Desert Song
Different shades of vermillion…
Like a worm, boring through
Cinders and rock and ash. I think I need a broom
To sweep away the day, cleanse us of the shame we're in, I'm in
Like a stray, with the mange, worms and lice and matted
Think I need to bathe, to wash away the day
Cleanse us of the palate, rid me of the taste
‘…Come on, you can do this… You have to… Breathe… focus on the breathing… Inhale… Exhale… That’s right. Nice and easy. See? It’s not that hard. Come on. Just few more times. They’ll get bored of this eventually, right? They won’t break me… They can’t… won’t give up… not now… not ever… If I only… No, don’t think about him. Don’t you fucking dare to... They mustn’t know… Five. Four. Three… Two…’
“N-no!”
The voice came shuddering and hoarse as 500V of electricity rushed throughout his body. It almost didn’t sound like his own. So different, so foreign… so broken… More of an animal’s, than an actual human being’s. A trapped gazelle among the bloodthirsty hyenas – that’s what he really was. A dwarf in a land of the giants; overwhelmed and scared for its life.
Some say that in a certain point of tortures man stops thinking rationally, literally loses his mind. Well, he wished it was true. He wished he could get to this point already and hopefully become unaware of this agony.
His whole body ached. Each breath came shallow and uneven. Every muscle was tensed, even those he never knew existed. But he won’t give up. No. There’s no way he would tell them what they wanted to hear. He wouldn’t deceive his own beliefs, his own country, his…
“Agrh…”
Another wave of excruciating pain made stars and white dots appear before his eyes. His own heavy breathing, overwhelming smell of the burnt flesh, scoffing laugher and those disgusting, scornful smirks… It all seemed like too much too bear. Indeed it was too much, for within couple of minutes (or was it seconds?) his vision started to get blurry…
“…A company - always on the run. Our destiny holds the rising su…un. I was born with shotgun in my hands. Behind the gun I’ll make my final stand, yeah… That’s why they call me…”
As if being closed in a small metal box with those idiots wasn’t enough… He hated this song. He truly, fucking hated it…
“Guys, could you please stop singing?”
“Shut up, Iero. Stop being such a sissy” shouted Joel and turned the volume up on purpose. “… I can’t deny! Bad, bad company…”
Frank cursed under his breath and lazily looked outta the jeep’s window. Here, in the Middle East everything looked exactly the same, he thought bitterly. It’s all just yellow sand and equally yellow stones, the gavel road being the only exception in this deserted scenery. Even cities were similar - narrow, crowded streets with square, bricked tenements on both sides. It was so... boring. He would never understand people who chose this place to spend their vacation in.
After becoming sick of the views, Frank decided to turn around and his eyes instantly met Paul’s. He didn’t seem to enjoy himself either. His hazel eyes were looking idly into Frank’s as if trying to find something interesting in them. Or at least something more interesting than Bad Company… His brown hair, messily tied up into a ponytail made him look even more bored and fed up with the others’ cheered up moods.
Paul was a director of some kind of a documentary and they were supposed to escort him and guarantee him safety during the filming process. Well, they are American soldiers after all and this was their duty, but let’s be honest – what could possibly happen? This is not a scenario of an action movie or some stupid computer game – it’s reality. And in reality the Middle East wasn’t a dangerous and flooded in blood battlefield, as some might think. It was all deserts and transporting the Caritas packages from town to town. If he only knew before signing in… Not that he’d have much of a choice anyway…
“Alright, gentlemen” Sergeant’s thickly accented voice filled the interior. Was it southern? No, he definitely didn’t sound like someone from the south… “I believe we’re here.”
Joel turned off the engine and all of them stepped out of the car. The weather was… nice, kind of… There were absolutely no clouds and sun shined mercilessly over their heads, yet a slight whiff of tepid, desert breeze made it somewhat bearable. There was nothing to complain about.
Without hesitation Paul started to set up his gear and told… or rather ordered Joel to operate the camera. What was so special about this place? This Frank was still trying to figure out.
