A Bullet Stained Blue

This story was written for the Power up Prompt #16 hosted by Bradley Ramsey.

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Read a sequel to this story, Blue and Eggless!

The faraway explosions shook the air time and time again. A mortar. Not well-maintained, by the sound of it. Were they truly trying to kill someone from such a distance, or were they simply pretending to appease the command? A stray bullet chipped the concrete somewhere below. None of that mattered all that much.

Mark’s thoughts were far away as he stood on the top of a short watchtower. A huge field of destruction opened before his eyes, looking creepy and gloomy under the deep-red, endless, sunless sky. Craters from old explosions, tank tracks, rusty remains of the old instruments of death, ruined and mangled, were scattered across the field of dark-gray, lifeless soil, soaked with old blood, and filled with human bones. But Mark’s eyes were not drawn to these trivialities. No, he stared at the closest remains of a titan.

No one remembered who those creatures were, why they fought, or why the humans were still subservient to the remaining pair. Yet, the five-meter-tall androids looked exactly like humans. And now, Mark stared into their lifeless eyes, at their torn off limbs and different organs, scattered across the old field of battle. The nature wouldn’t claim these remains, not that much of nature remained in this place.

Mark sighed as his eyes looked farther into the field. There, far away, he could see the silhouettes of the industrial complex. As a soldier of the Red Faction, he grew up in the residential complex just next to these factories. As a child, he stared at the field of death from one direction during the rare moments when he hadn’t been studying the art and science of war. Now, he longed for those days.

“Come in, Red Thirteen.” His radio came to life.

“Nothing to report, Red Watcher.”

“Acknowledged, Red Thirteen, nothing to report.”

Mark knew he was slacking off and was supposed to look the other direction towards the Blue base. But it was extremely unlikely that the new attack would come today. None of the two Factions was ready to continue, and none was willing to give up or even ask for a truce.

Marks’s thoughts returned to the industrial complex in the distance. There, his wife Synthia was manufacturing bullets, cartridges, gunpowder, and other instruments of death. During the months like these, the population of the trenches and watchtowers was cut in half. Neither faction had enough troops to keep fighting, and so they had to procreate.

As soon as Synthia learned that she was pregnant with their third child, she left the front line to protect the future soldier from stray bullets and mortar shells, exactly as she did during both of her previous pregnancies, exactly as her and Mark’s mothers did while carrying them.

Mark never knew if it was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, the women were turned into walking incubators against their will just because they had the anatomy for it. On the other hand, for nine months at a time, they were relatively safe, producing instruments of death at the factories, healing their psyche, doing shooting drills, and further studying the theory of war.

Due to all this practice, the women became much better at shooting, tactics, and strategy than men, who were stuck in the trenches, constantly on edge, and occasionally killed. And so when the women returned to the front line after leaving their infants in the care of the mangled and maimed, they would always assume the leading roles in the upcoming counteroffensive, leading their soldiers to meet their death.

“She was relentless today,” Mark remembered the phone conversation from this morning. “How can an unborn kick so fiercely?” Synthia’s voice was laughing, but there was something deeply said in her voice, too.

“I can’t wait to see her,” Mark said, trying to sound cheerful. “I can’t wait to see both of you.”

“You will, love.” Her lie was. “You won’t have to wait for long.”

There would be no way for him to see them both at the same time. Even now, Synthia was not allowed to see their other children and would be separated from their infant daughter almost immediately after giving birth. The only way to see them would be to survive somehow until their kids were old enough to join their parents on the front line.

The sick feeling forced Mark to turn away and finally face the side he was supposed to watch. The Blue Base was in sight. It was a dome of extremely thick concrete painted flaking blue, surrounded by a maze of trenches and occasional watchtowers. The Red Base looked basically the same. Filled with the remains of the titans, the field between mortal enemies was a total mess, dug up, blown up, and crossed over an unimaginable number of times when both factions gained some ground, pushed forward, then lost and were pushed back.

