1 Bullet

… Help me in my weakness. 'Cause I'm falling out of grace~…

… Help me find my proper place…

"Wake up, scum!" The first words one woke up to, to this world we were all castoffs to. I remembered hearing later, on how some of us felt sick on hearing those words, when they woke from a nightmare. Be it the phantom feeling of a looming execution if knocked out yesterday, or still feeling queasy on how one is as good as dead by tomorrow morning. Only to wake up here instead of what shelter they were hiding in or by.

"On your feet, Scum!" I woke up to the sound of panicked whaling as I saw soldiers kick bodies awake. The shift from a broken apartment, to the smell of rotten wood, and the sight and chill of a shoddily constructed shed made me queasy then, as I heard a few of us cry out on why they are here, instead of their homes or situation.

Clyde, almost among that panicked lot, was among those just stunned in silence. In his case, he's still in confusion on why he's still alive after being knocked out by the soldiers, presumably. Just as well we all kept silent then, I supposed. As some of the inmates began to scream to those murderous soldiers in panic, or started to claw at each other in mutual fury. Noise that the soldiers just whipped out their firearms, to shoot at the bodies.

The shots fired, woke and scared everyone else into compliance. Bar the deaf and tired that were still on the ground. They were shot next when the soldiers gave up kicking on them, to deliver another calibur round to the cranium. Spilling the dirt floor with blood weeping from their heads.

"To the scum on their feet? See those bodies?" A hat wearing death guard, wearing a beret and a malicious smirk, pointed at the breathless bodies. "If you can't follow orders. Then you're as good as dead. AM I CLEAR, SCUM!?"

Nobody questioned, or talked out of fearful silence. Merely stood rigidly, and walked quietly. Some already resigned towards being killed on the spot, like me. Even if at the time, I felt we were asking mental questions such as 'why are we alive'? Such thoughts were suppressed over the keep your head down, sort of mindset.

On my first night. I recall how we followed that soldier in badly aped marching. Marching like cattle, to some weird sight of a sky, with a big as hell, purple sun. That drowned the daylight in a darker shade of blue. But what took us all by surprise, was how there was a red planet hanging visible amidst two moons. And at the edge of the sky, there was a blinding streak of red, hanging in radiance above a distant, foreign sky.

It wasn't until later, we realised there was an extra moon, and a blue shaped planet also in orbit, alongside how there's a blue visible star, orbiting around this world we were cast off to. But that was nothing compared to the angry face of a sergeant in a black-and-red military cap.

"Attention, scum!" Glaring us in contempt, shouting in a tone that conveyed nothing but hate. "Now I bet you're all wondering. Why the hell am I here?"

I only had time to notice we were wearing nothing but prison clothing, as I saw that 'instructor' march at us with hate on his face. "I'll tell you. It goes those fucking corpses, before you." I heard a gunshot, as that instructor kicked some imprisoned foreigner down to the dirt.

"Then the dirt. The maggots eating the dirt. The waste, being buried in the dirt. Mercenaries on my payroll. Then us fucking soldiers, willing to die to queen and country, over sucking my wad." I shuddered as I thought of how that sergeant could easily kill me, at any moment.

"And above all of that. My gun, sworn to gun down scum like you." Pulling out his firearm, and aiming it in my face. I tried to show no fear when the sergeant smirked, in pressing that trigger. My only relief came when it clicked empty, as the sergeant twirls the handgun around like some western looking revolver, with a malicious smirk to his face.

"Long story short. You're all marked for death. Wanna know why you still have the privilege of breathing, scum?" Our angry sergeant said, as he was loading that revolver of his with more bullets to the chamber. "Because god decided to give you a second chance to die in glorious battle, over the barrel of my gun is what."

I felt a shiver, when he pointed above the foreign sky, to the additional moons I had just begun to realise existed, then. "See the sky above, with their many moons and a weird ass sun? You are no longer home. You will have no hopes of ever getting home. And if by heaven's grace you do get home? You'll be executed on the spot, for being a fucking foreigner!"

"For death, is the great redeemer for wasteful pieces of scum." Spitting at us, even as he walked to each of us prisoners, in equal contempt. "So here's the rule. Don't fuck up. 'Cause if you do fuck up, you answer to the caliber round to the head, if you're lucky. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

I kept quiet. Even when I heard someone audibly shudder, their fears attracted our malicious soldier's gaze as he aimed his firearm at them. I resisted the urge to duck when another gunshot ripped through the side of me, to the fallen body falling flat. Fearing that if I moved so much as move, that barrel would be pointed at my head next;

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"YOU THINK THAT SHIT FUNNY, SCUM? SCUM LIKE YOU, DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE!?!" That marshall yelled at us in anger, he walked towards the recently shot corpse. "Wanna know why? It's 'cause scum like you, deserve to die!"

He made a point as he kept kicking that body he killed. Even as he fondled that revolver resting on his holster. I felt more helpless when anyone that could have helped us, were aiming their rifles at us. Hoping for any misstep, being grounds for summary execution.

It didn't hit me at home then. But even then, I just knew that we were already, fucking dead. As that sadistic leader grinned at us, over this bloodstained show of his.

