Prologue For An Unknown Soldier
READ FREE - FIrst Chapter of my Debut Novel, "Ghosts of the Burning City"
My debut novel is out now in ebook and paperback. Following is the back cover description and the first chapter. Enjoy.
Description
Six years ago grade one teacher Cecilia left her life behind, relocating to a war bunker where she has taught a new generation of children. Above them the city that she knew, destroyed by an invading enemy. Gone is the city her students never had a chance to see.
A student inexplicably begins to predict and affect events before they happen. Cecilia's friend vanishes, returning days later with no memory of what happened. All the while a mysterious enemy lurks in the shadows.
In the war-torn city, an unnamed soldier writes of the trauma of war, loss, and the desire to reunite with his family. Advancing toward certain death, little does he know that his words will affect the trajectory of his life, and the search for meaning.
Ghosts of the Burning City plunges readers into the depths of the human condition, the longing for connection, and the fight for survival.
Chapter 1
The soldier scribbled in his notebook. The letterforms were barely legible, some incomplete, as he struggled with numb fingers to write down his thoughts before he lost all feeling in them. His only source of light was a small flashlight he had wedged into a crevice in the brickwork behind him. Its beam, growing fainter by the minute, hastened his task. Every so often he would blow into his hands to warm his fingers and his breath faded into the darkness around him.
There is no one left from my troop. I’m the only one still alive. I’m not going to give up, and I hope that wherever you are you haven’t given up on me. Somehow, I’ll find my way back to you and Beth.
The room in which he sat alone was once a home, but not his home. The previous owners had long ago abandoned it, soon after the shelling started. All around him lay broken bits of plaster, glass, and brick. Everything else had long ago burned away; anything that remained was painted with the ashes of war. He hoped the owners had found refuge somewhere far away and deep within the safety of the city’s bowels. Perhaps if they were fortunate enough, they had gone somewhere else entirely, out of the country. Did they have children, and how were they doing, he often wondered as he thought of his own child. He said a silent prayer and thanked them, grateful for the temporary shelter.
If the house could write its own history into his notebook, it would be a long and bleak narrative. But somehow the house still stood as if it were a monument to a better time. As long as he kept himself alive, he prayed that he too would see a better time again soon. The flashlight flickered and dimmed. The soldier closed his notebook, secured the elastic around the cover, and dropped it along with the pencil stub into his rucksack where he kept his military food rations, an extra pair of dry socks, underwear, and ammunition supplies, which were running low. He switched off the flashlight and slipped it into the front pocket of his jacket.
Suddenly, there came the sound of crunching glass outside. He held his breath, slowly backed away from the wall, and peered over the empty window frame above him. In the darkness it was difficult to see anything inside or outside. The moon had been shining bright and full on this night, but clouds and smoke now obscured it. All the streetlights had long since been destroyed along with the power grid. It was likely the enemy passing through to ensure the area had been cleared. Now, he was at risk of capture—or worse. He thought of his notebook and the many promises he had made to stay alive, to find his wife and daughter again. It was better to stay quiet and out of sight until morning when he could again navigate the torn city streets and the toppled homes. Of his troop, he was the only one left. Everyone else was gone, either caught and killed or having succumbed to the harsh winter, starvation, or injury.
More footsteps. By the sounds of it, probably two or three people. Slowly, he pulled his pistol from its holster, but he couldn’t wrap his numb fingers around the grip. What a shitty way to go, he thought, not being able to defend oneself because of a bit of frostbite. The footsteps stopped outside the window. He could hear the enemy soldiers breathing in the darkness, not more than five metres away. They whispered to each other in a language he didn’t understand, and they moved away from the house. He exhaled a slow sigh of relief.
At the entranceway of the home, the soldier peered outside. A break in the clouds revealed the moon again which and cast a glow over the street that painted everything blue-black. There were two soldiers with their backs to him creeping along the edges of the ruined homes, their rifles raised.
Something brushed against the soldier’s leg, and he jumped back through the doorway into house and clasped his hand to over his mouth. Pointing the pistol with his shaking hand, he cocked the hammer and aimed at the blueish silhouette standing before him. It was a dog. The soldier lowered his pistol and exhaled a sigh of relief. The animal came over to him and licked his hand. Crouching on the rubble-strewn floor, the dog licked his face.
“Shh, boy, shh,” he soothed the animal. He felt in his backpack for the remaining piece of bread from his last meal, then felt in the dark for the dog’s muzzle and put the stale bread into its mouth. It immediately vanished down its throat. The dog licked his face again and nuzzled the backpack looking for more food.
“Where did you come from? Is this your house?”
He scratched behind the dog’s ears, and it sat next to him. The soldier switched his flashlight on for a second to get a look at the dog, a black Labrador retriever. No wonder it moved unnoticed in the dark. It was almost impossible to see it until it was standing beside you. The patrolling soldiers would have shot it on sight had they seen it. The dog moved closer and licked the soldier’s face again.
“Where’s your family, huh?” he asked, rubbing its chin. It was pointless to ask the question, since he knew for certain that the dog’s family was gone. “I guess you’re stuck with me now.” The dog licked his face again, silently accepting his offer.
Gravel and broken glass crunched outside. The dog whimpered and the soldier immediately muzzled it. “Shh,” he whispered and moved his hands away. The dog licked his palm. The soldier drew his pistol again and aimed it into the darkness beyond the doorway. A long moment of silence hung heavy in the darkness. Whispers, then more crunching of approaching boots. The soldier backed his way through the house with the dog following him until they were in another room with a wall between them and the doorway. He felt his way in the darkness; a smooth tiled wall, a countertop, metal sink. In the middle, a table and chairs. He slid his way along the wall until he found what he hoped for, a door, and now he waited. Another long moment of silence. The dog began to whimper again, and the solder took hold of its chin and squeezed it, but he dog pulled away and barked.
A second later he heard something bounce into the other room, then a flash of light and a sound that tore through the silent house. The dog barked and growled. The soldier reached out, grabbed hold of the doorknob, threw the door open, and ran outside. The dog followed him as he stumbled through brush and bits of charred remains of the house that littered the backyard. A staccato of gunfire and shouting. The soldier ran as fast as he could until he came to a low fence and climbed over it. The dog jumped it and the two of them continued running through another backyard. A moment later a bullet whizzed by his ear. He ducked and ran until he came upon another house and worked his way to the front, desperately needing to put a solid structure between himself and the hail of bullets. Footsteps were fast approaching, and he ran as fast as his weak legs could take him. Then, a searing pain tore through the back of his right leg, and he fell to the ground. The dog whimpered and ran circles around him. At that moment, the soldier knew his life was over and he would die.
“Run, keep running!” he screamed at the dog, but it refused to go.
Another staccato of bullets now, but this time it sounded as if it came from the opposite direction. Footsteps came toward him and two pairs of hands with iron grips grabbed him by his arms and lifted him up. Another set of hands pulled his backpack off, and he was being dragged through a doorway.
“Shut that fucking dog up!” a voice yelled, followed by the click of a round being loaded into a rifle chamber.
“No, leave the dog,” the soldier groaned, but the pain was too much. He was too weak, and he felt himself slipping into a darkness that was deeper than this night.
“Be quiet,” a voice said as he was dragged down a flight of concrete steps, which caused the pain to swell and the darkness to close around him. He felt himself drift into it.
This is how it ends, he thought. His wife’s face appeared to him along with their unborn child. The child had no facial features, but he knew it was his child, a girl. The last thing he heard was the dog barking, and then the night was still, and the inky blue of the night gave way to an impossible darkness.