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Prologue

Explosions sounded all around. Pieces of rubble and flesh flew through the air only for cruel gravity to bring them crashing down on unsuspecting citizens and fellow soldiers. A shell exploded to my right but I didn't stop, I didn't even flinch. I was on a mission and my mind was set on completing it. My friend and fellow Canadian was ahead of me while the remaining French men from a previous battalion brought up the rear. All together we numbered five. Generals, commanders, citizens would all call us insane for going up against impossible odds. We could have retreated with minimal casualties, but our small make shift unit knew what we had to do. A small army lay ahead, lead by three tanks. The only obstacles stopping the Alliance from capturing the city. It was up to the five of us. The tired, weary, injured, confused and frightened five of us.

I looked to my left where piles of bodies were placed as barricades. It would prove to be difficult to travel over them, but lucky for us hey had blasted a hole right through their makeshift wall. "Ten o' clock!" I yelled, bringing the butt of my weapon to rest against my shoulder. John, my fellow Canadian followed suit and turned toward the figure, a German. the man was leaning on a beam that had fallen from the wall of a building. He was unarmed and injured. A uniform was draped over his, punctured with holes and soaked with blood. I lowered my gun and squinted my eyes. He looked no older then me. Barely of age to be fighting in this pointless war. Seeing him there helpless made me think twice about our motives. Why were we fighting? I knew I was fighting to stay alive, as was John. We had both been thrown into the pit of war but what about that helpless enemy? Was he fighting against his will? Trying to survive so he could one day go back to a waiting family. The man looked so peaceful. Blink. The man had blinked. It was a miracle he was alive. the question was, what would we do? Shoot him to put him out of his misery or leave him to die of his own accord? Was there no third choice? Of course there was, but would we risk everything by trying to help, to save this man who was supposed to be our enemy?

I was only eighteen back then, I thought it was an adventure. It was, of a sorts, but much different then I had envisioned it. Posters had been put up all over my city, promoting the war effort. Not one person I knew really understood why our country was fighting, but the fact was, if we didn't, then the fighting would come to us. I turned eighteen not long after the city had been put on rations. I went to the local recruitment center and signed up. I as a female was questioned far more then the males. Other women my age stayed home to help pick up the slack in factories and other industries but I was determined to do my part. Immediately they assumed I would be signing up to become a medic but when I insisted that I wanted to be the front lines as a regular soldier they doubted my mental health. I was given several phycological test, all of which I passed. Finally when they announced me mentally stable I was given a date. In a week I would travel far from my home and put through a simplified basic training program. I was only young, curious, but most of all determined. I am Cassandra and this is my story.

Part 1

Some wars start in the winters, others, the summer. but this particular war started in mid fall. No one was really sure why Canada went to war with Germany, only that the French and US sided with us. Germany however had much of Europe on it's side. I found it odd considering what had happened in World War II, I didn't think any country would ally themselves with Germany, but some did. The war had started as a small squabble. Something about biological weapon development, but I knew that couldn't be the whole story. What surprised me the most though, was our own Queen deserted us, betrayed Canada to ally themselves with Germany. It didn't effect me as much as others. Others took it as a personal insult. Riots were formed and chaos erupted. The only thing that provided any sort of consolation to those whom felt betrayed was the open recruitment. Anyone eighteen or over could enlist no questions asked, though I was an exception.

My family life had never been the best. My younger brother constantly annoyed me and my Mother didn't understand me. My father, he had died, murdered more like. I was told it was an 'accident' but I'm smarter then that. There was something strange about his death but there was nothing I could really do. I had always been a Daddy's girl. I clung to him like lint on a sock. Where he went, I went. His death had shaken the very foundation of our family. Mom started drinking, leaving me to take care of Chris alone. I did laundry, worked, went to school, and looked after my kid brother. It seemed impossible at first, but soon I adjusted and found a sense of security in the responsibility.

When posters had been put up around town I immediately made up my mind. It would mean leaving everything behind, risking the health of my brother but something was leading me toward it. Fate had a hand in my life that day. I was destined to go to war, I was destined to kill, destined to survive. The initial shock on my Mother's face was surprising. She begged for me not to go, she said she didn't know what she would do if I got killed. But as far as I was concerned, the little girl whom she had raised was already dead. I had been forced to grow in a short time in order to accommodate her irresponsibility. My brother cried, he was at that age where change scared him. I assured him I would always be with him, and asked for him to send his prayers every night. I never really believed in God but if there was one, I would need all the help I could get.

Tests, tests and more tests. That was what I was greeted with. I had passed them all and been announced stable and able to serve. This news made me excited but frightened at the same time. I didn't know what I was walking into, but I knew I was going to be part of something big. I was sized and handed an olive green basic duty uniform. I directed myself to the woman's change room and stood there for a long time looking in a mirror at the other end of the room. I barely even recognized myself. My once bright green eyes that were so full of spirit were dull and dark. My red hair that had once been straight and obedient now stuck up in several directions due to the shortness of the hair style I had adopted during the rationing. My face no longer looked young, but instead held an essence of wisdom and trial within it. "I look almost like my mother...' I whispered to myself and the empty change room. I hugged the BDU to my chest and stepped forward toward a bench. I stripped down to my undergarments, watching my skin as the muscles rippled underneath. I never called myself strong, but I did have a natural heavy muscle build underneath my pale skin.

