It was a night of great uncertainty. Augustus and his fellow soldiers were approaching the battleground at a slow pace. Everyone was scared, even Richard who had bragged back in camp about how easily he would crush The Triumvirate all by himself. Augustus sat in the the truck thinking of the wife he had left back home and the child on the way. He couldn’t promise victory, but he was going to do his best to protect what he had worked so hard to achieve.
San Francisco had recently been bombed, causing the obliteration of millions of lives. Americans were battling on the western front of their homeland. Soldiers were dying left and right. It seemed as though all hope was lost. The ones responsible for this crisis were The Triumvirate, The countries of Russia, China, and Pakistan. They were lead by insidious men who went by the names of Alexiei Paltolen, Zaan Powring, and Vivendi Hussien. America had been on shaky ground with these countries for years, but when radicals took them over they decided to form an alliance that would rip the nation apart.
“We have to fight till the very end to save our homes,” Augustus thought to himself. His closest friend was John Greyson who was sitting beside him in the truck. John stood over Augustus by a foot and hand the callused hands of a real working man.
“What happens if we lose, Augustus?” asked John
“Than all hell breaks lose. The only thing more important that getting out there and stopping the enemy is to keep everyone alive,” offered Augustus.
“My dad passed away shortly after he was sent home injured from the Afghanistan War, he hesitated to kill a small child with a hand grenade. That grenade took his entire left leg. After the war he was diagnosed with PTSD because of what he say there.”
“That’s heavy John, I didn’t know that about your father.”
“This war is different though. These heathens our own our territory. We can’t grant them any sympathy.
At that moment one of the tires blew out on the truck. The driver Hilda, a short green-eyed woman, had screamed. The truck flipped over off of the cliff they were driving on and fell to the very depths of the valley below. Augustus saw his whole life flash before his eyes, his mother and father lifting him up as a baby, his first dog Rex, his graduation, his beautiful wife Jessica, and the draft that had taken him into camp, followed by the battlezone. “I never wanted it to end like this,” Augustus whispered to himself. Augustus closed his eyes.
His eyes were blurred. Augustus woke up in a very strange place. The sky wasn’t blue, but white. He saw a world of bright green trees. He wandered here looking at all of the the serene beauty of the place. After wandering for long enough he found a young girl with long curly blonde hair, all dressed in white. She walked closer to him and said “Your name is Augustus Leary. Welcome to this place. Have a fruit.”
“Who are you?” He pointed at her with his gloved hand.
“I do not have a name. I have always been as I am now. Please take my hand.”
Augustus was not comfortable, his hairs were on end. In his own way he knew something was wrong. He retorted, “I don’t belong here. I need to go back to my friends. I’m not ready… spectre.”
At that moment the girl grew taller than Augustus, and her skin became looser and looser. Her skin turned a deathly blue. Her clothes became stained with dark blood. “This could have been so much easier, if you would have just taken my hand.” she said heavily.
At that point Augustus ran. He ran harder and faster than he ever had in school and boot camp combined. He smoothly avoided the lunges of the spectre. He saw a sort of opening ahead of him that was closing and he held his breath and jumped inside.