At The Hands Of War

Love is not an abundant resource during war.

People believe love is infinite—that love is everywhere—but can you find love on a battlefield? Can you find love amongst a growing pile of corpses? Maybe, maybe not—not everyone can find love. After all, it is not an infinite resource; especially during war.

Despite that, people find mysterious ways to persevere through the perilous storm that is war...

“Rudy! What the hell are you doing?!” Boomed a loud, hoarse voice, coming from inside one of the many camouflage-patterned tents. “I thought I told you not to take care of that man’s wounds!”

Another voice, male and firm, responded. “Sir, if I don’t heal him he will die. Wouldn’t exactly be beneficial for us, now would it?” The tent fell silent. Only the sound of the patient’s shallow breathing remained. A sigh could be heard coming from the rough, older man. “Fine, just don’t come running to me when you get reprimanded.”

A lone soldier stood in the shadow of the tent outside. A puff of cigarette smoke left her mouth as she listened to the commotion . Rudy was treating that enemy hostage again? Just how many times was he going to patch up a useless piece of trash because he couldn’t deal with the reality of war? She took one more inhale before flattening it beneath her boot.

Fwip, went the flap of the tent as she entered. “Are you seriously wasting all of those supplies on the enemy, Rudy? I thought you knew better than that.” She sneered, peering at the lean, red-headed medic with her green gaze. Rudy met her scornful eyes with one of exasperation before returning to his current task; wrapping the newly acquired burn mark on the hostage’s arm. “Back to bully me again, hm? Well too bad, go away.”

She let out a bark of laughter, getting right in the medic’s face. “You’re lucky you’re a medic.”

“General Mallory, please behave yourself.” The woman grunted grudgingly, listening to the higher officer’s command. She disliked it but she wouldn’t dare go against an officer of a higher position than her. Plus, Colonel Conrad was a good man—no one wanted to get on his bad side, her included.

Before anyone could say anything else, a groan came from the hostage. Rudy paused his ministrations, then continued once the black-haired man stilled his movements as he realized where he was. Deep blue eyes snapped onto her form, startling her. His eyes were like two bottomless depths of water, attempting to suck her in and drown her within them. She froze, quickly drawing her eyes away from the strange, strikingly gorgeous man.

“...Rudy? Oh, there was no need to-”

The red-haired medic cut in sharply. “No need? No need to keep you from dying? Please, if you’re going to speak, don’t waste your energy on empty words.” The blue-eyed man merely smiled softly in response, eyes hazy with exhaustion and something else she couldn’t quite discern. Mallory stood tall and firm, now glaring at the enemy soldier with a look that could only be described as pure, unadulterated detestation. She couldn’t stand that look in his eyes. Or the way that he acted so kindly to enemy soldiers. How dare he act so nice to the enemy? How dare he?! Hell, she despised it. She despised him.

...Nonetheless, her gaze remained on him and him alone.

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A soldier with deep blue eyes peered up at another soldier, one of a different color, of a different nation. He blinked thoughtfully, keeping his cool composure. He fell onto the muddy ground—a position forced on him as he was shoved by said soldier towering over him. She was a sight, truly; it was a shame she disliked him so much.

“Do you always treat other soldiers like they’re less than you?” he queried, earning him a sharp tug of his collar. A tense silence settled between them before the other soldier finally stooped down to his level, slow and menacingly. Their faces only separated by an inch of space. Breath billowing in small clouds in the cold winter. “You don’t know a single thing, Malakai.”

He chuckled. A small, taunting smile curled on his lips, “Maybe you’re right. But maybe... maybe you’re just arrogant.” That comment earned him another punch. Red tinged his lips. He spit out blood as Mallory let go of his collar roughly, sparing him the smallest spark of mercy. His lips twitched at the action, amused at the prospect of Mallory exercising mercy. She had never spared any of his comrades in battle, why spare him? Simply because he was their hostage? No, Mallory obviously didn’t see that as a fit reason to keep him alive... And neither did he.

“Save your words for someone who actually cares.” Malakai let out a questioning hum, tilting his head up at her. “Aw, come on. Won’t you at least keep me company...? Someone has to guard me—” he rose, wiping mud off of him. “—after all, you wouldn’t want me escaping, right?” He met her glare with a collected stare, knowing he had her in a trap of his own. A huff escaped her as she turned away, “Whatever, count yourself lucky I’m not one of those violent warmongers in our ranks.”

Malakai trailed after her, a smile on his bruised face. Despite it all, he remained by her side. It didn’t matter what Mallory did, because he would follow his hero even if it spelled the end for him.