Why were they fighting? Why did Red Leader hate her Blue male counterpart so much? Was it about avenging the lost? Was it stubbornness? Was it fear that if they were to lay down their arms, the Blue would’ve killed them all? Or maybe even she forgot why the war was still smoldering?

TCHUN!

Something hit the concrete next to Mark’s feet. He looked down lazily. A bullet. At this distance, it wouldn’t have the energy to harm him unless it hit an eye. Yet, it was a neat trophy, and so Mark picked it up.

Huh. A brass jacket bore a stain of blue paint, and there was a thin line along the longer axis. Indeed, the bullet was sawn in half and then soldered back together by just a few solder dots. Why would they do it?

Intrigued, Mark took out his knife and carefully cut the solder joints. The bullet split in half, revealing a tiny roll of paper. Mark looked around, but no one was looking in his direction. He unrolled the paper, struggling to read the tiny letters.

truce talk. far east corner

Truce talk? Mark’s mind raced. What wouldn’t he give for it to be true! The message could be a trap, but only if he were to reveal it to anyone. But if he went alone, then the trenches would remain protected by his comrades.

Mark squeezed Synthia’s dog tags in his pockets. He had to risk it, if not for himself, then at least for her and their kids.

~*~

The coming of the night was signified only by the dimming of the red sky. Mark waited in the trench, keeping his pistol at the ready just in case. How would the meeting take place? How would the Blue soldiers get here?

His thoughts were answered by the quiet TAP, TAP, TAP against the wooden retaining wall that kept the trench from collapsing.

Intrigued, Mark grabbed this section of the retaining wall and pulled, exposing a patch of vertical soil and… A tunnel!?

Alarmed, he dropped the wood and aimed inside.

“If I wanted to shoot you…” A female whisper came from the darkness.

Sure, it made sense, but Mark’s heart couldn’t just stop pumping. He nodded, but did not stop aiming.

Quietly, the enemy soldier emerged from the hole. Almost as tall as he was, wearing a blue uniform, fully armed, and covered in dirt. Somehow, he didn’t expect to see her, even though that was why he came here.

“Name’s Grace.” The blue eyes flashed, framed by black bangs under the helmet. “Can we go right now?”

Mark shook his head. “Go where? What’s going on? And why aren’t you serving as an incubator for the Blue right now?”

The white teeth flashed as she chuckled, glancing down at herself. “A few Red bullets to my ovaries did the job. When I came to and heard the news, I wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. I still don’t know. But what I do know is that all of this fighting must stop.”

Mark’s spirit rose for the first time in ages. Fighting must stop… He felt weightless, knowing that someone else was thinking the same thing. Even his pistol stopped aiming at Grace on its own.

Her hand dove into her pocket and pulled out a data cylinder.

“This virus will make Blue Leader ask for a truce.” She whispered, gazing into his soul. “We can’t ask for peace because it would be too drastic and suspicious, but a truce can probably work. I can’t make a virus for Red Leader because I haven’t seen her code. So we must infiltrate my base and upload the virus into Blue Leader’s personal files. Once he accesses them, it will do the trick. As to whether or not Red Leader agrees to a truce — I’ve no idea.”

Hmm… The plan was dangerous, the outcome was uncertain, but it was so much better than nothing! He had to do this, if not for himself, then for his wife and children. And if he failed, no one would be put at risk, for he knew no military secrets.

“Lead the way.”

~*~

It was amazing that Grace managed to dig such a long tunnel alone and in complete secrecy in just a few months. As they went, Mark kept asking questions and learning the route to the mainframe.

The Blue trenches were an unfamiliar maze of long shadows, occasional dim lights, ammo crates under their feet, and occasional dead bonfires, so he followed Grace closely. At times, she had to redirect the watchmens’ attention so he could pass behind them. Each time he feared that it was over — she would betray him, or they would get discovered, forcing him to put a bullet in his head. Each time it worked, and Grace continued to lead the way.

The easier part was soon over. Grace stopped at one of the watchtowers and pointed her finger up. Mark swallowed hard, listening to his own heart pounding. Two people were up there. They both had to die at the same time, and Grace could not do it alone. They waited for them to radio in their status and climbed up the rope ladder.

