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Days within the trenches passed at a crawl; weeks passed unnoticed, and weeks turned to months. What felt like an eternity of monotony of living in dugouts beneath the relentless beating of the sun at everyone's backs. The air is dry and dust never settles. Occasionally, rubble would fly over head, or the Marley would actually see combat. From the sky came the sounds of plane engines whirling and the piercing cries of artillery. The screams of the Allied Forces and the Marley drowned by the sound of gunfire and shrapnel.
Followed by a painstaking calmness—sitting amongst the dust and corpses that collected in the bottom of the trenches. A cycle of violence and idleness. Soldiers left to wallow in the tunnels carved of rubble and earth.
These were the lives in which soldiers served in the Marley Mid-Eastern War—Eren Yeager among the ranks of the Marley; having infiltrated their ranks some time ago. Managing to earn the rank of lance corporal within his battalion. Interacting with his comrades only as needed, largely keeping to himself; having a presence as warm as thorns.
Then came a day where the routine of deafening violence and gunfire and spending hours crouched the cramped trenches in which everyone resided had suddenly changed. At least, for Eren this was the case. On this day, the sky was overcast: a rare sight to Eren’s eyes, being the one of the few times during his stay in Marleyan territory that the sky had even teased the possibility of rain.
As usual, he and the rest of his battalion, crouched down shoulder to shoulder in the trenches– either twiddling their thumbs or gripping the rifles at their sides.
Eren’s thoughts ran aimlessly until an officer approached. “Josef Ostergaard? ” he asked, addressing the man who sat to the left of Eren. The man looked up. “Serge?”
“You’re needed by General Manov. Bring your friend, too.”
He finished, turned heel, and returned from once he came.
“Yes, Serge.” Josef said, rising to his feet, murmuring under his breath. Apathetically he looked from side to side at the soldiers lined around him, and sighed. It was then that he gently slapped Eren’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Hey,” he said. Eren looked at him. Joseph extended his hand to him. “C’mon.” Without another word, Eren grabbed his hand and stood, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He had emancipated this, but a feeling of dread still reared its head in the back of his mind.
Eren followed behind Josef as they trudged their way through the cramped maze they called home for the past several weeks.
“Y’know,” he admitted to Eren. “Your guess is as good as mine as to what this is about, so…”
“Must be pretty serious if the general is here.” Eren replied simply.
“Yeah,” Josef said wearily.
Josef begrudgingly continued to lead the path forward. Both were unsure of what to make of the situation, no less knowing what to say to one another. Josef was perhaps the only person that Eren knew well enough–though it was mostly Josef who stuck around Eren. Eren didn’t mind the company. Their interactions rarely amounted to anything significant. A friendship built from proximity and indifference.
“Did you get any mail today?” Josef asked.
“No.” Never once had Eren answered ‘Yes’ to this question. Though Josef always asked.
“You?” Eren asked.
“Neither.” He said. “I was hoping to hear back from my Mum, but…” He trailed off.
“What were you expecting from her?”
“Our next door neighbors are expecting a baby soon.”
“A baby, huh?” Eren pondered.
A baby…
Historia, he thought. The orphanage—the farm.
His mind wondered.
Watching the sunset cast an orange hue across the plains. Scraped knees and chipped nails. Bodies caked in dirt, itchy skin from moving hay bales. Scolding the children as they tug on clothes and pull on hair.
It feels much farther away today. The day he said goodbye.
It had been the first time in some time that he had thought about her, the children, the child.
And the rest.
When these thoughts come to pass, Eren lets them do as they will. What paths they might take, what other thoughts they may create. A distraction, momentary absence from the world, gently guiding him through the meaningless motions of life. These moments do not last forever.
“You’re on time.”
The voice pulled Eren out of this trance. It was the sergeant from before.
The sergeant led the rest of the way to the officer’s quarters. Eren paid no attention to the conversation Josef had with the sergeant, instead continuing to follow their footsteps.
