Looking out into the playground during recess, Chewy could see all the other kids playing happily, enjoying the time with each other. Giving up long ago at trying to fit in as he was ostracized for his squinty eyes by the other kids. It was something he had grown to accept, not seeming to care anymore, as they shouted out names like “White China” or “China man Chewy”. Aside from his eyes, he looked just like his father but it still didn’t stop the kids from calling him a bastard child from another man. Having a younger brother that didn’t share this trait, only seemed to spur on this theory and without any way to prove them wrong, solidified it as fact in the weird, twisted logic of his tormentors. He had explained that there wasn’t even a Chinese person in their small town but it didn’t matter to any of them so he had stopped trying to make sense of it all together. Despite the teasing, he had excelled in school; probably because he buried his head in a book with any free time the kids had for recess or while sitting alone during lunch.
He lived a happy life at home, with loving parents and great little brother that was always on his heels. Working on a farm, there wasn’t much down time outside of work for sports or clubs but his father made it a point to take them shooting or wrestle around when he could. His mother had a nice hot meal ready for the boys when they got up for breakfast or at the end of the day for dinner. All in all, he could call himself blessed and with a family as close and loving as his, it was something that nobody could really argue. His family all knew he was teased at school but made light of the situation and laughed along with him, as he teased himself in good nature. It was a defense mechanism he developed over the years, something they weren’t going to take away from him.
There were times when he was younger that he would break down in tears the second he got home from school, cursing the other kids, begging to never have to go back. It would break his mothers heart and his father had many one on one conversations with him, about being strong and not letting the bad in the world get to him. He started putting on a fake smile at school and would wear that deceptive mask home but his father could see right through it, talking him through the pain, until the mask was gone and the smile left behind was real. These talks gave him a great inner strength, his will reinforced by the bond they had developed as the admiration for what a good man his father was, continued to soar. I suppose every boy idolizes his father, trying to figure out what what it means to be a man and on this account, he was lucky to have such a strong and compassionate man in his life.
The yearly small-town fair was upon them and Chewy was finally old enough to compete in the ‘Youth Target Match’ he had been training for, since as far back as he could remember. Hunting was one of his favorite pass times and he was as comfortable handling a gun as he was reading a book. His father was know as a dead shot and won every shooting competition he joined, until bowing out gracefully, a few years back to let others enjoy the feeling of victory. The town knew his father was still the best around and it was considered an honor to have him present the small trophies, in the youth and adult ceremony, at the end of the day. Not wanting to admit it to anyone, Chewy felt that if he brought home the trophy, something no boy ever did at his age, they would all have to accept that he was his fathers son.
Getting home from school that Friday, he rushed through all his chores, as fast as he could, without messing anything up. The thrill of the competition was buzzing through him as the time grew closer. Hearing the dinner bell ring out into the farm sent him into overdrive. Sprinting back to the house, he saw his family loading up the truck and he ran upstairs to grab his newest rifle. In anticipation of the contest, his parents had gotten him a rifle for his 12th birthday that his father had tricked out to look just like his. It was immediately the boys new prized possession, shooting it as often as his father gave him shells. He had taken better care of it in the past few months than he did himself, way more than he ever did with his first rifle. In the past week alone he had broken down, cleaned and lubed that gun every night, his dad joking that he better be careful or he was gonna polish the blueing right off the barrel. The boys excitement was contagious and his father felt as if he was the one competing himself. It made his heart glow with pride to see his son take to guns the way he did…so ready to show this town whats what.
You would’ve thought the road was filled with potholes the way little Chewy was bouncing with excitement the entire ride into town. Getting scolded by his mother to calm down before he bounces the whole truck off the road ,earned an eruption of giggles from his little brother and a hearty chuckle from his dad. Parking the truck, his mother and little brother went to go explore a bit, while his father took him to check in for the competition and check out the shooting range, set up specifically for the event. Chewy stood there, waiting for the rest of the shooters in his age group to show up, as the loudspeaker announced for all spectators to gather, the shooting commencing in just a few minutes.
The first shots where fired, with a bracket style progression and each stage of shooting getting more difficult; given longer distances, smaller targets and shooting positions moving from prone, sitting, kneeling up to the last round ending in freestanding unsupported shoot. Changing one or more of these combinations accordingly, the final round being a sudden death, head to head shoot with the last two contestants firing one after the other and the spotter calling the hits. Chewy had found a zone of concentration that he didn’t even know existed. Gone was his excitement or fear of the competition, along with just about anything else in the world. It was something his father had seen in his son a few times before but Chewy was still too inconsistent to know how to control or even know he was doing. Seeing Chewy find the zone from the first round, he knew his son had this competition won so long as he could just maintain this concentration.
