Auriga
04-04-2010, 11:04 PM
Man Forgotten
By: George Karounis
“Keep going, head for the tree line!” The sergeant's voice rose above the detonations of nearby grenades and the clicking of used ammunition clips. “Where's the medevac? For Christ’s sake, somebody call in the air-support!” A hidden land-mine exploded under the feet of an eighteen year old volunteer and the platoon hit the mud while bits of shrapnel flew into the air like a swarm of bees protecting their hive. Blood and body parts littered the forest, dripping from tree tops like dew on a spring morning. The sergeant jumped to his feet and started bellowing orders at the hazy-eyed soldiers toying with their dog tags in silent prayer.
“Move! Let's go! Don't just lie there, get a move on! Hey, are you listening to me? I said you can't sleep on this bench. Listen, I'm not going to tell you again. If you don't move, I'm going to have to call the cops.”
A couple sat holding hands enjoying the smell of their perfume and three dollar deodorant as they tried to drown out the stench of stale urine and digested beer vomit. The man to whom the metro security guard addressed himself stirred under his blanket of garbage bags and recycled Chinese takeout boxes. The security guard resumed his requests when the man under the bed of filth sat up, revealing a stump under his left shoulder where an arm used to hang free.
“Listen,” started the security guard, “I know times are tough, but I can't have you loitering in the metro. I'm sorry, but those are the rules. It says so on the wall here.”
The security guard pointed to the sign on the wall which read in big black letters on a solid off-white background: 'No Loitering'.
The foul stench which seemed to drip off the old man like crusty molasses as he removed his makeshift blanket made the security guard cover his nose in embarrassment and guilt. The old man turned his head in a stupor of half bewilderment and half inebriation, causing his head to spin wildly while his body stayed in place. Unable to control his dizzying vertigo sensation on solid ground, the old man fell forward, landing his head in the security guard's groin.
“Alright, that's it. Let's go.” The guard grabbed the man by his one intact arm and lead him towards the exit.
“Li'ten t' me, I'm fine. Le' me walk on my o'n.” Muttered the incoherent one armed man. “I kno' ho'to walk, damnit! I fought in the war!”
The guard brought the man up the stairs, nodding and feigning interest. “Uh huh,” “Oh really?” “Is that right?” “Ok, mister.” “Let's keep walking now. We're almost there.”
The man continued to mumble. In the distance, a gust of wind was blowing and a couple got on board a metro car.
***
The roaring thunder of the helicopter engine over the tree-line brought new life into the wounded soldiers trudging through the filth and blood of the forest. Shouts of exultation dripped off the lips of the men as they threw their arms into the air waving their position. A soldier fired a flare gun.
“We're saved, serg. Thank god.”
“Save it for when we're back in friendly territory.”
“Yes sir. It's just that I've never seen such a beautiful sight before. That helicopter's like a guardian angel come down from heaven to take us back to paradise.”
“I hope your god is smiling down on the thousands slaughtered back there, cause I know he sure as hell ain't smiling on us.”
“You'll see, Serg. Some day you'll know the truth.”
“If I wanted to know the truth, I would have graduated college. I would have gotten a middle class blue collar job. Maybe I could have managed my own division in some big corporate box company. I could have managed boxes. How's that for truth?”
“You'll see some day. For your own sake, I hope you will see.”
“You and me both, padre.”
The metro car doors slid open. A hundred people piled onto the walk-way squinting in the new light trying to find the exit sign.
Huddled under his camouflage tent of garbage, the man stirred. He peeked through a hole in the garbage bag covering his face to make sure he wasn't being watched. They never looked.
“Hey,” he whispered to a passer-by, “got a smoke?”
“No.”
“Some change?”
“No.”
He repeated these simple requests to whoever passed with the same results. It had been three weeks since his last cigarette. He couldn't remember if he still needed one, just that he wanted one. He always had a cigarette ready to smoke in the army, with his men prepared to light it for him. He saved their lives and their repayment was lighting his cigarettes. A fair compromise, he believed. Which of them would remember who he was, let alone their debt in cigarettes now?
