I​ walk over the rotting bodies of loving parents and the only thing I can think is that

they wanted a perfect life for their children. I, along with my troop, destroyed that dream. I
decide to push the thought away. They say we have to be like stone. “How do you think I got up
to the top?” I hear Commander Benli’s voice play over in my head. I focus on not stepping on
any bodies as I put my handkerchief around my nose and mouth. The smell is so putrid I don’t
know how my other troop members can stand it. It smells like spoiled food, singed hair, and of
course, rotting corpses.
Suddenly, I hear something similar to a child’s whimper. So soft that if there was more
wind, no one could hear it. I stop in my tracks at the house I heard the sound in. I hear a small,
but faint gasp and some shuffling. I look back at my troop. My troop members are searching
other houses for survivors, too.
A troop member I recognize as Gina pulls a small boy out from a house across the street.
The boy, who looks to be around five or six years old kicks and screams, making a big scene.
The other soldiers don’t even steal a glance. It’s normal now. It’s normal to hear children scream
and it’s normal for them to try and fight back while we rip them away from their home. I wince
at the boy’s blood-curdling cries for help.
I hear another whimper just a little louder than the one before it. I look back before
entering the house. I brush away the sheet acting as a door as I cautiously enter. I pick up a
cracked picture with a golden picture frame that had fallen on the floor and bring it up to the
window. A perfect family photo. A mom, a dad, and a little girl that looked to be about 3 or 4
years old. I hear the shuffling again in the back corner opposite where I’m standing. I drop the
picture causing it to clang to the floor.
“Who’s there?” I shout. I point my gun at the corner. “Show yourself or I’ll be forced to
open fire!” I creep a couple of inches closer to the corner. There’s another sheet, similar to the
door sheet, covering a little section of the corner. I carefully and slowly move it away with the
nose of my gun. There in the corner sits a little girl hugging her knees.
“Please, don’t,” she says in a mousey voice. I can just barely make out her face in the dim
light. She has a small, round face that’s speckled with dirt. Her blue-gray eyes are wide with fear
and worry. Her light brown hair is tangled and messy. Her clothes aren’t any better than her face
and hair. Her pale blue dress is covered in spots of dirt and her shoes were probably white, but
now they’re a grayish color. I can tell she has been crying because of the clean streaks from her
eyes to her chin. My mind registers it immediately. ​The girl from the picture.
Stone. You are stone.​ I take a deep breath and say, “Come with me.”
I attempt to touch her small arm with my hand but I sense her flinching before I even
touch her. She tries to press up against the wall as much as possible.
“Damn it. I can’t do this,” I whisper to myself. I think about how much this had to hurt
for the girl. Losing both parents in front of her but then having to live without them for how
long? A month? Several months? I couldn’t do it. My legs feel weak all of a sudden. I’m sick to
my stomach. My own troops did this. And this girl will become one of us … if I take her. I
slowly sink down to the floor keeping my eyes on the girl. I place my gun on the floor and squat
in front of her. “Listen, I’m not going to take you. But I can’t stay and help. Take this bread and
canteen. Wait until you don’t hear any voices or engines then run and don’t look back.” I unzip
my pack and take some bread and my second canteen and give it to the girl. She takes it but
doesn’t eat it.
“I - I can’t do that,” the little girl whispers.
“Yes, you can.”
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Will, I ever see my parents again?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I say almost in a whisper.
She nods and then nibbles on the bread.
A voice breaks our small conversation. I can’t quite hear what it’s saying but it sounds
like a name. I look out the broken window. “Where’s Parker?! Sam Parker! Where the hell are
you?” One of my troop members runs close to the house I'm in.
“Shit,” I whisper. I squat back down near the girl and say, “Don’t make noise. I’ll handle
it.” I walk outside and raise my hand. “Here!”
He jogs over to the house. “Oh, there you are. We were looking for you.” His eyes
narrow suddenly and he lowers his tone “Why were you in that house for so long?” I realize he’s
Andrew–an acquaintance of mine and my troop leader.
“Oh, I thought I heard something in there.” ​Why am I so stupid?​ I think. I could’ve said
anything but I say, ​I thought I heard something?​ I close my eyes trying to think of something to
say.
A suspicious look comes over his face as he pushes me aside and enters the house.
“But it turns out it was a rat. Seriously. I checked twice.” I take his arm and start to pull
him away from the house but he resists and marches inside.​ ​Shit shit shit.
He looks around shoving furniture aside. After about thirty seconds, he gets to the corner
and swipes away the gray sheet covering the girl. He pauses and looks at me with annoyance.
“Ok, and this is…?”
I put my head down in guilt. “I didn’t know she was there. If I did I would’ve brought her
out to the van.”
“Ok, then do it now.” He grabs her arm and throws her at me causing the girl to drop the
canteen.
I don’t even look at her. I don’t want to. I walk straight ahead with Andrew close to my
side. I keep a loose grip on the girl careful not to hurt her. I want her to realize how loose this
grip is so she can escape but then, where would she go? There’s no place to hide or stay until we
leave. There are no trees, no water, no nothing. Just desert. I glance down at the girl. She stares
straight ahead … stone-faced. ​Wow, I​ think​, she’d make a great -​ ​I push that thought away. How
could I think like that? No one deserves the life of a soldier. We get to the truck where a few
other kids are waiting for their time to change into little minions that do the dirty work for
the government and army. When I open the back of the truck, I see all the children press
themselves against the opposite side. I hoist the girl up and into the truck. But she doesn’t
scramble to the other side. She stares at me, her eyes filled with sorrow. Her hands clench onto
the metal bars of the small window in the trunk. My eyes meet hers.
“Thanks for trying,” she says quietly. I can tell she forces a smile to make the “thank
you” more genuine.
I don’t say anything. I just turn and walk away to the passenger side of the vehicle.
When I get in, Andrew turns to me and whispers, “You’ve always been a bad liar, Sam.”
The whole time while riding back, I beat myself up about letting Andrew take that
innocent little girl away from her home. Andrew won’t hesitate to tell Commander Benli about
my slip up. I guess I do earn the beating mentally so I can even it out; who knows what the
physical beating will be like.
I’ve gotten physical beatings before and they’re usually for something small like
wandering around the halls at night or not concentrating on my firearm training, but this…? It
won’t be a beating. It’ll be torture. The monstrous, extreme, and severe torture.
Andrew turns the key and the truck comes to life. “Honestly, Sam, I don’t know why
Commander Benli hasn’t killed you yet,” he spits at me.
I turn to face the window, simply mentally preparing for the torture.