The Game is War

Chapter 1  


    The black smoke had cleared from the tattered battle ground. Sal was plastered to the ground holding his M4. My ears were still buzzing from the explosion of the mortar that landed at least 20 feet from us. The only thing I could actually understand from Sal was, "Get down!" In the next few seconds a glimmering object in the distance was staring right at me. Sniper! As the shot rang out into the air I jumped towards Sal. The bullet glazed my ear and left it scratched. Blood trickled down my ear. Sal touched my ear and screamed to me, "It'll be fine! Just rub some dirt on it!"
    Sal was an Australian soldier that was stationed in America to give support, during the war. Originally Sal was an Australian social worker who had no excitement in his life. Once he was drafted into the Australian army he said he was more excited then sad and worried. He thought that this was his time to see the world and feel death grip his soul, in a good way. I don't actually understand how having death grab you by the soul was good, but Sal was a strange man.
    I kept searching the black blood land for any stragglers from the explosion but I had other reasons for searching the unholy land. Sal looked to me and asked me, "Why do you keep looking out into the motionless crowd." I told him I was looking for survivors. He shook his head and said, "No, no mate! I know you're looking for something else!" I looked down at the ground and looked back to him
"I'm looking for my father."
"Your father? Sorry mate, but if your pap is here he's most likely dead!"
"I know, but if he was I'd at least like to find his body."
"Well I'll help you find him, but it may be hard to locate him."
"Why?"
"Because he might be scattered everywhere so it's going to be a puzzle to put him all back together."
Sal laughed at his own joke. I stayed there motionless, but wanting to cry because I knew he was probably right. Sal said some pretty mean things but at least he was honest. Most of the men here will lie to your face. One man stole a piece of my bread, right in front me, and told me he had no idea where it went. At least when Sal takes my bread and soup he tells me, flat out, that he took it and ate it.
   We kept searching the field but it was impossible for several reasons: There were too many bodies, the black, choking smoke blocked our view, and bullets kept censoring our beady eyes. I finally gave up and believed that either my father was dead or wasn't there that day. I wanted to be optimistic but I knew that the truth was that he was probably dead.
    The gunfire began to cease and Sal and I were left alone in the broken house. We decided to move to another building that had a house, just in case if there was rain or if there was a drone looking for warm bloods. We moved across the field with stealth by crawling and going from cover to cover. We reached our destination and settled in the upstairs master bedroom. The house was very nice looking. There was a broken chandelier on the ground that looked like a fortune and the house was almost as big as a mansion, or at least was. The other side of the house had a hole the size of the 9/11 memorial, in the ground. The bedroom we were in had beautiful red and mustard colored drapes with paintings that looked like they were painted by Picasso. Sal and I took the King sized mattress and placed it up against the windows to make the room dark. We placed blankets on the ground and made sure we were facing the door, just in case if an intruder decided to play find the rag dolls. I never understood why the Russians and the Syrians called us rag dolls. Sal said it was because they thought they could control us and that we were just play things. I thought it was nonsense.
    Sal looked over to me and asked me, "Chris, how old are you?" Me and Sal had met a few hours ago and saved each others lives a few times, so we didn't know each other too well. "I'm 17 years old, sir." He laughed and placed a cigar into his mouth. "First of all don't call me sir, ever. And second, boy you ain't supposed to be putting your life on the line just yet. You still have one year left to live, mate. I say go live outside of the black blood zones. Go home and be with your family." I looked down to the floor and told him, "I don't have a family anymore." Sal looked to me and smiled, with the cigar in his mouth. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "But if there's one thing that I learned back in Australia that no matter where you are, you will always find home. But this ain't home, boy. And don't try to make it one. You'll regret that decision." I smirked and went into the next room. I needed time alone. I didn't want to tell Sal about my father.
    My father was in the Navy but was switched over to the Army once the war started. He was stationed here in Washington, so I was hoping I'd see him somewhere. I hadn't seen my father in 10 years so maybe I did see his cold, bloodied face. I just didn't recognize it. But I at least wanted have one living family member, in this world. My mother died of a stroke 2 years ago and my sister, Sarah, was killed by a bomber, in our old house. I had no where else to go so I joined the Army to look for my family and fight for the girl of my dreams, Vanessa. But Vanessa is a whole other story so I'm not getting into that.
    Night fell and Sal and I were stuck in the house until morning. We placed a few candles around the room and placed a few spare mines downstairs. We wiggled into our blankets and kept our 45s under our pillows.
     In the middle of the night I pulled out my pistol and pointed it at the door when I heard a scream. I slowly got up and went to the window and looked out. The night was dead, but the scream kept scattering through the air. Then I heard another scream. Then I heard another and another and another. I kept looking outside feverishly but I could not see any living being screaming. The screams kept occurring. I curled up on the floor and covered my ears until they stopped. Then all of them, except one, stopped. The scream was faint but the scream was trying to say something. "C....." I placed my ear against the window and tried harder to make out what the scream was saying. "C....." Something dropped outside of the door and made a loud thud. I then looked back and saw a dark, bloodied figure outside. It looked at me with it's dark eyes. It was a blonde woman with blood streaked down her hair. I almost thought she was a brunette. She took her eyes away from me and turned to a dead body on the ground. She pointed to the body and kept whispering something. I then heard another thud and I looked behind me. She was there with her cold finger right in front of me, right on the tip of my nose. I pulled my gun out of my holster and placed it in front of her face. My hand shook so much that I almost dropped my pistol. The figure kept whispering the word I couldn't understand. "C...." "What?" I asked. She tilted her head and looked me right in the eyes. "CHRIS!"
      "Chris! Chris, my boy we're under attack!" I jumped up from the bed and grabbed my M4. Sal and I ran out the door, avoiding every mine placed and jumped the fence. We ran to the building across the street and went into defensive mode. I shook my head and realized that the creepy woman was just a dream. It was all just a dream. It was all just a dream. It was all just a dream...