I pulled on my new uniform and stood, adjusting it where I needed to. Over all it fit nicely but the fabric was unusual to me. It seemed to be a mix of cotton and some sort of synthetic material. It seemed to want to rub my skin the wrong way with every movement but I didn't complain. I wouldn't be able to out in the battle field. I picked up my cloths and stuffed them into a locker. The only thing valuable was around my neck. A small wooden cross necklace that my Father had given me as a child. Ever since he died I hadn't taken it off. "Watch over me Dad." I said, a little louder then my last use of my voice. I stepped out into the recruitment building, the men and the very few women turned to stare at me. They were looking for signs of weakness, of fear. I held my head high and walked through the building, stepping outside into the mist that had descended upon the city while I was enlisting.

The trip home was only about a ten minute walk and while I knew the way, the mist had an odd way of changing the look of buildings. It seemed as though another dimension was shining through ours, turning buildings, signs and people into monsters. I hurried home, taking a back ally and coming out right in front of my house. I opened the door and my Mother and brother were waiting for me. Mom had tears streaming down her face and was holding Chris' hand. "Cassandra..." Mom breathed. I didn't know how to act toward this new form of acknowledgment. So I simply didn't. I took Chris's free hand and lead him away from our Mother and upstairs to his room. I tucked him in, reading two chapters of a book he had taken from his elementary school library before kissing him on the forehead and wishing him goodnight.

The next five days were uneventful. I washed my uniform and ironed it, making sure it was perfect for when I needed it next. My mother seemed to be getting over her depression and started to cook meals for Chris and I. Chris was his usual self, going outside every spare moment to play with his friends. When the day finally came to say goodbye I found it increasingly hard. I thought it would be easy to leave my Mother but seeing her start to return to her old self made me remember al lthe good times we had had when I was younger. I gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before lifting Chris into my arms. "I'll write to you when ever I can. I will always be with you alright bud?" Slowly he nodded, not understanding the danger I would soon be in. I hugged him tightly and set him down. I turned and walked toward the bus that would whisk me away to training. I knew if I looked back I would run away, forget going to battle and stay with my family. But I didn't. I kept my face forward and followed the others.

In my group of thirty I was the only girl. Many men made jokes about my being female but a few choice words straightened them out. If I was going to train and serve with them, I would need to become one of them. One man in-particular teased more then the rest. His name was Johnathon Stenhouse. He switched seats to sit opposite me and held out his hand. "John" he said. I looked at his hand for a moment before shaking it. "Cassandra." I replied. John nodded and sat back, raising his hands to rest behind his head. He seemed to be indifferent about the whole situation. "So, Cassie, are you ready to die for your country?" he asked. The question seemed absurd to me. It seemed obvious. "Of course."

(Part 2 continued, again)

I looked into the eyes of my captor and knew he mean what he said. He would kill me and this was the perfect time to do it. My mind spun with thoughts. What would I do, would John get here or could I free myself? The lack of air was starting to affect me, my eyes were starting to fade, the world was turning gray. In one last desperate attempt I brought my legs up and in the instant that I caught Tyler off guard I kicked out. He lost his grip and stumbled back. My body crumpled to the ground to weak to support my own weight. I gasped for breath and the color of the world flooded my eyes. What a relief it was to breath. I would never take the air around me for-granted again. I looked up and Tyler was already rebounding but what he didn't count on was the injured man. He had crawled his way over and was now grasping my attacker's leg with all his might in an effort to slow him down.

This was my chance. I wasn't sure if my legs would co-operate but I had to try. When Tyler looked back at the man on the ground I jumped to my feet and ran forward. I turned my body around, exposing my back but in that moment I thrust my elbow into Tyler's stomach, digging up into his ribcage. A loud angry grunt of pain escaped him and I had thought I won. But how wrong I was. He shook his leg, kicking my assistance in the face while doing so. He turned his anger on me after that. It turned out he had been holding back only moments before. His next actions could only make me believe he had been taking steroids. The push he hit me with slammed me into the wall and the kick that followed felt as though he had broken all the ribs on my left side.

I shouldn't have been surprised, Tyler had been training longer then either John or I. He kicked my feet out from under me and smirked. His friends joined him to stand over me, obviously happy with my defeat. I pushed my upper half and rested on my elbows but Tyler wouldn't have any of that. He raised his foot and pushed me down, which was quite easy considering any strength I had before was gone. His foot moved from my chest to my throat. "'Night Darlin'" He said.

The next moments went by in a blur. They went to fast for my mind to keep up. The last thing I remember was someone barreling into Tyler. The blur of their face could only tell me that it was John. I could hear shouting, he had brought help. But that was it, the world went black and my mind shut off.