They came to a halt. “General Manov is in there.” The sergeant said. “I don’t know what any of this is about, but don’t fuck anything up, you might just get something good out of it. Maybe an honorable discharge, eh?”
“Yes, serge.” Said Josef, walking through the tarp covering the entrance. Eren followed.
The room was dimly lit by lanterns. There stood general Manov in the center of the room, looming over a map on a table. Around him stood a ring of high ranking officers. His appearance matched that of Dot Pyxis, Eren thought—wrinkles around the eyes from age, no doubt evidence of his experience serving in the military. His forehead wrinkled in a slight grimace and his head a bald dome. Chest speckled with medals.
“Lance Corporal Josef Ostergaard and Eren Kruger, sir.” Introduced one of the officers. Josef and Eren saluted.
“Which of you is Ostergaard?” General Manov asked. “Sir.” Josef answered.
“We will make this brief. Unfortunately time is not a luxury we have at the moment.” He said.
“But that’s why you two are here.”
Josef and Eren maintained composure.
“Your father,” the general continued, “is the colonel of the 7th battalion, corect?”
“Yes, sir… is he?—“
“He is alive. But he and the rest of his battalion are at stake. The Allied Forces had a surprise in mind for us.” He said. “And your father’s battalion is ill prepared for it.” He looked down at the map.
“Initially of course, we had the upper hand, and tomorrow’s expedition was planned to have been an aced victory.” He placed his finger on the map, southeast of their current deployment. “The Allied Forces made a strategic retreat. The 7th battalion followed.” His finger glided northwestward across the canvas. “The 7th battalion pursuing them… was a part of their plan. And we are walking right into a trap.”
He looked up.
“The Allied Forces are also in possession of artillery previously unknown to us. They have no idea what they’re in for.”
Eren shifted his eyes towards Josef, whose jaw was clenched.
“It will be a massacre.”
Josef stared back at the general gravely. Eren’s expression remained stiff, for he knew what was to become of the event.
General Manov turned away.
“Allied Forces intend to attack tomorrow at dawn.” He said.
“They have taken out our telephone lines, leaving our only option to deliver this warning on foot.” He replied, motioning for Josef and Eren to look back at the map. “Your orders are to get to 7th battalion battalion, stationed a mile and a half southeast of the town of Yistol, and deliver this to Colonel Ostergaard.”
He handed an envelope to Josef. Josef looked down at it.
“Can you make it in time?” He asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Any questions?”
“No sir.”
General Manov turned to a table behind him. “Here are the things you’ll need. They’re food rations, mostly.”
They both thanked him and collected the bags on the table.
“…Will just us two be enough, sir?” Josef asked hesitantly.
“Yes.” Said the general. “You should meet little resistance on your way there.”
“Yes sir.”
“Now be on your way.” were the general’s parting words.
They both saluted.
——
As he said, the trek passed without incident. The land was barren and dry. The battles fought here were long gone, leaving craters and clods of earth in its wake. Dugouts they uncovered were traversed with caution. They were mostly vacant, save for the decomposing corpses that were never buried or moved. Piled on top of one another, having toppled backwards into the trench after being pelted with bullets.
Soon enough, they passed through a small settlement, though they were far from the village they were sent to find. On guard and guns at the ready, they crept through the narrow streets.
There was no one.
Citizens gone, soldiers gone.
A village void of any life.
Josef suggested that they stop briefly to eat some rations. By now, hours had passed. Eren complied.
They investigated the area once more before resting for a short while. They sat against the wall of a condemned small apartment building—or at least that is what once appeared to be. Josef ate much slower than Eren.
“We don’t have all the time in the world.” Eren said, taking a drink out of his bota bag.
“Yeah, I know, chill out. We have barely stopped for a couple minutes.” Josef looked at his watch.
When he finished his stale rations, he lit a cigarette. He offered one to Eren—he merely shook his head. Josef shrugged, tucking the pack back into his pocket.
He always offers, despite Eren declining each time.
When that was done, they left.
