We!

We are but one species divided by many races, untied with common blood.

We are the key.

We the few who believe.

We the few who can see.

We the many are being deceived.

We the many go hungry while the few continuously feed.

We the few have grown displeased.

We the few will cast aside this greed.

We the many must lose our apathy.

We the many must be free.

We the weak.

We the meek.

We the sheep.

Finis Epoch

        I was driving home in my little green compact car from one hell of a beach party, still weary and sleep deprived from the night before my eye lids hung low hidden behind sunglasses from the blaring July sun. The roads were clear, all traffic nonexistent, and I thought to myself how weird it seemed. I could see a large bridge spanning a wide river and still no sign of life as I approached the outskirts of a city.

While cresting the bridge I pulled on to the shoulder to take a picture of the skyline. Sitting in the car with my mind racing as it did most often an unexplainable sinking feeling hit my gut. Where the hell could everyone be? What ever the reason it could not have been good. I got out of my car and started slowly crossing the bridge.

        I looked up before jumping over the medium and realized there were no planes in the sky, or even a vapor trail and I couldn't help but notice again that it was a beautiful afternoon with the sun shining and a few large fluffy white clouds scattered across the sky. What the F*ck is going on I thought. Looking both ways before crossing the other side of the bridge I was hoping to see a car or two but there were none. I found myself standing at the edge of the bridge looking over a city with moderately sized sky scrapers and roads that wove between them in every direction. To my horror the city is somber and still. No movement no car horns, nothing. I leaned against the guard rail and strained my eyes to search for any sign of life.

        Then I saw him. From so far away I could just make out what I thought was a man standing in the center of a car lined street. He seemed to be watching me, so I waved and yelled. His response was an echoed guttural roar. The noise he made sent chills down my spine and the next thing I know the streets came alive with thousands of people running and weaving. They all came together and the edge of the city like an ocean of people. Then they charged the bridge splitting down the center and covering the exits on each side. I stepped back and looked frantically from side to side and as the first of them became visible. They moved ungodly fast.

        I was frozen with fear as an unending wave of bodies barreled toward me. I turned to the city watching as the golden sun started to fall behind the glass lines sky scrappers and snapped the photo I was looking for.

There was then a blinding flash that caused me turn away and cover my eyes. Peeking through my fingers I could see a wall of rubble a dust roaring toward me. The zombies were only 20 yard from each side of me as a wall of fiery death and destruction closed the gap. I felt a small pressure wave hit me, knocking me to the ground. The zombies staggered and stumbled over one and another, as I picked myself up. The unearthly explosion hurled cars and debris by me. There was nothing I could do but accept it my fate. The blast hit me and the zombies who were only a few feet away throwing us across the bridge as blinding light and burning heat engulfed us.

        I was sent tumbling threw the air as bodies and large chunks of cement went whipping by. Head over heel I flew threw the air smashing in to buildings like a cannon ball hurled threw the hall of a ship. Then everything went black.

        I awoke pinned under a large heap of smoldering rubble, nothing but a small light bleeding through the cracks and I knew I had to get myself free. I moved the rubble without much effort, almost as though I had super human strength. The light became stronger as I clawed tooth and nail to the top. I pushed the last bit of concrete carnage away and broke though to the surface. Everything was smoking and the bridge on which I stood had been scattered over miles in front of me. The city was razed, only a few building were left half standing. The sky was strange orange and purple colors, and a mighty mushroom cloud looking like the skeleton face of Death loomed over the destruction.

        Standing under a torched sky, every fiber of cloth burned from my smoldering chard body. I felt to pain and no fear as a radioactive dust blew past my feet. I began to weep for the lose of the world.

In that place I stayed for 3 days with no where to go and no one to find in a wasteland as far as my eyes could see.

        For 3 days I asked why.

        For 3 days I asked how.

        For 3 days I asked God.

        On the fourth day after no one answered I began to walk, bare as the day I bust screaming from my mothers whom. The ground was hot and the sky darkened with heavy gray clouds which churned like a hot spring. Lightning bolted from cloud to cloud colliding and crashing to the ground in great arcs of fire. Where houses once stood there were merely melted skeletons of plumbing, the only remnants of what had been. Burnt into the concrete streets were the shadows of men, women and children who were no more than dust in the irradiated winds of change.

        After 4 more days walk, my mind gave way to sorrow and disbelief. True loneliness fell upon my heart and mind after 7 days of not so much as a fly to keep me company. I sat right where I stood and began to wail for the loss of the world, as memory’s of family, friends, and past love tormented me. My sorrow did not last long as I looked toward the sky saw a break in the clouds. For 7 days I had not seen direct sun and my body did crave it's warming embrace.

        Sitting up I could see a bright beam of sunlight illuminating a small hill top upon which stood a tree. No tree I had ever seen looked so beautiful as this tree, it's bark was smooth and white, it's branches reached outward, not firm like other trees but fluent and soft as they danced with the wind. If a tree was to be my only friend than so be it. I did not race to the tree but kept my pace to a poignant walk. My eyes transfixed at this glorious vision of which I was sure was a hallucination, like a moth to a flame was I drawn.

        Stepping into the light my body became covered in goose bumps, every hair standing on end. I was covered in soot and ash so thorough that not an inch of my flesh was visible, yet I felt as though the sun was washing over my bare skin. I continued to walk looking up at the branches over head sparkling like crystal wands carefully dance amongst one and another. The wind whispered an angelic tone threw its branches and my heart did leap at it sound. My eyes were unwavering not even a blink could coerce them to break sight from it's majesty. The wind passing threw the trees branches began to whisper to me.

        “Look before you.” The wind called.

        My eyes slowly closed as my gaze dropped. The wet wash of my eyelids over the dry parched eyes felt nice but was nothing compared to the joy I felt as they opened.

       She was my exact height covered in soot from head to toe and the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I was drawn to her as a magnet is drawn to it's opposite and she to me. Neither of us said a word as we clung on to one and another with no thought to our nakedness. She laid her hear on my shoulder and wept glistening tears as I held her with strong arms. Rain drops fell on the mighty trees branches exploding with chiming notes like that of a harp being rained upon by tiny metal pellets.

        I looked past the light of the tree and could see the world around me being torched by fiery rain, each drop an exploitation of violent lava like fire. This sight did not scare me, so long as I stay in the light I would not perish. I looked into her eyes which were tinted red from her tears but still blue as a sapphires. The rain was now a hellish wind storm of fire consuming the land and the light from the tree grew so strong to protect us so that nothing could be seen but pure whiteness and each other.

        The tree's purity cleansed our bodies of not only of the ashy soot and dirt that covered the entirety of our bodies but also physical imperfections like scars and birth marks. We were as beautiful as man or women can be. She lay with her head on my chest, neither of us mournful or self conscious. Her eyes locked with mine as she looked up at me, so soft and lovingly inviting she need not say a word. Our bodies locked together as we writhed in euphoric pleasure. For how long we stayed there I could not say, as we feel into a deep trance, our bodies still entwined.

