A voice called from beyond.
"Wake Up."
The boy on the ground stirred.
"Get up."
He stirred once again.
"We have to go." A sharp slap wakes him up.
The assailant was a young man. He wore a grey army uniform, and carried a long rifle. Panic and grime filled his face while he gestured wildly out the window.
"Get the fuck up, Xun! They're bombing the building!" The boy on the ground is dressed similarly, dirt and dust patched across his face. A submachine gun laid across from him, bullets strewn haphazardly on the floor.
Xun sprang up, scrambling for his weapon and ammunition. Loading the gun, the young man covers him by returning fire out the window. Blood pools around the floor around his leg, a gash running from his ankle to knee. Xun supports the man as he limps down the stairs. Debris falls around them, a plank of wood nearly cracking open Xun's skull. The young man's uninjured leg steps through a rotting floorboard and he goes crashing down the staircase.
"Kolya! Are you alright?!" Xun follows closely behind. He hoists him up and wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Kolya's body. The pair stumble outside, the bright noon sunlight blinding them. Men in grey uniforms gun down men in olive uniforms. Bullets whiz past their heads, missing by inches as a mortar shell blows up a nearby house. An officer in grey rushes to them, barking orders.
"Move the injured to the back! Go! GO!" A shot rang out, and the man collapsed in a heap.
"Enemy sniper!" Kolya screams. "Get down, Xun!" Another shell lands, rubble spraying all over them. The two drop to the ground, cries of pain and hatred ring out, filling the air. Xun curls up into a ball, hands over his head. He babbles incoherently, tears streaming down his cheek.
"I don't wanna die." He sobbed. "I-I wanna go home."
"Xun!" Kolya grabs his shoulders, shaking him. "Focus! We're gonna live! Just do what I say!" He winces, staggering to his feet. "Get behind cover!" A shot grazes Kolya's face, a stream of blood creating clear channels down his soot-covered face. They hide behind the remains of a church, its wooden walls torn apart by the blasts.
"Xun!" Kolya shouted over the thunder of artillery. "We need to take over the big guns in the back! Just follow my lead!
He sprints ahead and dives into a foxhole. Xun staggers behind in a desperate attempt to follow, tripping over a dirt-covered corpse. He tumbles to the ground, before crawling into position with Kolya.
"Almost there man! Just keep following me, and shoot when I shoot!"
Kolya winces as the wound on his leg pools out more blood, some of it crusting on the surface of his skin. He takes off his outer shirt and bandages it around the injury. Lifting himself up to his feet and using his rifle as a makeshift crutch, Kolya advanced forward, with Xun a few steps behind him.
The duo were now perched behind a pile of rubble, the enemy within firing distance. "EAT THIS, RED SCUM!" Kolya unclipped a stick grenade from his belt and lobbed it towards the enemy. The fragments tore through the enemy that were operating on the battery, knocking some backwards. But the remaining survivors were alerted, readying their weapons and dispersing. A few crept towards Kolya and Xun's position.
"Shit! Get down!" Kolya whispered, shoving Xun behind the rubble as the enemy approached.
Xun gritted his teeth, the grip on his machine gun tightening. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving in and out. Kolya silently reloaded his rifle with shaking hands.
"He grabbed Xun's shoulder, grimacing, shifting his injured leg. "Switch guns with me. I'll cover. You move. Circle around while they're distracted with me. You ready?"
Xun hesitated, panic creeping up his throat. "No—I'm not leaving you here."
"You want us both dead?" Kolya snapped. "Move, fuck! I'll be right behind you!"
Xun tightened his jaw, heart pounding in his chest. He crawled low, darting toward the path as Kolya rose to fire. The crack of his gunfire echoed through the ruins, drawing the enemy's attention.
"Go!" Kolya screamed out, covering his escape with a hail of bullets. Xun, gun at the ready, his heart hammering, sprinted out towards a nearby defensive position, ducking behind the sandbagged walls just in time. He took out Kolya's rifle and started shooting at the enemy that were now open and vulnerable.
Bullets kicked up dirt around him. A machine gun rattled, chewing through the remains of a wooden cart just feet away.
As the smoke cleared, the scene resembled nothing less than a bloodbath. Bodies were strewn about, all of them filled with bullet holes. But there was no sign of Kolya.
