Sacrifice to the Flies by Fanie Viljoen

Author:Fanie Viljoen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LAPA Publishers
Published: 2022-09-12T07:26:42+00:00

Lieutenant Skillit enters the bunker. He closes the door behind him. Silently, he takes a seat in the furthest corner of the room, opens a brown card file, and starts making notes. I realise only now that he must be an intelligence officer. Somebody to watch out for.

“Commandant, this is what happened,” I say, following a deep breath. An unease spreads through the others. We live so close to one another that I sense it.

Krux leans forward, his eyes fixed attentively on me.

“Sergeant Torsten’s training was tough, yes,” I begin. “But isn’t all soldiers’ training extremely arduous?”

“Yours was excessive,” Krux says. “That’s what the Programme requires.”

“Still, Commandant. You need to be broken down before the Force can build you back up again. To become a soldier, your mind should be as strong as your body. Both your mind and your body battle against it. It’s like that adage in the hallway: Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.”

I see Krux is impressed that I noticed the axiom.

“We are soldiers,” I continue. “Yes, we resisted. But Sergeant Torsten helped us become who we are.”

Victor’s hands ball into fists.

Commandant Krux again smiles gently. “Go ahead.”

“There isn’t much to tell, Commandant.” I cough. Pinch my eyes closed for a second against the remembrance. “Priest blessed our mission at Training Camp Alpha before we departed. Sergeant Torsten kissed Priest’s ring. We loaded our equipment onto the RegiMog and got in. Perhaps we were a bit unsure of what lay ahead. We’re only eighteen years old, after all. Not children any more, but not adults either. Perhaps we were somewhat ... nervous, but after the training we had, it was something we could handle. We were ... are ready for any offensive.”

“As it should be.” Krux sounds pleased.

“Yes, Commandant.”

He indicates with his fingers that I should proceed.

“Everyone found their place on the back of the truck. On the benches. Diesel was the only one not sitting there. He settled in on the bags.”

Diesel’s head jolts upright when I mention his name. Commandant Krux also notices it. Even Skillit stops writing for a moment.

“It isn’t strange,” I add before they read something into it. “Diesel is a big guy. The benches are uncomfortable. Sergeant Torsten also wanted to lie down. He chased us off the back bench, the one against the cabin, to take a nap.

“The truck departed. We left Alpha behind.”

“Like one would leave one’s parents’ house,” Krux says deep in thought. Again, that fatherly tone creeps into his voice.

“Probably, Commandant. We won’t know.”

He nods and catches Lieutenant Skillit’s eye. Skillit makes a note.

“The trip was quite boring,” I say, pretending not to have noticed their eye contact. “At times, the six of us chatted among each other. We tore open our ration packs. Ate something. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And the murder?” Krux asks.

I inhale deeply. Again, Victor’s eyes flash in a cautionary way. And again, Skillit jots something down.

“After about three hours, the truck stopped. We got off and stretched our legs.

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