Setting up for the last round, Chewy was on his way to a perfect score, something the town had never seen in the youth category and only a few time from his father in the adult comp. The cheers were defining at times, the crowd on fire with what was unfolding, to include all the boys school bullies, actually cheering him on but it was completely lost to Chewy, maintaining his high level of focus. Shot after shot rang out into the night. The 17 year old shooting opposite him was shooting his best competition to date, barely holding on, until finally dropping a shot just outside of the black. The contest had been won by the little squinty eyed boy, making history that night, shooting a perfect score, green to competing and all at the ripe old age of 12. Not until his dad scooped him up and congratulated him had he smiled or even acknowledged the fact that he had won. A smile crept onto his face as he held his hand up high, turning to see the stands of spectators erupting in praise and chanting his name. This had to be a dream but his father knew what his boy was thinking and cleared that up for him, as fathers do, pinching him on the leg and laughing as Chewy jolted from the sudden pain.
The boys face was hurting from how hard he was smiling and he was in the clouds while the the rest of the night played on. People were coming up to him through the entire adult competition, lame compared to his perfect match, congratulating him on his shooting. Even the kids from school asked if they could sit and watch with him. He knew his plan was working and things were going to be perfect from now on out. Things got even better when he was called down to stage, standing in front of the town and looking up to the pride filled eyes of his father as he handed the trophy to his son, tears threatening to break free. Little did his son know that he planned to pass down his grandfathers revolver, what would be Chewys first pistol, to him when they got back to the house for bringing honor to the family name.
This was the best night of Chewys young life, seemingly floating through the rest of the night, riding the high of everything finally coming together. He was invited to join the rest of the boys to go on rides and play games at the booths, some of which he got to play for free as a new small-town celebrity. As with all things, the night came to an end, meeting up with the rest of his family at the truck. His brother was fast asleep with his mother holding him in the back seat of the cab so that left him sitting up front with his dad. Barley contain himself enough to explain the perfect night ever. His father was smiling hard at the happiness in his sons life and the surprise gift to come until he saw lights approaching fast from behind, slowing down slightly to let the madman pass, probably drunk from the fair. Chewy got quiet noticing the seriousness wash over his father and about to ask what was wrong until a loud crash turned the vehicle and push it into a ditch, rolling it end over end.
Two weeks had past since the day of the fair and the boy was still unconscious, a chemically induced coma to help his body heal without the added stress. A family friend, Paul, was called, listed by his father as an emergency contact and willed guardian. The accident claimed the lives of the boys family before help could arrive, little Chewy fighting tooth and nail to hold on as a helicopter came and air lifted him to a bigger hospital. It was touch and go for the first few days and the doctors would call his survival nothing short of a miracle when pictures of the wreckage, sent by the crew, to help doctors assess the trauma before his arrival. It was time to wake the boy as the doctors told Paul to stay close, advising the man to be gentle when breaking the news and only if he asked.
The twisting metal was the last thing I heard before waking up to a rhythmic beep.
Lights were shining down, my eyes fighting to stay shut as I tried to will them open. Aching everywhere, the struggle to move made me groan and grimace. What happened…Where was I…Fear had creeped in the harder I tried to wake up and I softly called out, “Mom…Dad” Hearing noises around me, I was able for force my eyes open to see that I was in a hospital. Struggling to make sense of what was happening, I tried to focusing on the person in front of me but ignored what they were saying . As I looked around the room my eyes drifted down at the tubes in my arms and up to the machine making the beeping noise. The fog started to clear a bit and I coughed out another call to my parents before looking at the woman in front of me, asking her where they were. She got quiet and ignored the question, explaining that I was in an accident and asked me to breath deep, checking my eyes before a small examination. My throat was sore and I croaked out a request for water.