        We awoke to find ourselves under the same tree we had been before, but it's branches were no longer bare and sparse but full and vibrant, with silver leaves that chattered in the wind, and the ground beneath it was full of thick green grass. The world around us was full of color and vegetation as far as could be seen, and all assortment of animals ran about the land and birds did fly over head.

        She smiled to me a sweet and soft smile, and in utopia we did stay.

 

The Road Most Traveled

        A young man stands at a fork in an old dirt road. Flat and winding with fields of golden wheat about waist height on either side as far as can be seen. The wind gently sways the wheat to and fro as a blaring Sun sets behind the diverging paths.
        The young man was lost on foot with nothing to his name but the cloths on his back and a fading memory of how he got where he is now. Most men would welcome the setting Sun on a smoldering hot day with no shade to quench their flesh, but he grew fearful of what might come with the approaching dark.
       As the Sun set on the horizon it back lit the two paths showing through the trees that waits ahead. The path to his left was well lit and clear. The road ran flat and smooth with large shady trees on each side. The wind from the left carried a smell of fresh water and the hint of succulent berries and sweet ripe fruit. It was so enticing that the young started down it without thinking , but quickly corrected himself turning to peer down the right path.
       This path was dark and the road slowly climbed uphill leading to a thick forest that swallowed the path seemingly dead ending. The wind from the right smelled of crisp salty sea water and decaying flesh. Foul and rank the smell violated his nose causing him to turn away and cover his face as he gasped for air.
       The choice was a no brainer, but it stirred something in his heart that drove him towards the right. But like most young men he disregarded his heart for his own self gratification, and took the most obvious path. With every step his very soul cried out to turn back but the fear of being trapped in the dark was to strong and quickened his pace as night fell at his heels.
       On the darkening horizon a flickering light shown bright like a beacon calling out to the weary traveler. The young mans pace quickened even more to a light jog as the fear of darkness nipped at the nape of his neck, like a beast stalking it's pray. His jog became a sprint as the fear in his gut progressed to terror moving to his chest laboring his breathing and herding him forward. He dare not look back to see his pursuer.
       Faint light became a flickering lamp as he closed ground on the house, traveling at full stride. His legs burned, his breath shortened as sweat soaked into his cloths, but he did not relent. The light was near enough for him to see it was an old oil lamp hung at the end of a long porch attached to an unkempt farm house, with an ancient man sitting on a porches swing. He darted to his left and cut across the old mans lawn to escape his enemy.
       Reaching the safety of the well light porch he then turned to see there was nothing behind him. Watching from his porch swing the old man removed the corn cob pip from between his blackened teeth and grinned duplicitously.
       “Now what's got you all worked up young man?”
       The young man swung around startled by the elderly man as his nerves were still on edge.
       “I could have sworn there was something chasing me down the road. I'm sorry to so frantically intrude but I am startled and lost.”
       “A man who runs forward with out looking back know not where he's going or where he's come from.” The old man said sliding the pipe between his wrinkled lips and taking a hearty hit.
       The young man was thrown by the statement but quickly introduced himself.
       “My name's Sam, I'm from...” He couldn't remember where he came from and racked his brain for the answer. Like a broken DVD player playing a scratched disk his mind was jumpy and his memory skipping and blurred. Incomprehensible glimpses of his past flashed by as he tried to snag what information he could. Reaching into the flurry of memories a sound came to mind, metallic clanking and thundering horns. It an old train yard.
       “Don't worry about that Sam, no one remembers much after they arrive.”
       “I live by a train yard.” he said blankly, pulling his hands through his strawberry blond hair.
       “You look like you could use a rest my boy, why don't you sit down here and take a load off. Would you like a lemonade or tea?”
       “A tea would be nice, thank you. Oh I didn't get your name sir.”
       “I didn't give it to ya.” The old man replied as he shuffled into the house.
       The night was very calm but as Sam looked up at the sky he could not see the moon, stars or any clouds, the sky was barren. He pressed his mind for clues but he could make no sense of his memory, nothing made sense. He hadn't seen any birds or animals, not even so much as a fly, and the road he was traveling looked like a car had never touched it. He stood up and looked over the edge of the porch on both sides for a garage or driveway but there was not one. Sinking back into the wooden rocker he scratched his head in befuddlement, not noticing the old man extending a his hand holding an ice tea so cold the glass was frosted.
       “Oh thank you, this is gonna hit the spot.” Sam said just before tipping the glass back and taking a swig, but their was something strange about the tea. It was tasteless and bland not even tasting like water.
       “Is somethin wrong there kid?” The old man asked with a strange hint of enjoyment in his voice.
       The eccentric old man was starting to give Sam a bad feeling, but knew he would have to keep his cool in case this guy went Deliverance on him.
       “No it's good, just fine.” Sam set the drink down on the little table next to the chair
       “Where am I?”
       “Where do you think you are?”
       “Obviously if I knew I wouldn't ask. I'm lost, very lost in fact.”
       “Well to be short then boy, your right here and here is what your mind makes of it”
       “What does that mean?”
       “If you gotta ask then your not ready to know. Now my turn to ask a question or two. Do you believe in God?”
       “Yes I do, I'm Catholic have been my whole life. Why do you ask?” Sam was growing more and more uncomfortable the longer he stayed with the old man.
       “Well now it aint your turn to ask it's still mine. Why go left and not right?”
       “Because right seemed like a death trap, and I am not about to go walking through an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night.”
       The old man pulled a match from his pocket and struck it on the metal screen door. The smell of sulfur filled the air so much so that one would think they had stepped into a the nine circles of Hell..
       “You’re felling uneasy aren’t ya? Well I can't blame ya for that, your only human.” The old man sat back and looked out into the darkness as though he was watching something, Sam couldn't see anything past the porch now, it had grown that dark.
       “Whats your name?” Sam confidently asked.
       “I have been called many thing, gone by many names so which name do you want?” The old man stared at Sam with a half cocked grin.
       “What's the name your mother gave you?” Sam was tiered of getting enigmatic answers from the old man, so he started to play hardball.
       “HA! I never had a mother to give me a name.”
       “Then what can I call you?” The frustration in Sam's voice was all but hidden.
       “Boy you can call me whatever you like, it makes no never mind to me.” The crooked grin on the old man face grew slightly wider.
       “That's bullshit what does your father call you? You have a father right?” Sam said with biting sarcasm.
       “By father if you mean the one who created me then yes I had a father, but the name he gave me died long before you where born. Azazel is what you shall call me.” His grin shrunk slightly as he readied his next question.
       “Why do you believe in God?” A simple question asked, but not always so when answered.
      “That's how I was raised and it always stuck with me.”
       “Your faith in God was inherited, so you never found God for yourself. It use to be that finding God was a journey but now it's just a day trip. How can you be sure that those who handed it down didn't take a wrong turn?”
       “You must have faith, sure my faith is a product of my environment but that makes my connection with God no lesser.”
