It was difficult to make out the routes on the torn, wrinkled map, no matter how often I held it up.

Several times I had to pull over and park the truck on the side of the road to get a better glance of it in the early morning light, while making sure to look out for other vehicles and people passing by. The street signs were faded with the black words peeling off at the edges. It wasn’t like the roads were in any great shape themselves, being riddled with potholes. After peeking out to make sure there no soldiers or army trucks nearby, I twisted the screwdriver in the ignition to get the engine running again, which took three to four tries to succeed. I slowly exhaled before tying the bandana around my face.

If it shut down completely, I was out of options.

The afternoon sun had risen halfway up the sky by the time Portia appeared in my view, after hours of seeing dozens of woods and the remains of destroyed villages and homes. A few civilians were gathered by the trees, arguing and yelling over an escaped prisoner they had found and pulling him out of sight. Dirt turned into grass underneath the tires as I finally parked the vehicle and turned it off, hoping that the engine wouldn’t malfunction. As I tried to get out, I lost my footing and fell face first into the mud, the impact causing it to splatter all over my clothes.

With one hand, I weakly grabbed at my crutch, ignoring the splinter that dug into my skin. I struggled to my feet as I stared at the vast field that lead to the small city in front of me.

It felt like ages since I had been here, although the graves of the dozens of soldiers that my platoon and I buried were hidden by the tall, long grass that blew and swayed gently in the wind. Yet the worst thing that met my sight was the wall that I had destroyed, which was festering with the Red Mambas who had each and every inch of the front gate guarded. The large, ragged gap remained from the impact of the wave I created, covered with moss and weeds.

A huge crowd of people gathered around the entrance, where they had their belongings checked, being screamed at to move along after passing a Red Mamba sitting at a table, going through some papers. Others who they deemed unworthy to pass were shot, their blood spilling on the ground. Those who were driving up close had their vehicles stopped and forced to get out at gunpoint, blasting bullet holes through the window.

I pulled away and leaned against a tree trunk, breathing hard.

Maybe my logic had gone out the window, for sure, and even if my face was covered, the type of clothes that I had been seen wearing last would bring the attention I didn’t need. Ignoring the pain in my back, I bent down and scooped up the cool mud with one hand before slathering it all over my sleeves, jeans, skin, and hair until my skin was completely covered in it.

My stomach twisted with dread, but after pulling the hood over my head, I kept my eyes on the ground as I slowly hobbled forward. The grass reached my chest as I made my way through the thousands of bodies squirming their way to get through the gate, keeping my head low as I was about to step past the walls.

“Halt!”

The voice was sharp, and a rough hand grabbed my arm, pulling me to the side. A wave of panic rushed over me; how had I failed already? The mud hadn’t worked. My heart started pounding as I felt the soldier’s rifle, a cool cylinder shape, press against my temple as I was shoved to my knees. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead as one of the soldiers stood in front of me. The screams of a woman filled my ears as a gunshot rang out, blood splattering against the worn brick surface of the wall. Those who had been walking by began to pick up the pace a little faster, not daring to look.

“Where are your papers?”

I slowly held my hands up.

”Answer me!”

The other private kicked me against the side, a sharp pain traveling through my ribs. I gritted my teeth when I heard the familiar clicking sound of the bullet ready to penetrate my skull. As I braced myself, there was another loud popping sound, and heavy commotion from the crowd.

My sweaty fingers curled around the screwdriver in my pocket as the man’s attention was diverted for one moment, before swinging my arm and jabbing it deep into his left eye. I did not have time to listen to his screams or see the blood traveling down his face as I began to book it through the gate, ignoring the pain in my bad leg. Two soldiers began yelling and pointing at me as I pushed past several people, trying to find my way through the sea of bodies and faces.

Bits of saliva flew out of their mouths; their eyes wide with rage. Something wet and warm stained my hands as I tried to shut out the man’s curdling cries. He dropped on his knees to the ground, the bloodied screwdriver poking out between his fingers. It was stuck in his face, like someone had stabbed a fork into a steak. I pried my eyes away from the sight. After I made my way through the rubble of the destroyed buildings and the lines of civilians who were selling prisoners, I found myself in a dark alley. A sharp pain ran through my arm as the bullets behind me left small clouds of dirt in the ground.