Part 3 continued

I don't know how long I sat up there. It was much past nightfall when my peace was finally interrupted. I could hear footsteps before I was able to see anyone. The way the footsteps fell, the crunching of gravel and the slight shifting of his feet. I knew it was John. He was the only one whom footsteps I had memorized. It prevented him from sneaking up on me. "Go. Away." I hissed, still starting off into the darkness. Completely ignoring my order, my friend climbed up the wall and sat beside me. We sat there for a while in complete silence, me breathing in the scent of cologne he always put on before practice and him glancing at me. His closeness bothered me, more so then it ever did. When we went through survival training we had cuddled together to preserve heat, we had eaten together, danced together and at that moment when he sat a normally comfortable distance away I was nervous.

"I...thought I should check up on you...I figured you'd be here." John said slowly, tearing his gaze away from my darkened face to look at my hands. He took one and flipped it over, palm side up. My hands held scratches and blood was taking it's time rolling down my hand and on the pants of the hospital cloths. I don't know where I got the scratches from, my best guess was the ground beneath the barbed wire. Sometimes they liked putting barbs in the mud to show just how dangerous the terrain could be. If rotting blood or mud got into a wound it could potentially kill you. I had been lucky, I only hand a bit of mud in my small wounds, most had bled out. "Come on. Let's get these cleaned up." he said, dropping my hand painfully back onto my lap. He slid off the wall and landed with a thump, bending his knees to absorb the shock.

"There won't be doctors or nurses in the hospital now..." I said, the first words I had spoken in hours. He shrugged and held his arms out in a gesture as if to say he'd catch me. I narrowed my eyes, appalled. It was almost as good as saying I couldn't handle a small jump. Though it was the one time he was right. With my ribs splitting I could injure myself more but that didn't stop me from trying. I carefully planned my actions and then jumped. I had wanted to roll when I landed but the pain going through my body froze my muscles. Instead of rolling I fell backwards. I would have hit my head against the wall if John hadn't caught me. He steadied me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You shouldn't even be walking..." he said. I looked away, for some reason ashamed but I knew he was right. My legs felt like rubber and any movement hurt.

John turned so his back was facing me and reluctantly I climbed on. He grabbed my legs, holding them in his arms while I draped my arms over his shoulders. Again, I felt uncomfortable, I was suddenly aware of how close he was. I didn't say anything while he 'piggy backed' me toward the men's encampment but he kept talking, trying to lighten the mood. "-the stars should know." I tuned in just as he finished another sentence with a chuckle. I didn't know what he was talking about but I managed a small hum to show that I heard at least some of it. John stopped for a moment and looked up. "Imagine what it would be like to go up there...to bad all the space exploration programs were shut down 'cause of this lousy war." Absentmindedly I nodded, also curious as to what it was like up there.

The shifting of John's feet began to shuffle again. It only took us a moment more to reach his barracks. Using one hand to support me, he opened the door and switched off the light. Only one man was there, a friend of ours but the rest were no doubt off drinking somewhere, enjoying what little freedom they had left. John set me down on his bed and I sat there, staring at the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I could see our friend, Greg's chest was moving up and down evenly, my ears told me he was also snoring. Sound asleep, like always. John disappeared for a minute, giving me time to look around. Everything in the barracks was neat, every little detail was looked after, the same went for the women.

I heard a click to my right and I jumped. It was only John with the first aid kit. How had he caught me off guard, I was never like that before. Perhaps my near run in with death was changing me. Mental I shook my head, I wouldn't change, I would stay the same, strong Cassandra I had been born, raised and trained to be.

I held my hands out, letting John inspect them. The first thing he did was rinse them off with cold water. It stung, but nothing like what he did next. he grabbed a slightly large pair of tweezers and looked again at my hands. There were a couple barbs embedded within my hands. They were visible but when he started pulling on them, they tore at my flesh. I held my breath, not wanting to cry out in pain but eventually I did. The last one was right below my thumb and when he started to pull I jerked my hand away, letting out a cry of agony as I did. I felt embarrassed I Cassandra, the tough one, had admitted defeat with one little sound.

I clutched my hands to my chest. "Come on, if we don't finish they'll only get worse." he cooed. He put a hand on my knee, rubbing it with his thumb. "Come on Cassie." At first I was determined to protect my hands from the treatment, but I caved and showed them again. The peroxide stung, but it also sent a wave of relief through me. It was the good type of stinging, when you knew something good was happening. He pulled out bandages and wrapped them around my hands, careful not to pull too tight or keep it too loose. He took my hands and folded them neatly on my lap, keeping his hands on mine. Slowly he looked up. Our eyes met and I could see something in them. Longing, sorrow, and something else, though I can't describe it. Slowly he looked away, shoulder drooping and the brightness in his eyes fading. It was like he had just realized his pet dog had died. I tugged strings inside me I didn't know I had.