His eyes fell on a man across the tracks on the other side of the metro station.
“You!” he bellowed, “You!”
The man looked to his left then to his right, trying to find whoever it was the bearded lunatic was yelling at. Fearing the worst, he returned his gaze to a crack in the tiled floor covered in gum and brown slush brought in from the cold winter outside.
“You! I'm talking to you!”
The confused business man threw pleading glances at nearby passengers, hoping for reassurance and comfort from people he could trust. People like him, waiting for a metro car. Waiting to get to work, school or the daycare with their children. He hoped some might look at him and make him feel like he was safe in their company, to protect him from the bearded lunatic across the tracks. Averted stares and downcast eyes were his recompense.
“Stand up straight, soldier!”
“C-can I h-help you?”
“That's 'Can I help you, Sir!'”
“Pardon?”
“Do you want to get court-martialed, son?”
“I think you have me confused for somebody else.”
“Soldier, you're on my last nerve!”
“Listen, you really do have me confused with somebody else. Can I help you with something?”
“Help... me with something? I... don't... know.”
“Are you alright?”
“My men. Oh God, my men!
“Listen, my train is coming. I'm sorry, I hope you find who you're looking for.”
The metro's lights beamed through the darkness of the tunnel as it raced towards it's destination. It slithered into the station. The business man could no longer see the bearded lunatic, except through the graffiti on the window blurring his vision. The bearded man didn't look. He turned his attention to a crack in the tiled floor.
“How far till the rendezvous, serg?” asked the soldier with the cross around his neck. He put his hand to his forehead to block out the sun beating on his brow.
“A few more miles, soldier. It'll be dark in a couple of hours, we'll have to pick up the pace.”
“Will it wait for us?”
“They won't leave us behind, you can count on that.”
The sergeant's troops followed behind with new energy. The rescue chopper ignited hope in their hearts that they thought had died with their friends on the front lines.
“What are you looking forward to most, sir, when we get back?” continued the soldier with the cross.
“A bath and military issue meat loaf.”
“I can't wait to get to the chapel. This weight on my back is becoming more than I can bear.”
“It'll be a relief to put down our weapons for a few days rest.”
“That's not what I mean, sir.”
“I know what you mean and you keep holding onto that for as long as you can. It's probably the only thing that'll keep you sane out here.”
“You seem to be doing alright yourself, sir.”
“It's practice, Private. You can do just about anything with enough practice. I've practiced staying sane all my life. Why do you think I'm so good at it?”
A smirk crept across the sergeant’s face. The wrinkles of age could be seen at the corners of his mouth. The dried dirt peeled from his face.
The crack in the floor began to expand in all directions. The bearded man was entranced by the growing break in the tiles. He looked around frantically. Nobody seemed to notice the growing chasm but himself. Tears began to form in his eyes in fear and awe as the growing abyss in the metro floor circled around him, leaving only a small path from which to escape. He jumped to his feet, testing each footing before taking a step. He slowly made his way towards the narrow bridge of concrete that was left in the wake of the crumbling floor. A thunderous roar approached from a distance, and the man could begin to see a sparkle of light floating in the hole of the floor where the metro tracks once lay. He took a step forward but he felt his weight shift as the platform fell apart from underneath his feet. As he scrambled to find a ledge to grab hold of, he lost sight of the ball of light that so enthralled him. “No!”, he shouted, “come back! I've found you – where have you gone?”
He desperately searched the crumbling debris for something to grab which would hold his weight so he could lift himself back on top of the dwindling cat-walk. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he heaved himself up and began searching the expanse for that guiding light. The roar got louder as it seemed to be approaching from all directions. In the corner of his eye, the beam of light glistened through the darkness of the abyss. “There! I see you. One last time, men. Charge!”
Into the black pit the man plunged, headlong and smiling, his search finally at an end. The metro car came to a screeching halt. The passengers on the walk-way crying and screaming in terror and shock. They saw the man in the tracks, the man with the blanket of garbage, and they wished they hadn't.
