Artyom Dereschuk - Hate the Sin

“But Tsetse, come on.” Corpse Eater stepped up as well. “He sent a squad away and now he wants to split our forces even more? If those devils attack again tonight we won’t stand a chance on our own.”

“Man, quit your bitching.” He heard Desecrator’s arrogant voice behind him. “These mofos ain’t—”

“They were wounded last night,” Tsetse interrupted the other boy, looking at Corpse Eater. There was no objection from Desecrator, and the captain continued: “If they could kill us all they would have done so yesterday, but they had to fall back. Plus they lost almost a half of their forces, if not more. So as long as you stay together and keep an eye out for each other you should be fine,” the boy concluded.

“This is nonsense.” Corpse Eater stubbornly shook his head, pursing his lips. “Suicide.”

“If it makes you feel any easier, I’ll be there as well,” Tsetse said, patting his gun. “And I don’t wish to die any time soon. So don’t think that I’m sending you to your deaths. And stop wasting my time—the General already expects us to be at the perimeter.”

The festivities that Tsetse had been talking about were going at an unprecedented scale. From a distance, Corpse Eater could see that the General had rolled out pretty much everything they had at the moment. Bottles were clanking as soldiers toasted each other, and the smoke of multiple blunts that sent the adults on a vacation to the heavens was billowing upward, showing them the way. The only thing missing was music; the boom box that the soldiers loved so much was silent.

“Man, I oughta be out there.” Desecrator sighed as he watched the adults having fun. “I’ve slaughtered those bugs more than any of those pussies over there.”

“Go ahead and join them then,” Homewrecker urged him in a serious tone. Corpse Eater took a glance at his friend; not a single muscle on his face was relaxed. The boy was not taunting Desecrator. “I’m sure if you tell them the details of your achievement they’ll want to keep you close.”

“Nah,” Desecrator answered after a short pause. His eyes were glued to the center of the camp, and he didn’t even make a move to face the boy who conversed with him. “I don’t mind killing me some more. If I don’t come with you, y’all will piss your pants.”

“My hero.” Homewrecker sarcastically chuckled, making a sour face. He turned toward Corpse Eater and sighed heavily: “Are you ready for this?”

“Well, don’t lose your mind or anything but I actually got a confirmed kill last night.” Corpse Eater tried to lighten the mood. In reality he was feeling anxious, but he decided that showing that would not benefit anyone.

Homewrecker, however, was not so easily led on: “I’m in no mood for jokes,” he said as he grimly nodded toward something behind Corpse Eater. Turning around, the boy understood what was making his friend so moody.

It was one thing to think about guarding the perimeter, but completely different to see it with your own eyes. Just beyond the outskirts of the base, where the light emanating from the party was dissipating and fading, there was a pitch-black darkness. For as long as he had been in the brigade, Corpse Eater had never feared the night—it hid nothing that he should’ve been afraid of. But now that he was wiser, now that he knew that real monsters lurked in the dark, he found out that he was not as confident after the sun set as he had been in the past. In a way, it was a return to simpler times when he was just a kid and the legends and fairy tales about demons and evil spirits occupied his still-innocent mind. Only he couldn’t say he appreciated such nostalgia.

“Stay in groups when you circle the base.” It seemed that Tsetse shared their concern. “Keep an eye out both for things around you and for each other. If you see someone missing, alert the others.” The fact that their captain was considering such a possibility was not giving Corpse Eater any confidence.

“Oh yes,” Homewrecker said bitterly. “If I’m alive by the time I see them I’ll raise hell, don’t you worry about it.”

Tsetse gave him a light slap on the back of the head, but said nothing. The captain approached Puppy Slayer and put a hand on his shoulder: “You’ll be coming with me. Everyone else, split into groups of two or three. If you see any of those things—don’t try to fight them. They are ambush predators, so if you see one of them the others might be sneaking nearby.” He turned around to face the crowd of boys, and examined them. “I don’t think they’ll attack us tonight. They need to heal their wounds. But it’s best to stay vigilant.” With that, he gave the younger boy next to him a light tap on the shoulder and headed into the night. Puppy Slayer shuffled his feet awkwardly and then hurried after his captain. The rest followed.

“Goddammit,” Corpse Eater whispered under his breath. “Let’s go?” he asked Homewrecker, and his friend nodded. They headed forward into the night. With some grim satisfaction, Corpse Eater noticed that Desecrator was not in a rush to join them.

“It would be easier if they gave us a flashlight,” Corpse Eater complained after five minutes of staring into the darkness. While the boy was still strung up, the initial stress had already passed, and the only thing that remained was anxiety. As they circled the base, he could see the group in front of them, and he knew that another group behind them had their eyes on them. While Tsetse was not a brilliant tactician, his strategy seemed to work.

The only thing that annoyed Corpse Eater was the lack of light. They could at least see where they were going while they were passing the openings between the buildings, where the light from the festivities could reach them, but when they were in the building’s shadow it was too hard to see even where to step. Corpse Eater had already tripped on high grass once, as had Homewrecker.

“I don’t think they even have any.” Homewrecker sighed.

They walked in silence for some time, surrounded only by the sounds of the party on one side and songs of night creatures on the other.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking…” Homewrecker started. Corpse Eater could hear hesitation and doubt in his voice; whatever the boy wanted to talk about was hard for him to discuss.

“With all this news and rumors about warlords getting captured and hanged, I was wondering if we’re next,” he said, looking into the starry sky. “I mean, I heard the adults talk about how General Rambo was captured and fed to dogs. And his brigade was located no more than a hundred miles east from us. General Butt-Naked is said to have repented and become a priest. And now that we’ve taken such a heavy toll… Do you think the brigade will last for much longer?” he asked his friend.

Corpse Eater thought about it for a moment. “The General does seem to be desperate to keep things under control lately,” he said, glancing at the center of the base; two soldiers seemed to have started a fistfight, and the rest of them had surrounded them and started making bets as to who would be the winner.

“Right, and don’t you think that he has his reasons?” Homewrecker asked. “I feel like… like he senses that the war is going to be over soon. And when the war is over, he’ll face the consequences for his actions.”

Corpse Eater shook his shoulders: “I’ll be only happier when this is over. I’ve had my share of fighting. And if the day that man is hanged by his balls comes, I’ll dance on his grave,” he grimly concluded.

“Well, can’t say I disagree. But what will happen to us?” Homewrecker wondered.

Corpse Eater stopped. He could feel that his friend’s question carried some deeper meaning. He knew it—Homewrecker wasn’t one of those who’d miss their days of glory on the battlefield. But why was he concerned?