However he didn’t have much time to contemplate as Paul put what looked like a long, metal stick with something feathery and downy near the end into his hands. A microphone, he thought with pride and straightaway aimed it in the indicated direction. Maybe he wasn’t a professional, but… how difficult could it be?
“Alright. What we need is a nice shot of the desert and then a close up of those trees on the right. So… If you’re ready… Action” instructed Paul and with a hushed voice continued on giving hundreds of advises and commentaries during filming, so they all knew what to do. “Cut… Cut. Stop filming. What are you doing with this goddamn microphone?”
Frank froze and looked around in search of someone else who could’ve possibly been holding the device as well, yet found none.
“M-me?”
“Yes, you. Could you please stop pointing that thing straight into the frame?” he sighed heavily and turned to the Sergeant, who stood quietly on the side and watched everything with mild interest “Mind to remind me why the hell I wasn’t allowed to bring my own crew here?”
“Because it’s too dangerous, Mr. Brown” the answer was short and simple.
“Oh right, I’ve forgotten. So it must be the lethal sand we are dealing with, ‘cause I can’t see any other enemies” Joel burst out laughing and Frank couldn’t help but giggle as well, but soon it was cut short with the C.O’s murderous glare. Sergeant Dawson hardly ever acted stubbornly, yet testing his patience definitely wasn’t a good idea. And Paul seemed to be aware of it as well. “Fine, then let’s retake. Okay… Action.”
And therefore they started filming again. And again, and again… And after another seven or eight takes, when the heat became unbearable and Frank’s hands started to shake from exhaustion, the director finally announced a brief break. As on the cue both of the privates groaned and fell to the ground. Who had ever said that working as a film maker was an easy job?
Voices… There were voices everywhere. The worst part was that no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t understand any of them. It was all inaudible whispers and incoherent babbling coming from behind an unbreakable barrier. A barrier created in his own mind.
He wanted to scream. Why were they talking? Why couldn’t they shut up? He wanted to yell at them to stop, to give him some rest… But nothing ever came. His mouth was sealed and so were his eyes, although it definitely wasn’t a thread or glue what kept them closed. It was something much, much worse, he realized after a while. He knew this feeling all too well…
All of his limbs were laying numbly by his sides and he seemed to have no control over them. As if they weren’t his own… As if his own body wasn’t his anymore… Right then it was more of a coffin that he’d been buried in against his will….
“So, what’s for lunch?” Frank asked lazily and put the microphone aside so it wouldn’t heat up too much in the midday’s sun.
“For you? It’s hamburgers and delicious, juicy steaks… very rare, for your liking.”
“Very fucking funny, Joel.”
The Sergeant gestured them to stop arguing and so they did. The whole conversation was meaningless anyway. In reality they haven’t brought any food with them, so what was the point of fighting over it? All that they got was few bottles of mineral water and some chocolate candy bars and the nearest store was over 50 miles away. Perfect….
“I think we should get back to work, while the sun is still up. Otherwise we’re gonna have to come back tomorrow and finish” said Paul and started to get up from where he’d been sitting.
Both young men stood up without much of a protest. It’s not like they were so keen on working with the hotness hanging still in the air (unfortunately the lifesaving breeze had vanished some time ago), but the perspective of doing it all over again tomorrow was enough for a motivation.
“So, what we are going to do is…” the director started, but never had a chance to finish his sentence as a loud, thunder-like sound pierced the air.
And then the time has stopped.
