In times like this where a stray round could mean the end for me, I reminded myself that I did believe in fate. That if it was my time to go, then it was my time to go, and no amount of worrying or fear was going to change that.
I didn’t believe in chance. I’m not sure how I could justify that with what happened in the events of my wife’s death, but I had to believe that it was all for a reason. Living a life that meant nothing, with no order, only ruled by luck and chance, was not a world I would abide; it wasn’t one I could abide.
With those thoughts coursing through my mind in the space of a second, I ran. Blaster rounds scorched the ground around me, burrowing into tree trunks as we flanked the enemy position.
When we had covered the space of a few dozen yards to our right, we swung around in a tight arc to come up behind where we thought the Enzites might be.
I would never tell Rima this, but I was grateful for my cardio training. Sprinting this distance felt as easy as walking. I breathed in clean lungsful of air, exhaling slowly and in control. Could I keep this level of calm up for miles at a time? Definitely not. But I could do it long enough to get to the Enzites.
My former self had been on Earth without hope, but that version of me was gone now. The version I was now still had a cohort of problems, but my physical well-being wasn’t one of them. What I’m trying to say is that I had ninety-nine problems, but a belly wasn’t one.
There was no room for error over the course of our run. I let Rima take the lead at the front. It was her place. Not only that, but she had years more training and experience than I had. More so, I wanted her to take the lead. I respected her that much.
No time to think, no time to second guess, only time to react. In the space of a few heartbeats, we were among them. There were more Enzites than I had at first thought. Dozens of soldiers took cover behind rock outcroppings covered in moss or thick tree trunks.
Rima bellowed something I didn’t remember. Maybe it wasn’t a word, just the sound of ruin. Like the rune in my blasting staff stood for hope, the rune in Rima’s sword meant vengeance.
The Enzites were used to fighting Ursonians, other soldiers who were large and brawled with conventional military training. Rima and I weren’t that. We were the Rowki. Our title alone should give the Enzites pause.
Each move I made marked either the death or immobilization of an enemy soldier. They had time to turn to see Rima howling before our weapons were on them. I sent my blasting staff through the helmet of one Enzite soldier then called it back to my hand through the back of another’s helmet.
Their armor was nothing compared to the power of our weapons. Rima’s sword glowed a brilliant white and my blasting staff poured a crimson red over the scene.
I witnessed Rima hack four more Enzite soldiers down as we continued to run forward. I had no pity in my heart for the death and destruction I caused. That scared me. But a sole truth remained: it was either me or them. If I didn’t strike first, they would not hesitate to put me six feet under. If that was the only choice I was given, me or them, then it would be them every time.
Rima and I continued our grisly work to the center of their line. A group of Enzites there were ready for us. Still not a match for two Rowki, but at least they were turned in the right direction and opened fire when they saw us.
I took a round to my chest plate and another to the left side of my vivarium cape. The blasts felt like punches enough for me to register I had been hit, but they would leave little more than a bruise in the morning.
A grenade, on the other hand, tossed frantically by one of the Enzites was close enough to take me off my feet. I saw it too late. I turned, shielding myself with the cloak at the last second. The blast lifted me off the ground and tossed me to the right a good three yards in the air. I landed hard, the wind knocked out of me so violently, I had trouble regaining my breath.
Ears ringing, I fought to my feet. Black boots stood in front of me as I regained my senses. Ebony armor covered a figure from head to neck, leaving her head free. This was no Enzite armor. The Enzites were a bug species that used their exoskeletons as armor. At most, they used helmets with a few added pouches and belts to carry gear. This person was human.
More so, this person was a human female. I trembled in her presence. I didn’t want to look at her face. I didn’t want to admit all sanity had left me. But I had too; I was called to it like a moth to flame. Like a broken lover toward false hope. I looked up into the eyes of the woman I had loved. The woman I still loved. The woman I’d buried and shed thousands tears for over the course of thousands of days.
There wasn’t a single moment I didn’t think of her. A song that would come to mind, a saying she would repeat, a food she enjoyed. Her fingerprints were everywhere in my life to this day, and now, now here she was, again.
My mouth opened to speak a word, but no word came. I shook my head. Everything, the fight, the war at hand, everything took a back seat to the macabre miracle I now beheld.
She stared at me with indifference in her eyes. No hint of recollection whatsoever. If anything, there was blame, malice even, in that one single look.
“Christina?” I finally managed to ask, shaking my head in wonder. “No, no, I buried you. What is this? Who are you?”
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