The Barrack

Monday, 20XX

“Still cold. We were told to wait inside the barracks. Not sure why they called it the barracks. It’s the only building around. None of us were able to catch a glimpse of the land while we were in the drone. Randy saw a blade of grass pop up from the dirt when we landed, though. He had to explain the concept of “grass” to the newbie.

Even I felt like I needed a reminder.

The kid did a good job during the tour, though. Saw the mess hall, control room, some bunks, the whole nine yards. Michela just stared right through the kid. She hopes he isn’t another one and done.

The newbie didn’t have the stones to ask about the computers. I’m glad he didn’t. I didn’t have it in me to explain. Last night, my eyes were so tired I swore they swelled in size. My ass is already numb thinking about how long we have to wait for the traveler.”

He gasped, louder than he had in a long time. Poking his head up over the mound of dirt, nothing but dust lay in front of him. He shook his head. One time, long ago, he bet this used to be a really nice park. Or maybe it was a city, resplendent with cars and people and restaurants he wouldn’t be caught dead at.

The man’s head darted to the left, the right, and then the left again. Nothing but dirt. Gun held close, he turned his wrist to his face. Three green dots faded in and out on the top left of the circle. Another step forward, he stared down at his watch, but wretched his foot back before it was too late. Just below his metal boot was a sigh he hadn’t seen in ages. At least two timelines, he thought.

A thin, green blade, begging to reach as far up into the sky as possible.

It was the only one.

He stepped back and turned in the direction of the dots. Drats, he thought. The grass didn’t have many friends. Nothing but mounds of dirt in front of him.

Onward, he marched.

Tuesday, 20XX

“God, one of the drones dropped by a hot, fresh meal last night. It almost makes up for the fact we missed the traveler. If the drone didn’t pop its head out in the distance, I would have bludgeoned Randy to the dickens. We ate, our stomachs full and it made sleeping even easier.

Michela told him about the computers, the research, everything he was too afraid to ask about. It was my turn to look for the traveler last night, and when I went out, the newbie was fine. He always looks fine. Massive cheeks on his face. No grey hairs. Yeah, the kid is one of the lucky ones.

But it was a different story when I returned, and brought half the remaining time’s dirt with me, to boot. Sitting in a corner, he was staring up at the sky, searching for a cloud that wasn’t there. Not eating, no talking. He screamed into his pillow in the middle of the night. I think it was only two in the morning, but all the fucking numbers are a blur at that hour.

We all remember the day our nerves broke. The boredom, horror, hopelessness, the eternal quietude that awaits us out here, swelling in our chest, circling our minds. Our stomachs full and empty at the same time, every pore sweating out of sheer fear.

He’ll get over it. We all do.”

None of the spikes moved an inch. Thank God.

He ran his hand over the navy tent. Smooth, not a single tear was found. Not an inch of the earth was shifted or moved near his little campsite. The traveler had half a mind to break out some of the more expansive technology when he was settling down, but he didn’t want to overplay his hand. Staring out at the horizon in front of him, he sighed.

Before he went to sleep, he pulled out three, small spikes and jammed them into the ground. Pulling at the cylinders on top, they expanded, and with a single tap, emitted a low, red light. He laid between the spikes, looking up. They hummed, deep but with a welcome restraint, like a sports car cruising at a show. In other times, especially with his children, he would have brought out the binoculars, staring up at the sky, begging for a glimpse of the world above.

Now, he was just thankful for a moment to breathe. The traveler couldn’t help but smile.

Morning time brought with it a different story. The horizon in front of him threatened to kiss the tops of the brown mounds of earth. Some scarred, others even wet. The traveler spotted neither a lick of green nor another soul. He really wished that blade of grass had friends. Backpack in hand, he pulled out a burner and some blue packets of food. If he was lucky enough, many more nights like the last one awaited him. The traveler knew, though, luck wasn’t real anymore. Not to him. Not to anyone.

Through gritted teeth, on he went.

