UNIT6

The Pasture

Night settled, thick with the acrid

odors of gunpowder and blood.

No moon meant firing at

muzzle flashes, an inexact method

by which to combat one's foe,

but the enemy had no advantage either.

With artillery fire blanketing

the field of battle, Jack had

no opportunity to go to Mike's aid.

He poked his head over

the rim of the trench to

see if he could spot Mike's corpse.

He knew he was dead.

He had heard his scream

of pain when he was hit.

His agonized moans had grown

weaker and less frequent and finally

ceased about ten minutes ago.

The regiment had been under

heavy bombardment for two days,

without respite. He had been

too late to stop Mike

as he propelled himself out

of the foxhole and staggered

as he hit the muddy terrain.

In hindsight, he should have

seen it coming. Mike had

started to break yesterday.

He was becoming bizarre, talking

about his patriotic duty to

expel the enemy from these shores.

Paradoxically, just before he

hopped over the edge of the trench

he scorned the day he had

heeded the call to enlist.

It pained him to realize that

his one friend in this ungodly war

had betrayed him by dying.

Soldiers don't often make friends with

one another, knowing they might die.

He and Mike were different.

They had known each other

since they were children.

Mike was the best man when

Jack and Lily walked down

the aisle just a week before

they left the dock and crossed

the channel to engage the enemy.

Clouds tumbled and overlapped one another

as the wind began to freshen.

It was getting colder now.

The prospect of another night

of rain, or perhaps even snow,

made Jack quiver with dread.

Blood tinged water was beginning

to crust over with ice.

He could feel his toes and

fingers stiffen as the temperature dropped.

Maybe Mike was better off than he.

At least the cold wouldn't

bother him any more.

Suddenly, comets of light began

to streak across the night sky.

They were using flares!

The increased tempo of cannon fire

coming from the left flank,

shattering the earth around them,

could only mean the enemy

had sensed their weakness, and

was coming in for the kill.

They were heading straight

for the underbelly!Jack's rifle misfired.

The whole corps had been issued

new guns a few days before

this campaign had started.

It wasn't long before they discovered

that the alloy used in the barrels

couldn't endure prolonged firing,

causing the shell casings

to adhere in the bore. How could

he repel the enemy without a weapon?

Jack felt a stab of pain

in his right thigh.

The ground around him ruptured.

Jerking from side to side,

he tried to dodge falling rocks

and the clods of dirt

raining down upon him.

He slumped into a prone posture

as he felt himself shoved

from behind by an unknown force

that felt as if it might

have been a racing locomotive.

The last thing he heard,

before his world was overturned,

was a chorus of screams.

“Am I dead? Where am I?

Where is everybody?” Cognitively,

Jack realized he was still functioning

physiologically so that meant

he was still alive, but

for how long? He couldn't move.

Maybe the impact had fractured

his spine and he was paralyzed.

He tried，analytically，to assess

the damage incurred by moving

his limbs, one by one,

in a clockwise direction,

starting with his right arm.

Everything appeared able to be

mobilized but for some reason

he couldn't get up off the ground.

Everything went black again.

Jack led his horse by the reins

as they stepped onto the overpass

bridging the gap between the plateaus.

In the distance, he could see

a twelve point buck grazing

in the pasture, silhouetted against

the waning sunset. Out of nowhere,

a bull came charging across

the meadow toward him. He tried

to run but his feet

were pegged to the bridge.

Drifting in and out of consciousness,

Jack tried to make sense of

what had happened to him.

He seemed to be in a cavity

under the ground. The earth

was compacted on his legs

but he thought he might be

able to rotate his body enough

to make himself a little more comfortable.

Was that a shaft of light

he could see through the groove

between the fingers of his left

hand covering his eyes?

He groped to clear a tiny

bit more space for himself.

The shutters of his consciousness

closed again.The galaxy was

being probed by lunar modules shuttling

between Earth and the other planets.

As a member of a federation of geologists,

Jack and his team had to

follow the seam of ore

to its source, a pasture

on a distant asteroid.

Once again, Jack regained lucidity.

“Wow,” he thought, “that was

like a bad paperback novel

about astronomy!” He sniffed the air.

It was foul with the smell

of death but qualitatively

able to sustain life.

Why was it so quiet?

Was he deaf? Was the battle over?

Was everyone dead? The weight

on his legs was becoming oppressive.