To be continued...

Life Sucks

My last stand is now. With only a week and half of school left, before break, I have two D's in Algebra 2 and English. My mind is on the verge of exploding into a million pieces. I've been trying to bring up my grades but no matter how hard I study my teachers just keep failing me. I was just diagnosed with ADD and I just got my pills to help me conquer my ADD. I'm hoping they work, but if they don't oh well. I'm going to have to try 20x harder then. But I'm really tired of school because of the grades, my parents, who keep hassling me to do better in school, and drama that constantly happens at school. It's been a rough semester, especially today. Today, I was in my self-defense class and a dude landed on my balls with his knee and I really messed up knee for some reason and my English teacher keeps giving me a hard time. It was not super fun, but at least I know how to put a person into a choke hold, now.

Crush!

Everybody has a crush, don't deny it. We all have that person that we wish we could have. We wish we could hold them tight to our body and kiss them slowly. Enjoy their presence and be happy. I do have a small crush on this very pretty girl that's in my band, but I don't think she likes me at all. This is all the sad part about having a crush is that your crush may not always like you back, but this happens to almost everybody. But this is the kind of relationship I would like to have with a girl. Check out the link...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOgYSfsr-Ig

Teenagers

As a teenager myself I have an idea of what the teenage brain is like and what kind of ridiculous amount of drama every teen go's through. For example, I saw a brunette girl sitting in the cafeteria crying, but she wasn't crying profusely but was more teary eyed then any thing else. But most people would think that she must've just had a boyfriend break up with her or something. As a teenager I think she could've been going through a break up, or some family problems, friend problems, school problems, early financial problems, bullying, not being accepted into a school that may not accept her or anything else. There are so many things us teenagers go through, and some how the adults don't really have a clue, even though they were teenagers once before. Or the adults do have an idea but don't really care. This is something I will ponder about for a while, but that's for a later time. But anyways, I'm just trying to say that us teens have it rough. All we want to do is enjoy our youthful years, but life will not allow it. Our parents, education boards, government, congress, religion, and our moral and ethics stop us from doing so many things. Another example is that I was sitting next to a very beautiful friend of mine today and I wanted to lean over and kiss her and ask her to run away with me to some foreign place, and start a new life, but all of those people and things I just mentioned stopped me. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kiss this girl and just run away with her? I really wanted to do that! Like, I really wanted to do that! But I didn't and I'm now regretting it. But just imagine if I did that. Imagine if any teenager took any risk like that. I do not think there would be mass histeria or chaos across the globe, but it would be a large event of dreams coming true and doing whatever the hell you wanted to do. Imagine a 16 year old girl going to France and becoming a cook for one of the greatest restaurants and have nothing stopping her from achieving this goal. The world would be an extremely happy place. Their would be less worrying and less sadness, and this could all start at the age of maybe 16. That's the time where usually our more mature dreams form.