My breaths grew heavier as I stumbled further in the shadows, only a few rays of sunlight peeking through. Rats scurried around in every corner as I quickly stepped into an abandoned building and stared at my bloody sleeve. It was dark inside, but cooler. Cobwebs hung from every ceiling, and graffiti marked the walls. I winced in pain at the large, dark red hole embedded in my skin.

Shit.

Something slammed into the back of my head, and before I knew it, the entire world went pitch black as my body went limp.

* * * * *

“Is he dead? Should we keep him here?”

The voice was deep and uncertain, although muffled. I tried to blink, my eyelids suddenly very heavy. Everything was blurry around me, and the room was somewhat dark, except for a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. I was sitting in a chair; a dull pain rested at the back of my head. When I tried to move my arms I realized I couldn’t, because they were tied backwards. My blood left a stain against the rope that restrained my body. As I slowly raised my head, I could make out a tall figure who towered over me. In the back, another one was leaning against a worn table, smoking a cigarette. They threw it down and stepped on it with their boot.

“He’s not dead, Maxwell. Look, he’s still breathing.”

I grunted and tried to break free, but the figure slowly came closer from the table, their face hidden by the dim light. In their hands was an AK-47, and I suddenly felt tiny and powerless as the huge firearm loomed over me, the strap dangling in the air. Had fate only made me escape from the soldiers just to end up here? The mud that had dried up and caked over my skin began to itch.

“Who are you?” the voice demanded. “What are you doing here on our property?”

”I...I didn’t know it was yours; I’m so sorry.” I barely managed to get the words out, since it was so hard to breathe. “I was running. I’m trying to look for some people, people who can help me.”

“How long have you been watching us? More like you were giving them information. For a pretty rupee or a water bottle, no doubt.”

“Please. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just want to speak any generals that—“

“Liar,” the voice hissed. It was a different one, most likely coming from the one in front of me. “I was willing to give you a chance to at least speak the truth. You are a spy for the Red Mamba, are you not? You were sent here by them. No spy escapes from my eye. None. I obviously can’t trust you enough to let you go, so maybe death will be a better option for you.”

I could only swallow hard as I heard the sound of a magazine being replaced, my heart racing against my chest. A flashlight flickered on, and as the yellow sphere met my eye, I squinted against the sudden brightness on my face. The man’s covered face was stern, his dark eyes narrowed with anger. When we made eye contact, he suddenly dropped the weapon, causing it to clatter on the decayed wooden floor. The other guy stared at him like he had gone mad.

“What’s wrong?” his accomplice asked.

The man ignored him, his eyes suddenly turning moist. After studying at me for a long time, he bent down and slowly pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming in the light. I flinched as he began sawing at the rope holding me back. Maxwell’s jaw dropped as he stepped closer to stop him, but the man shook his head, raising his hand at him.

“Go and tell the others that we are okay. I can deal with this on my own, alright?”

Maxwell hesitated for a moment, but didn’t say another word. He glared at me for a moment before stepping outside the room and closing the door, his footsteps disappearing. I simply continued to observe the man who finally cut the last knot, setting me free. He stared at the ground as I stumbled to my feet. I did not know why had set me free, but it was probably wise to go before he changed his mind. When I got up, I realized that I was much taller than him.

“Get out of my sight,” he muttered. “You’re too young for this type of type of thing, and I don’t want the authorities to be coming over here. You’re a kid. Forgive me for my rudeness, but we have far too many spies trying to take us down. We simply can’t take anymore chances. At least before you go, let us take care of that wound you have.”

I stood there for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of dream. Before I knew it, I had stepped in front of him and blocked his way. He glared at me.

“W..wait! Like I mentioned before, I was wondering if you knew where any generals or soldiers are, that have served this city. Do you know where I could find them?”

The man scowled as he jabbed a thumb against my chest. “Why would I tell you such a thing even if I did know? Some are in prison of course; others are most likely dead. What do you want with them, anyways?”

