x
I can get up by myself.
Probably. But it looks like you could use a hand....and I'm offering one.
Ain't easy for me to recognize a helping hand.
If that's a thank you, don't worry about it. Someday you'll pay me back.
Jonas Berkson had made the decision to go AWOL.
But he kept second-guessing it by reminding himself of the good things about military life, about the feeling of belonging to a team.
He would never be alone in the IDF.
I don't want to die for nothing!
By marching at a steadily increasing rate, he thought he could get away from his doubts, away from the guilt. He tried as he had been for the past two hours to ignore the metal birds that squalled in the air. He told himself that their sounds would eventually become meaningless white noise, but he knew that was a lie. One part of him wanted to run back to his bunk and relax for the next 48 hours, then join the squadron. The other part, well, the other part was stronger.
Ahead, the road curved to the right, and the tree trunks and giant fronds that fenced it off were suddenly shimmering. Berkson detected the rattle of an unconventional engine, definitely not electric. A single headlight burned through a thin mist and drew towards him. He squinted, and behind the glare he saw an ancient motorcycle, one that lacked anti-grav capability and still had wheels. The bike slowed and veered across the road, at last coming to a stop before him.
"She dumped you and left you to walk, didn't she...."
He was built like an oil drum and had neither shaved his face nor trimmed his graying hair in the past two years. His black, open-faced helmet with a small spike mounted atop it made him a human bayonet, and his black leather vest did little to contain his sagging, gorilla-like chest. The digitized, 3-dimensional tattoos on his bicep seemed to leap out at Berkson. The largest one was a grim reaper with a rifle instead of a scythe, and beneath the figure were the words: A.U. #6586 CYBORG UNDERTAKERS.
Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug.....Berkson could barely hear the biker over the engine. Realizing this, the beefy man reached up with stubby fingers and turned a key. The bike sputtered into silence. "I said, she dumped you out and left you to walk."
"Oh, you think I was with a woman in a car?" Berkson asked.
"Kin, brother. Now, lemme see"---he gave Berkson an approaching once over---"you're a soldier. A flyboy. You don't have to be embarrassed about it. Where are you going?" The biker lifted a thumb over his shoulder. "I hope it's not that way. There's nothing for ten, fifteen clicks, and even then, all you're gonna find's a little Arab village that doesn't have squat."
Berkson absently bit the inside of his cheek, sinking into the dismal news. "I guess I was going that way."
"Tell you what. I'm swinging past the base. You wanna lift? I don't mind helping out a fellow Jewish warrior." The biker lifted his brow, and his forehead became grooved like the tires of his ride.
Before Berkson could answer, a particularly loud rumbling tore apart the night sky. A wing of TB-54s whooshed by, climbing from about a thousand kilometers towards outer space.
"I tried to get my own tush back into this fight, but the Force told me I'm too old. Reserves won't even take me. 'Sides, I guess they'd make me cut my hair. I thought the Bionics War was the last one we were ever gonna have. I lost a lot of buddies back then. At least we got a museum to honor their memories, but it just doesn't seem like enough. I went there once, but I---couldn't stay long."
"Why?"
The biker looked puzzled over Berkson's question. Berkson wondered about the reaction. It was an innocent question, a simple one.
"You've never been in combat, have you?" the biker asked, as if accusing Berkson of a crime.
"I, uh....yeah."
Chortling, the biker undid his chin strap and folded his arms across his chest. "You're too young. You're talkin' bout simulated, ain't you?"
Berkson looked in the direction of the base. "I--uh---I think I'll take that ride."
"Thought so," the biker said, and Berkson wasn't sure if the big man was referring to the question of combat or the fact that Berkson did, after all, want the lift.
The biker leaned forward. "Hop on." He kick-started the motorcycle to life.
Berkson complied and, over the roar, he shouted, "I was on Mars. And I saw my buddy die."
The engine ceased. The biker craned his neck back towards Berkson. "Then you were with those soldiers I heard about on the net."
"Yeah. And if you'll do me a favor, I don't exactly wanna go back to the base."