       “Don't it though! How would you feel if you worked your whole life for something and just when you get it, you see some kid get it handed to him for free. He did not work for it and there for don't deserve it.” The old man sneered.
       “The way I see it, if you have to work for something, the work was part of your journey and the thing you receive is the destination. Where if you are handed something it is a tool in your journey so that you can reach the destination. In other words the work is what is important not so much the reward, because if you work only for the reward you miss the rest of the journey.” Sam hardly understood himself.
       “You don't have a damn clue what your talking about boy. I mean, can you hear yourself right now?” The grin on the old mans face was turning sour.
       “Yes I can. Now it's my turn to ask the questions.” Sam started to search for a question to stump the odd old man.
       “I still have another question to ask, it ain’t your turn!” The old man barked.
       “We have been asking our questions in twos, and you just asked me two questions so now it's my turn.” Sam snipped at the old man.
       “Do you think this is a game boy?” The old man said forcefully.
       “Yes I do, now please let me think.”
       The old man was fuming mad, so much so that he scrapped his dirty finder nails across the arm of the swing peeling away the already chipped paint and digging into the wood.
        “Oh great wizard of Oz what is the meaning of life?” Sam gave a smug smile.
       “To live.” The old man said with a snarky tone.
       “Will you elaborate please?”
       “The point of life is to live it to the fullest. Gather the most wisdom and you do that by experience, so he who experiences the most wins.” The sour grin on the old mans face was now an even glare.
       “That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Life is not a race for knowledge if anything it's a race against time. The time given to you is the meaning of life because life is only time and what you do with that time is the accumulation of your life. The meaning of life is what you make of your time, mine would be getting to heaven. It's all how you perceive it.” Sam felt a sense of accomplishment with his answer.
       “So if you had an answer already why ask the question?”
       “To see what kind of answer you would give.” Sam's next question was locked and loaded, but the old man interrupted him.
       “This question is mine, you asked your two. Why does your tea not taste like tea? Why is there no moon or stars in the sky?” The glaring expression transformed into a wicked smile showing fully his gaped, blackened teeth.
       “Because it is not tea.” Sam recalled the sip he took earlier, and how it seemed like nearly nothing other than a liquid.
       “Then what is it Sam? What is in that glass?”
       He had to think about the question, as it was clear that this discussion was more than verbal mastication. Sam asked himself over and over again, but a solid theory alluded him. He though back to when he first arrived and how he felt like something was chasing him, but when he turned there was nothing. Then what the old man said earlier in the conversation said about this place being what he made it hit. This place wasn't in his mind so he wasn't dreaming and if it was his creation it was exactly how he would picture limbo to be. It was the first memory that came to him clearly.
       “The tea didn't taste like tea, not only because it wasn't tea but because it doesn't really exist does it?” The startling realization that he was dead washed over his scattered mind putting it back into place.
       “Well I'll be, the boy has finally said something that adds up.”
       Sam's memory came crashing back all at once, as the sounds of the old train yard which was less then a mile from his home rang in his ears. The ancient rusted box cars creaking in the cool night wind, groaning like restless giants. Every worldly regret came pouring forth as it only can after one leaves behind the living world and does not find himself at his desired destination. His heart and soul leapt at once screaming for him to run.
       “Not so sure of yourself now are ya boy? I know what your next question is gonna be. What do I do now? And the answer BOY is you already failed, you ignored your heart and followed your own wants and for that you failed. You'll be spending a lot of time with me and my friends BOY!” The old man began laughing hysterically throwing back his head as yellowish smoke rolled from his mouth down to the ground.
       A strong sulfurous smell over took Sam causing him to cough and sneeze as the smell grew stronger with every burst of laughter from the malevolent old man. Grasping his throat Sam gasped for air falling to his knees. The lanterns glass housing exploded as it's flame transformed into an inferno so hot it melted the houses glass windows and bubbled the paint on the walls.
       “Would you like to hear a few of my other names Boy?” The old man leaned in close to Sam, his face piercing the thick putrid smoke, his eyes glowing a brilliant yellow as he bared his sharp black teeth through a maniacal grin.
       Sam could only heave in pain as he suffocated with out the alleviation of death.
       “The Great Deceiver, The Desolate One, The Fallen Star, Beelzabub, The Devil, Satan all names I have gone by, but my father when I sat at his right hand called me Lucifer the Light Bearer.” Lucifer leaned in even closer and whispered in his ear.
       “Now you can call me Lord.” He then snatched Sam by the back of his neck with a mighty clutch and pulled him to his feet to look him in the eyes.
       “Call me LORD!” His voice echoed with the cries of millions of lost tortured souls as he roared.
       Sam thrashed about kicking and flailing even trying to claw free from Satan's clutches but he was no match for the power the Devil possessed. Though he refused to submit he knew he could not break free and he thought back to the right path and how the horrid stench burnt his nose, but wished he was there now, instead of locked in the fist of the greatest evil. A wash of peaceful serenity came over him as he fell from the Devils vice like grip, hitting the porch with a thud.
       Satan looked astonished as it felt to him like Sam had pulled himself free, but that was impossible. Pure unadulterated rage pulsed from within him as he burst into flame and the true demon inside was unleashed.
       “Call me lord and I will give you everything, refuse and you will burn for eternity as the hounds of hell feast on your limbs, and buzzards pick out your eyes while my demons feast on you still beating heart before you in never ending agony.” The reverberation in his voice shook the very thread of existence around them.
       Sam sitting on the ground free from Satan's grasp looking up in aw of the mighty Devil before him. Stood up amongst the fire and sulfurous smoke and declared “If you are indeed the Devil then you will never be my Lord.”
       Sam then turned and ran as fast as his feet would carry him back the way he came threw the impenetrable darkness. The further he ran from the house the more light returned. The fork in the road was where he was headed, but as he ran further and further down the straight level road he didn't come to the fork. Farther and farther he ran until his legs could stride no more and he collapsed at the side of the road face down in the dirt. How long he laid there no one could know but God.
       The sound of meager foot steps in the distance made Sam raise his head to see if doom approached, but what he saw was a little old man in sackcloth shuffling down the road towards him. Sam felt as though it was his duty as a lost soul to warn a fellow lost soul of what awaited him if he continued, so he crawled hand over hand toward the old man. He tried to pick himself up to walk but was too weak and kept stumblingly to the ground. when he reached the old man with long silver hair and a matching beard, Sam fell at his feet and called out.
       “Go no farther weary traveler, this path leads to excruciating pain and suffering unlike any you have known. Turn now and save you soul.” Sam started to weep at the strangers feet.
       A hand fell on Sams shoulder as he wept then the old man spoke in a calm benevolent voice.
       “My child I am not here as you are here, I am here for you. For I have heard your cry’s and watched your courageous heart with stand the heat of hells fire. Come now see my kingdom child, sit at my table in peace. You have been redeemed”

