They’re Just Heads

Brittle fall leaves crunched under Max’s black boot as he swung the enemy’s head by its hair back and forth until finally lobbing it over the railing to land in the sea below. It joined a selection of other bobbing heads that all stared directly at him, some smiling, some not. He lifted his assault rifle and opened fire on the heads below, sending some spinning in the water but not eliminating any. Samar put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t waste bullets on them,” Samar said.

“But they’re fucking staring at me,” Max replied, letting loose another volley of bullets. “No, Max. They’re just heads. They can’t stare any more.”

“What do you call that? What’s that one doing?” Max said, pointing his gun at one of them. He shouted and opened fire, missing it entirely. “AHHRRRRGHH!” “Sam, take a deep breath. Nobody’s staring at you. You’re going crazy from the war.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Going crazy from the war? I’ll show you crazy!” And he beat Samar senseless with the butt of his rifle. Then he went to the wall and looked down. None of the heads seemed to be staring at him any more. “Hey Sam. They ain’t starin no more. You wuz right. Sam!” He knelt down beside Samar, who lay on the ground. “Sam! Come on boy, I didn’t hit you that bad.” Max hugged Samar, and started crying. Samar barely came to. “It’s alright Max,” he mumbled. “Just go back to your post. Go back to your post.” Eventually Max rose and stumbled on across the bridge, sniffling, back to his post.

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