227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfciJDVVnWj
227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr3CkdbBUQk
227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL1ZsBfZQmh
The biker let him off at a chain-link fence with a warning sign:227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDEZRWabYUQ
NO ADMITTANCE. PROPERTY OF ISREALI DEFENSE FORCE. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNMiL4GyWEH
"Hey, you want, I'll wait for you," the biker called after him.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhZKzuTGfdn
Berkson paused to glance at him. "It's not necessary."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKg8Ektx169
"I think I will. Out of respect....for them."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6xVlx646Yq
Berkson scaled the fence and jumped down into the restricted area. The grounds were encircled by trees and carpeted with a thick layer of imported St. Augustine sod. Once beyond the perimeter foliage, he arrived in a vast clearing dotted with waist-high white Stars-of-David. He remembered how Laura had described the place as looking like Jerusalem National Cemetery, but that comparison didn't mean anything to him. He passed star after star, then finally arrived at the mound of dirt that was still damp and made his nose crinkle a bit with the smell of humus. Now, the deeper pitch of transports taking off accompanied the hum of insects.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYM679SxgxQ
Shrouded in shadows, Berkson scanned the landscape. He was confident that he wouldn't be seen, but if he were, he'd feel more foolish than concerned about the punishment for trespassing. They would not court-martial him for breaking into a cemetery, but they'd certainly make him explain his act. That, he considered, would be punishment enough.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG7KrLQ22aL
His gaze lowered to the mound. "Counter, I, um, I wanted to say something when they buried you, but I didn't know what. And now that I'm here, I still don't. 'Sides, they don't let anybody say much at these things."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI6jJ8IIlts
Teachers had told Berkson that he needed to learn to express himself better, that he was a wonderful observer and a fast learner, but if he couldn't convey what he knew to others in both verbal and written forms, then much of his talent might be locked within him. Simple moments had left him speechless. Something on the vast scale of parting words to a dead friend was a universe beyond reach.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBGVoZJMUUT
While a warm Mediterranean breeze swept over him, he sat on the mound and beat a fist onto his thigh over his inability to convert thoughts into words. "I wish, somehow, you could just feel my insides. And know. Maybe right now you can. I doubt it." He took up a handful of dirt. "I wish I could know what you feel now. I thought, before, I knew what it'd be like, but seein' you up there...all bloody...."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4MaTOjf1FC
He looked beyond the trees and saw the dark figure of the biker. The man was on his knees, his head bowed, his helmet under an arm. Then Berkson searched for Mars, not knowing whether the planet was visible at the hour or not. He figured he'd try anyway. It felt right to do so.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxGcTmjOSpV
Tiny yet intense points of light glinted among the stars. There was no Mars, no moon, and no clouds, only the endless void that a hundred years' prior would have been a valley, a beachhead, or coastal waters. To try to defend or conquer even a small portion of space seemed a great impossibility, a fool's errand.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMTtx8W3WZ4
Who would you die for?227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5KYt2oTQtz
Krantz's question was an icicle in his heart; it tormented him with chills and made him clench his teeth so hard that his head shook. "Aw, Counter, I wish I could know if anyone or anything is worth it."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3XXpP8MqoX
He rose, wiped his hand and rear free of dirt, then shuffled back to the fence and jumped it.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtpahG7NGMc
"That's what it's all about," the biker said, swinging a leg over his ride. "Right back there. Ain't a lot of people walkin' around with as much honor or courage as they had."227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9FjeGLYzME
Berkson delayed before getting back on the bike. "Why'd you join the military in the first place?"227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAsa87JM0gW
"Everybody jokes, says it seemed like a good idea at the time. Course they were drunk at the time. But as for me, it wasn't that. I didn't have anything better to do or that I wanted to make a career of it, or that I had a choice between service or jail, but I kept watchin' the news and seein' people die and thought I had to do something about that. See, I didn't have to have a personal reason for doing what I did. I did have a brother or sister or folks who were killed. I think there just comes a time in every person's life when they gotta put somethin' else first. Making sacrifices ain't a pleasant business"----he inclined his head to the sky---"but without those people, shit....don't wanna think about that. Now, I'm ramblin'. Where are you headed?227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAPP1svoVjV
227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEC4x5fPNw5
227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcTKrIotpXH
