Culpa

Hey guys, this is a story I wrote from the perspective of a character mentioned/introduced in another story written by someone else.  It was a writing exercise I did and I decided that I'd share it here!  Enjoy!  Post comments!

Culpa didn’t even remember what Puna’s face looked like.  She couldn’t remember her parents either, or what had happened to them.  They’d been children when the task force attacked the compound where their kidnappers had taken them.  Their kidnappers, but their liberators as well.  The task force ended up becoming the true kidnappers, the separators, the ones that took Puna away from her.  For all that Culpa knew, Puna was dead.  Or worse.  She knew what their rescuers had done, could do, and would do.

                The bomb.  The first one dropped a year after Puna was taken had done untold damage and killed thousands.  It was enough to look on the devastation of that village to turn Culpa’s heart to stone.  She could no longer call herself one of them.  Not after that.

                She stopped being a quasi-prisoner that day and went in for recruitment.  After the bomb, knowing what the enemy could do, she was hardly turned away.  Her liberators became her squad mates.  Veritas, Equitas, and Mendacium became her closest friends as they dove into the trenches together.  They had each other’s back, they had each other’s front, and that bond was closer than anything Culpa had ever known.

                It was a year after the first bomb was dropped that her Commanding Officer told her why the enemy had chosen that particular village for the first bomb drop.  He had told her it was because of its position, not strategically, but geographically.  Situated in a valley surrounded by mountains, it was the perfect location to gather data on the effects of the bomb.  Culpa’s heart had already turned to stone.  It was that day she felt the magma begin to press against it, like the capstone on a volcano.  She didn’t know how long it would hold.

                At present, Culpa found herself looking up from her journal as Veritas entered her tent.  It was the fourth day of the enemiy’s most recent push into the Eastern held territories.  Artillery strikes were hitting almost every hour, but luckily the bulk of her division’s tents were far from the intended targets.  She felt no envy for the soldiers closer to the strategic compounds and command bases.  Though they were heavily bunkered, it would be no picnic, and you could absolutely forget about sleep.

                “Commander says we’re going to try to push on their left flank,” Veritas explained.  “That particular regiment took heavy casualties in an engagement with 9^th platoon a couple hours ago.  Another regiment’s come in to defend them but they’ve been forced back by General Compelo’s tank division up.  If we take this regiment by surprise while they’re weakened we’ll have a significant advantage.  We’ll start pushing them away from the river, their only water source.”

                “Sounds like a plan to me,” Culpa nodded, picking up her rifle.  She was a good shot.  No, screw that, she was a hell of a good shot.  She had outstripped Veritas, Equitas, and Mendacium in every target shooting drill they’d ever been subjected to.  It had earned her the nickname Plink from Mendacium to describe the sound that she made every time she zeroed in on the tin cans that were set up for her.

                Equitas and Mendacium were waiting for her outside the tent.  Their faces were stained with ash that coated their cheeks and made their eyelashes look gray.  She was certain she looked the same, coated in the dust of war.  She tried not to think about how much of it was the remains of people who’d been blasted apart next to her by explosions, or killed by incoming fire.

                Equitas took point as they dipped into the trench and began to work their way towards their target.  Machine gun fire from the 3^rd Platoon was drawing the bulk of the enemy’s fire, distracting them as Culpa’s squad linked up with a  couple of other four man teams.  The machine guns would only work for so long, but it still felt good to be moving through the trenches without the sound of bullets dividing the air over your head.

                Culpa did a quick pop up over the lip of the trench to get an idea of the enemy’s deployment and could already see soldier’s moving into position to intercept them.  The distraction hadn’t lasted long.

                “They’re on to us!” Culpa barked just as the first bullets began to rain dirt and grime down on their heads.

                “Goddamnit I hate this part!” Mendacium barked.  “Plink, give me some covering fire!”

                Culpa nodded and waited until she heard a break before snapping up and putting a bullet into the shoulder of one of the enemy soldiers.  He had been exposing himself too much.  The shot hadn’t been hard.  She tried not to think about his screams as she ducked back down.

                “Again!” Mendacium cried, hefting his light-machine gun.

                Culpa popped up a second time with Veritas at her side.  They both fired a shot.  Culpa’s hit the target, causing a woman to spin out of her machine gun nest.  Culpa never saw if Vertias’ shot hit, she only heard the all-to-familiar sound of a bullet’s buzz before it made contact with skin.  And then Veritas was falling beside her.

                “Mendacium!!” Culpa roared.

                “Equitas!  Cover me!” Mendacium screamed.  He popped up over the side of the trench wall, opening fire so that the sound of his light-machine gun shredded the air in all directions.  Equitas was up beside him, popping off shots like a mad-man.  Culpa knew that only a few would find their targets, but her thoughts were entirely on Veritas.

                She fell to his side, her knee sinking into wet mud, and she quickly located where the bullet had entered.  Right side, between the ribs.  It had passed through as smoothly as a blade, not even breaking any ribs.  But blood was flowing from the wound relentlessly and Veritas was coughing up blood as his lungs began to fill.

                “Veritas!  Veritas, stay with me!  Don’t you die on me you bastard!” Culpa roared at him, putting pressure on the wound.

                “Culpa…Cul…Culpa…” Veritas gasped between coughs.

                “Shut up you idiot!  Hold on, just…MEDIC!”

                “Culpa…your…your parents.”

                “Shut up you stupid fuck!”

                “We…shot them…the day we took you.  Equitas, Mendacium…and me.”

                Culpa sank back against the trench wall and buried her face in her grimy hands.  She had dropped her rifle somewhere.  She couldn’t remember.  When she pulled her hands away, Veritas was dead.

                The magma was coming to a boil.  She could feel the stone quaking, ready to burst, ready to let it all come out.

                And she wanted it to.

                Culpa stood up, unconcerned with her own rifle, and pulled her side-arm from its holster.  She jabbed it point blank against Equitas’ cheek.

                “Culpa, what the fuck are yo-“

                Equitas’ face exploded, the bullet catching Mendacium in the shoulder next to him.  He roared and stumbled to the side, losing his grip on his light-machine gun which sputtered out.  But the buzzing was still in Culpa’s ear and she couldn’t get it to stop.

                “Culpa!! Don’t!!”

                But she didn’t stop.  She emptied her pistol into Mendacium’s stocky frame and grabbed Equitas’ rifle off the ground.  She popped over the trench wall, not caring anymore, not caring about anything.  She saw one of the enemy soldiers racing towards her across the dead zone between them, screaming.  She put him down, his head exploding like a popped grenade.

                She worked the bolt and looked for another target.  She hated the enemy.  She hated them for abandoning her.  For taking her sister from her.  For leaving her alone.  For letting her parent’s die in a splash of blood against the side of the house she dreamed over and over and over.

                Then she saw her.  Puna.  Across the impossible gulf, forever out of reach, with the enemy.  Culpa dropped the rifle.

                “Puna?”

                Then, the buzz of that all-to-familiar bullet before it hits its target.