“Lieutenant?” The person in a Captain uniform looked at Grace with curiosity. Another soldier in this little room turned around to see the newcomer. “Why are you not on your post?”

They both turned to Mark. The expression on their faces shifted from a bit intrigued to alarmed. Their hands jerked to their pistols—

PE-PE!

Two neat holes in their foreheads. It was so crammed in here that Mark and Grace easily caught the bodies mid-fall and quietly laid them on the floor.

“We have half an hour,” Grace reminded him, rummaging the Captain’s pockets and retrieving a shiny key.

Before leaving, Mark left a time-delayed grenade. With any luck, the Blue would think that the grenades the Captain carried were defective and went off on their own.

Grace continued to lead the way. Soon, the trenches were over, leading directly to the underground entrance of the Blue base.

What now? Mark almost panicked, glancing at the soldiers stationed at the steel door on the other side of a straight, thin corridor without any sort of cover. She clearly led me into a trap!

But Grace simply pulled another piece of the wooden retaining wall, revealing another tunnel straight into the base.

Wondering how she managed to do that, Mark followed her.

The base was dark and lifeless at this hour, not like it ever had a lot of inhabitants. They quietly traversed the steel corridors, going deeper and deeper.

There it was! A simple metal door had a plate that read “Mainframe” above it. Yet, a huge guard was stationed in front of it.

Grace slipped forward and approached him. “Hi, Derek. You aren’t sleeping on your post, are you?”

“Very funny, Grace.” The low voice answered. “If the command were to hear this—”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Err…” The mountain of a man hesitated, glancing around. “Look, give me another week, I’ll—”

“You keep saying this, Derek.” She crossed her arms. “If you want me to keep waiting, you’ll have to work for it.”

“Err… Work? Oh, sure, whatever you need.”

“Come, then. The night is young.” She turned around and entered the nearby room.

Derek glanced around again and followed her gloomily.

What now? Mark wondered, staring at the closed door. She took the virus with her…

A faint crack interrupted his thoughts. Grace reappeared from the room, looked around, and waved for him to approach.

“Now he’ll never pay back the money he owed me.” She snickered. “Whatevs. At least no one heard the shot. I left a suicide note in case I don’t make it back in time to incinerate his corpse. Now, turn your key.”

Two keyholes on both sides of the mainframe room door were too far away for one person to turn both of them at the same time. Mark used the key they’ve got from the Captain, while Grace used the one she had acquired who knows how. They turned the keys in unison. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

The mainframe room was loud, hot, and well-lit, but deserted. Grace quickly found a working terminal, plugged in the data cylinder, and copied the virus.

We’ve done it! Mark felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders. Even if Red Leader were to refuse the truce, both the Red and Blue soldiers would still be reminded that peace existed and was simply a matter of choice and willpower. Even if he were to die right now, the infiltration was worth it!

They’ve started making their way back to the trenches. Mark helped her, and so she had to bring him back safely.

“Hey, stop!”

Before Mark could react, Grace jumped into the air. The gunshot echoed in the corridors. A flash of light, and two more gunshots followed, silenced this time. Two bodies hit the floor.

“Did I get him?” Grace whispered as Mark kneeled next to her.

He looked, ran to make sure, and then returned to her.

“Yes,” he said, holding the hand of the woman who took a bullet for him.

Her mouth curved into a smile. “I’ve still got it!”

~*~

This image never left his mind. Would he be so fortunate to die with a smile on his face, knowing that he’s done an amazing job? Only time would tell.

Somehow, no one heard the shots. Somehow, he managed to incinerate all of the bodies, following the instructions Grace gave him back in the tunnel. The grenades on the watchtower went off in the middle of his struggle to find a way out of that maze. The alarms rang, and the Blue soldiers were on high alert, but somehow, he managed to return home.

The truce was announced the next week. There was no telling if it would result in peace. There was no way to know if the soldiers would be reunited with their children. But for the first time in a century, there was hope.

The End

Anton Anderson, 2025

Read a sequel to this story, Blue and Eggless!