Never Again

       2015- The People Against The United States Government: a movement to overthrow the current establishment is formed by the working class.
       2016- The people of the United States of America vote unanimously to overthrow the government. The government responds with marshal law stating "The people have no idea what’s good for them if they are willing to overthrow their establishment during war time." And just like that the armed forces were sent into cities and suburbs to enforce curfews and to confiscate firearms, in hope to put asunder any act of rebellion. Shortly after the first rebel strikes, the USA is declared a temporary totalitarianism, ushering in the death of the land of the free, but sure as hell not the home of the brave. This political step sparks a major rebellion among the US citizens and rallies them together. The Military is turned on its people causing a moral split amongst the ranks both military and civilian.
       2017- The United States enters its first Revolutionary Civil War.
       I can remember watching a movie when I was younger, where Russia invades the States during the cold war and a group of teenagers escape into the mountains. In exile they decide to fight back. I could not help but think, what would I do if that happened? Well now I know, but it’s not Russia that invaded, it was our own damn government. Now only 23 years old and I'm forced to fight in my own back yard the very government that swore to serve and protect me. The very government I elected to be my voice. We can't blame anyone but ourselves. For years we were too lazy and dumb to do anything about the corrupt and twisted politicians that forced us into useless wars using slander and lies to blind us, all the while, making the rich wealthier and the poor hungrier. We waited too long and let the government become to bold, and now we have paid with our freedom. A freedom we must fight to regain, or give in and be ruled by war mongering money grubbing power hungry tyrants. My name is Michael Kavanagh and I am a First Lieutenant in the Peoples Republic Army of Freedom. This is only part of my story and what I have seen in the past year, living and fighting in the streets of Flint, Michigan.
       Many of my nights I spent on the rectory roof next to the church we used as our Head Quarters, that is if it wasn't raining or too cold. I have caught many snipers or sneaky spec ops creeping by trying to find us or to get behind enemy lines and wreak havoc on the unsuspecting. But one night something happened that would change my life.
       I was on the roof at about 1:30 am watching the stars and praying as the nightly watchmen made their rounds down below on foot. I was border line asleep when I heard the pitter patter of army issue boots. It’s an unmistakable sound they make, a loud clunky smacking sound when you run on pavement. Instantly I was awake and had my tactical .308 rifle mounted and ready to go, but I could not see anyone, and then the sound stopped.
      “He must be hiding in the bushes or behind a car. Just sit still and wait, he will move eventually.” Thirty minutes had passed and no movement.
      “Could I have missed him? Could he have snuck by me?” I questioned myself, doubt scratching the walls of my mind as my starlight scope illuminated the street.
       I heard the ever daunting whiz of a bullet as it flew past my left ear.
     “HOLY SHIT!" How did he find me? Why did I not hear the shot?”
      Even in the heat of almost literally losing my head, I kept my composure and used the trajectory of the shot to pin point his location. Knowing that with my right shoulder against a large cross, and the rest of my body hidden behind the foot and a half raised edge of the building, he would have only seen my head and left shoulder from about one hundred and twenty yards away and to the left of me. Buildings and trees block all other lines of sight. I had little time to react so I sunk back down from the cross and used the edge of the roof to hide, crawling to the side of the building as to not be seen. I then propped my rifle in a crack in the ledge just big enough to fit the barrel. I never took my eye from that scope watching vigilantly and logging any data I could in my black book. I took note of any habits or traits he might display like his missed shot, but he didn't give me much to write.
       He poked his head out from behind a truck he was using for cover, but he must have seen a glint of light from the street lamps on my scope, because he did not stay in the open for long. He made a fast dash to a house a few feet from a truck and I lost him, but I did not move just in case he tried to come back by. If he could get across the street he could work his way behind me and I couldn't let that happen, everybody I cared for was depending on me to keep them safe and there was no way I could let them down.
       It was an hour or so before he tried to cross 300 yards down the street, I had to move up to the ledge and reposition myself to get a good shot at him, he was just standing there behind a car looking around. I got a good look, he was a white guy, with short dark hair, about 5'11, a tattoo on his neck which appeared to be a skull that had two crossed guns behind it and some kind of dark spot on the top of it. I could not make out the whole thing because his shirt was in the way.
       I placed my cross hairs on his magic button, the spot where your clavicle bone meets your sternum. Aiming for the magic button means you will separate the trachea, jugular vein, and most important the spinal cord. I could not shake the thought that this guy missed me purposely, which means it was just a warning shot. I sat there stewing with my finger on the trigger for maybe 3 seconds with an open shot, which to a sniper is an eternity. I was torn with a moral dilemma, if he did just miss, I need to waste him, if not and he let me go with a warning then it would be wrong not to return the goodwill. I watched as he crossed the road and disappeared into the parking lot across the street, I would regret not killing him.     
       I got what little sleep I could under the stars that night, and dawn broke before I woke to find Edwin, one of the transfers from out of state, climbing threw the roof access. He was a shorter fellow about 5'6 with dark curly hair and a grin that reached from ear to ear, that kind of smile that makes others want to smile. He was quick as shit on his feet and could turn on a dime, making him a damn hard target to hit.
       “What's the word Eddy, have they moved in on Flint?” I asked as I made my way over to the hatch stretching the stiffness out of my muscles and dusting myself off. Eddy was noticeably on edge, and that was my first clue it was not good news.
       “Not yet. They have only made it to Grand Blanc, but reinforcements arrived last night for them. They got 200 infantry in trucks, a half dozen Hummers with HMG's, 2 M1 tanks, an APC with duel Vulcan mini guns on top, and God only knows how many Spec Ops and snipers they dropped on us.”
       I didn't tell Eddy about my night.
       “Shit that won't make our job any easier, but then again that’s why we're the Lucky 7th. You look a bit shaken Eddy, are you alright?”
       “There is no way anyone can hold those forces back Sir. They should make it here before dusk and it scares the living shit out of me.”
       Eddy due to a slight speech impediment stammer with his words.
        “I have never killed anything in my life, and I'm not very religious but I think there could be a God, and.” I cut his statement short.
       “Eddy I can't tell you it will all be ok, I would be lying to you if I tired, any of us could die at any time so you have to accept it. If you're afraid to die then you need to keep in mind not what you live for, but what your mother and your brothers and sisters and all the people you love live for. It's not just about us we are here for, we are the only ones standing between the freedoms and people we love and the people that want to take those things from us.”
       What I did not notice was that as we were talking, we made our way down the roof access ladder and to the lunch room, where at this time the whole Lucky 7th was having breakfast and listening to me.
       “We are walking a very slippery and tricky line, out manned out gunned and out resourced altogether, but just like our forefathers we can't, we wont be stopped. Unlike our ancestors we do not fight a foreign enemy but instead, our own people, and in some cases our own flesh and blood. They bomb us and we dig free, they shoot us and we mend our wounds, they spread lies to the world and we show them truth, they kill us and we multiply, they push with all their forces and we hold them back. You know why we survive, it's not because we are more cleaver or stronger, let’s face it we aren’t. We survive and fight on, because we are justified. They fight to keep their fat pay checks and big houses, they fight to keep control, and we fight to break free. We fight for those around us whether they are black, white, brown, red, yellow, Jew, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, man, women, or child.”
