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Red
Posted By: A Halo Fan...natic<mikeandrewp@gmail.com>
Date: 26 September 2007, 1:02 am
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Blood is darker than most people think. It's a deep, dark red, almost black, and it flows sluggishly. Most people are shocked when they first see a puddle of blood - all the movies and games set them up for something bright red, like red paint. People are fooled by their own expectations.
Pretty, ain't it? Took me a week to write that. You always hear such beautiful speeches on TV. I'm not like that. I don't follow a script. I say what I mean.
What do I remember about the invasion? Too much. It was awful. I lost my home, my wife, my daughter, and it was all my fault. The thing I remember most was the red. Oh, god, the red.
The streets were that color, that deep, dark, angry crimson. The air was filled with the stench of blood, burnt flesh, shit, and smoke. The bodies were piled upon each other in the corners. The only thing more omnipresent than the blood and rubble was the bodies. I was sitting in the rubble when they found me, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a pistol in the other.
I was there when it happened.
We had no warning. One second we were asleep, the next the apartment building was shaking, dancing to a hidden tune. The earth groaned like an angry bull, and the windows shattered inwards. My wife Loretta screamed as I went to the broken windows.
What I saw was a horror deeper and more complete than you can imagine. In the instant I looked out the window, I knew that I was doomed. Do you understand me? I saw my own death. Squatting there like some bloated monster was an alien ship, its underside lit red as if by the fires of Hell.
We'd seen the newscasts, heard the politicians and generals, but did we listen? No. We ignored them. We were too safe, too comfortable. Aliens were things up in the sky, not something that could actually affect us. We were 26th century Citizens of Earth, not some Neolithic barbarians afraid of lights in the sky. So we ignored the warnings. Until then.
I told Loretta and our seven year-old daughter Melissa to get ready, then started packing our survival kit. I filled some jugs with water, put the caps on them, then stuck them in the car. Those were followed by any food I could find that looked non-perishable. Then the red jerry can of gas we kept in the garage.
I didn't have a gun. Was that a mistake? I thought so for a long time, but now that I've thought it through, I don't think that it would have made any difference. The outcome would be the same. Hindsight is 20/20. You can play the "What if?" game forever, but it won't change anything.
Where was I? Oh, yes, we packed the car and left.
The drive was a nightmare. Nearly two-thirds of the city must have packed up and left like we did. We cut on to some back roads and made better progress, following the instructions of the GPS unit, but the ship still loomed large behind us, filling our vision, only faintly obscured by the dust from the car's ground-effect. It drove us onward, away from the city, from the ship, into the wilds.
Eventually, the ship dropped from sight. The GPS said we were in the middle of the Mojave, nearly a hundred miles from Phoenix. Still, I drove on. I don't know how long I drove for, but finally we stopped to eat and fill the tank from the gas can. The desert was a red expanse of sand stretching for miles on either side. We were entranced by it. It was then that it happened.
Loretta, my love, the woman I'd spent my life with, was standing in the road with her untouched food in one hand. She was watching something come up the road behind us. I went over to her and watched as well, expecting some alien vehicle. But it was merely another car, a red Sedan. It drove up to us and stopped. Two men got out.
They were tough looking, an old man and a younger one, presumably his son. I walked over waving my hand, about to offer help, when the younger one pulled a shotgun on me. I froze, and he grinned, and said, "We're a woman short. We're taking yours."
I stared at them in horror, then turned to Loretta. She was staring at me, waiting for me to offer them some resistance, something. I turned back to the man and opened my mouth to say no, but the older man cut me off.
"I wouldn't recommend resisting," he said. I didn't argue. I stayed rooted to the spot.
Loretta pleaded with them, begged, but they didn't want to hear it. They grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the car. I moved to stop them, but the younger man pointed the shotgun at me again and I stopped. A lady stepped out of the car, and started screaming at the two men. The older one slapped her with his free hand, then shoved her in the car. He tried to push Loretta in after her, but she screamed and clawed and squirmed, refusing to cooperate.
I wanted to help. I really did. But the younger one just kept pointing his gun at me and I couldn't move. Finally the older man succeeded in getting Loretta into the car. The last I saw of her was a glimpse of her red hair before the door slammed shut. The two men got back into their car, and it drove off.
Have I heard anything about her since? No. And I'm almost glad I haven't. Even if we did find each other again, I doubt she'd even want to speak to me. I failed her. I let them take her, take her away. I did nothing. Nothing! That man might have killed me, but at least I would have tried. So if I ever find Loretta alive and well, I deserve any and all abuse she may inflict on me. I failed her. I lost her, and I lost our daughter.
How did that happen? Well, Melissa was smart enough to stay hidden in the car when the men came. She didn't see what happened, thank God, though I think she might have realized eventually, when I stopped answering her when she asked where her mom was.
