Conversations

Iris sighed. "It's difficult to explain. Like sometimes when you're standing and thinking, and the train of thought screeches to a halt. And then there's nothing. When you come to you find it's been minutes.

"This time it as I was actually trying to do something. The motion itself was excised from me. I froze, just for a few seconds, unable to move a muscle."

Mack was skeptical that such a condition existed. But he believed that she believed it, that in that moment, she wasn't lying, and that something about the experience had broken a small piece of her.

After all, there were few times he had seen her truly nervous, breaking her usual confident and glimmering exterior shell. 

Uncomfortable with the silence, Iris sought to fill it. "Sorry. Sorry. I sound crazy. I guess this isn't as universal of an experience as I thought."

Yet again, an interesting structure of a sentence. What would make her think such a strange thing applied to other people in the first place? Had someone else said something similar?

Mack couldn't stay mad at her after hearing this... interesting explanation. Though it intrigued him, any further pondering would pop the veins in his forehead like fireworks. 

"Hey, it's all good. Wanna take a walk with me to blow off some steam? This isn't exactly the best place to talk." he offered. 

It seemed to calm her down, anxiety in her pooling sapphire eyes dimming. "Yeah. Thanks for understanding."

With that, Mack slung the rifle over his shoulder, and quickly repacked its care kit to take with him. 

The whole camp wasn't large. There was the War Room, the mess hall, the medic tent, the administration building, and the barracks (with a smaller outpost attached for women). 

As Holmes had mentioned, this was an outpost, temporarily erected for the sole purpose of defending against the enemy. Therefore, most buildings didn't have a foundation more than a few inches deep, and certainly not one of reinforced concrete. 

When they left the Frontline, it would take nothing more than a few thunderstorms to erase all trace they had been there. 

Mack led Iris to the edge of camp, where sat a sandy hill. They began the climb, and on the way continued conversations. 

"What's the first thing you're gonna do when you get out of here?" asked Mack, bracing his hands on the ground to not slip on the incline. 

Though she was behind him, he couldn't help but imagine a particular expression on her face, when she was deep in thought and one of her eyebrows furrowed deeper than the other. 

"I don't know." The words sounded surprisingly hollow for such an inocuous question. 

"That's not an answer," Mack teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I mean I never thought about making it out of here. It always seemed so far away to me, something unreachable," she said. 

Mack mulled over the words, realizing he felt the same. It was odd to think this period of life would someday become a distant memory; the present was just too all-consuming, 

"Think about it now, then. We have time."

A brief snort of laughter clipped behind him. "I suppose. I guess... I would take a long, hot shower."

"Ooh," the image formed in Mack's mind, "that would be awesome."

The camp showers were connected to a groundwater reservoir below and circulated in the filtration system. Since using water cost energy, and heating it cost even more, the only option was three to five minutes of sopping shivering. 

"What about you then?" asked Iris, sending a rock clattering down the hill with a step. 

He didn't even have to think about it. "Cinnamon rolls. Freshly baked."

"Reasoning being?"

"They're simply the superior dessert."

"You have questionable taste."

He looked back to meet a lopsided grimace and couldn't help but smile. 

"You wouldn't be saying that if you had a taste of my ma's." Mack retorted. The response fell out of his mouth as if--

for a single second he knew what Iris was referring to. A pull. Then as soon as it came, it disappeared. 

Mack turned back to hide his dropping smile. 

"I'll have to come over and try, then."

His cheeks flushed red, and he forgot about the discomfort of the moment prior. 

"Y-yeah, I guess you will." He paused. "We'll both make it out of here alive, you know that right?"

Iris' lips pursed together. "Don't invite contradiction in, another alternative. It's not a question. It's a statement. 

"We'll all survive. And try your mom's cinnamon rolls."

"Oh," Mack said, trying to hide the simultaneous disappointment and embarrassment in his voice. There went his chance at a nice brunch date. 

As their heads crested the top of the hill, Mack noticed a figure already atop it. A fellow soldier, decked in full gear, helmet resting by his side with a number '10' emblazoned on its back. 

The man sat, forearms resting on crossed legs, gaze turned towards the still-sinking sun ahead. A lit cigarette protruded from his lips.

He had dark hair and a visible tan from the environment's beating sun. A scar dug a trench into a partially-caved in cheekbone, above which sat a pair of dark circles encasing bark-black eyes. 

Mack and Iris were about to turn back down so as to not invade his privacy, but the man spoke first. 

"Couldn't rest either, eh? Though I suppose it ain't your squad that oughtta be worried in the first place." Flecks of ash drifted onto his clothes as the cigarette moved with his lips. 

"Something like that," Mack replied. "I take it you're with No. 10?"

The man nodded, not taking his gaze off the horizon. 

"You fellas want a smoke?" he asked, and fished a smuggled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

Mack didn't particularly want to. 

"Sure," Iris said, walking past Mack and taking a stick. 

The man took the cigarette out of his mouth and turned it towards the one Iris grabbed. After a few seconds, the embers transferred over to hers. 

Sighing, Mack stepped over the lip of the hill and went to sit besides the two of them. 

A sentence began formulating, "So-"

A string of hacks and coughs interrupted him. Next to him, Iris, eyes watering, tried her best to expel the lungful of smoke she'd just inhaled. 

Mack couldn't help but let out a laugh. 

"First time, eh?" the man chuckled. 

"Oh," cough "shut up." 

She took a second drag, and her chest spasmed to contain a second bout of would-be coughs. 

They sat in a meditative lull as the evening sun descended lower in the sky. There would be no sleep that night. Only the shuffling of boots and uniforms as everyone prepared their weapons, reviewed protocols, and got into formation. 

An hour before dawn's first halo shone over the horizon, Mack had already moved into position, taking aim at the uneven terrain ahead. 

As the first glints of light sparked angrily at his visor, they brought with them that day's mission. 

The first few soldiers were sighted at 7:08a.m. 

The bodies would not be cleaned until that night.