       The entire lunch room, hung on my every word, gathering strength and moral from my speech.
       “The true reason why we go out there and die isn't for glory or fame, it isn't to be heroes or out of bravery, we will fight and win because unlike them we fight to unite.” With those last few words the room exploded in harmonious cheer.
       “Who needs coffee when you wake to this shit?” I poked Eddy in the ribs with my elbow to lighten his mood, which worked as a smile cracked through his worried expression.
       “Any way if you go through life worrying about death, you're bound to forget to live. I happen to have it on good authority that Jen the nurse with the short blond hair has a thing for you.” Usually I don't endorse fraternization, but I could tell he was in desperate need of the kind of comfort only a woman can give a man, so I pushed him in her direction just as my own fraternization walked into the lunch room.
       I weaseled my way over to the coffee pot without Sarah seeing me and made a cup for each of us, then I ducked out the other door circling around the outside of the lunchroom until I was right behind her. She was a beautiful southern bell. Her charm was matched by her stunning beauty, with her auburn hair, lightly tanned skin and dark green eyes, she stole the heart of every young man she passed by. Though she was beautiful, her strength and willpower was most definitely her saving grace.
       “What's a beautiful young thing like you doing in a place like this?” I whispered in her ear as I reached around her holding the cup of coffee right under her nose.
       “Just how I like it big, sweet, and black. That's the same way I like my men too, you know?”
       Sarah always had a sharp wit about her. That's why I loved her so much, she could give as much shit as she took.
       “Well I hope small, bitter and white will do.”
       “You’re damn near six foot tall Michael. How is that small?”
       “Oh you were talking about height, my bad.”
       Nick and Eric walked in arguing as usual, about something silly, Nick taking a literal viewpoint and Eric taking a figurative one. Nick and Eric were basically north and south in every way. Nick was 6'2 with blond hair blue eyes, being the runner of the group he was very clean cut and had a straight to the point attitude, where Eric was 5'8 210lbs, short and stocky with black hair, brown eyes, a full beard and a short temper garnished with a rebellious attitude. Blake was following close behind them fueling both sides of the fire and watching the sparks fly. Blake or “Little Hitler” as we jokingly call him was 5'7 135lbs with very short light brown hair and an ability to talk his way out of anything. If he did have to fight, he would use any and everything he could, including beer mugs, bar stools, pots, pans and the kitchen sink.
       “Have no fear. D Money is here to save the day.” David declared as he entered at the other end of the room holding his hands in the air proclaiming his presence, he always made up for what he lacked in physical size with his personality. At 6'2 and 150lbs he was a hell of a guy to watch fight, he was like a praying mantis, standing very statuesque with his elbows bent at a 90 degree angle and his fist in front of his face, he would just reach straight out with his lanky arms and beat the hell out of guys from a distance.
       I have known these guys all my life, they are my best friends and now they follow me out onto the battlefield from which some might not return. I began to question myself, and no matter how hard I tried I could not force the idea of getting one of my friends killed, out of my mind.
       Blake walked up and stood beside Sarah who was snuggled under my left arm as I silently fought a mental battle with myself.
       “You know if you ever want to know what it's like to be with a real man, let me know. I'm just saying if you were my girlfriend I would have put a ring on that finger by now baby girl.”  Blake say to Sarah in his smoothest voice.
       “Is that right?” she replied.
       “Yeah I would light some candles and draw us a nice bath, with a bottle of wine and some baby making music and let the magic happen.”
       “I hope you would bring a step stool too little fellah.”  she patted him on the head.
       “Whoa, no need to hit below the belt Baby Girl.”
       “I don't think I could hit below your belt without being on my knees.”
       “Yeah I bet that's just how you like it, gurl.”
       “Shove off ya dirty carpetbagger.” I hollered at him in a British accent.
       “Don't ever take that tone or voice with me young man, I am your elder and you better respect that.” Blake hollered back as he walked away shaking his finger at me with his face scrunched up like an old man.
       Blake was just the diversion I needed to take my mind off of the anxiety I was felling. Every man copes with war his own way and my friends and I use humor. Brotherly humor like laughing at a fart, or telling knock-knock jokes at inappropriate moments. The way I see it, if you can find humor in war, you’re more likely to make it, because the one who smiles longest, lives longest. The stupid, your momma jokes and gun powder in a cigarette gags help to create the brotherly bond, it’s the glue that binds us together and keeps us alive.
       Matt came in at the opposite door from where I was, and I could tell something was up as he made a quick b-line in my direction with a piece of paper in hand.
       “Mike! The US Army has broken past Grand Blanc and is on its way to Flint as we speak. 2 M1 tanks an APC with 2 cherries on top, and a couple of hummers and party buses packed tight with fun. We got a call from the good ole boys in Burtuckey and they are gonna give us as much time as possible.” Party Bus is what we called the large diesel trucks and Burtuckey is the town of Burton, where the necks grow the reddest.
       “Did they send orders with the info Matt?”
       “Ah no, they want to know if you have any ideas.”
       “Ideas? What, are they out of ideas or have they ever even had one? This bullshit is getting old real quick. I guess that's why they called us for ideas, because they can't get their heads out of each other’s asses.” I had to think of a way to make my point to the US Army and to the Peoples Republic Army of Freedom. The PRAF has been bickering and fighting with it's self, while people like us have been left bleeding in the crossfire.
       “Tell them we have it covered Matt.”
       I walked over to the lunch table and stood on a chair to get a little extra height and proceeded to clear my throat loudly to get everyone’s attention.
      “It looks like the Us Army has broken through Grand Blanc and now we have 2 M1 Abram's tanks and Armored Personal Carrier with twin Vulcan Mini guns and a hand full of troop transports on their way as of 10 minutes ago. The PRAF and their incessant bickering has left us to take care of this problem. So I say we step on these “cockroaches.” using my best Tony Montana impression.
       “We need to load up all the primer cord ,TNT and other explosives we can. I am gonna pick 10 people to be team leaders, those ten will get a team of 5 and those teams will be assigned a building downtown, numbered 1 to 10. Number 1 being on the westside and number 10 being on the eastside. The even numbers will fall to the east and the odds need to fall to the west, creating a wall of rubble. You will do this by planting the explosive in the basement against the supports facing the way you want it to fall, like cutting down a tree. Do this from the basement to the 5th floor and it should fall the way you want it to. Make sure you direct the blast as best you can towards the direction you want it to fall. Time right now is of the essence so Blake you're 1, Matt 2, Eric 3, Nick 4, John 5, David you're 6, Sean 7, Drew 8, Josh 9, I will be 10. They will most likely hit the south side as we are setting up, if they reach you or over take your position you keep working.”
       “What det should we use?” Blake jumped in to ask.
       “I think we will go old school on this one. We are gonna have to run the cord to the safe local for the detonation, that means no wireless detonators or cell phone detonators. Each man on your team needs to have everything they need to finish the mission, that way if the guy with the detonator goes down you have 5 more as back up. You got it? Now let's do this thing.”