The landscape was more of the same–though this time, they had to cross through a small canyon. The overcast sky persisted–no rain. The canyon was damp however, thanks to stagnant puddles of water where a river once flowed. The season was too dry for a river this year.
As the walls narrowed around them, Eren commented, “Let’s hope we don’t get trapped.”
“Don’t say that.” Josef spat.
Out of the canyon, the land was dry once again. Small plumes of dust rose with each step. A desolate valley closed off by mountains in the distance. Eren couldn’t help but feel the all-too-familiar captivity he sought to escape, unable to see beyond the mountains encircling them.
Past the walls, there was ocean. Past the ocean, were more walls.
The wind kicked loose dirt from the ground. Eren shielded his eyes.
How, then, might the land look once it’s trampled and burned in the rumbling? He often ponders this—even now. Never once has the thought been a pleasant one, but a persistent one. An inevitable one. He’ll soon know exactly what this land will look like.
At the end of the valley was a village tucked away behind the cover of a mountain side, sheltered from the world, crested upon a hill. A village of splintered wood, scorched plains, collapsed houses, and the scent of ashes which hung heavily in the air—a skeleton of what it once was. The previous village seemed like that of a metropolis in light of the sight of this one.
Greeted by this, Eren heard Josef murmur under his breath, “Christ.”
Josef and Eren kept their distance from one another. Once again prowling across the primaces. All that remained of homes were merely the frames, reduced to charcol. Caved in upon themselves.
One building stood out among the rest. A building larger than the others. They would have guessed it was a church. It caught the pair’s attention as they walked passed. Intrigued, the went go check it out.
It reeked.
The closer they came, the stronger it was.
Their stomachs churned at the familiar smell.
Amongst the ruins were corpses, many of them. All corralled into the empty husk of soot and burnt wood. Their faces erased from the searing heat, some of their jaws laid slack. Some lay face down. Others sat against what remained of the walls. Skin blotched with red and black with open sores and burnt flesh.
And soundless except for the quiet creaking of the wooden frames as the wind blew.
Though their faces were scorched away, their terror lay in plain sight. Limbs stiff and rigid. Their last moments lay bare in the open for all to see.
Not a sound, not a twitch. Not a groan, not a gasp.
One in particular caught Eren’s eye.
A person balled up, laying on their side, cradling something to their chest.
A mother and child, he thought.
The men stared.
No strangers to violence, death, and charred bodies. But under such circumstances—
“…What do you reckon…” Josef uttered melancholically. “this was about?”
Eren stayed silent, gawking at the sight before them. He could only think of Armin’s near lifeless body from following the events of their final return to Shiganshina. The heat which radiated from his corpse still—flesh ready to sluff off his body at the slightest movement. The strained wheezes which whistled from his throat.
His brows furrowed.
“I don’t know.” He whispered, beginning to walk away. Josef stared for a moment longer, and then followed.
They continued along a worn path leading through the ruins. They were nearly in the clear—about to take off into no man’s land once more—when a woman’s voice called from behind them. They both spun around, rifles drawn.
She was running—rather, stumbling—towards them from atop a hill behind them. Incoherently spitting words at the men as she staggered.
She wore a long dress and apron. As she got closer, it appeared tattered and muddied, and her hair in dark, unkempt braids.
Josef and Eren stepped back, guns still aimed.
“Wait, wait—“ they could finally hear her say. “Please—“ she gasped, coming to a stop with her hands raised.
“My child,” she begged. “Please help us—“
“What?” Asked Josef, his grip on the gun unwavering as he took a hesitant step forward.
“My child and I—we need help.” She said.
“Where did you come from?” Josef asked.
“Our house is just over that hill.” She said, looking up the hill from which she had come. “We’re stranded here. Please.”
She looked so incredibly tired and beaten with bruises on her forehead and a large scrape along her cheek.
Eren was entirely unsure of how exactly they could help her. Likely any living things within miles of this dust bowl were Allied Forces or scavenging vultures circling above.