Wednesday, 20XX

“Randy performed the sweeps this afternoon. I could have sworn it was the newbies turn. Maybe it should have been. Randy headed out of the barracks sometime around midday and returned without even so much as having broken a sweat.

Must have been cool out.

He said his drone picked up a small trace of electromagnetic near the ruins of an old city. But Randy said, surprise, there was only more dirt. Newbie had a few more questions today. We’ll have plenty more opportunities to leave the barracks. If only they were under better circumstances. When Randy came back, even for a sweep as uneventful as his, you’d have thought someone died. Face stretched long, he didn’t so much as to threaten to move his mouth.

Figures. He’s been doing this as long as any of us.

It’s my turn tomorrow.”

A metallic thud breaches the traveler’s ears.

His chest rises and falls. It rises so high the tips of his shirt threaten to graze his eyes. Over and over, he breathes but doesn’t budge. A thin blade lays on his hip. Muscles refuse to relax. Good, the traveler thinks. Sweat flowed out of every available pore.

A metallic orb lay near his feet. On both sides were two holes, previously lit by an emerald glow. He had seen the emerald glow hundreds of times before. Hundreds of times, in fact, since he had sniffed it out.

His eyes never left the body. He knew they always had another trick up their sleeve.

Squared off where the machine’s head used to be, a pair of shoulders slumped, followed by the other two pairs of arms growing limp as well. They protruded from the being’s ribs, as if machines even meant to grow ribs. Wind blew. Creaking, groaning, as if pleased to have its life turned off, the body fell. Sprawled out on the dirt and away from the traveler, it lay, face up, if its face wasn’t at his own feet.

Sword raised to the sky, he knew it wouldn’t take long to assess his own damage. After all, it happened so fast. Something must have happened at the barracks. Rarely did his technology fail, not in this time nor in any of the ones he passed through.

His own tracker led him toward a giant collection of grey buildings. The closer he got, the more he could make out their barren insides. Glassless windows. Entire sides torn asunder, only left with jagged chunks, as if some being became hungry and took a giant bite out of the concrete. Tents and leftovers of rations were scattered on the ground. Some food from one time. Some food from another.

It intrigued the traveler.

After a pair of pass-throughs were completed, the traveler felt oil dribble on top of his head. As poor a stalker as he ever found, the traveler though. Thank God for that.

Thursday, 20XX

“HQ hasn’t exactly been pleased with my reports. First time in a while they bothered to ring us up. Sometimes, I think they just send us back and forth to these different times to keep us out of the way. Anyways, if you’re listening, Jean or Claude or Mickey, below is a very detailed account of our day so far. No emotion or personality whatsoever.

0700: Fasted Weight training for Me and Newbie, Randy and Michela practiced with firearms.

0800: Reverse the above.

0900: Breakfast. Eggs and powder milk.

1000: Clean barracks.

1000 – 1500: Randy took Newbie on patrol. I kept lookout. Michela scanned.

1500 – 1900: Michela completed a sweep of premises. Randy and Newbie returned. I reviewed scans and research.

1900-2000: Dinner

2000: Leisure time until sleep.

Happy?”

The traveler was tempted to toss out all the materials in his backpack again. Completely against company protocol, but he was so close. Hands on his hips, he felt like his wife. Whenever she was standing in front of an unfinished plot of a garden or one of their kids, and her hands were on her hips, watch out. Shit was getting done.

He laughed at the memory. Two metal plates were wrenched open. Gears, screws, wires, and even a thick, strange looking piece of blue rope connected themselves inside the machine. Not so much a web, but the traveler felt they resembled a maze.

The blue rope was his target. He knew it could be useful to bring back home. The traveler was giving up hope he was ever going to find the barracks. As he rummaged through his backpack, looking for a pen knife, he thought about this time, and how different it was.

To his left, long, vast, rolling hills of dirt. To his right, even longer, more vast rolling hills of dirt. None of the tropical jungles from his deployment out of college, nor the never-ending road trip across South America from the time he actually deployed with Mackenzie. It wasn’t the people he missed. It was the signs of life. Birds chirping? Bugs screeching? Even the rustle of leaves from the wind?