       Over the next 15 minutes the cars and trucks were loaded with enough explosives to make the Taliban say holy shit. The convoy of 3 cars and 4 trucks took off quicker than a whore before confession as they raced down Saginaw Street toward Flint. Since the fighting had broken out under a year ago things had changed dramatically, the people who didn't move out of the conflict areas stayed out of sight for the most part, some of them were supporters and other couldn't give a damn about any of it. Luckily for us the US army wanted to keep collateral damage as low as they could, but as I watched the buildings whip by, the random burnt down house or blown up rubble of a gas station stood as a testament to the war. The fight never happened where the rich and happy politicians live, but it was the ghettos and small towns across the country that has seen the most destruction.
       I caught sight of the Genesee Towers and the idea of having to blow up half the town I grew up in, soured in the pit in my stomach.
       “It's game time boys and girls, there is no room for mistakes and no time for problems, think on your feet and stay wide eyed.” I dropped the CB mic on the floor and made the last few checks to my gear as I could. Anybody who had their gear ready, rolled down their windows and planting their butts on the car door yelling to alert all of the civilians that a battle was about to happen and to evacuate immediately.
       “This is a conflict zone! Evacuate immediately!” We yelled in unison, our voices echoing through the silent city that was no longer in use.
       Each vehicle broke from the pack in synchronized harmony and headed in the direction of the building they were assigned. As my car came to a screeching halt we evacuated the vehicle, each man carrying a load that was half his weight, with weapon in hand and destruction in mind, we ran. Without having to give out orders each man began his task.
       The doors to the western Genesee tower were lock but we wasted no time with knocking and shot out the glass doors. I took the basement level as the other 5 men took the first thru fifth levels. The basement was pitch black, none of the lights were working and there were no windows and about 4 inches of stagnant water, so I tossed large glow sticks in each direction and took the starlight scope pocket to find my way around. The large beams of steel and concrete rose to the water stained ceiling. My compass helped me to distinguish the western side of the building. It had only been 5 minutes since I had entered the building, so taking the large drill from my back pack I began to drill holes in each support large enough to fit a homemade stick of TNT. After 10 minutes of breaking drill bits, I was down to my last bit and had 3 more supports to drill out.
       The drill vibrated in my hands violently as the bit chewed through the support, but it hit a steel rebar, a frustrated high pitched mechanical growl came from the drill as it stated to smoke. The drill was ripped from my hands and spun freely before its motor burned out. A sharp pain shot through my left hand from the drill smacking it when it broke free from my grasp. I had no time to check my hand so working through the pain I continued stuffing each hole with TNT, then putting all the home made plastic explosive I had around the undrilled beams.
       “We got company, about 30 minutes out.” Sean alerted over the walkie-talkie.
       “Who is finished setting their explosives? And I need any extra brought to me ASAP!”
       “This is David and I am on my way to your poss with a shoulder full of primer cord.”
       “Ok the rest of you run your detonation wires to a safe local and wait for my call.” I ordered.
       David took about 5 minutes to reach the basement, wasting no time he began to weave the primer cord around each pillar as I set the wiring. One after another Matt, Blake and the rest called out over the radio that they were ready. The explosives were now set and I put a wooden dowel though the hole in the spool of wire. David took the left side as I took the right, running as fast as we could we headed out of the dark basement and climbed the stairs, making our way out of the building to the road. The light stung our eyes and briefly blinded us but blinking and shading our eyes from the sun we were able to run down the road to a safe location.
       When my eyes adjusted to the light I could see in the distance our enemy.
       “Here we go folks. Get ready for my signal.” I yelled over the radio.
       The Army cautiously made their way closer and closer until they were in clear sight. We stayed in the shadows as to not alert them to our position. When the lead tank was 10 yards from the Genesee tower I stepped out of the ally, and stood at the intersection of Kearsley and Saginaw.
       For a few minutes neither side moved. The Army tank started to creep forward as a megaphone atop the APC shouted out.
       “This is the United States Army. Stand down.”
       The tank crept within the blast zone of the building as the other tank came around it's left side. They both moved side by side now making my job easier.
       The sun was starting to set, as it lit up the sky with a beautiful orange light, a soft wind kicked up the dust in the air as I raised my right fist in the air.
       Both tanks stopped dead in the shadow of the Genesee Tower. With my fist still in the air I turned the back of my hand towards them and let my middle finger fly in defiance.
       “Death to Oppression!” I yelled as I raised my foot over the small black detonator box at my feet and with the mightiest scream I could, I yelled out the signal.
       “FREEEEEDOM!”
       I stomped my foot down onto the detonator and watched as the deafening explosion ripped its way out of the buildings. Black smoke and fire engulfed both tanks as the building began to topple over onto them. The left tank to my shock slammed the gas and floored it towards me just in time to escape the deadly rubble that had buried the other tank.
      “Shit one of the tanks got through. Fall back, now. David, get to your truck and grab something to take care of this tank.” I yelled over the radio as I ducked down a side street to get to my car.
       The tank was right on my tail, the driver of my car came flying around a corner two blocks down and hauled ass straight for me. They almost made it before the tank got sight of them. The driver pulled the e-break and spun the ass end of the car around at me and popped the trunk, giving me time enough to grab my 50 cal Sniper rifle case. The tank opened fire with its heavy machine gun as I darted away from the car. I looked over my shoulder and could see the car explode from the massive artillery shot as it tried to escape.
       The explosion picked me up off my feet and tossed me through a storefront window and knocking me out. I came to with my ears ringing and my head spinning. I looked to my left and reached for the case holding my 50 cal. I could see my middle, ring, and pinky fingers were twisted and mangled. I wrapped my right hand around the contorted middle finger and taking a deep breath pulled it outward and snapped the knuckles and broken bones back in place as best I could. The pain was excruciating but the adrenalin coursing through my veins helped with that. Doing the same with the other two fingers, I took the medical tape from my vest pocket and wrapped the three fingers tightly together. I sat up feeling a stiff aching pain in my body and grabbed the gun case strapping it to my back.
       “Michael, are you there? Michael can you hear me? I got my RPG and am waiting for the tank to get to the intersection of Pasadena and Saginaw to take it out.” David informed everyone.
       The rest of the 7th made their way back to the base as was planed, but David having brought the only RPG stayed behind to try and take care of the problem. It was strange that the tank would keep moving deeper and deeper into enemy territory though.
       “Shit! David it is heading for HQ. You have to stop it before it gets there. I'm on my way to your location.” My voice was panicked.
       “I know. Are you ok Michael? We seen your car explode, and thought the worst.”
       “No I busted up my hand pretty bad and feel like I got blown threw a wall. Oh yeah that's exactly what happened.”
       “Who was in the car? No one can get Drew on the radio. Was he in the car?”
       "Patterson, Emmit, Jefferson and Teddy were.” There was silence over the radio as I picked myself up and shook off the pain.
       “I'm on my way David. If the tank gets their first you blow it to hell. You hear me David, you do it for them.”
       I climbed out of the window I was thrown through and looked for a vehicle. There was a huge parking garage to the west so I ran as fast as my aching body would let me. With each step my right hip jolted with pain and I could feel a warm liquid running down my leg.