“Where’s your kid?” Josef pressed.
“She’s in the house.” She motioned in the same direction as before. Josef looked up the hill.
“Call her.” He said.
“She’s hurt. She won’t hear me anyway.” She admitted, almost looking ashamed.
Josef huffed under his breath, and looked back at Eren. ‘What-the-fuck-do-we-do’ said his face.
Eren merely looked back at him with a perplexed expression.
Neither of them were sure if there was time to spare, or if this was a ruse. Though Eren was more suspicious of the latter.
Eren shifted his gaze towards the woman, her hands still raised. He hesitated.
To save anyone was a fruitless endeavor in the end, he reminded himself: a fact he knew well. He remembers the boy he had saved in the city. That day. You should have been done with this now, he says. You accepted this that day. That’s what you said.
He sighed and nodded to Josef. Josef turned back to the woman saying. “Take us to her.”
“Thank you.” She said exasperatedly and bowed to them.
They followed behind her up the hill, guns still in hand. On this side of the hill, the grass wasn’t burned to blackened soil. The houses here were mostly intact. There were still craters from bombing. Some homes were hit, others were fortunate.
“It’s over there.” She pointed.
The home was isolated from the others. It was slightly disheveled, the left side having been destroyed, reduced to a pile of rubble and splinters.
Apprehension crept into the pit of Eren’s stomach as they came closer. Vaguely recalling the events that will come to pass. Saying nothing as they reached the front door.
“Luisa,” the mother called before opening the door. Eren stared at her back with a nauseated grimace that Josef failed to notice. Josef removed his helmet upon entering. Seeing this, Eren did the same.
The floorboards creaked under their feet as they stepped through the front door, directly leading into the kitchen. It was a cramped space, made even smaller with the rubble encasing them inside. There was a small table to the left of the doorway, a kitchen counter to the front of them, a sink, a counter, cabinets, and a stove with a single, beaten up, kettle resting on top of it.
“Come out, Luisa.” Her mother said. “These men are here to help us.”
There was shuffling from below the table, and out came child—moving a chair out of her way as she crawled.
Once she stood up, it was clear that she had sustained some injuries. Most notably a gash along the side of her forehead which stretched along her temple. Bruises on her hands and her forearms, and scrapes down her legs. She looked to be no older than 10 years old.
She stood uneasy on her feet.
“We were bombed about 2 days ago.” The mother said, ushering Luisa to her side. “Our bedrooms were over there, but…” She trailed off, awkwardly pointing to the pile of debris on the other side of the room. “Ah…” Josef said, unsure of what to say. He swayed a bit on his feet, glancing at their surroundings.
“You’re here alone?” He asked gently.
Before she could reply, he corrected himself saying: “In the village, I mean.”
She looked down to her child as she spoke. “The same night after we were bombed, troops came through and gathered what remained of us and put us into the church house, and lit it up. We managed to not get taken by hiding under all the junk over there.” She gestured to the debris once again. “I don’t know how we got away, but we did.” She said–her face looking sickly now. “All we could hear were the screams, and the light coming from the church. When it got quiet we went over, and…”
She left it at that.
Josef nor Eren bothered to ask further.
Josef knelt to get a closer look at Luisa, who clung to her mother’s skirt. “We could probably dress some of those.” He said, pointing to the large gash on the side of her head. He took off his backpack and began digging around inside. “I don’t know how much more we can do for you. There won’t be any medics around to help for miles. It would probably be best if you just stayed put.” He pulled out gauze and antiseptic.
“Any settlements we’d find around here are going to be occupied by enemy forces or are going to be just like this place.” He poured antiseptic onto a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and lightly dabbed the wound on Luisa's head. She flinched. The wound was still open, and deep. Even seeing it at a glance, Josef could tell she will need stitches.
“I’m sure anywhere is better than here.” The mother insisted.