"Sp here's your collective punishment for wasting my time. Or as I like to call it, a 'test' to see who is more fit as a military discharge." He chucked once, with an angry grin. "If you can't endure a kids' version of hell week for exercise, in running three rounds through this camp as my boys shoot at you. Then you're worth less than a fucking corpse."

"Now start running, before I get to kill you all!" I didn't hesitate twice to follow through, in running. A response everyone, especially those who were long term sufferer's of this foreign place did first. All I and us new scum did was play catch up to avoid being shot at.

Especially with the gunfire shelling behind us, being all the motivation to slow down. I forgot about the screamed anguish, as I focused solely on running, through a set course the veterans were running ahead of.

I didn't think of looking behind me, until I glanced at the bullet riddled bodies as we ran through the second lap, throughout this prison of ours. Bodies in various shapes of dying, some even had their heads blown off, as I thought more on keeping up with those running ahead.

Past the obstacles that threaten to trip one if you weren't careful then. I was more worried about not breaking down emotionally. Everyone else was in that same boat of not wanting to be shot, by soldiers I bet are actively aiming at killing the slowest of us as 'target practice'.

Eventually, it was our third lap. And the group cleared enough for me to see in jumping, the dying corpses shot at with malice. I didn't hesitate to stop if a bullet whizzed beyond me, as hesitance killed many more of us that day. I also had to jump through corpses, when I noticed anyone who ran too far to the lined sides were also shot.

By the time we made it to the arbitrary finishing line. Where our sergeant was standing by. He stared at us dying 'scum' like an ever angry vulture. "Well, congrat you fucking lations, scum. You survived round one. But what about your full daily dose of physical pain, scum!?"

My thoughts then, as I didn't want to remember the rest of the threatened and forced exercise. Was 'good grief'. As we were forced to do full burpees, military style. Followed by a bigger obstacle course, by an angry sergeant commanding us to die, as those soldiers shot at those of us who were 'too slow'.

I cannot, for my sanity, brood too much on those painful memories of threatened exercise. Past the cynical thoughts of hindsight then. That all this forced training was to our angry sergeant. Some sadistic 'game' to kill us all, without blatantly executing us for being "useless scum", or never do wells.

But what I could remember, was the 'relief' we got when we were done being pushed through physical hell. More verbal purgatory. As that sergeant yelled at us with spit flying through his mouth.

"Good fucking job, in not dropping like a dump, scum!" Insults I had to be apathetic for, as he glared at those of us still flinching over the gunfire. Some winching as some phantom sound. A sound that I heard like a sharp static buzzing stab to the forehead, more painful than the ringing of gunfire.

"Hey, what's tha-?" A corpse said, whose comment was shot the foul sergeant with an excuse to draw his firearm's bullets down his body, dropping him in pain.

"DON'T FUCKING INTERRUPT ME, YOU FUCKING SCUM!" I saw a corpse fall, its head blown by another stray bullet. Looking beside me, that corpse's death served as negative reinforcement, to stay silent. As I tried not to stare at the sergeant who always fondled his revolver, like a baby needing to spit bullets to our exposed brains.

"Well, no more bodies? Looks like there's hope for you yet scum. Hope, in being useful as disposable cannon fodder, for our glorious destiny." He paused, as I heard a click from a cocked gun. "So consider it a privilege to be promoted to Disposable, when at the end of the day, you will always be remembered as worthless Scum!"

"One more thing. I feel like giving a refresher. Piss us boys off, and a decimation would be mercy." I almost felt relief on the awaiting dismissal, from that angry sergeant. As he walked away, he suddenly turned to face us, with a gun pointing at someone.

"Oh, and one last thing. I heard from the transfer files. That there's a child fucker among your lot. One, Arthur Blake." The gun I saw was aimed at a nervous blonde haired guy, who had an expression screaming 'I'm already dead', to me. Even as he glared at that sergeant in defiance.

The gun clicked, empty. It was a miracle, he wasn't shot like all the others. "It's just a coincidence, he's competent enough to still be disposable. Otherwise, I'd have blown up his ass, and fucked him to death. If not for wanting a rapist on my prick." Everyone was silent, still.

"I'd love to see him die, a miserable death. Mercy for him, that's what being disposable is all about. Just make sure he dies first before you lot. Am I clear, scum!?" I looked around me, and already everyone else wanted him dead, which I thought was the tone the sergeant wanted to do.

"Now. DIS, MISS!" He shouted. Before he marched outwards, most of his soldiers mostly followed suit, but with their guns pointing us to return to that shed I, we awoke to.

By the time we were led, or shoved back to that shit place of a shed. I was exhausted, and disoriented. The only thing barring me from sleep wasn't the fear pulsating on being a dead man walking in a military prison nightmare. But how everything stank so hard, my eyes were in pain over the nauseating smell of animal dung.

Even if it smelt more like human shit and rotting corpses. The only morbid entertainment I had, as I prayed for this to be a nightmare. Is the question; "how long until Arthur Blake dies?"

My answer, before my hellish first night was over. Was "not long. Not long at all."