Paul fell to the ground with an audible thud. His eyes remained wide-open and were staring vacantly into the nothingness, the weird mixture of shock and bewilderment still evident in them. Frank took few steps back and shook his head frantically. No, this couldn’t be happening… Not now, not so suddenly… He still couldn’t believe his own eyes, even when the blood started to pour out of the Paul’s unmoving head, staining the fair ground with the bright shade of red…
He could hear others screaming and literally begging him to move, but his whole body seemed to be paralyzed. A southern-like accented voice yelling “RPG!” on a top of its lungs was the last thing he heard. And then it all went black…
Cinders and rock and ash. I think I need a broom
To sweep away the day, cleanse us of the shame we're in, I'm in
Like a stray, with the mange, worms and lice and matted
Think I need to bathe, to wash away the day
Cleanse us of the palate, rid me of the taste
‘…Come on, you can do this… You have to… Breathe… focus on the breathing… Inhale… Exhale… That’s right. Nice and easy. See? It’s not that hard. Come on. Just few more times. They’ll get bored of this eventually, right? They won’t break me… They can’t… won’t give up… not now… not ever… If I only… No, don’t think about him. Don’t you fucking dare to... They mustn’t know… Five. Four. Three… Two…’
“N-no!”
The voice came shuddering and hoarse as 500V of electricity rushed throughout his body. It almost didn’t sound like his own. So different, so foreign… so broken… More of an animal’s, than an actual human being’s. A trapped gazelle among the bloodthirsty hyenas – that’s what he really was. A dwarf in a land of the giants; overwhelmed and scared for its life.
Some say that in a certain point of tortures man stops thinking rationally, literally loses his mind. Well, he wished it was true. He wished he could get to this point already and hopefully become unaware of this agony.
His whole body ached. Each breath came shallow and uneven. Every muscle was tensed, even those he never knew existed. But he won’t give up. No. There’s no way he would tell them what they wanted to hear. He wouldn’t deceive his own beliefs, his own country, his…
“Agrh…”
Another wave of excruciating pain made stars and white dots appear before his eyes. His own heavy breathing, overwhelming smell of the burnt flesh, scoffing laugher and those disgusting, scornful smirks… It all seemed like too much too bear. Indeed it was too much, for within couple of minutes (or was it seconds?) his vision started to get blurry…
“…A company - always on the run. Our destiny holds the rising su…un. I was born with shotgun in my hands. Behind the gun I’ll make my final stand, yeah… That’s why they call me…”
As if being closed in a small metal box with those idiots wasn’t enough… He hated this song. He truly, fucking hated it…
“Guys, could you please stop singing?”
“Shut up, Iero. Stop being such a sissy” shouted Joel and turned the volume up on purpose. “… I can’t deny! Bad, bad company…”
Frank cursed under his breath and lazily looked outta the jeep’s window. Here, in the Middle East everything looked exactly the same, he thought bitterly. It’s all just yellow sand and equally yellow stones, the gavel road being the only exception in this deserted scenery. Even cities were similar - narrow, crowded streets with square, bricked tenements on both sides. It was so... boring. He would never understand people who chose this place to spend their vacation in.
After becoming sick of the views, Frank decided to turn around and his eyes instantly met Paul’s. He didn’t seem to enjoy himself either. His hazel eyes were looking idly into Frank’s as if trying to find something interesting in them. Or at least something more interesting than Bad Company… His brown hair, messily tied up into a ponytail made him look even more bored and fed up with the others’ cheered up moods.
Paul was a director of some kind of a documentary and they were supposed to escort him and guarantee him safety during the filming process. Well, they are American soldiers after all and this was their duty, but let’s be honest – what could possibly happen? This is not a scenario of an action movie or some stupid computer game – it’s reality. And in reality the Middle East wasn’t a dangerous and flooded in blood battlefield, as some might think. It was all deserts and transporting the Caritas packages from town to town. If he only knew before signing in… Not that he’d have much of a choice anyway…
“Alright, gentlemen” Sergeant’s thickly accented voice filled the interior. Was it southern? No, he definitely didn’t sound like someone from the south… “I believe we’re here.”
Joel turned off the engine and all of them stepped out of the car. The weather was… nice, kind of… There were absolutely no clouds and sun shined mercilessly over their heads, yet a slight whiff of tepid, desert breeze made it somewhat bearable. There was nothing to complain about.
Without hesitation Paul started to set up his gear and told… or rather ordered Joel to operate the camera. What was so special about this place? This Frank was still trying to figure out.