“Our orders are… time sensitive.” Josef admitted. “Once we reach the battalion we can request help for you. We’ll be there by dawn.” He placed the gauze on Luisa’s wound and secured it with medical tape. “Can you survive until then?” He asked, looking up at the mother. Her expression was vacant.
“And how long until someone comes?” She pressed, irritated.
“I imagine no longer than a day. Someone will probably find you tomorrow evening.”
Eren knew as well as Josef did that that was absolutely not true, and such an estimate was beyond generous.
“To take you anywhere with us from here… would needlessly endanger you both.” He said firmly. “We’ll request help once we reach our objective.” He stood up.
“I’m afraid the best we can do is leave you medical supplies.” He said, placing a few gauze pads and bandages on the kitchen table.
“I see…” the mother said, giving a disappointed sigh. She glanced at Eren. Eren bowed his head in a silent apology.
“I’m sorry, but this is the best we can do.” Eren said reverently.
“Though we do have spare food rations, if you need.” Eren offered.
“That… shouldn’t be necessary.” She replied, putting her hands at her hips and looking down to her daughter.
“Are you sure?” Josef asked. “We won't be needing all of them—“
She waved her hand dismissively. “We still have canned food. Water too.”
Eren wasn’t convinced.
She turned to the sink behind her.
“Do you boys need water?” She asked suddenly.
“Um. Sure, thank you.” Josef said.
“Try the sink.” She said.
Eren walked past her and turned on the faucet, placing his hand under the nozzle. It ran murkily and brown into his hand.
“Oh.” She said, puzzled.
“There’s a yard hydrant outside and to the left. It’s out a couple of yards.”
“Thanks.” Eren said. Josef began putting his bag back together.
“Before you go though,” she interrupted, “could you help fix up more of Luisa’s wounds? Please?”
“Ah, yeah.” He said. He looked over at Eren and then pulled out his bota bag and tossed it to him. Eren nearly dropped it.
“Go fill those up. It shouldn’t take me long to do this.” He said.
“Alright.” Eren replied, walking for the door.
Before leaving, he stopped in the doorway. “And uh…Thank you.” He said, holding up the canteens in one hand.
“Of course.” She replied.
The door closed on its own behind him.
Wind rolled down the hillside as he walked to the left of the house, securing his helmet as he walked. Just as she said, there was a yard hydrant a few yards away. Once again, he was perturbed. Reluctant, even, to leave Josef alone.
What would even happen to him? He reasoned to himself. Maybe I misremembered. Not that it hasn’t happened before.
Reaching the hydrant, he cranked the handle, placing his other hand under the nozzle. The water was clear.
He unscrewed the cap of one of the canteens and began filling it. Mindlessly, he stared across the valley—having a better view of it from here. A valley of vast nothingness. Though in the mountains on the horizon, he could tell it was raining.
“Great.” He groaned to himself. Screwing the cap on and then moving to the next canteen.
As he absently watched water spill off the sides of the bota bag, he could hear Josef’s shrieks ring across the hill. He dropped the bag and spun around. “No, no, no…” he whispered frantically, sprinting in the direction of the screams. Josef’s wails grew louder as he came closer. Eren could hear his pleas, “No—Nonono—!“ Josef screamed in desperation.
Eren slung his rifle into his hands and kicked the door open. On the far side of the table, Josef was splayed on the ground—the woman on top of him, stabbing him in the throat. Josef wormed and flailed beneath her and she hacked into him with a kitchen knife. Eren raised his gun and fired, striking her in the shoulder—yelling horribly as she fell. Josef’s groans and gasps continued. Eren promptly reloaded, head ringing from the sound of the shot.
Knife still in hand, she attempted to sit up once more. Eren fired a second shot, hitting her just above the ear. She finally slumped over.
Eren dropped the rifle on the ground and he staggered to Josef’s side, who was shaking with his hands around his neck—blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes were wild with fear.