“I...” I struggled to come up with a lie. “I’m planning a revolt, trying to protect...protect my homeland. I’m from Flanders. Used to be a soldier myself, you know. Escaped out of prison recently from the Red Mamba. Hated those fucking bastards since day one. Problem is that I was only in the army for a short time. If someone would help me out, I would gladly appreciate it.”

He sighed. “I am a former general of the army in this city. Most of us are scattered around the place. We were doing well keeping the bastards away until our wall was destroyed. No doubt you are only a private, judging by your age. We could use some help. Matter of fact, I think I could refresh you on some things.”

The wave of guilt consumed me, but I pushed it away. I had to stay focused for the sake of everyone back in Selva. The man extended his hand towards me. I gave it a decent shake, hoping he didn’t notice how badly mine was shaking.

“The name is Plank. Welcome to the Mardren. There are only forty of us here, although most of us have escaped from the prisons already. You will do exactly what you are told, and when you are told to do it. If you decide to leave us, one of us will come with you to make sure that you aren’t doing anything suspicious. Is that understood?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What is your name?”

It would be impossible to tell him, of course, since I had about three of them. A dozen answers came into my mind, but the stupidest one arrived at the tip of my tongue. Before I could stop myself, the words had already come out of my mouth.

“Sandwich King.”

A surprised look came upon his face. “Are you serious? Maybe we hit you in the head harder than we thought. The hell kind of a name is that?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and gave him a sheepish grin. “Just...just call me that. Or you can call me SK for short. Either one works with me.”

Plank glanced at me sideways as he picked up his weapon. “SK. First things first. I will introduce you to a few of our men. I expect you to show them the utmost respect that they deserve. One slip up, I’m kicking you off my territory. They will teach you everything you know. But you must do another thing.”

“What’s that?”

He wrinkled his nose. “When’s the last time you had a bath?”

* * * * *

Because a small amount of people here were civilians, they were able to fill up a large tub of warm water and hand me a rough rag and a bar of soap before leaving me into another room, where they said I had five minutes. Beads of water dripped from my hair and got into my eyes. Months of dirt, sweat, and blood quickly turned the water dark brown as I scrubbed myself up, my filthy clothes piled up in one corner. Red sores and blisters lined my chest, back, arms and legs, but it was freezing cold as I rinsed off and dried myself the best I could. Yet my wounded arm, while bandaged, stung like crazy.

My fingers gripped the edge of the tub when I slowly stood up and climbed out, wincing in pain as a giant puddle spilled on the floor. I exhaled, letting my warm breath escape my lips. My ribs were showing through my wet skin, right by the dark purple spot where that soldier struck me. The shivers that took over my naked, bruised body were starting to overwhelm me and I could not stop hugging myself, tightening my arms around my shoulders.

I struggled to get into the oversized grey flannel shirt and pushed the buttons through the holes, although the top three leading to the collar were missing. After putting on a faded pair of jeans and and retying my face with a bandana, I then slipped the old jacket they had given me on top of everything. Even though I smelled faintly of cigarettes, wearing clean clothes was a miracle, yet the falsehood that had slipped from my mouth weighed down on my shoulders.

* * * * *

Plank lead me down the dilipitated hallway, where the floorboards were so weak they looked like they were about to snap. Several other men were in the building, talking and drinking amongst themselves, releasing smoke in the air. When they saw me hobbling behind they gave me a curious look, but said nothing as I stepped into a small room. Three older men sat behind a table, covered with a huge map of the city. One was stout, the second tall and slim, and the third looking like he was in his late fifties. They immediately stood up when they saw Plank enter the room. He saluted.

“Generals,” he said. “This is SK, who I was talking about earlier. I think he would be a great help towards Operation Greene. Right near the Khonie labor camp.”

The stout one clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, Plank, you didn’t tell me he was injured. This could probably be somewhat of a disadvantage to us, no? He can barely walk properly, and he looks sickly and thin. What he needs is a good meal; I’ve seen broomsticks with more meat than him. Maybe send him back to where he comes from.”

“Oh...oh no, sir,” I said quickly. “I can shoot a gun well, most of the time. I can do anything you want. My leg will heal up pretty soon. I’m more than grateful to—“

”Quiet,” one of the men barked.