"Kolya!" Xun cried out.
Silence.
"Koly-"
Xun tumbles towards the ground as an enemy soldier, hidden among the dead, leapt towards him, wrestling for his gun. He gasped as the soldier's weight crushed him against the dirt. His fingers clawed at the rifle, but the enemy had the upper hand, wrenching it from his grasp and shoving the barrel against his chest.
Time slowed. The soldier's face was smeared with blood and soot, his teeth bared in a snarl of desperation. His hands shook, but his grip was firm.
Xun thrashed, panic seizing him, his mind blank with terror. He grabbed at the barrel of the gun, pushing it aside with every ounce of strength he had left. But the muzzle inched closer, the soldier's finger tightening around the trigger.
A shot rang out.
The enemy soldier's body jerked, eyes widening in shock before he slumped forward, lifeless. Xun shoved him off, scrambling backward, breath uneven. His hands were slick with blood—some of it his, some of it not.
Then he saw him.
Kolya lay in the dirt a few meters away, rifle still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. His face was pale, his breaths shallow, his leg now a bloody mess.
Xun's stomach twisted.
"No, no, no—" He crawled toward him, hands pressing against the wound as if he could will the blood to stop. "Kolya, stay with me! You're gonna be okay!"
Kolya let out a weak, breathless chuckle. "We… made it, Xun." His fingers curled around Xun's wrist, his grip weak. "Well… you… you made it. That's… what matters."
Tears blurred Xun's vision. "I should've stayed! I should've—"
Kolya squeezed his hand. "Shut… up. I'm… not gonna…"
His eyes fluttered, his grip going slack.
"Kolya?"
No response.
Xun sat there, the battle raging around him, but all he could hear was silence. The sounds of gunfire tearing through flesh, the screams of those dying in ditches, all of it became distant.
Then, through the haze of smoke and fire, figures appeared.
"Identify Yourself!" They shouted.
Xun snapped his rifle up, instincts kicking in despite the numbness creeping through him. His vision blurred with smoke and dust, but he could make out the shapes of two soldiers moving toward him.
"Identify yourself!" one of them barked again, rifle raised. Their uniforms—grey, like his own. Allies.
Xun exhaled sharply, lowering his weapon just enough to show he wasn't a threat. "Private Xun," he rasped, his voice hoarse from smoke and exhaustion. "Of Lieutenant General Pepelyayev's 1st Middle Siberian Corps." He pointed toward Kolya's still form. "My friend—we took out the artillery. But he-"
"Confirmed," one of the soldiers demanded, stepping closer, his grip still firm on his rifle. The other knelt beside Kolya's motionless body, pressing fingers against his neck. "He's alive," the medic muttered. "Barely."
"We need to move now," the other soldier said, scanning the battlefield. "Enemies are preparing for another attack in a few hours. They're tryna hit us while we're weak."
The crouching soldier nodded. "We've got a fallback position a hundred meters back. We'll take him there."
Xun moved to help lift Kolya, but the soldier stopped him. "We need you here. Enemy forces are closing in—this last fight will decide the battle," he said. "We're getting low on supplies, but I bet that the Reds are in a similar situation."
Xun hesitated, glancing down at Kolya's pale face. The medic was already securing makeshift bandages around his wound, stabilizing him for transport. He stepped back, gripping his rifle.
"Go. I'll hold the line."
The soldier gave Xun what seemed like a look of pity, as if this mission was guaranteeing his demise.
"A few men will arrive to help you hold this position. Until then, stay alive."
Xun nodded, jaw clenched. His fingers curled tightly around his rifle as he watched the soldiers lift Kolya onto a stretcher, disappearing into the smoke and ruins. A part of him wanted to run after them, to make sure Kolya survived. But the other part—the soldier—knew he had to stand his ground. He exhaled sharply, turning back toward the battlefield. The sounds of distant shouting and the rumble of approaching boots sent a cold chill down his spine. The Reds were regrouping.
Xun pressed his back against the shattered remains of a wall, reloading his rifle with steady hands. His body ached, exhaustion gnawed at him, but his mind was sharp. He had no illusions about what was coming next.