Before Eren could do anything, there was scuttling from behind him. Eren turned as Luisa leaped onto his back, crying out maniacally, waving the very same kitchen knife in the air. She plunged the knife into the back of Eren’s left shoulder. Eren yelled as he attempted to stand to his feet. She brought down the knife once more into his back before Eren flung her off—knife clattering to the floor as she fell. Eren stumbled forward, knocking into the stove.
Luisa quickly rebounded, grabbing the knife and rising to her feet. Groaning as she clutched the knife in her hand. Her face twisted in rage and anguish, looking as if she were about to cry. Eren found his grip on the kettle resting on top of the stove. She lunged forward. Eren swung the kettle at Luisa’s head. The kettle reverberated as the swing connected. Luisa’s head made a dull ‘Thunk’ as the swing hurled her to the side, smacking into the edge of the counter top. Falling limp and motionless at last.
The kettle dropped heavily to the ground. Eren’s heart raced. Not being able to give any thought to what he had done before he scurried back to Josef’s side. A small pool of blood had now formed underneath him—his breathing laborious and desperate. Josef reached towards him, grasping at the collar of his shirt. Mouth agape like a fish out of water.
Eren stared dumbfounded at the sight before him, hesitantly cupping his hands around Josef’s neck, where a barrage of stab wounds lay. Josef gripped Eren’s wrists. His neck was slick with blood, small rivers of red trickling over his hands as he held Josef’s face in his hands.
It was now that Eren noticed that he had also been stabbed in the chest. Eren moved one hand down to Josef’s collar bone, pressing lightly. Blood gushed out of the cloth of his shirt and Josef moaned, feebly attempting to push Eren away.
“Ow… ow…—” Josef gasped weakly.
Eren removed the pressure.
“I’m sorry—“ was all Eren could manage to tell him. “I’m sorry.”
Hastily dumping his backpack off and frisking the pockets for bandages. Grabbing a wad of them and stuffing them onto Josef’s chest, knowing well that he was beyond saving. Josef continued to squirm as the bandages became soaked red as quickly as they had been placed.
“Hey, hey,” Eren cooed to him, his voice broken. “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re ok.”
Josef stared back at him with wide eyes, his completion becoming ghostly. Eren tried his best to wrap bandages around his neck, his efforts proving to be futile.
Josef now coughed wetly. Eren pressed a handkerchief on top of the already saturated bandages on his chest, not noticing Josef reaching to his belt pouch. Fumbling to get it open, he pulled out the letter given to him by the general. Wrinkling it in his fist as he held it up to Eren, his gaze becoming weaker.
“No no no no,” Eren said, trying to console him. Still, Josef clutched the envelope in his trembling hands. Whispers coming off of his lips, Eren couldn’t hear what he said. There was blood seeping into his mouth. His face drained of its pigment.
“Please,” Josef whispered hoarsely, letting out a shallow cough. Eren grabbed the blood smeared letter. Putting a hand to his cheek, he shook him lightly. “Josef,” he said, as if trying to wake him from his sleep. “Josef,” He called again.
Josef gawked vacantly at Eren, clutching the fabric of Eren’s sleeves as his strength failed him. Mouthing soundless words.
And he finally passed.
His head bobbed limply in Eren’s hands as he shook him, calling his name. Quietly, he gave up; collapsing onto the floor, face to ceiling. Breathing heavily with his hands raised just above his head, only now recognizing the soreness in his back. Steam rose from his sides as he mended himself.
Laying there for only a few moments, he sat up and looked at the mother and child.
He was unsure if they were dead. Though they soon would be with blood loss or untreated injuries. He crawled over to the girl. She had hemorrhaged from her head, where a small pool had formed. He put his bloodied fingers to her neck to check her pulse.
She was indeed, alive.
Eren felt a dagger of guilt in his chest.
He didn’t bother checking the mother.
He stood up and scooped up his backpack. Taking a look at Josef in a moment of silence.
“Your dad and his men survive, Josef.” He told him.
Turning away he says bitterly: “For the time being.”
Rain sprinkled the scorched plains as Eren collected the canteens. Not looking back as he marched.