War Pain

• Max Charleston, Grade 9, St Mary's Cathedral College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

As John limped along a dusty and cracked road, in his blood-stained uniform he began thinking about how he was unable to see the mine. “I checked the whole building, how is it possible that the one place I don't check kills everyone” mumbled the young soldier. The pain from the piece of metal that pierced his leg was immense, causing him to stop every few seconds and a brief pulse of pain flew through his wounded leg. “All I've got to do is get to the base; it can't be that far” hoped John, attempting to push the thought of death away from his hazy mind. The ground began rumbling as his ears picked up a sound that he knew all too well. The tracks of a T-14. The American Killer. Struggling to reach the wall of a collapsed house, John heard voices. His joints became stiff and his breath, jagged, as the voices of Russian soldiers slowly became more prevalent.

Laying against the wall, his leg killing him, John began to prepare for what was next. It was obvious, these men would be the last he saw. It was obvious that this was his final day on the Earth. Startled by a commander shouting, John heard the humming of a specific engine in the air above him. It was the infamous buzz of a Hornet fighter jet. It seemed that as soon as he heard this, the ground nearby him began exploding sending dust everywhere blocking his view of the tank. Using this dust cloud to his advantage, John successfully lifted himself off the ground and stumbled away towards an open door infant of him. The distance between him and the house was close as he felt a jolt of force launch him into the air and obliterating the house.

As he flew, the world went became a slow-motion blur of colour and light, with his eyelids slowly shutting as he collided the cold and rough surface of the dirt. The beauty of the blue roses, that he had landed next to, and the explosions were the last things John saw before darkness enveloped him. As he opened his eyes, he tried to stand up, but he something was very wrong. Slowly, as his hearts beat quicken he looked down his torso. Laying in a pool of blood, John noticed that his leg was not attached to his body. At this realisation, his adrenaline stopped and the blunt pain kicked in. It was his time. No one knew he was here. All he could do is wait. Wait for the pain to stop. Wait for his death.