at the end of the aisle where Mike sat. I could have sworn I had seen the two make for another one of the back rooms as I managed to relax again.

“They act like there hasn't been a brothel of whores following us the whole time.”

I mumbled, along with some expletives.

Good on them… They can face it like that… I–

“You're scared too, Aidan. We can all see it.”

Mike pointed at my hands.

“You're shaking.”

I looked at my hands. They were trembling, even through the cross-faded haze of drunkenness and nicotine. I clasped them together, just barely holding the shaking under lock and key.

“Can’t pull the ‘confidence’ anymore.”

I said flatly, staring at the entrance. There were three people, the guard, the chaplain, and the second member of third squad, confiding in the chaplain his last thoughts and doing their ‘hail marys’ together so the kid could clear his conscience of his sins. They were also discussing the suicide, and how god wouldn't forsake him for ending the ‘gift of life.’

“I’d rather be that simple.”

A sigh.

“To just throw decency aside and–”

More moaning.

“Tch, to fuck my final moments away with some bad sex.”

To a lesser extent, Laura and Castillanos could be heard trying to contain themselves, unlike Volasgis and Montaigne.

“Or to pray…”

I glanced at the chaplain and the kid once more.

“But here I am, sick to my stomach and dwelling on it like a dumbass.”

“And you've accepted it?”

I nodded.

“How?”

“Same as you, I think. I’ve seen it for so long that I can’t reason another way out.”

Mike and I looked at each other.

“Got another smoke?”

I asked, having given the pouches of snus to Laura and Castillanos.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Three.”

Mike muttered, tapping the carton and pulling two free. He lit his first, then passed me mine. I leaned close, sucking air through the filter as we touched the cigarettes to each other. Leaning back onto the shelf, I closed my eyes and took the deepest drag I could manage. Unable to breathe in any further, I pulled the filter away from my lips and exhaled. I looked once more out the front entrance. It was near dark, the sun already having dropped below the woodline in the distance.

“It's almost time.”

“Yeah.”

“Wish Lucas were here.”

“Your Czech friend?”

“Yeah.”

“You fucked’em?”

I punched Mike in the shoulder, forcing a laugh from his recent quiet demeanor.

“No. He’s a good buddy, though, would’ve wanted him for a best man. Maybe as a godfather if I had kids.”

We both laughed.

“That good of a friend?”

Mike’s tone became honest, even, like a good brother.

“Was gonna sponsor his immigration to the states, so yeah, that good a friend.”

…

A pause

…

“So Laura and Castillanos? I never saw that one coming.”

“You kidding? Those two were inseparable in containment.”

I nodded.

“Still, them?”

“Dude, all the shit going down, and that surprises you? Every person in this outfit has gotten their dick or ass wet, don’t act like you haven’t.”

Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, wouldn’t that weaken my position in their eyes?

“Don’t recall seeing you get any.”

I muttered.

“That’s because I’m the next in line for the executive officer, the company commander wants– wanted me– to stay discrete.”

I tilted my head toward him, giving him a side-eye with a raised brow.

“Hell, like it would matter anymore.”

Mike laughed before shifting into a hopeless whimper.

“Fuck, still trying to think what I could have done. We had every opportunity to turn everyone that participated in the north american campaign away, and fuckin no-one would let us turn them away.”

----------------------------------------

A walk through town, rifles slung. To the woodline. A natural hole, steep enough to sit down on its slope, the least messy alternative.

…

I felt dead inside, not that the outside state of my body wouldn't soon follow my mind.

Suicide.

We each sat in the same little groups as before, though, now Mike sat with the kid we’d prayed with, Jonas. Castillanos and Laura huddled next to each other, their hands clutched together. It was the same for Volasgis and Montaigne, they were staring at their rifles.

“Will you need help?”

I asked, directing the question to Castillanos, who looked hesitantly at Laura.

“I–”

He couldn't finish the sentence, Laura didn't say a word either. I looked at her, the sudden liveliness the two had together dying down the closer we got to the woodline initially.

“If–”

It was my turn to choke up.

“I’ll take charge.”

Mike spoke up, donning the face he used as the LT. He looked at the two, motioning for them to pass him their magazines so he could load the ammo in his own magazine.

He’s struggling.

Mike was coughing, though it was easy enough to tell that was his way of pushing away any errant whimpering at this rate. His drop in face betrayed him more than he anticipated. Laura and Castillanos bumped their heads together, continuing to stare into the hole's bottom.

In another life, these two would've just been some stupid lovers. What could I have done?! A counseling? Pushed them off of the front due to some made-up misconduct? We could have–

I pushed the thought from my mind, my eyes feeling itchy. Mike was loading his magazine now, fifteen rounds in total.

“I– sir.”

Jonas whimpered.

“I’m afraid.”

Mike nodded.

“We all are, buddy. We all are.”

Jonas hesitantly pulled the magazine from his rifle, handing it to Mike as well.

Twenty…

I could see him struggle internally.

That's too heavy– Mike, you can’t–

“Volasgis? Montaigne?”

Volasgis was unresponsive, tears streaming down her face, while Montaigne lifted his head to stare at me blankly. The group was silent for a moment, no one saying a word. Laura, the poor thing, was beginning to shake violently from the chill that rolled in. A moment later, the reason for calling their names dawned as he slowly released the magazines from each of their rifles.

Fifteen in my rifle.

It was my responsibility, too, having a degree of leverage behind Mike.

I could’ve prevented this… I could've done more.

Some muffled yelling could be heard in the distance just over the sound of crickets, but we chalked it up to someone in town. None of us were able to think clearly, being too stuck in the moment.

“When do we–”

Castillanos went to ask, stopping himself at the risk of cutting his final moments short.