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After that day, Mallory kept guard over Malakai more often than anyone else.

Not because she wanted to. Not because of a higher up’s orders. But because she insisted on it.

“If he tries anything,” she had said flatly, “I’ll handle it.”

Malakai had smiled at her stubborn way of thinking. Always smiling. Even when bruised, even when bound. Even when staring down the barrel at the very war that had consumed them both.

A sigh slipped past Mallory’s lips as Malakai went on another tangent. He talked too much for a hostage. And he asked things he shouldn’t. About her rank, her scars, about whether she ever slept without dreaming of the dead.

Once, he asked, “Do you ever get tired?” He leaned against the support beam he was chained to, throwing a lazy smile her way. Artillery thundered off in the distance. The enemy was closing in on them, day by day.

She grunted, drawing her cigarette. “Of you? All the time.”

He huffed a laugh, wincing at the way it pulled at his bruised ribs. “I meant, don’t you ever get tired of killing?”

Her hand by her side clenched, then unclenched as she forced it to relax. “My whole purpose is to kill. I...” She hesitated, her mouth frozen in an unspoken truth. “I don’t get to be tired.” Is what she really wanted to say. Then she closed her mouth, inhaling another puff.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Once again, drearily heavy silence commenced. That was the problem—he made her pause. Made her think. Made her hesitate in ways the battlefield didn’t allow.

He didn’t beg, didn’t curse her nation, didn’t spit at her boots. He simply endured; watching her like she was something more than a weapon. A civilian. A person. Human.

She hated it...

Yet she wished to stay like this for a long, long time. Here, with him, her walls crumbling down around her.

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Weeks passed. Supplies dwindled. Snow fell. And now...? Death greeted the billowing wisps of wind that encouraged the raging fire to spread throughout their camp.

The enemy had finally caught up to them. Mercy was a thing of the past. No more would they be spared another day.

The night howled loudly in the camp, the moon oblivious to their massacre. There was no mercy for those hustled in their tents, now burning alongside their fellow comrades. Tents were burned to a crisp, while their inhabitants ran rampant in a panicked haze. Gunfire lit up the night like fireworks, bright and unending.

Mercy, mercy, mercy. Mallory was denied any sense of it, yet all she felt was calm—a strange, eerily quiet calm. Even as everything burned down around her. Even as her fellow comrades ran to and fro, hurrying to safety.

Malakai stretched his hand out to her amidst the blazing scene. “Take my hand. Then we can run away, and forget it all.” Warcries and shrieking pierced through the now chaotic night. She didn’t flinch, even though her body told her to run, to flee before she was caught. Her mind was silent, despite her body screaming at her.

For a second, something flickered in her emerald gaze. Whether it was the reflection of the fire or something more, Malakai wasn’t sure. “We don’t need to fight in this war, for people who don’t care about us. They’ll never remember us, even if we fought as ruthlessly as we could.” He stepped closer, urging her to take his hand. She stood still, drowning in the deep blue depths of his eyes. “And if they do, we’ll be seen as killers. That’s all we are: ruthless killers.”

Why was he...? Maybe he was right. Maybe she should leave with him. Run away from it all and forget what she once was. There was no enjoyment in the mindless slaughter of innocent people, all because their leaders disagreed with one another. She blinked, watching him come closer.

“There’s no need for all this bloodshed. So let’s escape it, and make something better.” Malakai said softly, smiling at her.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as the two of them stood there. Malakai waited for Mallory’s agreement, hand still outstretched. The world would forget them in an instant had she offered his proposal. No more bloodshed, no more violence, no more... No more war.

She reached for his hand after a long debate with herself. Malakai’s smile widened, “I knew you would—” the sound of a gunshot replaced his words. Mallory held him as he stumbled, fixing him with wide eyes. Her hands were stained with his blood. “No... No, you can’t die now!”

Her mind focused in on his pathetic expression, tears pricking at her eyes. “You promised me something better!” Malakai’s eyes dilated at the sight of her tear-stricken face—even as he coughed blood from the wound by his own comrades, she looked utterly beautiful.

Bang! Another gunshot rang out, and then they fell to the ground. Pain seared Mallory’s throat, and suddenly she found herself unable to breathe. The green-eyed soldier tried to speak, but the sound of blood gurgling was all Malakai heard. He wrapped his arms around her weakly—embracing both her and death as they succumbed to the heavy burden of their lives. He said the words she could not say: “I love you.”

And here, even in the midst of death, love was found.