However he didn’t have much time to contemplate as Paul put what looked like a long, metal stick with something feathery and downy near the end into his hands. A microphone, he thought with pride and straightaway aimed it in the indicated direction. Maybe he wasn’t a professional, but… how difficult could it be?
“Alright. What we need is a nice shot of the desert and then a close up of those trees on the right. So… If you’re ready… Action” instructed Paul and with a hushed voice continued on giving hundreds of advises and commentaries during filming, so they all knew what to do. “Cut… Cut. Stop filming. What are you doing with this goddamn microphone?”
Frank froze and looked around in search of someone else who could’ve possibly been holding the device as well, yet found none.
“M-me?”
“Yes, you. Could you please stop pointing that thing straight into the frame?” he sighed heavily and turned to the Sergeant, who stood quietly on the side and watched everything with mild interest “Mind to remind me why the hell I wasn’t allowed to bring my own crew here?”
“Because it’s too dangerous, Mr. Brown” the answer was short and simple.
“Oh right, I’ve forgotten. So it must be the lethal sand we are dealing with, ‘cause I can’t see any other enemies” Joel burst out laughing and Frank couldn’t help but giggle as well, but soon it was cut short with the C.O’s murderous glare. Sergeant Dawson hardly ever acted stubbornly, yet testing his patience definitely wasn’t a good idea. And Paul seemed to be aware of it as well. “Fine, then let’s retake. Okay… Action.”
And therefore they started filming again. And again, and again… And after another seven or eight takes, when the heat became unbearable and Frank’s hands started to shake from exhaustion, the director finally announced a brief break. As on the cue both of the privates groaned and fell to the ground. Who had ever said that working as a film maker was an easy job?
Voices… There were voices everywhere. The worst part was that no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t understand any of them. It was all inaudible whispers and incoherent babbling coming from behind an unbreakable barrier. A barrier created in his own mind.
He wanted to scream. Why were they talking? Why couldn’t they shut up? He wanted to yell at them to stop, to give him some rest… But nothing ever came. His mouth was sealed and so were his eyes, although it definitely wasn’t a thread or glue what kept them closed. It was something much, much worse, he realized after a while. He knew this feeling all too well…
All of his limbs were laying numbly by his sides and he seemed to have no control over them. As if they weren’t his own… As if his own body wasn’t his anymore… Right then it was more of a coffin that he’d been buried in against his will….
“So, what’s for lunch?” Frank asked lazily and put the microphone aside so it wouldn’t heat up too much in the midday’s sun.
“For you? It’s hamburgers and delicious, juicy steaks… very rare, for your liking.”
“Very fucking funny, Joel.”
The Sergeant gestured them to stop arguing and so they did. The whole conversation was meaningless anyway. In reality they haven’t brought any food with them, so what was the point of fighting over it? All that they got was few bottles of mineral water and some chocolate candy bars and the nearest store was over 50 miles away. Perfect….
“I think we should get back to work, while the sun is still up. Otherwise we’re gonna have to come back tomorrow and finish” said Paul and started to get up from where he’d been sitting.
Both young men stood up without much of a protest. It’s not like they were so keen on working with the hotness hanging still in the air (unfortunately the lifesaving breeze had vanished some time ago), but the perspective of doing it all over again tomorrow was enough for a motivation.
“So, what we are going to do is…” the director started, but never had a chance to finish his sentence as a loud, thunder-like sound pierced the air.
And then the time has stopped.
Paul fell to the ground with an audible thud. His eyes remained wide-open and were staring vacantly into the nothingness, the weird mixture of shock and bewilderment still evident in them. Frank took few steps back and shook his head frantically. No, this couldn’t be happening… Not now, not so suddenly… He still couldn’t believe his own eyes, even when the blood started to pour out of the Paul’s unmoving head, staining the fair ground with the bright shade of red…
He could hear others screaming and literally begging him to move, but his whole body seemed to be paralyzed. A southern-like accented voice yelling “RPG!” on a top of its lungs was the last thing he heard. And then it all went black…
