Short Story: The Red Agent
Been awhile, though surely no one cares?
Anyways, the theme I was given for this story is 'War,' meaning I can write anything as long as it has something to do with war. I'm pretty sure this story applies. Pretty sure.
As usual, talk shit as much as you want. I'm not saying that to provoke people, but because I personally think finding wrongs in writing is more effective that finding rights.
The Red Agent
I hear footsteps and duck into the bushes. Keeping myself in the shadows, I listen carefully for the rhythm of his footsteps, using them to analyze my enemy’s weight, height, and basic scope of interests and fetishes. He’s probably from Green’s army, judging by how light he steps and how new his boots sound. He’s only two steps away now. I need to strike quickly and quietly.
I scream "AAAAAaaaah!" and shoot again and again at the man, who falls to his bottom and waves his hands in front of him, as if to stop this rain of death. But that doesn’t help. I just continue shooting into them, and through them, and around them.
Eventually, all I can see is a body covered in red. Covered in loss. Covered in death. Covered in... paint.
"Fuck! Why'd you have to shoot me so many times!? Those shits hurt!" the man wearing green, and now red, screams at me.
Am I hallucinating? I must be. There’s no way an enemy as ravaged with death as he could still speak to me. Even so, I say, "Fare thee well, stranger. You were a worthy adversary to the very end."
"Up yours!" I hallucinate him saying back to me.
Voices from deeper within the forest: “Green, ho! Are you still there, Joey?” Reinforcements? Or was there a walkie-talkie I was supposed to report into, acting as this soldier, Joey, so that no one would notice anything suspicious? Either way, more Green soldiers are on their way here. I must lay another ambush and take them by surprise.
“Hey, look at this,” one of the soldiers says. “It looks like there was a battle... see? Green paint.”
“That’s moss, idiot,” says another.
“I’m here!” suddenly shouts the clearly now zombified Joey. “This fuckhead just shot me like crazy!”
“Oh shit, we’re on our way!” shouts back his reinforcements.
I cover the zombie’s mouth, hoping my grip is strong enough to keep him from biting me, and hide behind him, awaiting my approaching prey.
Three Green soldiers jump out of the forest and aim at me. “There he is! Shit, he’s hiding behind Joey.”
I begin aiming my gun, but suddenly my grip loosens and the zombie Green soldier bites my finger. He says, “Don’t worry about me, I’m a dead body.” (Then don’t talk!) “Just shoot me too!”
They apologize, yell, and shoot, but hit nothing but the zombie. I, however, easily send three paintball bullets right into their foreheads. Three bullets... each!
“Aaack!” they grab their faces and fall to the floor.
I let go of the zombie and look at my finger. There’s blood. It seems... I don’t have much time left.
“Mother fucker shot us right in the face! What’s his problem??” I hallucinate one of the soldiers saying; or might they be zombies now too?
It doesn’t matter. Zombies or not, they were once human beings. I turn around and walk away from them... slowly. I only hope... their families may one day forgive me.
“Please! Please! Don’t shoot!” begs a Blue soldier. “I have a family! I have children! Look, I’ll show them to you now.” He reaches into his bag, and I place my gun right to his head. “Wait! Wait! I’m not dangerous, look!” The man pulls out three paper dolls between 3 and 5 inches tall each. Each has a face drawn on them, and yarn hair of different colors. He places all three on the ground in front of me. “See? This is Stacie, my youngest.” He points to the smallest doll of the three, one with yellow hair. “She wants to become an actress when she grows up. I tell her we’re too poor to afford acting school, but, to be honest, I’ve been holding back on my lunches to save up a little money. You never know, right? And this here’s Becky.” He points to the tallest doll. “She’s actually the second youngest. She grows up so amazingly fast. Makes me sometimes wonder if I’m really the father.”
I shoot all three, in the face.
“NOOOO! Oh, GOD!! WHY!?!?” he screams.
“You plan to use your family to plea for your own life? Pathetic. You ask me why I killed them? To spare them the shame of having such a dishonorable man for a father!”
He looks up at me, tears flowing down his cheeks. “No, please...!”
“You disgust me,” I say, and shoot him in the face, just like the rest of his family.
Some people. In any case, if this man is really from the Blue army, it must mean I’m close to the Blue base. It won’t be long before I reach my objective, and all of this can finally be over.
To Be Continued...