Stepping forward with a small glass, Uncle Paul smiled down at me. I didn’t even notice him before but seeing him there made me feel a lot more comfortable, relaxing at the fact that there was someone I knew. He wasn’t my real uncle but he might as well have been. We only saw him a few times a year during the holidays but he used to live there on the farm with us when I was younger. Him and Dad were best friends since they were younger than me and he only moved away after joining Army. Sipping my water, I wanted to know where my family was, probably at the farm but I wanted to see them real bad. Asking again, Uncle Paul looked down and took my water, setting it on the table. He took a seat beside me on the bed comforting me as he explained what happened. Telling me he was here now and would always be there for me, he held me as my world collapsed and cried myself to sleep.
Months had past and the boy healed faster than anyone expected; losing himself in the pain of physical therapy. Trying to heal his battered body, fighting hard like his father would have wanted, Chewy pushed past any obstacle that was in his way to recovery. He had become distant from everyone. Moving in with his Uncle Paul proved to be both a blessing and a curse. He was with someone that cared deeply for him but looking at that man brought back too many painful memories of a happier time in life, when he had his family. Sleep was always hard to come by. Memories of his mothers hugs, his brothers giggles and his fathers talks filled his eyes with tears as he lay there in bed night after night but he fought hard to keep them from falling. The only thing holding him together was the pending trial of the man who took his entire life away. Carelessly driving drunk on that dammed night, he plowed into their truck, only to walk away without a scratch on him. Uncle Paul refused to let the boy show up to court as the DA had requested, explaining that it would be in the boys best interest not too do so. The boy brought it up day after dreadful day, begging to be part of the trial but to no avail. Promising only to keeping him appraised of the situation as it came, Uncle Paul accepted his role of ‘the bad guy’ from his charge. It broke the mans heart to do so but the child therapist advised against it, calling it an unnecessary stressor in an already fragile boy dealing with so much pain.
The day of the trial had finally come and the boys anxiety was at a new found high. His guardian took him out for lunch, trying to occupy his mind with something else. Sitting there together eating, the man got the call from the DA as Chewy watched on, his eyes pleading for the verdict. The man looked away and sighed, finished the conversation and looked back at the boy who wanted justice for his family. He was glad they had not been there and knew it was the right choice to keep the boy away from that kind of pain. The case had been thrown out due to a technicality during the arrest. Lives were lost, a boys world destroyed and the man walks due to a technicality. Looking at the boy, the man was at a loss. How do you explain this to a boy who’s been holding himself together with the idea of seeing justice for his family be done? What does this teach him about the systems in place or society at all? Staring hard at each other, he finally broke the news as softly as he could as the boy sat there listening, dropping his head, loosing himself in the anger that grew inside him.
The boy jumped up, lashing out, yelling; “This is all your fault! I needed to be there! If you only let me go, he would be in jail! They would make him pay! Now he’s free and its all because of you! I hate you!!! I HATE YOU!’’
With that, the boy turned and ran as hard as he could. The man gave chase but it was no use, Chewy disappeared into the crowd of a busy city lunch hour. Wracked with guilt and not knowing what else to do, he called the boys therapist, the police and anyone else he thought may help find his charge.
Chewy ran as hard as he could, charged with the pain of the situation, trying to lose himself in the fire of his muscles burning just as he’d done in the past. The more it hurt the harder he pushed but it was no use; no matter how hard or far he ran, he couldn’t distract himself from the pain of justice lost for his family. He wondered around all day and well into the night before finally collapsing. The boy was falling apart all together, begging forgiveness from his family, “Please…please…I’m sorry”
A hand grabbed his shoulder, just like his father had always done, giving him a small bit of hope, snapping him out of his trance. Looking down at the boy he spoke softly, “Be strong kid, don’t let the bad in the world get to you.” The boys eyes grew wide as the man helped him up. Chewy couldn’t believe what he just heard, this was no coincidence, he just knew it. Dusting the boy off, he told him everything was going to be fine, asking what had him so worked up. Chewy studied him closely. He was wearing a super fancy suit, not a blemish on his face or a hair out of place; a slight grin that put the boy at ease. The man stood there, not saying a word as the boy spilled his heart and told him everything about the situation and what he was feeling, no filters, no hesitation.
I don’t know why but this man was so easy to talk to and he stood there listening to me, really listening to me but what he said next threw me completely off guard.
“Well, I think we can help each other out and you seem like the perfect boy for something I’ve been putting together for ages. What if I told you that there was a way to avenge your family but it would mean a life of pain? A trade of sorts. You come work for me as an assassin. I’ll get you trained up in the dark arts of taking life and put you in front of the one responsible for all the evils in the world. One round in the chamber and all you have to do is pull the trigger. After that, wether you shoot him or not, you belong to me. All you have to do is take my hand and come with me now…take it or leave it.”