By: George Karounis
“Keep going, head for the tree line!” The sergeant's voice rose above the detonations of nearby grenades and the clicking of used ammunition clips. “Where's the medevac? For Christ’s sake, somebody call in the air-support!” A hidden land-mine exploded under the feet of an eighteen year old volunteer and the platoon hit the mud while bits of shrapnel flew into the air like a swarm of bees protecting their hive. Blood and body parts littered the forest, dripping from tree tops like dew on a spring morning. The sergeant jumped to his feet and started bellowing orders at the hazy-eyed soldiers toying with their dog tags in silent prayer.
“Move! Let's go! Don't just lie there, get a move on! Hey, are you listening to me? I said you can't sleep on this bench. Listen, I'm not going to tell you again. If you don't move, I'm going to have to call the cops.”
A couple sat holding hands enjoying the smell of their perfume and three dollar deodorant as they tried to drown out the stench of stale urine and digested beer vomit. The man to whom the metro security guard addressed himself stirred under his blanket of garbage bags and recycled Chinese takeout boxes. The security guard resumed his requests when the man under the bed of filth sat up, revealing a stump under his left shoulder where an arm used to hang free.
“Listen,” started the security guard, “I know times are tough, but I can't have you loitering in the metro. I'm sorry, but those are the rules. It says so on the wall here.”
The security guard pointed to the sign on the wall which read in big black letters on a solid off-white background: 'No Loitering'.
The foul stench which seemed to drip off the old man like crusty molasses as he removed his makeshift blanket made the security guard cover his nose in embarrassment and guilt. The old man turned his head in a stupor of half bewilderment and half inebriation, causing his head to spin wildly while his body stayed in place. Unable to control his dizzying vertigo sensation on solid ground, the old man fell forward, landing his head in the security guard's groin.
“Alright, that's it. Let's go.” The guard grabbed the man by his one intact arm and lead him towards the exit.
“Li'ten t' me, I'm fine. Le' me walk on my o'n.” Muttered the incoherent one armed man. “I kno' ho'to walk, damnit! I fought in the war!”
The guard brought the man up the stairs, nodding and feigning interest. “Uh huh,” “Oh really?” “Is that right?” “Ok, mister.” “Let's keep walking now. We're almost there.”
The man continued to mumble. In the distance, a gust of wind was blowing and a couple got on board a metro car.
***
The roaring thunder of the helicopter engine over the tree-line brought new life into the wounded soldiers trudging through the filth and blood of the forest. Shouts of exultation dripped off the lips of the men as they threw their arms into the air waving their position. A soldier fired a flare gun.
“We're saved, serg. Thank god.”
“Save it for when we're back in friendly territory.”
“Yes sir. It's just that I've never seen such a beautiful sight before. That helicopter's like a guardian angel come down from heaven to take us back to paradise.”
“I hope your god is smiling down on the thousands slaughtered back there, cause I know he sure as hell ain't smiling on us.”
“You'll see, Serg. Some day you'll know the truth.”
“If I wanted to know the truth, I would have graduated college. I would have gotten a middle class blue collar job. Maybe I could have managed my own division in some big corporate box company. I could have managed boxes. How's that for truth?”
“You'll see some day. For your own sake, I hope you will see.”
“You and me both, padre.”
The metro car doors slid open. A hundred people piled onto the walk-way squinting in the new light trying to find the exit sign.
Huddled under his camouflage tent of garbage, the man stirred. He peeked through a hole in the garbage bag covering his face to make sure he wasn't being watched. They never looked.
“Hey,” he whispered to a passer-by, “got a smoke?”
“No.”
“Some change?”
“No.”
He repeated these simple requests to whoever passed with the same results. It had been three weeks since his last cigarette. He couldn't remember if he still needed one, just that he wanted one. He always had a cigarette ready to smoke in the army, with his men prepared to light it for him. He saved their lives and their repayment was lighting his cigarettes. A fair compromise, he believed. Which of them would remember who he was, let alone their debt in cigarettes now?
