a helluva thing

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

“It’s a helluva thing, waiting around to die.”

 

Chip stared at the words, then carefully flipped to the next blank page in his tiny notebook. Despite his caution, he smeared a little blood along one edge of the paper. Sighing, he turned to the next page. Only three pages left; he had to get this right.

 

The blank page was as intimidating as it was uninspiring. Chip carefully set it aside, placing it gently atop the ruined Nav console to his left. Just below that, the twisted door to the snack locker hung open on one hinge. Chip reached in and came out with a bag of chips. At least there was food. Probably he’d bleed to death before he had time to worry about starving. It was too bad that the bottle of carefully-hoarded whisky had broken; the smell filled the cabin, mingling with the scents of diesel fuel and burned electronics.

 

The light came from a ChemLite stick. He had a few more in his pocket, but again, expected the soft glow from this first one to live longer than he would. Without it, the cabin would have been pitch dark, a fitting tomb.

 

His tank was dead. His crew was dead. His unit was dead. The enemy was dead. Everything on the battlefield was dead; everything except Chip. And that would change soon.

 

Chip opened his chips, and sat crunching in the green light. His thoughts wandered without focus. He was amazed at how effective the standard-issue pain blockers were; he couldn’t feel anything from the mangled remains of his left leg. He could see the pool of blood beneath him still slowly growing despite his best efforts at getting not one, but two, tourniquets tied around what was left of it. He found it interesting that the red of his blood, when viewed under the green glow of the ChemLite, appeared black, while the red buttons beneath the forward display appeared to luminesce yellow.

 

Something interrupted his reverie; something in his mouth felt wrong. A piece of chip that hadn’t crunched when he bit down on it. Chip spat into his hand; saliva, chip fragments, blood, and a pretty sizeable chunk of tooth were the result. Huh. He didn’t even realize he’d injured his jaw. Another point for the pain blockers!

 

Chip sat and finished his bag of chips, one chip at a time. He didn’t try to focus his thoughts, just let them come and go as they saw fit. Finally, the bag was empty, and he came back to the task at hand.

 

Chip was dying. He had no illusions about that. He wasn’t particularly distressed by the knowledge; he’d always expected to die in his tank, with his tank, a meaningless tick in the ledgers of this meaningless war. He was pleased that he wasn’t dying screaming, or burning, and that he had a span in which to leave behind some manner of reminder to the future that he, Chip, had existed.

 

Problem was, he had no idea what to say, or to whom he was saying it.

 

Chip reached for his tiny notebook, but misjudged the placement of his hand, and put a bloody thumbprint right in the middle of the pristine blank page. Dammit, that wouldn’t do! Last words should be presented in a dignified manner, not on a bloody scrap from a pocket notebook. He carefully turned to the next page; only two left.

 

Who was this for? Was it for Mom? Arlene? Any of the nieces and nephews he’d barely met? Some random historian of the future? And why? Why did anything he had to say deserve to be preserved? Was he going to be the next Anne Frank? Was this just self-indulgent crap?

 

Hmmm. Self-indulgent crap. Chip pondered. If he was dying, his last minutes his to spend as he saw fit, why not be self-indulgent? Chip looked at the snack locker again, then back at his notebook. Yep, good plan. He flipped back a couple of pages to where he had already begun.

 

“It’s a helluva thing, waiting around to die.” He continued. “But at least there’s food. I’m eating it all before I go. Because piss on you, that’s why.”

 

Chip smiled, settled down in his chair, and reached for some jerky.

 

 

 

 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

 

Edited October 17, 2018 by Hippin_in_Hawaii

[tweezers 1,034]

Approved. 

 

It is one of the greatest pleasures to us not to have to make a single correction to an article, and this is one of those rare moments. Amazing writing, amazing plot. Easily one of the best, if not the best piece I've read in the Amateur Writing Section. 10/10, well done. 

Edited October 29, 2017 by tweezers
Changed an I to an A in the article.

[Magenta 5,165]

[...]Chip reached in and came out with a bag of chips. It At least there was food. [...]

 

Chip opened his bag of chips, and sat crunching in the green light. His thoughts wandered without focus. [...] He found it interesting that the red of his blood, when viewed under the green glow of the ChemLite, appeared black, while the red buttons beneath the forward display appeared to be a luminesce yellow.

[...]

There ya go. 9.8/10.

 

Excellent read, the story was as perfect as it could be. Awesome phrasing, to the point.

 

You are the second person in this week to have his first post as a story in the AWS. Both this and the previous story were good, this one being a lot better.

Maybe we will see the third and last of such people on the 5th of November? Let's see.

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Thanks for the compliments! It's been a while since I wrote creatively; this felt good!