High on Monolit Hill

A Story by Silent Sonata

The boy would sleep with fists pushed up into his ribs. Dreams of hollows. Faces he once recognized by name. Cold. That’s what it was: cold. It hasn’t been cold. When has it ever been cold? He slumbered off again with images of caves, but ease hadn't found him. Something lurked down there. A ragged beast that lurched and belched and ate those whose curiosity brought them afar. Cold. That’s what it was: cold.

He enjoyed the textures of concrete. Marvelous, he thought, how man can put so much detail into something. The guns astonished him too. He could never understand how they worked even when someone bothered explaining it. Marvelous, he thought. Absolutely marvelous.

Food was abundant. One meal a day and two snacks. Meat, it was. It was all meat. “Birds,” They had said. “It all came from birds. And dogs too.” The boy knew better.

“Can he defend himself?”

“He knows how to handle weaponry, yes.”

“In melee, I mean.”

“Basic training.”

“Has he killed?”

Gleisha would often share glances with the boy. Here and there, it came and left. The boy had never seen a young girl like Gleisha. Old ones. Geezers. Gleisha was no more than a year older compared to the boy. She rarely spoke as well. A recluse.

The men used to hand her extra servings during meals. That stopped when scars formed dashing across their faces. Lazar was the only one without one. He was a man of courage. Honor. He’s cried more than the rest.

“And his occupation?”

“Miner”

“Has he handled explosives?”

Something wretched was in the air. Fire. Gas and fire. The heat was intense and furious enough to kill without warning. They can’t breathe. It fills their lungs too fast and sets their bones alight. Oxygen is what they need. The ground is black and thick and murky and heartless. What demon has coughed up this soulless substance? Man, they answer.

“One spark”, they said. “One spark and we’re gone off the face of the hill”. “Any day now, just you wait”. The room was now hot. The boy longed for the cold.

“We hit them first.” “We’re dead if we wait.” “Children, we have children.” “So use them.”

Himmel held a watch. Silver and tungsten, he always carried it. They explained the plan. The boy’s a soldier after all. How many will die? We can’t tell. How many do you think? It’s for a great cause. You’re a hero, kid.

“And if he fails?”

“He won’t.”

“And if the fire reaches us?”

“It won’t.”

Gleisha spoke later that day. About what? They talked and talked and the boy forgot.

“Concrete”, they called it. “A concrete castle”. The wonders of man.

Does it have a timer? Yes. Okay, will I get away in time? Depends.

A knife. A bomb. A mask. Boots. Gloves. Coats. Oxygen. Set and ready.

Monolit Hill.

The black was deep and hard to move in. Sludge. It reeked through the mask. One spark is all it takes. He watched the bomb carefully.

Monolit Hill.

The sky was dark and the air, opaque.

Monolit Hill.

Another castle. Bodies hung out front its passage. Torn and eaten for their value. He stuck the bomb in the murky ground and set it to rig. He ran, tripping over hidden body parts and other corpses.

Time was a choice. Make it back or hide in a scar. There’s no cover leading back to the castle. How long til’ the bomb goes off? The boy hid in the scar and closed his eyes.

Fire. Screams of valor. A five-hundred foot wall of flames emerge. Marvelous. Marvelous humanity. The sky lit up and the ground became soapy napalm. Deep in the scar, fire rained down upon him. Furious. Oh, how long he’ll be in the scar. When will the flames subside? Fade out please, before I do myself. The boy slept. Images of a cave and a ragged beast that lurched and belched and ate those whose curiosity brought them afar. Cold, that’s what it was: cold.