His eyes fell on a man across the tracks on the other side of the metro station.
“You!” he bellowed, “You!”
The man looked to his left then to his right, trying to find whoever it was the bearded lunatic was yelling at. Fearing the worst, he returned his gaze to a crack in the tiled floor covered in gum and brown slush brought in from the cold winter outside.
“You! I'm talking to you!”
The confused business man threw pleading glances at nearby passengers, hoping for reassurance and comfort from people he could trust. People like him, waiting for a metro car. Waiting to get to work, school or the daycare with their children. He hoped some might look at him and make him feel like he was safe in their company, to protect him from the bearded lunatic across the tracks. Averted stares and downcast eyes were his recompense.
“Stand up straight, soldier!”
“C-can I h-help you?”
“That's 'Can I help you, Sir!'”
“Pardon?”
“Do you want to get court-martialed, son?”
“I think you have me confused for somebody else.”
“Soldier, you're on my last nerve!”
“Listen, you really do have me confused with somebody else. Can I help you with something?”
“Help... me with something? I... don't... know.”
“Are you alright?”
“My men. Oh God, my men!
“Listen, my train is coming. I'm sorry, I hope you find who you're looking for.”
The metro's lights beamed through the darkness of the tunnel as it raced towards it's destination. It slithered into the station. The business man could no longer see the bearded lunatic, except through the graffiti on the window blurring his vision. The bearded man didn't look. He turned his attention to a crack in the tiled floor.
“How far till the rendezvous, serg?” asked the soldier with the cross around his neck. He put his hand to his forehead to block out the sun beating on his brow.
“A few more miles, soldier. It'll be dark in a couple of hours, we'll have to pick up the pace.”
“Will it wait for us?”
“They won't leave us behind, you can count on that.”
The sergeant's troops followed behind with new energy. The rescue chopper ignited hope in their hearts that they thought had died with their friends on the front lines.
“What are you looking forward to most, sir, when we get back?” continued the soldier with the cross.
“A bath and military issue meat loaf.”
“I can't wait to get to the chapel. This weight on my back is becoming more than I can bear.”
“It'll be a relief to put down our weapons for a few days rest.”
“That's not what I mean, sir.”
“I know what you mean and you keep holding onto that for as long as you can. It's probably the only thing that'll keep you sane out here.”
“You seem to be doing alright yourself, sir.”
“It's practice, Private. You can do just about anything with enough practice. I've practiced staying sane all my life. Why do you think I'm so good at it?”
A smirk crept across the sergeant’s face. The wrinkles of age could be seen at the corners of his mouth. The dried dirt peeled from his face.
The crack in the floor began to expand in all directions. The bearded man was entranced by the growing break in the tiles. He looked around frantically. Nobody seemed to notice the growing chasm but himself. Tears began to form in his eyes in fear and awe as the growing abyss in the metro floor circled around him, leaving only a small path from which to escape. He jumped to his feet, testing each footing before taking a step. He slowly made his way towards the narrow bridge of concrete that was left in the wake of the crumbling floor. A thunderous roar approached from a distance, and the man could begin to see a sparkle of light floating in the hole of the floor where the metro tracks once lay. He took a step forward but he felt his weight shift as the platform fell apart from underneath his feet. As he scrambled to find a ledge to grab hold of, he lost sight of the ball of light that so enthralled him. “No!”, he shouted, “come back! I've found you – where have you gone?”
He desperately searched the crumbling debris for something to grab which would hold his weight so he could lift himself back on top of the dwindling cat-walk. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he heaved himself up and began searching the expanse for that guiding light. The roar got louder as it seemed to be approaching from all directions. In the corner of his eye, the beam of light glistened through the darkness of the abyss. “There! I see you. One last time, men. Charge!”
Into the black pit the man plunged, headlong and smiling, his search finally at an end. The metro car came to a screeching halt. The passengers on the walk-way crying and screaming in terror and shock. They saw the man in the tracks, the man with the blanket of garbage, and they wished they hadn't.