“But I...“

Plank bumped me with his elbow to shut me up. “What he’s trying to say, General Thompson, is that he simply wants to aid you in your work. He’s only a lad. Your other men are getting older and beaten down, we need someone young and strong to scout the area. Someone who can be a big help to them.”

Thompson stared at me for a moment, before reaching into a wooden chest and tossing me a heavy firearm. I caught it with both hands, examining it closely. An M24. It was a sniper weapon, and I vaguely remembered that it wasn’t that hard to shoot compared to the carbine. Before I knew it, Plank had draped two bandoliers of ammunition over my shoulder, which seemed to weight me down. My fingers wrapped around safety catch, trying to familiarize themselves.

It has been a while.

The tall, slim man pulled out a chair for me to sit in, causing the legs scratching loudly against the floor. Thompson stood behind me, his small eyes watching every move I made. As I slowly sat down, he pointed at a place on the map with his fingers that was stuck with location pins.

Plank folded his arms and sighed. “We owe you an apology for harming you. It’s just that we can’t take these chances with those who are planning to threaten or expose us. Here’s the deal, SK. We have a base of around forty of our guys on enemy territory. You need to let them do their thing. I’m sending you off to eliminate any Red Mamba who tried to come up to them. Very simple. You have to go over the basics. The question we have for you is why on earth do you need a general to watch over a small amount of people?”

”It’s not a small crowd. I have...” I cleared my throat, the truth threatening to burn my tounge. “There’s twelve of us. I built a shelter for them.”

“And you left them alone?”

”It won’t be for long.”

“Yes, but you should’ve brought them with you.”

”It wasn’t possible,” I whispered, looking down at my hands. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

”Why, son?” Thompson asked.

I didn’t say anything.

“Twelve brothers and sisters; you’ve got quite a bit on your plate. You must be the eldest. No doubt your parents are around anymore.”

A warm wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if the elderly woman referred to me as her relative. She and my mother would get along swell. I tried to imagine what sort of things we could talk about, what kind of recipes she knew. It would be nice having a brother or a sister, someone who could look up to me and maybe argue with. Though my palms were sweaty and clammy, he was in the right mindset, and that was all I needed from him.

“I’ll do everything you need me to do. But I need...I need to tell you all something,” I replied. “The real reason why I came here was because I need protection. I have a family near Selva. My friend and I are trying to figure out how to keep that area safe. I was wondering if....”

“Slow down, slow down,” interrupted Plank.

I bit my tounge.

Family. I like to imagine they are.

Thompson coughed. “Selva? I believe that place was the least chaotic around here nowadays. I thought you were from Flanders.”

My face turned red. “I..I am..I just...”

“Not to worry,” he said. “Travel is almost impossible, since they won’t let the civilians leave the city without papers or identification. It’s no wonder your family left and headed down there, which is a rare opportunity. Usually it’s the place where the Khonie flee. But it’s not like most of them make it anyways, since they’re killed almost instantly. I assume what you’re asking us if we help protect your land, then you must do the same for ours. If you succeed at this task, then when you decide to go back to where your family is, our men will come with you. Is that clear?”

I looked at the men for a moment. They appeared to beaten down with stress and age, and all the drinking and smoking they must have done over the years had definitely taken a toll on them. Plank appeared to be in his late twenties, and yet he looked the same age as them. But behind all of the intimidation, their eyes were full of grief, fear, and desperation, which I had caused them. It broke me, truly, and the guilt wrapped around my body like a snake. And if they knew who I was they would kill me. I owed them everything.

And they owed me nothing.

Slowly, I rested my hands on the table and nodded. I was going to give it my all, and I was sure not to ever mess up again. If it was raining, I had their backs. The more water, the better, although I had to figure out a way to keep what I could do hidden from them. But then again, ice always melted. It never lasted around here.

Thompson gave me a kind look. “I understand that you are nervous. If you are not comfortable, that’s okay. But this is what we are really struggling in right now. And our promise to you is that we will offer protection towards your family in Selva.”

I remained silent, thinking about the elderly woman and her family living in my fort. And Honda, Andrea, Toku, Kia, and Hagar. If these men found out who I was and shot me dead on the spot, and least they would have a chance to live. That would be better then to see another one of their people die and do nothing.

“Show me Operation Greene,” I said quietly.