“I’ll find the time. You won’t know it’s coming, right?”

Mike asked aloud.

“Right?”

He asked again. This time, I realized he was talking to me.

“R-right.”

I looked at Volasgis and Montaigne.

“C’mere.”

Mike waved for me to join him at the top of the hole. Leaning close, he mouthed the words.

“You fire when I fire, not a moment later. That way, none of them have to anticipate it, to witness it. They don't deserve to go through that. Understood? Mouth back what I just said if you understand.”

I absorbed the words, then mouthed them back.

“Good.”

He said aloud.

“Repeat it one more time.”

He commanded, forcing me to repeat when he told me a second time.

“I had to be sure.”

The gentle tone once more.

A moment.

Then another.

And another.

Everyone but Mike and myself stared into the hole, while we watched them all from behind. It was silent, save for the low rumble of a truck driving by, its muffler possibly busted, was misfiring. It continued, and grew louder.

Click

Mike flipped the safety on his rifle, his mark. I could have sworn they each knew that was the moment Mike had chosen, two of the five flinching instinctively as we opened fire. The rifles chattered as we took our aim and fired in succinct, aimed shots at each of their heads, dirt, and blood kicking into the air as the tungsten core projectiles tumbled with little care for obstruction. Their bodies slumped backward almost instantly, all but one beginning to convulse as the mutations immediately took hold. Bone cracked, and the lungs of Volasgis managed to function for a moment before deflating with an inhuman whine. The one was what hurt Mike, I thought. It was Jonas, laying back with a bullet hole through his temple, and not a convulsion nor mutation to account for.

“Fuck…”

Mike whispered.

“Fuck!”

He screamed, throwing his rifle to the ground.

A false positive.

“Fuck! Fuckin brass shitheads! Fuck you!”

He fell to his knees and then onto his back, staring at the stars.

“Fucking general electric…”

He whimpered.

“Fucks made a tester that can pull a false positive…”

Another whimper.

“Mike?”

I kneeled next to him, looking at the bodies.

“Mike, do you–”

“Fuck off, Aidan, not after Jonas.”

“What?”

Mike sat up, slicking his hair back as he began to cry again.

“I just fuckin– I murdered him- I.”

Muffled yelling in the background, closer this time, but it was to be expected.

“I can't put that on you, and I can’t.”

He looked at me shaking his head.

“I couldn't do that to you as well. Please, don’t make me take you too.”

I nodded, still in shock.

I don't want to die either, Mike. I– Fuck– we–

I wasn’t crying, opting to stay silent. More muffled yelling, this time closer, an engine of a truck.

“One each, Mike.”

I handed Mike one of the last two bullets, placing my own into my rifles chamber before riding the bolt forward.

“I’ll wait, Mike… I’ll go last…”

My voice was as horse as his was earlier.

Fuck, is this the moment I snap? Should I– I could let him finish it, run into the woods. I would just fall asleep, then the mutations– It would be like a dream, right? Or a lobotomy– Fuck! Anything but–

The crack of Mike’s rifle shattered my perception of reality. I’d spaced out. Long enough that he’d picked his rifle back up and killed himself before I could give him the mercy myself.

“I have to.”

I looked at my rifle, only looking away as Mike's body began to convulse, knocking me from my feet.

“Fuc-”

Another yell in the distance, multiple voices arguing.

“Fuck, shit– c’mon. Do it… do it! Do it! Fuck!”

I don’t want to die here!

“Fuck! C’mon, fuckin do it! Just one more to kill! Fuck! What, you wanna be one of those things running around?! Huh?!”

“Aidan!”

“Mike! Anyone?”

“Were we late– wait, one’s still–”

“Aidan!”

Multiple voices, more distinct, panicked.

I have to! I have to! But I don’t–

I flipped the safety back off.

“Aidan!”

Blood was rushing so fast through my ears from the adrenaline that I couldn't comprehend any external noise.

“Fuuuuck–”

I raised the rifle to my chin, barely managing to pull the trigger before the crack of a rifle not my own, deafened me. Something searing hot passed through my right shoulder as I fired my own rifle on reflex. The impact was enough to throw my placement off; sending me plummeting to my left side. My own bullet grazed my jaw, splitting the surface of the skin apart.

“I have to!”

“Aidan, stop!”

A familiar voice, muffled, but familiar.

“You shot him?!”

“What the hell else was I supposed to do?! It worked, didn't it?”

Lucas and Smith both distinct enough voices to recognize.

“I have to! But–”

“Fuck Lucas, I don’t wanna die– I’m scared!”

I began to ball, crying harder than I could even recall when I heard about my family being labeled MIA.

“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die fuckin! I- Fuck, I helped kill them! I helped, but I’m scared too! I can’t, please!”

“It's okay, buddy, it's okay, shhhh.”

Lucas was pulling me up from the hole. I could feel the blood from my face smearing against his coat, but as I tried to push away, he seemed to hug me tighter as he pulled me up.

“You’re not going to–”

“I don’t wanna die- I- ah-”

“It was a false positive, Aidan. You and Jonas were false positives!”

“Jesus christ, all of them–”

Another voice, the sergeant from the detail.

“I don’wanna die. I don’wanna.”

Exhaustion was kicking in alongside the obscene amounts of alcohol in my system.

“He’s clocking out, Smith. I’ll need your help carrying him out of here.”

“Okay, Lucas. Keep holding him from under his arms, and I’ll grab his knees. Sarge?”

The sergeant from the detail responded.

“What's up?”

“Is Aidan the only one still breathing?”

A pause between the three.

“He’s the only one still breathing. We were late, Jonas is gone… But not too late to save him.”