Citizen Soldier Would Anyone Care Novels & Stories

“Why let those people suffer out there?” Dylan shrugged. “It’s not their concern. They have what they need. Their lives are fine. They won’t risk it for those in the suburbs.” We kept walking, and I saw the soldiers he’d talked about, standing at the corners, alert and ready. They watched us pass, eyes sharp, like they were waiting for someone to try and break their peace. Their faces were hard, unreadable. There was no warmth, no kindness. Just a job to do. And as long as they kept the high-class werewolves safe, nothing else mattered to them.

My curiosity piqued, and I moved closer, positioning myself near the doorway. Their voices were low, but I could still make out bits and pieces of their conversation. “What do you want to do about the man in our care?” the soldier asked. “I’m not waiting for the law to handle this.” His voice was cold. “He deserves death.” A chill ran down my spine. “He killed the mayor,” Aiden continued. “The people won’t care if he dies.” The soldier nodded. “Understood.” Aiden’s next words made my breath halt.

"You know damn well the apocalypse hit, right? The world has gone to hell. Who owes you anything? "Does the country owe you? Does the military owe you? Do we owe you anything? "What the hell do you know, huh? You run your mouth about no one helping you. Do you even know what was done for you before all this? What those soldiers gave up for people like you? "Everyone's out here barely making it, carrying their own weight, trying to stay alive. And you think just because you open your mouth, people are supposed to serve you? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"We did not wish to cause concern among the general public, ma'am." "What is it? Commanding officer Al, that is not a sufficient justification! My apologies for raising my voice in front of you, but in my opinion, the lives of these men are of much greater significance than the fear that certain unemployed folks are experiencing. All right, they brought in some injured soldiers from the border, and what is the situation? According to what they know, it may be anything at all. Let us go outside, if you don't mind." Due to the fact that the next thing I was going to say was not going to be nice in any way, I requested that we discuss it outside.

They wouldn't even be able to give their best. "we go back. When you've recovered from today's patrol, you can make a roster for their shifts. " I ran a hand over my head, suddenly weary, "I don't want it to be like last time, when we saw the signs and ignored them. But I'd hate for them to just sit around waiting for something to happen." "They are soldiers, watching for evil, keeping their land safe. It is honorable." "it is." I said and looked around them. Some of the men here were a decade or two older than me, and yet they expected me to have sound judgement. But I feared my judgement failed me every time I worried about all the hurtful things that could be done to kylie.

I needed to clean up this room and leave quickly. I despised soldiers living quarters duty. “Don’t tell me you’re still going after his leftovers?” the first soldier asked. “If that becomes public, you know what that means—execution without trial.” I tried to ignore them again, but their conversation continued unabated. “It’s not my fault he always goes for the hot ones. Besides, it’s not like he’s had more than five humans. No one would find out.”

“We can’t hang around. We need to finish these rooms and make sure Cameron, Rhett, and Talen are okay.” She nodded and followed him to the door. “Those soldiers on the news tonight,” she said as he checked the next bedroom and found it empty. “Phillip was saying that they’re not making distinctions between civilians and soldier nor supernatural and human, and that is a bad thing. You thought so too,” she remembered.

But if men out there—men like the ones on that grainy footage—decide she’s a symbol? They won’t care who she really is. They’ll care who she reminds them of. Fear slides icy fingers down my spine. “I still don’t trust you,” I say, because I need that on the record, even if it only exists in this ugly room. “I don’t need your trust,” he says. “I need your compliance while we get you clear of the crosshairs.” “I’m not a soldier,” I say. “I didn’t say you were,” he replies. “You’re a civilian in a war zone. My war zone. That makes you my responsibility whether either of us like it or not.”

Aleksey said, after a minute. “I don’t have a problem with him. He’s been impressive. He’s got contacts that are sure as shit useful. But you know a lot of the street soldiers are weird … I don’t know if they’ll have confidence in him,” I said, hating to admit it. I felt like our generation didn’t give a damn about who someone loves, but there’s always going to be some. Also, a lot of our street soldiers were older, in their 40’s and 50’s and some of them had really strong opinions about shit.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that several of the village men had also been waiting, and several ceased what they had been doing, moving subtly closer. “F-k me,” one of the soldiers sized Thaelen up. “All that salt did this guy some favors.” Another was more wary, reading the atmosphere better, his eyes going to the villagers before returning to Thaelen. “We are entitled to comfort,” he said lifting his chin defiantly. “Give it a few days in training, and you’ll be seeking some yourselves. It won’t matter that you knew these women, that they were someone’s wife or daughter, all that will matter to you is that, for a brief time, between her thighs, you can escape the blood and pain.”