Looking around to see if anyone else had heard him, I stood there in shock. Was this for real? Nobody seemed to notice we were there and it was like people went out of their way to not look over or walk close by. Well, if this was my chance to do right by my family, I wasn’t going to let it pass me by like I did with the trial. My life is already one of pain so what have I got to lose anyway.
Almost as if on cue from the boys thoughts, the man smiled hard, turning away from the boy slightly and offered a welcoming hand out. Taking his hand without a second thought, Chewy finally saw his life coming together again.
Training was hard but the idea of facing the evil that took his whole life away kept him filled with all the motivation he needed. The man would talk with Chewy just as his father did, stealing that special bond he once had with his father. Aside from him being a natural shot, and picking up all of the tactics with ease, his focus was something this man had never seen. The boy was shaping up to be the perfect soldier, channeling his pain and never allowing himself to quit. The bar of performance was raised to new levels and when the boy struggled, the man grew cold and withdrawn. Starved for affection, Chewy pushed himself to new limits, doing whatever it took to reach those levels, desperately trying to please his handler. Success presented itself and the man pulled the boy into a hug, telling him how proud he was. The boy reveled in the praise, feeling like he was a part of something, almost as if he had a family again.
The man invited him out for a walk on the town. It was a real treat and outside of training, Chewy hadn’t left the facility for what seemed like forever. There were no clocks or calendars at the facility but he new many months had past since he accepted this opportunity. Stopping to get lunch at an old, very run down diner, the man had started briefing the mission. Memorizing his route, positioning, safe house and extract, Chewy hung on to every word about how it would unwind. The only thing that had confused him was what was said last.
“There will be two people in the room. One will be a very good man. A man that wants nothing more than for you to be happy, caring about you with all his heart. The other is…well…the other is not. The choice is yours but choose wisely. With one round in the rifle, you will have to make a choice that will echo on in time, defining the man you will become.”
With that, the man took back the folder the boy was studying, paid for lunch and gave the boy a very welcomed hug before leaving. This was it, the boy knew it was time to claim his prize. Falling back on his training, he made his way through the town, doubling back and making sure he wasn’t followed. Finding his weapon as instructed, he saw that it was his rifle, the same exact rifle his parents got him for his birthday…but how? Thinking this had to be his handlers doing, he considered himself lucky to have been found by him and given this opportunity. The hours passed slowly, welcoming the darkness, as he aimed in at the window shown in the folder when the lights came on. His heart was pounding and he worked hard to control his breathing, deep in the room of an abandoned building, hiding with the shadows cast in the moonlight.
There were two men like he was told, the first walking to the window and turning, giving him a perfect view of who it was, his handler. What was happening? Was this a test? He was told he had to choose but this didn’t make sense. Rationalizing that the other man was obviously his target, he aimed in at his back right, where his heart would be. Moving his finger down to the trigger, the boy tried to pull but it seemed far heavier than he remembered. Hesitating to take that shot, he knew this gift from his handler couldn’t be wasted, with so much time and training he had been given, there was no way he could disappoint him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled deep within himself to finish the task at hand. Just when he had accepted the lack of his previous convictions, a raven flew in the window with a loud caw, spooking the boy into pulling the trigger, the shot ringing out into the night. Feeling the recoil, he laid frozen as time had all but stopped, watching in slow motion, the man he had just shot spun and collapsed towards the window. The man he had in his sights was his Uncle Paul.
The raven let out another caw, snapping him out of his shocked stated. He acted on autopilot, breaking down the gun into a backpack, collecting the shell and egressing back to the motel safe-house as quickly as possible. Trying to make sense of the situation the whole way back, it felt like he was caring the weight of the world on his shoulders. He needed his handler, his new mentor. Chewy could explain it all to him, tell him what had happened and the man would make everything better. This was all an accident, the boy knew his handler would believe him, he would know what to do, what to say.
