Fragments Gallery
Impact
Trent settled wearily down onto his haunches and pulled the water flask from his side. The liquid swirled around inside the vessel as he took a swig and then stoppered it. He squinted towards that red barn through the falling snow. It seemed abandoned but appearances could, of course, be deceiving. The snow could conceal anything over there, but for now all was still.
Statically staring towards that possible refuge he unslung and lifted his rifle so he could stare down the scope.
Since he had been a lens crafter before all this had begun the scope was of his own design. When he'd had the opportunity he'd carefully ground a set of lenses that he'd found into the sight; the sight which he hoped would keep him alive. Thus far it had worked. He was surprised that the lenses had survived the explosion but he was glad that it had. In this war a man needed every advantage he could get to stay alive.
The events of the past day threatened to overwhelm him but again he pushed the memories away. Soon the time would come for him to deal with those. The day would come to deal with them and grieve for his lost comrades. But for now he had to return to report what had happened and get himself to safety. If he died out there it would do no one any good. Except his enemies of course, his death could only help their cause.
The silver panthers, Trent's company, had been ambushed as they had crossed a river. The bridge had transformed into a torrent of fire and death beneath their feet; he struggled to get the echoes of their screams as they burned alive out of his skull. The men who had already passed over the bridge or who had yet to set foot on it had then been set upon by enemy soldiers. Surrounded as they were they hadn't lasted long.
Trent had been thrown clear of the explosion and had lain stunned as his comrades stood and died around him. Afterwards when the enemy soldiers had searched for survivors and finished with their killing he had still been too weak and disoriented to move. Somehow they had missed seeing him and when they thought their work was done they had left only burdened by their own dead and injured. Their departure had left Trent alone with his fallen comrades. When he had finally had the strength, and will, to move he had searched the field for survivors and then, lacking those, he had set off to report what had happened. His report would be bleak: his entire company... wiped out in an instant.
His eyes closed as a wave of memories threatened to overwhelm him. He could still hear the mortars of the attack clearly and feel the concussions as the explosives hit the soft muddy earth before detonation.
With great effort he forced those thoughts away and came back to the present. That red barn offered shelter from the elements and for the time being he needed that shelter and the rest he could find there. He still saw no motion around the barn so he had a choice to make. He could move on, take the chance and go for shelter or wait a while and observe for longer. Trent thought for a moment while observing his surroundings. The snow was thickening, the sun was setting and it was growing colder. Physically he himself was exhausted and numb. Now that he thought about it he badly needed rest. That realization made the decision for him. He had to make it to the barn.
Trent slung his rifle across his back and crept cautiously out from his cover. All remained still as he moved closer to the barn, but still he jumped at the kiss of every snowflake upon his exposed skin and at the gentle movements of the trees in the wind. In his mind every scrap of motion that he saw, every dark shape in the trees, was an enemy soldier coming to finish what they had started.
Feeling as though there were eyes upon his back he didn’t directly approach the barn, instead he circled around a bit. Still he saw nothing that should cause alarm but still he remained cautious. When he finally set a hand upon the weathered wood of the door he felt as though he hadn’t taken a breath since he left cover. His heart pounded as he checked the area beyond the door frame and, upon deciding it was safe, finally slipped into the cool darkness.
As far as barns go it was nice. The roof didn’t leak, the walls and ground were fairly clean and it was mercifully empty and devoid of life. Because of the state of the place he could only assume that if this barn was abandoned it hadn’t been so for long.
To assuage his fears he silently swept through the barn to search for any unwelcome surprises; he found nothing of interest. Some farm tools lay scattered around and lots of fodder remained in the stalls but beyond that there was nothing worth mentioning. Finally giving in to his fatigue Trent swiftly but softly climbed to the hayloft and settled down in the hay. It seemed safe enough here and he could rest for a time. But he could not remain for too long.
After some rest his priority had to be to return to base. His superiors had to be told what had happened. And then, after that, he would be free to take his revenge. He would make them pay for what they had done.