"A Tentative Peace" by Alec P

 

Delirious and stumbling towards the first structure he laid eyes on, he made no notice of the figure crouched in the corner. Distantly, he registered the sounds of gunfire and crunching rubble- the soundtrack of his life for the past three months. The crumbling, destitute building in front of him seemed like Elysium, a blessed refuge from the oncoming snowstorm.

 

The man lowered himself down gingerly and rested his head against the concrete wall with a weighted sigh, receiving his first moment of reprieve in days. With his eyes starting to close and his entire body going limp from exhaustion, the soldier resolved to give up his fight for survival. He never was made for a life of violence, fear, and inhumanity after all.

 

A rustle of cloth several meters away jerked him out of his stupor, kicking his senses into high alert. His head whipped to the side and he caught sight of another man. A man with a green armband. An enemy. What a ludicrous but timely response to his vow. Two seconds of swearing off violence and he faces just that at the price of his own life. He gave a short bitter laugh.

 

“Do I intimidate you that much?” he scoffed sardonically, sitting up and facing his new company.

 

“Not particularly. I have no regard for my life; I can’t bother to be intimidated.”

 

The enemy soldier looked at him quizzically, eyebrows drawn together. “You want to die?”

 

“No,” he said hesitantly. “This is hardly living, though, is it?”

 

“Some would argue it is,” the man responded haughtily.

 

“What do you argue?”

 

As if reading from a script, he puffed up and recited, “That fighting gives me purpose. A cause to defend.”

 

He laughed exasperatedly in reply, his head once again falling back onto the firm wall. What a twisted fate that brought him into the company of the most patriotic and brusque person in this desolate town.

 

Within minutes of a tense quiet being established, the enemy piped up with the threat, “I could kill you, you know.”

 

His unwelcome guest grumbled something unintelligible with the audacity to sound bored. Although his dismissive nature aggravated the other, they said nothing more. Silence settled over them, the only sounds coming from the abused trees fighting to stay standing against the harsh winds. The wind’s whistling rose in pitch, shaking the fragile building as a chill crept toward the crouched bodies on the floor.

 

“Alright, I found this hovel first,” the enemy cut in. He rose from the corner with an audible effort and swept the dirt from his pants. His companion’s head swiveled, straining to look up at him from the new angle from the floor.

 

“I’m not chancing waking up to a barrel staring me down.” He grabbed his gun and strode over, boots thunking dully against the floor. Without much care, he jabbed him in the shoulder with the butt of the gun. The man stared down with a hard face, snapping “Out” repeatedly, each time with increasing aggression.

 

Not having moved and at this point quite annoyed, the man on the floor released an exasperated groan. “Can’t we just-” he broke off with a sigh. “Can’t we stay here and not threaten each other? I don’t know… be nice?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if nursing an excruciating headache. “I just want one goddamn second of rest.”

 

At their proximity, the soldier’s heavy breathing became audible. His hands tightened on his rifle; nostrils flaring, he spat out, “Kindness doesn’t exactly suit this line of work.”

 

“Maybe. But it could suit you. Give me a break.” He rolled his eyes as the man in front of him continued to look dissatisfied. “At least until the storm passes, yeah?”

 

The man debated his options, trying to deduce if he was overthinking or if he was being tricked. A frown still weighed down his face.

 

“I’ve already told you, I’m not looking for a fight. Cheer up and sit your ass back down,” he drawled impatiently.

 

Hesitantly, and with his eyes never leaving the other man, the soldier sat down, nearly shoulder to shoulder with his companion.

 

Without the threat of violence hanging in the balance and a mutually unspoken promise to show the good in both of them for the night, the tension dissipated. With the wills of just two men, the war was put on hold. Their fragile trust held up an armistice.

 

For one moment, the inevitability of what lay ahead didn’t feel so crushing. They wished to stay here, the confines of the world limited to the shuddering glass windows, the long-dead garden turned graveyard, and the warmth of their partner’s presence.

 

As night fell and both men’s exhaustion reached its breaking point, the enemy soldier slid his armband off and whispered into the darkness.

 

“Alright. Until the storm passes"

 

For now, they trusted.

 

 For now, they lived.