Enemy Mine

"Yeah, they'll never figure out what that is," I say sarcastically as we all look at the shallow pit where the bodies now lay.  We've tried to cover it up with whatever foliage is around -- but it looks super suspicious.

 

"It only looks that way because we KNOW exactly what's under there," says Donna with confidence.  Jim nods in agreement.

 

"I dunno," I say as we stand there a bit longer staring at our work.   

 

"C'mon, we need to get motoring." Jim says and turns to head towards the camp.  I straggle behind so I can look back a few moments later -- and when I do, I can no longer see the mound.  Maybe Donna was right.

 

"Do you think that we should have said a little prayer for them?" I ask to break the silence.  Neither of them respond and so we continue to trudge along towards camp.  Donna believes that there are probably no more than a dozen or so mutants.  Jim too. 

 

I suppose that makes sense. 

 

How many could've actually survived the wreckage from that far south?  My heart does break for them a little as they used to be one of us.  Donna and Jim consider them antisocial murderous vagrants, so there's no pity on either of their parts.

 

We head towards a hill in the forest that Donna believes will give us a good vantage point as to what is going on.

 

"It's very Cavalry-like of us," I say trying to break the silence, but both of them shush me.  I don't know what's gotten into me.  Probably the culmination of everything we've been through these last 24 hours or so -- but I'm just really jittery.  Anxious.

 

As we climb towards the top, we hear a branch crack.  We all freeze instinctively -- but before we have a chance to process the sound, or even react -- the perpetrator reveals themselves:  It's Belinda.

 

She breathes a sigh of relief and motions for us to come and join her atop.  When we get there we see a few dozen of our own sitting quietly. 

Belinda motions for us to not speak and so we all focus our attention on the camp below.

 

Some of the mutants sit around the campfire.  They're eating meat.  I look over at Belinda with a 'what the fuck are they eating' sort of face and she points to something off to the side.  It takes me a second to make out what exactly the heap is, but then I realize: it's limbs, and torsos all chopped up -- waiting to be cooked over the flames.

 

"Jesus," I say to myself and then quickly gesture to everyone that I'm sorry. 

 

The mutants are cannibals.

 

A moment later one of the Engineers is dragged out from the hospital by two mutants.  His arms and legs are bound.  He is thrown on the ground face first while one of the  mutants holds him in place with his foot.  The Engineer tries to struggle, but since both his arms and legs are tied, he can't.  I look away as a large boulder is raised above his head.  I don't want to see what happens next.

 

I try everything in my power disappear to a different place -- one very far away from here; but all my memories escape me.  My heart begins to race faster and faster and so, I squeeze my eyes shut and reach out my hand for Donna to hold, which she does.  I try not to pay attention to my racing heart or the tears that are silently streaming down the sides of both cheeks.  I try to think of anything I can -- like a bird in the sky -- or even that time when I --

 

And then  -- the noise that I've been trying to avoid occurs. 

 

It echos off the hospital wall, up the hill and whizzes through the trees all around us.  I try my best not to breathe for a second or two while it passes.  I don't want to breathe that noise.

 

A moment later I open my eyes to see Belinda giving me a reassuring face. 

 

The mutants have put Belinda's hatred towards me into perspective.  Now, I'm someone Belinda can use -- to protect herself and to work together to band against these murderous cannibalistic mutants.  It's a little sad that it takes something as extreme as what is happening for her to understand that I was never her enemy -- but I'll take it. 

 

I'm happy to have Belinda on my side.  I don't care that she was a bully before.  I need someone ballsy and aggressive like her to help me survive this nightmare. 

 

I accept Belinda's comforting face and smile back at her through the tears.  With that small interaction both of us know that we will be there for each other -- and that the past doesn't matter anymore. 

 

The past no longer exists.  It can't.  Not when the present requires us to get along.  Not when the present tells us that our chances of surviving are far great if we unite and cooperate, than if we live in discord.

 

The present: right here, right now is all we have.

 

And so, a moment later I reach out my hand for Belinda to help me stand.  I decide to go sit with the others near the back of the hill; where I don't have to see what is happening below.  I crouch and wait while the ones near the ridge like Belinda, Donna, and Jim stomach watching the slaughter.  When they are done collecting numbers and intelligence, they will map out our logistics and delegate our next move. 

In the meantime, I try my best to not breathe whenever a crack whips past our temporary camp.  Instead, I place one hand into the air to let them know that I care.  That they mattered.  That we will do our best to stop this from happening to the rest.  It's my best attempt at honouring the dead who have been so brutally taken from us. 

 

And as I spread apart my fingers and let the last of their Earth-bound essence pass through the air, I take from them a gift of strength.  A nugget of hope for what is about to come that I channel to the deepest parts of my heart.  I use that hope to dilute the despair and grief that stains my valves.  I use that hope to give my heart a fighting chance so that I can help our group win this pending Apocalypse once and for all.

A broken heart is useless in battle.  And so, I channel what little hope remains towards my heart as a means of feeding the soldier deep within me.  A soldier who has long suffered, but is not willing to surrender or succumb to defeat -- no matter how large or scary the opponent.  

Hope is my weapon of choice.