Nadda. It had been too long.

Suddenly, a short prick on his finger tore him out of his daydream. The blue rope would be his after all.

Friday, 20XX

“No use celebrating. Fridays out here might as well feel like the rest. We did take it a little easier today. No working out, it’s not like we miss a day, and Randy was about to break open some of the good stuff hidden by patrols past when another done trotted through the door.

Thanks again for that.

None of us could shut up. I don’t think Michela had ever said so many words in her life. But it was still her. Still her sharp laugh, how she struggles to say “ed” in words. Dozens of memories were brought to life in front of the campfire. Some felt like a warm blanket. Others, as if the blanket was wrapped just a bit too tight around your body.

There are worse ways to past time.

Newbie already lost two lives. We were all shocked to hear so. Both times, his face sunk into his cheekbones when he recounted his deaths. I thought back to my own ends, or end, should I say. Nothing so heroic. Embarrassing, really. But I am glad when these blasted patrols end, even though we all feel trapped back home.

There are worse ways to spend a life.”

The traveler sat up in his chair. A thick, square shadow covered his tent from the outside. From what, the traveler didn’t know. Only his own footprints were the single sign of life he had seen ever since his metallic stalker. He was beginning to feel impatient. Worse, now he was wishing the footprints did belong to someone or something else.

Ever since he enlisted, the traveler knew how comfortable he had to be in his own head. Launched into another time, practically into another world, he understood the breadth of the task. Alone, searching for an answer that might not exist, he was gifted with a never-ending fight. His only curse, their only curse, was that the fight could never end. But that still meant he missed his wife. Missed his son’s wisecracks. His daughter’s skill with a blade. The peace and purpose his family felt when together, all trying to hold the Earth up, never understanding if they were any closer to setting their world right.

Again, he gritted his teeth. In his head, he summoned a drone, picking up all the memories and sour feelings he felt. Sorry, hun. Just for a little longer. One by one, he picked up the trips to the beach and the midnight pranks and set them inside the shell of the drone. A click here and a pat there, and the drone was on his way, safe and sound on his way to the Vent.

He wished he could join the drone. Another glimpse at the dark brown hills and he felt like he was going to sink further into them.

Saturday, 20XX

“Know how to say ‘hope’ in Irish? Dochas, my friend. One big, fat, dochas. Maybe the newbie will finally give us his name and he’ll be Chados or Doch or something, because boy or boy did that kid bring some fat, fucking heaping of hope.

It was his turn to take a shot at scanning and sampling some of the traces on the computer today. Good God, his eyes grew twice the size of a saucer when that stupid, green text appeared. Just from the pure excitement alone did we know he was going to be better than Randy at scanning.

And so did his fingers dance. Dance they did, up and down, stabbing and passing at the various keys and buttons. I think Randy was the most pleased, Michela said. More patrols for him.

Randy nodded and smiled. It was the most lopsided smile I had ever seen.

Newbie worked through the night. We didn’t even think we had the power to work through the night. It was the break we were looking for. It was the break we deserved. Years of being consistent. Suffering setback after setback, holding tight to our boring routines, alone and all by ourselves.

The madness paid off.”

The green dots grew brighter. Turning away from his tent, he stared at the hill in front of him. Higher, he climbed. Each beep, with every moment the green balls expanded in size, the traveler pushed forward. His boots grounded a little deeper. His back held a little stronger. Muscles pumped. For a while, ever since his fight with the machine, his body had been working overtime.

But each beep of his watch spurred him on, miniature green flames that lit his soul.

Finally, he could see the crest of the hill. A small, almost faint, green shine stung him in the eyes. The traveler groaned. Widening his birth, he stepped aside the blade of grass. Even though it had been days, three, four, and five prints of his own surrounded the sign of life.

His watched screeched. The traveler thought back to the first day of this journey, imagined in which direction he stared, and turned.

The opposite way, of course.

Four bodies, jumping for joy right outside a squat, grey building, waved toward him.

He sighed and then dared to smile.