"Carry on," he said, motioning at the terrified private to drop the bomb. She shook her head, her eyes wide and terrified, her knuckles white on the joystick of the plane.
"Are you disobeying a direct order, Private?"
"Sir, no, sir," she squeaked, but her finger remained an inch off the red button that she knew would throw ten thousand flailing bodies into the air like so many rag dolls, that would vaporize ten thousand innocents so that their remains would settle on the ash of their homes.
When the bomb still didn't fall, he looked over at her sharply. "Something the matter, Private?"
"Sir," she whispered, barely audible over the roar of the engine, knowing she would be punished later for questioning the Colonel. "They're just civilians. Why--" She meant to ask, why are you doing this to them? But instead it came out as "Why are you making me do this?"
"That isn't your real question." A fact.
She shook her head imploringly, still flying in wide circles over the city of walking dead. Soon-to-be-corpses. A ghost town.
"We will save them," he said to no one in particular, looking out the window at the city. "Look at those dollhouses, those tiny streets with their toy cars and their wind-up dolls." Facing her now, a firm hand on her arm. "We can save them, Private. With the push of a button."
One inch.
Her finger closing in on the button.
Eyes closed, heart of lead.
The world exploding beneath them. The bodies, the dolls being thrown, the white dome expanding outwards, generations of life crumbling beneath her eyes. He, watching her watch what she had done, nodding his head in approval.
"Don't feel bad," he said. "You did what you had to do."
"I killed them," she murmured.
"No, Private. You saved them."
She shook her head, turning so that he wouldn't see her face crumpling with the weight of the crime she'd just committed. "I don't understand."
"To salvage the ship, we must first sink it. To forge the sword, we must first melt the metal. To smell the rose, we must first strangle the briar." He nodded to himself, and uttered the words that would be drilled into her mind for the rest of her life.
"Ship from mire. Sword from fire. Rose from briar.”
"Are you disobeying a direct order, Private?"
"Sir, no, sir," she squeaked, but her finger remained an inch off the red button that she knew would throw ten thousand flailing bodies into the air like so many rag dolls, that would vaporize ten thousand innocents so that their remains would settle on the ash of their homes.
When the bomb still didn't fall, he looked over at her sharply. "Something the matter, Private?"
"Sir," she whispered, barely audible over the roar of the engine, knowing she would be punished later for questioning the Colonel. "They're just civilians. Why--" She meant to ask, why are you doing this to them? But instead it came out as "Why are you making me do this?"
"That isn't your real question." A fact.
She shook her head imploringly, still flying in wide circles over the city of walking dead. Soon-to-be-corpses. A ghost town.
"We will save them," he said to no one in particular, looking out the window at the city. "Look at those dollhouses, those tiny streets with their toy cars and their wind-up dolls." Facing her now, a firm hand on her arm. "We can save them, Private. With the push of a button."
One inch.
Her finger closing in on the button.
Eyes closed, heart of lead.
The world exploding beneath them. The bodies, the dolls being thrown, the white dome expanding outwards, generations of life crumbling beneath her eyes. He, watching her watch what she had done, nodding his head in approval.
"Don't feel bad," he said. "You did what you had to do."
"I killed them," she murmured.
"No, Private. You saved them."
She shook her head, turning so that he wouldn't see her face crumpling with the weight of the crime she'd just committed. "I don't understand."
"To salvage the ship, we must first sink it. To forge the sword, we must first melt the metal. To smell the rose, we must first strangle the briar." He nodded to himself, and uttered the words that would be drilled into her mind for the rest of her life.
"Ship from mire. Sword from fire. Rose from briar.”