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Gene’s feet crunched through the off-white snow as he made his way blindly through the forest of horrors. All he wanted to do was return to his foxhole and process the events of the day, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. He soon arrived at the scene. All that remained of the ghastly fate that befell Toye and Guarnere were two patches of crimson blood which gleamed against the powdery blanket of snow. Someone must’ve removed the blown-off legs of his brothers in arms once Toye and Guarnere had been taken to the aid station. Suddenly, Gene noticed a flash of black in the trees. He quickly looked up to see who was there and was met by the sight of a tall figure clothed in nothing but dusty black hooded rags, armed with a scythe. Gene drew in a sharp breath. Was this the end? Was he injured and he hadn’t realised? Or had Death come for someone else? His gaze remained on the now immobile ethereal figure facing him, too paralysed with fear and apprehension to direct his stare elsewhere.
A twig snapped behind Gene, bringing him out of his trance. He whirled around and found himself faced with Luz, who, even at his most annoying, was a far more comforting prospect than Death.
“Can you see that Luz?”
“What?”
“In the trees just there,” Gene moved his hand inside his pocket to gesture to where Death was still standing, watching the two soldiers.
“Gene, there’s nothing there, except trees and this fucking snow,” Luz put a hand on Gene’s shoulder in an attempt to guide him away. “Come and get something to eat, you can’t have had anything all day.” Gene remained immobile, and Luz pulled back. “Alright I’ll get you something and bring it to ya here, buddy,” Gene was only vaguely aware of Luz’s retreated footsteps crunching in the dirty snow, the noise getting softer as Gene grew more isolated.
A cacophony of whistles from incoming artillery and the deafening roar of explosions finally caused Gene to move from his spot, as he dived into the nearest foxhole, where he stayed completely still, crouching with his arms over his head.
When it was all over and Gene emerged, Death was no longer stood in the trees, but had vanished to some unknown place, leaving Gene with an overwhelming sense of relief. Death and his terror would torture someone else that night. No sooner had Gene thought this did he see Luz returning, stumbling on broken branches and holding onto nearby trees for support.
Gene ran up to him, asking if he was hurt.
“Not me”
“Who then?” Luz didn’t answer Gene’s question but continued to stare at the ground. “George, who needs a damn medic, I have to help them now!”
“Don’t worry Gene, not even you can help them now… Skip… Penk,” Luz sunk to the ground, unable to speak any further. Gene gazed down at him in horror, realising how wrong he’d been. Death’s cruel hand hadn’t left them alone after all.
///
You woke up in the middle of the night, the heat outside making the night heavy and sweaty. You turned to Gene to check his sleep didn’t seem to be disturbed, he’d been prone to nightmares ever since the war ended three years ago. At first glance he seemed okay, but then you noticed very slight whimpers were leaving his mouth and his hand was shaking. You shook Gene’s shoulder gently, trying to end his nightmare without startling him. He emitted a large sigh and blinked slowly, trying to process his surroundings. Turning him around so that he was facing you, you wiped the tears that had silently streamed down his face. As you held him in your arms, you whispered to him that he was home and he was safe. For most people the war was over, they’d gone back to their daily lives and cast it out as a distant memory. But for those like Gene who saw first-hand the horrors that humans could inflict on one another, the war could never be over.