       “I really hope I shit my pants.” I over optimistically said out loud.
       It was not the case though. A small piece of shrapnel was sticking out of my hip. I stopped running and reached down to grab it, and as soon as I touched it an excruciating pain shot up my side, and I realized it was scratching the bone. I placed my left hand on my right hip applying pressure around the shrapnel and quickly pulled it out. It was bleeding pretty steady so using my right index finger I stuffed gauze in the finger sized hole, and started to hobble in the direction of the parking garage.
       I was jogging by a pawn shop when something in the window caught my eye. It was an old Enduro motorbike. Taking a few shots with my 1911 pistol at the window weakened it enough so that the metal gun case was able to finish the job. Unscrewing the gas cap it was obvious there was gas still in the tank. Lifting my wounded right leg over the back was a pain in the ass quite literally, but having to kick start the bike was even worse. With a loud pop and plum of black smoke from the exhaust, I hit the gas and jumped it out of the broken front window and made my way down Saginaw Street to catch up with David and the tank.
       “How long was I knocked out?” I asked myself after 2 miles and no sign of the tank.
       “Can you see the tank yet David?”
       “No, but I should have by now. What’s going on?”
       “Dammit, we lost an M1 in our own backyard, how the hell did that happened.” I yelled over the radio.
       “Hey this is Drew. The tank went down Martin Luther King not Saginaw. It was chasing me and Sean but we out ran it.”
       “Good Drew. You guy’s get to the base, grab some more RPG's and get your asses back here. We can't let this bastard make it to Mt. Morris.”
       I turned down Hamilton and pulled the throttle back as far as it would go to try and catch the tank at MLK Blvd. Getting closer and closer to MLK, I could hear the tank's load engine letting me know it was not far.
       When I got to the intersection of MLK, I could see the tank was only 200 feet ahead. I needed to get their attention so I could lead it to David. I hit the breaks and pulled out my pistol, took aim at the tank and popped off 3 shots before the tank came to a stop, I shot 4 more times in rapid succession to get their attention, it worked as the turret turned back at me and the tank started to move in reverse. Before they could shoot I slammed the throttle and whipped the bike around driving back the way I came, it was not long before the tank was looking down the street at me. I knew they were less likely to shoot at a house that could be holding civilians, so I turned off the road and drove across the yards, which didn't stop the tank from taking shots at me. Heavy machine gun fire rang out as I zigzagged from yard to yard dodging a hail of gun fire by the skin on my teeth.
       The tank fell for the bait and followed me down Hamilton back to Saginaw St. As I tried to swing the bike around to turn left down Saginaw the tank fired a shell in my direction, the shell hit about 20 feet to my left and knocked me off my bike into a ditch. Adrenalin was the only thing keeping me coherent at this point, I picked myself up quickly and using the smoke from the explosion, I escaped north down Saginaw. I cut across the street to the west and started to hop fences and cut through yards so I wouldn't draw attention to myself, I could hear the tank keeping a slow pace a block or so behind me.
       “David he is back on Saginaw, and we should make it to your position in a few minutes. Get ready!”
       “Are you alright Michael, you sound pretty weak?”
       “He just about got my ass, again.”
       “I thought with that last shot he did.” David laughed.
       “No time to talk Dave, I am running for my life.”
       I continued for 2 or 3 more miles cutting through yards and hopping fences despite my broken fingers, the hole in my leg as well as whatever other injury's I didn't know about. The tank had slowed its pace and fell back 2 or three blocks. As I neared Pasadena I stopped for a second to take my rifle from its case. It was still neatly packed without a scratch on it, even after the case was banged all to hell. In the lid of the case there was a hole and to my surprise a bullet still lodged in the bottom. On the down side the shot ruined my clip so I only had one round left.
       “That's new!” Poking my finger through the bullet hole, I had a small laugh before I made the sign of the cross and thanked God for my good fortune.
       Slinging the massive gun over my shoulder, I hopped over what I hoped was the last fence I would ever have to jump. My feet hit the green grass just as David yelled from the corner.
       “Michael! Down here.” He was slightly crouching next to a blue house with ugly red shutters.
       He waved me over, but he didn't only get my attention. The indisputable crack of an XM 2010 sniper rifle rang out from close range as I watched David take a direct shot to the chest. The force of the bullet slammed him against the house before he fell to the ground. It was dark but the street lamps gave me enough light to see the enemy sniper across the street about 75 feet away. He turned, and noticed me sliding the gun off of my shoulder. I leveled it on my target as I could but he was too close to use the scope so I had to shoot without sights. Both guns rose to their mark simultaneously, then we each took one shot. I watched as his head exploded into a blood red cloud of meat and liquid, the contents of his scull were forcibly painted on the side of the white house behind him.
       I walked over to my compilation to collect his rifle, an old act of trophy taking amongst snipers. There was not much left of his head as I reached down to take his rifle. The 50 cal. bullet passed through his head and then through the house behind him, leaving a smoking hole that you could see the neighbors house through. But along with the gun I took one of his dog tags so I could personally write his family an apology for having to take his life. When I pulled the tags off of him, I could see the tattoo on his neck. It was a skull wearing a red beret with two rifles crossed behind it. Like a revelation the memory from last night hit me. This man was the sniper from last night.
       I contemplated not taking the tag because unlike all the other lives I had taken I did not feel bad for this one. A life for a life I thought, but knowing he was an American like me, I could not hold my contemptuous feelings against him. Putting his tag in my vest pocket I turned to go and find David’s body.
       I stepped into the road and walked towards the house David was shot at, but I had forgotten. Forgotten there was a tank on my tail, it pulled up to the intersection with its BFG facing me down. I was stuck in the open and had nowhere to hide. If I did try to run the blast from the shell would still kill me. I stretched out my arms and closed my eyes. Shock set in as everything around me slowed down. The crickets chirped slower and the tanks engine cycle slowed. Then I heard it, the last sound I would hear, the snap of a primer. Then an ear shattering explosion that even in the failing light of day, lit up the inside of my eyelids. I thought I was dead, but the cool night wind snapped me back to reality, and when my eyes opened I could see the turret section of the tank was peeled back and set ablaze.
       “David’s alive! You son of a bitch you’re alive!” I yelled in elation.
       Running as fast as my battered body would carry me, I made it to David. He was sitting propped up against the house with the spent RPG next to him. I dropped down next to him and grabbed his shoulder.
       “David I'm here. Snap out of it David and stay awake.” He was going into shock so I tried to keep him a wake.
       “Michael.” He coughed
       “I'm done man.”
       “Don't talk like that you'll be alright. Does it hurt?”
       “Not really, just feel numb. I can't move my legs.”
       “Man, this can't happen.”
       “Under my bed, a box of letters.” He began to convulse and vomit blood, and he died right then in my arms.
       “Game Over, I love you brother.” Was the last thing I said to him.
       I threw him over my shoulder and walked down the middle of Saginaw Street for a mile before my friends showed up to reinforce us. We laid his body in the back of the truck and not a single thing was said the entire drive.
       The next day I buried a brother. I buried him because I let a moral quandary get the best of me. It was my fault he was dead.
       David was laid to rest under a large head stone, fashioned in the shape of a cross made from the wreckage of the tank he destroyed before he died. In the middle of the cross set a bright red star with a blue ribbon painted in the center. In black on that ribbon are painted the words.
“Never Again”