I drove in a daze. The road ran in a straight line through the red desert. That which had seemed so pretty before now seemed empty and barren. Slowly, gradually, the road started to wind again. Our elevation started to climb. The GPS said we were going into the Sierra Nevada range. I didn't care. I couldn't stop thinking about Loretta.
Then we ran out of gas.
I was puzzled at first, then frightened. I'd left the jerry can behind when the men took Loretta. We were stranded. But I checked the GPS, and there was a town, Green, only twenty miles away. I got out, grabbed as many supplies as I could, then ran into a problem. Melissa couldn't walk that far.
Had I been by myself I might have made it to Green by noon the next day, but Melissa was only a child. She couldn't walk twenty miles in a night and a day.
So I carried her.
I had to leave some of the food behind, and a sleeping bag, but I did it. It was my finest hour. I carried her that twenty miles and made it to Green by nine the next morning, reaching it in time to see the sun rise in a blazing glory of orange and red. I set Melissa down and we had lunch by the city limits sign. I would have been proud of myself, if I'd been capable of feeling anything at all.
We walked to the edge of town, but we saw no one. The streets were empty. Cars were parked in the middle of the street, some of them broken into. I looked for one that had the keys in it, but I had no luck.
Then we heard the noise. It was like a dull roar off in the distance, ominous and low. We preceded cautiously. It got louder as we got closer to the center of town, building and rising until the ground almost shook. We rounded a corner and there it lay.
The town's entire populace was gathered in the central square, yelling and shoving, while some official looking man in an expensive suit, the mayor, I'd guess, tried to calm them down. We arrived just in time to see order break down.
The official was yelling through a bullhorn, waving his free arm around emphatically. Suddenly, he pitched over with a dark, red blot on his chest. People screamed. Something exploded, a homemade bomb, I guess. The crowd poured out of the square in all directions, including ours. We ran, and hid in an abandoned store with a red sign proclaiming "Paco's Tacos".
When the flow of people slowed to a trickle, we emerged, only to hear something even worse than the crowd - a high pitched whine, coming from everywhere. The people running past stopped and looked up.
Green fire fell from the sky. Buildings exploded in flame, people disintegrated, bodies were thrown about like rag dolls. I grabbed Melissa got her into a corner, tried to shield her with my own body. The crowd came running back down the street, in the opposite direction now, as something chased them. We were swept up in the tide and pushed under. I tried to keep hold of Melissa's hand, but I couldn't, I tried, but I couldn't, she was swept away from me, I…
I apologize, it's… It's hard.
I woke up in the middle of the street. It was deserted truly, now, the people gone, leaving only the dead and the dying. I crawled to the top of a pile of rubble and looked about. I couldn't see Melissa. I stood, with some difficulty, and walked down the street. A block later, I found her.
She was lying face down, motionless, her red dress fluttering in the wind. I cried for joy at seeing her, running over, trying to wake her, but she… she didn't. I… I rolled her onto her back, and…
I don't like to remember what her face was like. Suffice it to say, she'd been, ah, been trampled by the crowd. I threw up, then cried. I sat in the street and cried.
I don't know how long I sat there, but it must have at least been an hour. Eventually, I got up and wandered about. I found an intact liquor store and broke the front window with a trashcan. I drank everything in sight.
That's how the patrol found me. Drunk, delirious, half-dead. I had a pistol. I don't know where I found it. Maybe in the store somewhere? No matter. I tried to shoot them, but the pistol didn't have a round chambered. They got hold of my arms and gave me a detox pill. When I was half-way sober, they pointed me in the direction of their forward base and set me on my way.
A couple of blocks later I found a group of policemen, bound and gagged. There was a gaggle of thugs around them, laughing and jeering. I watched impassively. One of the thugs had a cattle prod and was poking the officers with it. The criminals found it good sport. Finally, they tired of the game and shot them all dead.
I did nothing. I watched the police die, and did nothing. One of them saw me and looked me in the eye right before the leader pulled the trigger. I turned the other way and walked.
I could have acted. I had the pistol. I could have tried to save them. But I didn't. I did nothing. And I felt no regret.
Eventually, I reached the base the marines had spoken of. They gave me food, water, a shower, a cot in a tent with forty others. I just did whatever they told me to do. No one tried to make me do anything. They must have seen the look in my eyes.
So I really saw very little of the invasion. I never even saw an alien. But I saw how fragile our civilization is. People are monsters. Maybe the aliens were right? If we're capable of doing things like that to ourselves, what might we do to another species? I don't know.
I don't know what I'm living for now. My life is gone. I've been living on Wellfare since the Marines found me. I've lost my home, my love, my daughter, my life. I'm ashamed. I saw civilization break down, and I did nothing to stop it. I could have. I could have tried, even if it made me a martyr. But I didn't. I am a coward. Why is that?
The streets ran red, and I did nothing.
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