Taken By The Other Side

• Tracey Magyar, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

I could almost feel the warmth of the sun on my face and see the moss lined stones of the old barn. There beside it, my stupid brother failing to shoot rusty bean cans; a game we made up all those years ago. Any minute now mum would storm up the hill and start ranting and raving about how we actually need to do something productive with our lives not just waste our time. The army she’d say, they’re looking for 19 year olds, the army…
With the distinct crack of rifle fire, the peace is broken and the deafening noise of the bullet ricocheting off my helmet causing my dearest memories to disappear in an instant; sadly these days peace never lasts long in Dublin.
With little time to gather my thoughts and take in surroundings my instincts kick in; out of the corner of my eye… movement… an enemy on the rooftop just across the street. It’s almost amusing how your mind begins to function in a war zone; every action could be your last, every shadow, your enemy. My mind cleared as I focused on my target, the dim outline of a man and fired. Dam, missed. What’s wrong with this idiot, I understand war can make you pretty desperate but lighting up the whole street all for the sake of a little nicotine?
Again I caught a flash of movement. I aim… fire. The shadow of a cap gracefully drifted its way down to the ground, its movement not too dissimilar to that of a feather. Shortly followed by the distinct outline of a gun, and a loud clatter as it hits the ground, causing a smile to form on my face, I will have to remember to check it for ammo later.
Relieved from eliminating my target I lean on a row of chimney pots, head pounding, joints stiff, I slide down to a sitting position. My mouth forms a yawn and I allow my heavy eyes to fall shut. I try to return to the warmth of the old barn. Wishful thinking. Instead the unwelcome events of 2009 invade…
“Paul, Paul where are you bro, Paul, I can’t see what’s happening”. With my breathing increasing, my words get caught; with no way of escaping they congest my brain. Next thing I know I’ve woken up in some foreign army camp, every muscle aches, blood dots my dirt stained shirt and some crazy man is screaming orders at me in a compelling accent. I’m informed I’ll be fighting with this array of animals, against my own men, my own brother. The consequences too grave if I refuse, my mother and father’s lives will be at risk. ‘Why? why me?’, is like a broken record playing repeatedly over in my head. My body begins to shake like crazy, pain, so much pain.
A burning sensation propels throughout my leg unlike any nightmare imaginable and I realize I’m no longer asleep. With eyes wide open, staring into the darkness my free hand slips down and is met with the gooey presence of thick warm blood on my thigh where a bullet has lodged. With teeth clenched my rifle slips from my shaky grip sliding down the roof slats before tumbling onto a patch of grass below. The pain starts to spread, burning like a flame within my stomach. My efforts to stumble to safely fail me as I too follow the path of the gun, I’m flying, flying, the night sky whipping past my face as I fall, smack, face first into the grass. The impact of the earth hits me like a brick wall. Never have I experienced this feeling, suddenly pain has a whole new meaning. Just then I hear footsteps coming this way, and they’re close, real close. I freeze, act dead, the words of my mother coming back, “You get caught, you freeze, don’t move, don’t move!”
Confusion sets in as I’m touched and rolled over, it takes everything I’ve got not to groan as I’m placed on my wounded leg. “No, no, no” my shooter screams. This is not what I was expecting. The panicked voice drops to a whisper “What, what have I done”. The voice seemingly familiar triggers childhood recollections that couldn’t be possible, I must be slipping back into my past, my family filled memories. Puzzled as I was I lay motionless, only one thread of self-control remaining, that is the knowledge that any movement could be my last. Never have I heard so much pain, so much sorrow in a man’s voice, the familiarity causing tears to trickle down my cheeks, “Greg…”My eyes fly open and look into those of my brothers.