Minutes passed. Then hours. Only a few had come to support him.
Finally, there was movement. Shadows flickered through the smoke, silhouettes creeping forward. Xun took a deep breath, steadying himself.
Then he fired.
His first shot dropped a soldier instantly. The others scattered, raucous shouts rising as return fire cracked through the air. Xun ducked, shifting positions, keeping himself low as he squeezed the trigger again. A bullet grazed past his ear. Another ricocheted off the rubble beside him. He barely had time to process it before more gunfire erupted from behind him—he had been surrounded.
The smoke thickened, choking him as he moved from one piece of cover to the next, firing on instinct. The enemy was everywhere, their weapons clattering like a symphony of death. He could hear them shouting, calling for reinforcements, but there was no way out. He couldn't retreat—even if he wanted to.
Then the sound he dreaded rang. It was as quiet as a pin's drop in comparison to the hellstorm surrounding him, but the consequences were so much worse. His gun had jammed. So much debris had filled the battlefield that it had ended up inside the rifle.
A burst of gunfire erupted to his left, and Xun instinctively dove to the right, landing on the cold, hard ground, his rifle skidding out of reach. For a second, the world seemed to stop. He quickly rolled to his feet, scanning the area, every muscle taut. His head was spinning, but he fought to focus. The enemy had closed in, but so had his reinforcements—he could hear them now, closer than before.
Xun's heart raced as the sounds of gunfire grew behind him. He spotted an abandoned building just ahead, its walls crumbling and windows shattered. Without hesitation, he darted inside, slipping through a broken doorway and into the relative safety of the dark, ruined interior. The thick dust in the air clung to his skin, and his breath echoed in the emptiness. His mind raced, calculating his next move. He had to stay hidden, gather his bearings, and wait for his reinforcements to push through.
But it didn't take long for the enemy to follow.
The unmistakable crunch of boots on rubble outside the building sent Xun's pulse spiking. He ducked behind a half-collapsed wall, pressing himself into the shadows, rifle at the ready. The sounds of soldiers outside grew louder, their voices creeping closer. He had no time to make an escape.
A voice barked orders, echoing through the building. "Search the building! He's inside! Spread out!"
Xun's breath caught in his throat. The enemy was too close. He needed to move. But where? And with what to defend himself?
He searched the building, coming to a rather pathetic conclusion. The only viable weapon within the house was a rusted kitchen knife. But he had always neglected melee training. The thought of opening up another person, just inches away from them, close enough to hear their dying breaths, was an idea that Xun despised.
But now, he had to try. His fingers tightened around the worn wooden hilt. He could hear footsteps nearing.
Suddenly, the door to the room he was hiding in creaked open, and Xun froze, barely daring to breathe. The soldier outside stepped into the room, his rifle raised. He took a step forward, scanning the dust-filled air, oblivious to Xun's presence.
With a sudden burst of movement, Xun lunged forward, driving the knife into the soldier's side. The soldier let out a strangled gasp, dropping his rifle as he tried to shove him off. But Xun was already moving, frantically pulling the blade free with a swift motion and delivering strike after desperate strike. The enemy soldier collapsed to the floor, his blood staining the rotting wood.
He didn't have time to check if the man was dead. There were more footsteps approaching—closer now. He darted into another room, eyes scanning for an escape route, blood-stained knife in his quaking hands.
Another soldier entered, rifle aimed directly at him. Xun didn't hesitate. He lunged again, this time aiming for the soldier's face with the bayonet. The soldier's eyes widened in surprise as Xun's blade struck true, slashing across the cheek. Blood sprayed, and the soldier fell, writhing in pain.
The room was silent, save for the sounds of his heavy breathing and the enemy's cries. Xun stood there for a moment, his hands slick with blood, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked towards the soldier who he had just sliced.
Xun's intestines twisted into a knot as he watched the soldier clutch at his bleeding face, eyes wide with terror and disbelief. The boy couldn't have been much older than Xun himself, his uniform ill-fitting, too large for his slender frame. The soldier's hands trembled as they pressed against his face, trying to stem the blood. What was this feeling? Was it guilt? Was it the desperation of wanting to live? Xun questioned himself, and step by step, knife in hand, inched closer towards the injured boy.