[CONTAINS: Weird shit, boiling to death, quick mention of suicide, dissociation? possession maybe? fucked up formatting on purpose. Really proud of this one! The first writing about this world I actually finished!]
Shit. Fuck. Piss.
The swear words had become like a mantra, endlessly echoing in his head with each limping step he took across the thick, matted grass on one of the Zone’s endless steppes. How weird it was, that he had not collapsed from blood loss yet. A trail of sweat was dripping down his spine, not being absorbed by his already drenched undershirt. The bulletproof vest pressed down on his shoulders and his heels felt like they were being carved down to the bone by his uncomfortable boots.
Fucking. Fuck.
When Járek Piotrówski got the letter notifying him of his relocation to the newly formed delegation for ‘protection against the Zone’, he rejoiced and celebrated that such a pioneering position would be assigned to him. As always, he contemplated the dangers of exploring such a dangerous area, but damaged after as many years of service as him, you learn to stop caring. A Spetsnaz soldier hasn't got time for doubts. If you are intimidated by the risks while sipping on a cup of tea in the comfort of your home, imagine how much dread they fill you with when you're securing your ballistic helmet in the back of a military transportation truck. Jarek knew that ignorance is bliss, so he hadn’t given death a philosophical analysis for years.
God. Damn. It.
Now, there he was, limping alone, across a strange and traitorous field, filled with tussocks that could give way for deep caverns filled with unknown scalding liquids if you put too much weight on the wrong foot. It was an organic minefield, nature’s counterattack. Now, death was walking right beside him, patiently waiting for Jarek to look her in the eyes.
He was originally sent out with another soldier, named Jefim. They had been walking across the steppe, trying their best to rid the looming, alien atmosphere with lighthearted jokes about anything and everything. The forced conversation had stopped abruptly when Jefim disappeared into the ground, falling into the foul yellow slime hiding underneath. In his panic, Jarek had instinctively pulled out his pistol. He had no idea how it malfunctioned, since he always kept it in perfect shape. It seemed completely illogical. The two pistol shots had not drowned out Jefim’s screams of agony. The sounds of his comrade’s skin cracking open to release the pressures of his boiling flesh, and the smell of his fat and muscles burning to dark, repulsive lumps were still fresh in Jarek's mind, making him feel nauseous.
Now the blood was soaking his pant leg, not at all stopped by his hand desperately trying to put pressure on the two bullet holes in his thigh. The pain alone was enough to make him consider firing the remaining bullets through his own skull.
Fuck. This. Shit.
The yellow grass around him seemed to clasp around his dirt-caked boots, reaching after him, like many thousands of tiny arms. He was flickering in and out of consciousness. Everything was hopeless. He was doomed to bleed out in this alien world he had been sent to explore, only remembered through yet-another report about a failed mission delivered to the desk of higher-ups. Only met with sighs about more paperwork and mutterings of needing more funding. Sent directly into the arbitrary archives, away from the light of day, doomed to collect dust. At best, his last documentation of existence might feed a hungry mouse. That was what he was. Insignificant mouse food.
When he thought about it, he had nobody to miss him back home, either. His dear, dear mother had been dead for many years, and his father had been gone since Jarek’s birth. That bastard was somewhere in the west, living his best life. A girl on each arm, gray streaks hidden behind hair dye and expensive cologne, without any trace of remorse.
Stop. Fucking. Ass. Hole.
Jarek didn't have any close friends either, he wasn't the talkative type. Nobody in his unit knew him, nobody from his college kept in touch, nobody from his hometown remembered him. He was truly all alone.
Why was he still going? For who was he continuing?
Not for himself, that wound was far past being able to heal. The best case scenario would need a miracle. He wasn't listening to logic or reason anymore, only pure, core brain commands. ‘Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking, keep walking, I promise you, dear Jarek, just a few steps more and then we’ll both be fine, keep walking.’
So, shouldn't he just lie down? Admit defeat? Choosing to die would save the little pride he had left.
What? Who..? Stop. Shut up.
He should. Jarek was doomed from the very start. Honestly, what did he think would happen? The Brain is selfish, and doesn't care about the Body. If the Brain finds himself in a snowstorm, he will make the Body fall asleep to conserve energy for him,
and we never wake up again.
What..? Is happening..? Stop..talking.
If the Brain finds himself stuck breathing smoke in a burning house, he will make the Body stop breathing, and we die from oxygen loss.
These survival instincts are rotten work, Jarek, and you know it.
There is no way you're getting out alive.
Lie down, the grass is soft. You need to rest your leg.
They want you to lie down, Jarek.
“No..! Shut up..,” you mumble, but you know better than anyone, that I won’t.
Lie down, Jarek. Rest your leg.
They want to hug you. Let us hug you.
With our thousand arms.
Jarek, rest your leg. Rest your meat. Rest your blood.
Lie. Down.
No…! Who are you?!
Stop
resisting.
You're stumbling Jarek, you are not well.
Lie down. Rest your meat.
Hug the grass. Give up.
Lie down. Rest your meat.
Lie down. Rest your meat. Hug the grass.
Give up.Hug the grass. Give up.
Lie down. Rest your meat. Hug the grass. Give
up.Lie down. Rest your meat. Lie down. Rest your meat. Hug the grass. Give up.
Lie down. Rest your meat. Hug the grass. Give up.Hug
the grass. Give up.
Lie down. Rest your meat. Hug
the grass. Give up.Lie down. Rest your meat.
Lie down.
Rest your meat.
Hug the grass.
Give up.
Jarek let out a silent breath, opening his eyes.
the wide sky above Her mesmerizing and calming,
the putrid earth comforting,
and he gave into Them,
Let Her take him down,
Let the grass caress his bleeding thigh.
A new, greater mantra stuck in both his Body and Brain.
“Lie down, rest meat, hug grass,” Jarek mumbled, before he sunk into Her soft, soft grass. "Give up.”