The Crash

       The stars in the sky sparkled brightly on the moonlit Friday night, as a red four door sedan went racing down a wooded back road. The car’s occupants numbered four and each was as drunk as the next.
       I drove weaving between the white and yellow lines that were leading me home. We joked and laughed as we drunkenly sang along with the radio, the young girl in the back seat sitting next to my friend had been eying me all night long and now she traveled home with me.
       I looked over at my friend riding shotgun as he stuck his head out the window, his body rejecting half of the alcohol he had drank earlier. In the rear view mirror I saw her watching me with glossy amber eyes screaming out in lust. I look back at her, nothing else mattered including the road, and the car began to drift into oncoming traffic. By the time I looked back to the road it was too late, all I could see were the blinding headlights. The blaring horn echoed in my head as the sound of crushing metal filled the air. I watched as my friends yelled out in terror but I was deaf to their cries, it all happened so quickly, yet so slow as if it were a bad dream.
       The car windows shattered into a thousand pieces of shrapnel, the glass floating through the air. My legs were crushed by the dashboard as the force of the collision pushed the car inward on me and then it happened, we started to roll over and over, the contents of the car that were not belted down went flying everywhere, an aerial ballet of glass, dirt and debris danced about as though it were weightless. I could feel the metal ripping into the flesh of my upper thigh as bones snapped and cracked, the steering wheel pressed hard to my chest pinning me to the seat and my head was repeatedly slammed off the door frame, then everything went dark.
       I woke in the passenger seat still belted in and in great pain. Looking to my left I saw the torn and bloody body of what appeared to be a man. He was eviscerated and his lower half nearly cut off from the upper half by the dashboard which had been smashed into his gut. I was the driver but now the passenger of the same car. The bloody body was mine.
       My wounds were light but my body ached and my head felt unconnected from my shoulders.
My hands weak and shaking, I could hardly grasp the seat belt to free myself. Smoke was rising from the front of the car as the seat belt finally came lose, I fell a short distance to the roof of the car. Looking to the back seat I could see my other friend nearly beheaded and the girl I was going to take home was black and blue in the face and her arms hung lifelessly. Grabbing the door handle and pushing with what little strength I could muster the broken door fell from the frame and I pulled myself from the wreckage. I tried to free my friends but none of them showed any signs of life, so I turned to the other car and crossed the road which was covered in broken glass and the slick black life blood of the car.
       The other vehicle was in the ditch with the rear half still in the road. The driver was a young man, maybe 30 years old badly bruised and unconscious but still breathing. I tried to open the driver’s door but it would not budge, my fingers burned as I leaned in the driver’s window and tried to undo his seat belt, which was also jammed. Grabbing the belt and wrapping it around my arm I was able to break it free and pull the unconscious victim from his car and move him a short distance laying him on the cool wet grass. Suddenly I heard a frantic sobbing cry come from my car, and to my horror it was now ablaze. The girl I assumed was dead, was not, and now she was trapped in a fiery cage. I ran to her as quickly as my unstable legs would let me but by the time I reached the car the flames were climbing out of control and her screams became uncontrollable sobs as she was being burned alive. I tried to fan the flames away with my jacket so I could get to her but the flames were too intense I could only watch in horror.
       Feeling exhausted and helpless I was ready to give up, when out of nowhere the sound of a crying infant rang out in the night air, so loud it drowned out all other noise.

“Oh God!” I yelled out in despair.

       The other car was now filling with smoke the driver was still out cold in the grass. None of the doors would open and my hands and feet weren't much good for anything at this point. I climbed in through the window I had pulled the father out of earlier, the seats were dislodged and smashed together making the reach for the child difficult, so I squeezed through to the back seat and found the very unhappy but healthy baby in the car seat. Fumbling I unlatched the harness, as flames burst from under the car and engulfed it from all sides, trapping me and the infant inside. The heat was so intense it clouded my mind and kept me from thinking clearly, I panicked for a moment but the cries of the infant broke through the panic and quickly restored my sanity.
       I gently wrapped the baby in my leather jacket so that no part of it was exposed, and cradling it against my chest, I then laid back and began to kick at the window. Sweat rolled down my face and smoke filled my lungs as the fire made its way inside the car torching the front seat and slowly making its way toward the baby and I. The fear of death meant nothing to me but fear for the child’s life drove me to keep trying, even though my skin felt like it was melting from the heat. With one last thrust of my heel the window exploded outward and the flames now surrounded me and the child whose muffled cries broke my heart.
      I only had one chance at saving the child's life and that was to toss it from the car. Leaning toward the window with my eyes closed, I shoved the infant through the flames and to my surprise it hit another set of hands, which prompted me to open my eyes and through smoke and fire I could see another set of hands reaching into the fire. I quickly handed the child over and through my burning eyes and one last smoke filled breath I was free to smile at death.
      Throwing away the smoldering leather jacket and holding the child in my bleeding and trembling arms I gave him a gentle squeeze, as my own heart soared. I now stood holding the miracle baby, my son, rescued from a fiery prison, delivered into my arms by an unknown hero. I now stood, not as a crushed drunk driver, or the passenger hero, but the loving father reunited with his precious child, and I wept as the horror and pain I felt and caused gave way to pure elation.
       I had made amends for the misery and death I had caused by suffering each cut and burn, living through the eyes of those I had hurt, and in the end making right, my wrong!