Walking slowly to the back of the motel, Chewy stood in front of the sink, turned the water on and looked up at himself in the mirror. His eyes red and his face streaked with tears he didn’t even know he had cried on the run back. Still trying to make sense of what had happened and speaking to the boy in the mirror, trying desperately to convince himself… “It was an accident…I didn’t mean to…” the boy began to vanish as the mirror fogged over with steam. A fitting visual to what had just happened. Not wanting to be left alone in his time of despair and even if it was just a reflection, he needed someone to talk to, someone to explain how it was all a big mistake. Wiping franticly at the mirror, trying to free the boy behind the fog, he jumped in a fright, turning quickly at the sight of his handler standing behind him.
How could he have gotten there so quickly and into the room without him knowing. His handler had done many unbelievable things in the past but this was impossible. Theres no way he could have been there, but…but there he was.
Smiling slightly and approaching slowly, the man complimented, “Good job, boy. You truly are my perfect little soldier aren’t you! My perfect little killer!”
As quiet as those words were spoken, they were deafening to hear; echoing through to my very core. I sobbed out loudly but couldn’t turn away. I wanted to explain that it was an accident, that I didn’t mean to do it but…but wasn’t I there to kill this man…wasn’t that the reason I had a rifle pointing directly at him…wasn’t that my…my mission. The reality of the situation started crashing in around me and my handler stared hard into my eyes, chuckling slightly before looking up and laughing out like a madman. What was happening?
Turning his attention back to me, his laughter got deeper booming through the small room. A deep red light was permeating though, what appeared to be, small fractures forming all around his face and body. White wings, blackened with ash, ripped open behind him, sending shreds of cloth that was once his suit everywhere around us. Eyes glowing red before turning to an obsidian black. I couldn’t tell if the room was shaking or if I was just that unsettled from the revelation before me. My eyes burned from smoke floating off of him, into the room, as the smell of sulfur filled the air and stung my nostrils with my lungs pulling hard in my panicked state.
It was as if nothing else in the world existed, and at that moment, nothing else did. The lights in the room flickered as shadows covered the walls behind the monster standing before me, creeping in, a wave of the deepest black I had ever seen. Almost as if the light was being consumed by the approaching darkness engulfing the room around us. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew what I saw to be true, my heart sinking at the realization of what I had just done.
Paralyzed with fear, I stood helpless, watching as it approached. Smiling that sinister grin I had grown to know all to well, the monster had grabbed roughly at my chin staring deeply into my eyes, as if he was searching deeply for something, smiling even harder when he found it.
Looking deep into his soul, he found exactly what he was searching for and knew his plan was working. Self doubt had consumed the boy with guilt and shame of what he’d been made to do creeping through him. The pain of his actions could be easily manipulated, moulding this boy, the perfect commander, for the invasion of the apocalypse to come.
Turned around, Chewy was looking into the mirror once again, as an empty shell of himself stood there, staring right back. The deception of the innocent boy he once was made it so easy to miss the reality of the situation until you got to the eyes; the gateway into the soul. There was no hiding it…innocence lost…his soul, a tainted soul…a soul that he now understood, had been touched by the fallen himself. How could he have been so stupid, to have stained his most precious position with the blood of an innocent man. A man that had taken him into his home and opened his heart to the lost little orphaned boy he was, left alone in this world.
A good man…a dead man…a murdered man…
No longer able to look at that boy in the mirror, I dropped my head in shame. Losing my parents was horrible and I felt desperately alone after their death but this was different. I wasn’t just alone in life, I was lost, torn from reality all together. As if he could hear my thoughts, he reached out and steadied my shoulders that bounced softly in time with my sobs, turned me back around and hugged my softly. I wanted to hate him, to blame him for everything bad in my life but couldn’t. Never once had he forced me to do anything or lied to me. He had explained to me what would happen in full, giving me the choice on the night I was recruited and again today before this mission. Hugging him back I felt the warmth and comfort of his full embrace, surrendering my fate to him. Knowing full well what a monster I had become, he was still there for me. God help me but I knew he was the only thing left in my life…God help me but at that moment I needed him more than ever…
Light shined brightly between them as the sky cracked out a deafening boom of thunder, lightning streaking through the clouds, lighting up the room that was once devoured by the darkness. The boy pulled away to see the man standing before him, grinning hard, wearing the suit he always wore, appearing as if it had all been a dream and never happened. Turning away from the boy slightly, he offered a welcoming hand out just as he had the night they met. Resigned to his fate, the boy steeled himself, took his masters hand and followed him outside into a torrential downpour, the heavens crying heavily at the travesties to come. Travesties brought by the hand of a lost boy, with a troubled soul, soon to be lost forever.