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7/10/2011 9:13:43 PM
11

What's Best for All [Original Short Story]

The only thing I could feel was my heart thumping. Always thumping. Just like my feet. Adrenaline rushing infiltrating every pore of my body, I weaved through the entangling vines of the forest. Branches whipped at my face, leaving dripping red scratches. But my mind barely registered the newborn pain. That paled in comparison with what I had run away from. Shouts echoed, seemingly bouncing off the bark of the trees and into my ears. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Beams of light glanced across the thick trees. Even through all the adrenaline, all the heartbeats, I could hear the systematic, coordinated movement of forces that I once fought against. The movement of forces that I was now running away from. My feet suddenly caught on an arching root. For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped, leaving me floating in the middle of the air. I could spot out the individual specks of dirt. Maybe even say with confidence that there were about seven leaves lying on the ground. But only for a moment. My face slammed into the dirt. My arms twisted at an awkward angle beneath me. My entire body twisted and smashed into a nearby tree. I lay there in that broken position, heart beating so hard that I thought it would rip out of my chest. I couldn't catch my breath. Tears began to form at the corners of my eyes. Then I noticed that all had become quiet. I became absolutely still, trying to blend in with the undergrowth. My war drum of a heart continued to betray me, so loud that surely a deaf man could hear it. A voice, probably American, slightly tinged with pompousness, rang out from where the lights came from. "Sven Sommer!" I cringed at the mention of my name. "We know you're here! Come on out. It's no use running anymore. You and your N@zi filth are finished!" The throbbing pain began to subside. My mind cleared. If I was that commander, I thought, I would only bother giving a speech like that to serve as a distraction, so that my forces can surround the runner. Sure enough, as I glanced around cautiously, I heard rustlings emanating from the surrounding underbrush. It was now or never. I sure as hell wasn't planning to go to be tried for war crimes. The pain returned, and my body protested with sensations of aching and throbbing as I began crawling towards the beach nearby. I could already hear the waves crashing along the shores. Or maybe that was just my exhausted brain. Suddenly, I heard footsteps to my right. I hurriedly pressed my back up to a tree and pulled a nearby cluster of ferns towards me. Holding my breath and closing my eyes to prevent any sort of light reflecting off of them, I waited. The footsteps passed me without a break in their rhythm. The commander continued talking. I was safe, for the moment. I let out a breath silently, allowing my heart to slow down. After a few moments of precious rest, I let go of the ferns, reassumed my crawling position, and began my stealthy journey to the beach once again. I soon left the speech of the commander behind. The tree line thinned, and I could definitely hear the rumbling of the waves. Never mind, I could see the shore now. Before the war, there would be people all throughout the day on this beach. I still remember. The families setting up their blankets and shades on the sand, the children running out to the shallow waters, the various vendors selling their food to hungry customers. Even at night, you would always notice at least one love-struck couple walking down the sand. Now, all I could see were the faint outlines of explosions, black against the otherwise white sand. And the waves. Always the waves. I pulled myself up, grabbing a nearby branch for support. After taking a deep breath, I began sprinting to the nearest rock for cover. My legs buckled with the first step I took; I stumbled and fell to the ground. With practice that only comes from many years of military training, I turned the fall into a roll, ignoring the burning pain in my legs. Still, sprinting was probably not the best idea. I quickly jogged to the rock, crouching to ensure maximum security. I took a glance at the forest behind me. No lights emerged from its dark depths, nor could I hear the shouts of the Allied forces. Best to just do it all in one go. I ran to the ocean, not bothering to take cover by the rocks and piles of driftwood beside me. I waded into the water, stripping off my heavy uniform in the process. Extra baggage would just hinder my already tired body, especially in the water. I stood waist-deep in the water, adjusting myself to its ice-cold feel and readying myself for the long swim that was to come. I took a deep breath, and then dived into the water, submerging myself completely. In a weaker-than-usual, but still steady freestyle, I oriented myself to the east, where I knew an airfield would be. Hopefully, I could hijack one of the smaller planes and get out of Europe. There was almost a feeling of serenity as I swam. It was just me, the wide expanse of ocean, the overarching night sky, and the sound of my arms and legs splashing. My body seemed to go into autopilot after a while, and my mind began to wander. The war was over. The Allies had won. No doubt that my fellow N@zi comrades would be tried in the international courts. I myself was a high-ranking military officer. But I, unlike the others, escaped. Of course, I wasn't supportive of all of the Fuhrer's policies. The execution of the undesirables, the Holocaust, they call it, disgusted me beyond belief. How could my fellow officers stand for the killing of so many? The originally righteous goal of the N@zis had been twisted horribly. This was not what I envisioned it to be. That's how it started, you know, a part of my mind said, in a mocking voice. Everyone who supported the extermination, they thought the same things as you. No, I replied defiantly. I didn't want those people to be killed. Neither did them, at the beginning, the voice said. Well, most of them didn't want that, anyway. The extermination was inevitable, really. You would've done the same, now that I think about it. If you'd known of it longer, you would've supported it, just to go along with the crowd. That's what you always do. Be the equivalent of a teacher's pet to the higher-ups. Gain rank. Everyone's happy, besides the ones under your command. That's not true, I protested. That battle was my only loss on an otherwise perfect service record. But that was the worst, bloodiest, and most tragic battle in the war. And guess what? You don't go down in history for being the commander with only one loss on his record. You're remembered for being the commander that was in charge when the worst battle of the war happened. Just like no one's going to know that you opposed some of the Fuhrer's policies. All they're going to remember you for is being a filthy scumbag of a N@zi that caused over four hundred thousand of his men to die. *** My eyes flew open. Seemingly out of their own will, they flicked back and forth, scanning the surrounding area for possible threats. Some parts of the war never leave you. I was in my bedroom. It was dark, probably early morning, as I could see some weak rays of sunlight beginning to shine through the closed blinds. As my heart began to slow down back to its normal rate, the first thing I noticed was the layer of cold sweat on my back. The covers were sticking onto me from the heat of the summer nights that were quickly approaching. Ha, summer. Ironic, isn't it? My last name, Sommer, means summer, yet summer's easily my least favorite season. I peeled the blankets off and sat up. For a moment, I just stayed there, still, head bowed and eyes closed from exhaustion. It's that same damn dream, I thought. Only thing was, that dream wasn't a dream, really. It's been a long ten years, but I still remember the night that I escaped what was left of N@zi Germany, right down to the last blade of grass and piece of driftwood. I can still recall the feel of the cold seawater on my skin, chilling me right to the bone. I can still remember the feeling of fear as I swam. The black, dark depths of the ocean made me feel like I was alone in the world and that a monster of the sea could rise out of the black and drag me down to the ocean floor. Of course, it wasn't a sea monster that troubled me to this very day. I'm still here, Sven. I cursed quietly, Get out. Still having nightmares? After ten years? You should really see a doctor, Sven. As if you care. Why, of course I do, Sven. After all, I am you. And you are me. We're like peas in a pod. Anyway, I've already stated what I think is the problem here. I sighed. I'm not having guilty thoughts. Of course you are. You still regret killing all those men back in the war. Your own men. I regret losing those lives, yes. But I do believe that they died doing something right. Keep on telling yourself that, Sven. But you do have serious denial issues, let's just get that clear...
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  • :C I'm sad that jesus dies at the end, I was hoping that he would marry spider man, and that they would have little jesus-spiders. Bonus points for the giant robot fight on the oil tanker, I really enjoyed that part. 8.9/10

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