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The Fields of the Fallen and the Bones of the Dead

Lost to legend, the ocean of deep red, crucifix shaped flowers hung as if awaiting the adornment of a lost messiah. When the rising sun touched them, those crucifixes would lift, greeting the day with breath-taking colours. They would then hang again, content to have been noticed. Only the sun bore witness to the splendour.

After a sixteen-hour march, the exhausted 18th Regiment of the Forefathers of Ash stopped.

Trained to the highest of standards, they were the elite. Unmatched. But this was driving them to the point of... not mutiny, but discord. To the Ashen, orders were their sustenance. Food and water were necessities, and instructions gave them purpose.

But...

They were being pushed past the point of endurance. Orders, though, were exactly that. They'd be followed, to the death if necessary. Death had visited innumerable times. It took friends, family and lovers indiscriminately. No one knew when the Dark Walker would extend a hand and lead you to the Great Halls of Forever. Nevertheless, it would so, when Death did appear, you'd take its hand with elation, not regret.

Their march was preceded by thirty-minute rest. Prior to that, the Ashen had marched for ten hours. Four before that and eight and twenty. Even thirty-minutes had the platoon concerned. They had to hurry. They were needed desperately, so any break was costly.

They knew what awaited them. Would their demise be worthwhile? Would they decimate the enemy, or die within moments of charging in?

There was only one way to find out, so they needed to stop stopping. But nobody could undertake such an ordeal. Even with their training, the Ashen had to rest. Thirty minutes was the maximum required to re-energize the entire squad and deploy the injections, setting their insides alight to vanish fatigue and fear.

The last of the injections were being administered. The soldiers were moving into position.

"I need to sit," said Edmund quietly.

Carp shook his head.

"Don't be stupid. We'll have another break soon enough. Just let the Jazz kick in."

The Jazz injections acted quickly. Edmund only needed to wait a moment.

"It already has. I just need to."

Carp looked around cautiously. No one was looking in their direction, so he nodded.

"OK, quickly."

They stepped back and Carp helped his friend to sit down, then joined him.

"Don't wait for me," said Edmund. "I'll catch up."

Carp knew his friend well from the decades they'd spent together. This wasn't normal behaviour.

"What's going on?"

"I... I've... I can't face it."

"What do you mean? This is what we live for!"

"And die for. We'll never win."

"Shush! We'll be court marshalled."

"No. They won't even notice."

You're wrong. We're meant to be with them. To fight."

"And die."

"And? I'm not afraid."

"Nor am I, but still."

Carp sighed. The Ashen were raised from newborn to be warriors who could take on any adversary and be victorious.

"But..."

"Carpenter, you must see. They're zombies! They don't care about honour, and sure as shit don't care about the Dark Walker. If they get you... Bite you..."

"You're dead on the spot. I know."

"No!" Edmund was holding back tears. "If you're bitten, you're one of them. You don't die."

"Don't be so..."

"My father told me."

Ah. General Abbott was third in command of the entire army. If he told Edmund that...

"How the hell don't we already know this?"

"Because they want us to wade in and kill. If we get bitten, hopefully we'll take a good few down on the way."

"You said they don't die, so...?"

"Decapitation. Head shot. Stuff like that. I don't want to be... whatever they are. Not-dead. Un-dead."

"Shit."

"Anyway. Go. I'll stay here."

"You can't. Just think of..."

"I know the consequences. Of course. It's still better than... that."

"OK. I understand."

"Anyway, this is about me."

"It's not," Carp said, laying his hand over his friend's. "You think, after everything, I'll leave you?"

Edmund smiled sadly. He was pleased his friend was staying, but unhappy with what it meant. Carp could be disciplined too. Even if not, he would be missing out on the glory of the war they'd been brought into this world to win.

Truth was supposed to set you free. To redeem and release. Yet, in Edmund's experience, it brought only pain. He had to remain silent while his comrades – his family – were lied to. Being the son of a high-ranking officer brought the privileges of station. Enhanced quarters and better food. Cleaner water. Information.

It was the latter that brought pain. The hordes outnumbered those that had lived inside the Great Wall dramatically, so how could there be any chance of wiping them out, of surviving, when a mere bite was all it took to turn you.

