Artyom Dereschuk - Hate the Sin

Would it be easy to chew?

There was only one way to find out.

Puppy Slayer wasn’t thinking about anything anymore. He wasn’t afraid of what Tsetse or the General would say. There was only one thing on his mind—something that couldn’t be put into words, something that predated them. An impulse that had been passed down from generation to generation for millions of years, ensuring the survival of those who’d listened to it.

He opened his mouth and took a small bite out of the fish. He wanted to snip off a small piece but involuntarily bit off more than he initially intended to.

The fish was unlike anything he’d eaten in a long time, practically melting on his tongue. The boy instantly knew that all the risk was worth it. To have something so delicious in his mouth felt incredible, and he couldn’t resist closing his eyes from the pleasure. He wanted to taste it more, but his body was acting on its own accord, and his tongue pushed the fish further down his throat, into his stomach. Just like that, the amazing taste was gone, leaving only traces of it as a reminder of the boy’s trespassing.

Almost instantly, a wave of regret washed over him. What have I done? What will the G eneral do to me when he finds out?

He curled his fists and looked ahead: Tsetse was still walking toward the camp, not turning around. Had he seen me eat that fish he would’ve stopped me, right ? the boy thought frantically, trying to find a way out of his situation. And if he didn’t see me, then he won’t tell the G eneral nothing. Because he didn’t see it. Right?

Unless someone else saw me , he realized, with another wave of panic already getting ready to wash over him. The boy slowly turned to his right, hoping to see no one, but his heart immediately sunk to new depths of despair.

Corpse Eater was standing some twenty feet away from him, holding the loaf of bread that Tsetse had given him. Looking in his eyes, Puppy Slayer realized: he saw everything.

The boy almost stopped breathing, frantically thinking over his options. Kill him? No, he wouldn’t be able to shoot another human again. He couldn’t bear seeing the flesh and bone being torn by his bullets. Run away? But where to? Who would accept him as he was?

But Corpse Eater didn’t look at him judgingly. No, his eyes relayed some other meaning. Jealousy? Sadness?

Hunger?

Corpse Eater looked down at the loaf of bread he was holding, and then slowly, almost backing out at one moment, raised it to his teeth and took a bite.

Puppy Slayer was silently watching how the boy was taking one bite after another from the bread that he was holding. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how another boy stopped walking and started watching Corpse Eater eating.

One by one, the boys around them were stopping to observe that small act of rebellion—not a large-scale one that their General envisioned, but a more personal one, a rebellion against the circumstances that were pushing on them. A performance to show that they could act on their own. And one after another, all the boys around him were starting to join in.

Some were more hesitant than the others, but all of them—Homewrecker, who killed a man to fulfill the General’s mission; Desecrator, who was forced to part with some of his trophies; Marlboro Man, who was had been smoking to dull the feeling of hunger; and even a young Death Herald, who was taking the General’s words and commands close to his heart—had stopped to take a bite out of their catch. One bite became two, two became three, and, encouraged by one another’s example, they started eating, pausing only to take a glance in Tsetse’s direction.

Puppy Slayer looked down at the fish in his hands and noticed that his teeth left a very distinct small bite mark in the fish’s leathery dried-up flesh. The General may ask where this bite has come from, Puppy Slayer thought to himself. Of course, he could say that he tore the fish out of some kid’s mouth… But that would mean lying to the General, and the boy trembled at the very thought of doing so. He was too scared to lie to the General. He was too scared to be exposed by him.

So if lying wasn’t an option, why leave any evidence at all? The boy took another, bigger bite out of his catch. He still had a loaf of bread to bring to the General, after all. He would be satisfied with it as well.

“Is this it?!” the General yelled, making Puppy Slayer wince. He was lucky the General didn’t see it, as the man was walking along the row of boys. All of them, with the exception of Tsetse, were looking down. All the food that they’d brought from the village was put into one big pile at the entrance to the General’s tent and, put together like that, it was obvious to Puppy Slayer that they’d eaten too much. “Is this all that you’ve brought?!” He shouted the question at his ranks, pointing at the small pile of food on the floor. One of the adult soldiers behind him snickered.

“Do you want to be kicked out of the brigade?!” the General shouted at Orphan Maker. The boy shifted around uneasily. “All right then. Go. Go!” He pushed the kid and he fell to the ground. “Get the hell out of my sight!” he shouted at the kid.

Orphan Maker didn’t move. He didn’t even get up. He was lying on the floor and eyeing the General with eyes full of fear. Even if wanted to leave the brigade, going through with it—or maybe even agreeing to it in front of the General—was a capital offence.

“You don’t like my orders, you don’t listen to me—go,” the General added calmly. The boy was on the verge of tears, but he knew that if a single drop rolled down his cheek the General would gouge his eyes out for showing weakness.

“Please don’t,” Orphan Maker whispered, gulping. “Please don’t kick me out, General. I’ll behave. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“You promise?” The General sneered at him. Then, in an instant, he forgot about the boy altogether. That part of his show was over.

The General straightened up and looked at the boy at the end of the row: “Tsetse, my boy, what did I ask you to do?” He approached his captain, inquisitively sticking his neck out like a goose.

“To bring food from the village,” Tsetse said, not dropping a beat. He wasn’t looking at the General, despite the man being almost in his face, and his expression remained stoic and disinterested as usual. Puppy Slayer could only dream about being as resistant to the man’s mental assault.

“Didn’t I tell you about the responsibility before your superiors?” the man asked, making half-circles next to the boy.

“You did, General.” Tsetse nodded.

“Then, what did you bring?” the General screamed in the boy’s face, simultaneously pointing at the food on the floor. “Is this what my soldiers are supposed to eat?! How are they supposed to go into battle if they are starving?! Huh?!”

Tsetse glanced at the small mountain, his head still looking forward. This is the end, Puppy Slayer thought to himself. His curled up fists relaxed and his hands dangled. There was no way Tsetse wouldn’t notice there was less food than when they left the village.

Tsetse was silent for a few seconds, inquisitively looking at the food. Then, turning his eyes forward, he said: “That is all the food we found in the village.”

“How can it be all the food they have?!” the General screamed at him, grabbing the boy by the collar of his T-shirt. “Tsetse! Look at me!” he shouted, and the boy turned his head, locking eyes with the General. Fury clashed with indifference.

“How can it be all the food they had, Tsetse?” the General repeated, lowering his voice, but still making it clear that he could burst at any moment. “The whole village can’t survive on so little food.”