"You have to be sure."

"I am," said Carp. "If you stay, so do I."

Edmund nodded. His smile was more positive, though inwardly he grieved the battle they would miss. His inner combatant was unable to detach fully from its calling.

They didn't speak for a time. Ignored, they watched the Ashen. As vast as the company was, their focus was legendary. The task was to regroup, and that was all they were interested in. If an attack came, they'd smoothly morph into defensive positions. Otherwise, ten thousand soldiers could be in line quickly.

"Do you see that?" asked Edmund.

He squinted and leaned forward.

"What are you looking at?"

"Look at them. Don't you see?"

Carp followed Edmund's gaze but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The other Ashen were picking up their equipment. Backpacks, stuffed with everything they might need on the long trek, were hauled into place. Rifles were shouldered. Hand guns were holstered. It was the same at every break.

"No...?"

"They're fading. My eyesight must be going or something."

When Carp looked again, he could see what Edmund meant. The huge throng seemed to be... indistinct.

"Avverton!" he called. "Brewster!"

The pair were in the middle of a conversation as they moved into their respective places. They should be in front of Carp and Edmund, so the four of them had become well acquainted. Neither responded.

"Lilith! Adamson!"

If their surnames didn't catch their attention, the use of their first names might slip between the words they were exchanging. Again, there was no reaction. They were starting to blur around the edges, and Carp rubbed his eyes, wondering if his own tiredness was affecting his vision. He stood and moved towards the others.

"Lils? Addy?"

Even standing right beside them, Carp was ignored. He reached out to tap Adamson's shoulder.. but his hand passed through the man's torso! He stepped back in shock, then shuddered as another of the squadron walked through Carp.

Carp's shudder increased to a shiver. Where his and the man's bodies had shared the same space felt frozen. He fell to his knees, holding himself. Edmund rushed to his side.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"D... Did you s-s-see?"

"Yes! It's like they were ghosts!"

"Or w-we w-were."

"What do you mean, us?"

Carp pointed and Edmund turned.

"No!"

With his friend's aid, Carpenter pushed himself to his feet.

"The Fields of the Fallen."

"It's real," said Carp. "How can it be real?"

Edmund looked back at their squadron, but all that remained was a blur of movement that was rapidly dissolving.

"It is," he whispered.

The men clung to each other and slowly walked forwards. Once seen, the Fields of the Fallen, a legendary ocean of flowers, could not be unseen. Its appearance meant only one thing.

. They'd surrendered their calling and were resigned to the fact there was nothing left for them. The Ashen were Ashen to the death. Their time had come

"It's beautiful," said Edmund. He was crying.

Carp nodded. He couldn't speak. If you found yourself in the Fields, the Dark Walker could never come to lead you onwards.

"Sit with me," he said.

They sat, surrounded by the Bones of the Dead. The flowers, the most exquisite red, were the remains of every warrior who had lived, whether they died in or out of battle. By the bite of a zombie, loose on the world since the tearing down of the Great Wall, disease or age.

"I'm sorry," said Edmund, hanging his head.

"I'm not," said Carp. He lifted Edmund's head with his finger other the other's chin. "At least we're dying in splendour. And together."

"I'm tired," Edmund repeated.

Carp didn't have the energy to reply. The Bones' fragrance was enveloping them. It seeped in on every breath, impossible to resist.

Carp put his hand over Edmund's and squeezed as tightly as his depleting strength allowed. Edmund smiled.

"I love you too," he said.

Neither spoke again. Like the ash they had always been named after, their bodies disintegrated. It was the flowers' turn to inhale, taking in the miniscule elements of Carpenter and Edmund. The crucifixes deepened dramatically in tone, then the flower heads closed to become the bone-like forms of myth.

Where the soldiers had settled, new tendrils of life were already piercing the ground.

I hoped you enjoyed this latest installment of the Multigenre Mashup Smackdown! This story took a bit of work, as it was originally 1,000 words longer than this finished version! The word count was strict, however, so I had to do some serious cutting. I may well post the original version too, at some point. I wasn't expecting it to continue from the previous chapter, Hope, but here we are. The zombies, let loose by the tearing down of the Great Wall, have invaded. We shall see if the next prompt brings another chapter in the story!

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