Forest

Taking a few steps, I stopped, my rifle pressed more tightly to my shoulder, and listened to the forest for a moment. They were walking around, and there were many of them, perhaps even a platoon—that was all I was certain of, hearing hundreds of different sounds. From every direction, someone was creeping toward me. They were stealthy; the only sounds they made were the snapping of delicate twigs, the scraping of tree branches, the crushing of undergrowth. But I could hear them; they were getting closer.

I decided to kneel and rest for a moment. As I lowered myself a little, something cracked in my knee joint, loudly, incredibly loudly. They must have heard it. Finally, I placed my knee on the ground. I tried to breathe as calmly as I could, but I felt myself needing more and more air; I had to take a sharp intake of breath. Everyone had heard it; now they were surely coming my way. I glanced at my watch, but in the pale moonlight, further diffused by the tree branches, I couldn't read the time. I was afraid to illuminate my watch; it would be madness, even in this insane reality. I had a flashlight on my rifle, as bright as a car headlight, but I knew if I used it, it would be moments before I died. It had to be around three, an hour until dawn at most. An hour at most, I had to check, I took the risk, shielded my watch with my other hand, and shined the light. It was 12:04.

I felt myself shaking again, but this time in a different way. Every now and then, with relative regularity, a terrible shiver ran through me, causing impulsive spasms in my arms and legs. For a moment, I tried to fight it, gripping my rifle tighter, but it was useless. I gave up; I could endure it even more if it weren't for my breathing. He was starting to shake too; I couldn't draw a steady breath, and every inhale made a sound like a record skipping. Is this madness? How much longer can I endure? I asked myself. But soon, they were getting closer. Could death be worse than what I was experiencing now?

A warm, terrifying heat enveloped my insides, rising to my lower spine, where it stabbed me cruelly, materializing my fear. I heard a branch snap. Someone was close, closer than I had ever been today, to my left. I knew that if I didn't let them know I'd noticed them, I'd gain a few more moments of life. I couldn't move suddenly.

Slowly, imperceptibly, I raised my rifle. My thumb touched the firing selector; the weapon wasn't ready to fire. I couldn't release the safety without making a noise, but I had no choice. Gently, step by step, I tried to move the selector lever 90 degrees. To no avail, the weapon responded with a deafening "click!" I trembled so much that I could barely hold the rifle in my hands.

They haven't killed me yet, I thought. They're lying there now, aiming at me, just waiting, checking if I'm not alone. I've fallen into an ambush, I've lost, and I'm dead. They'll shoot me the moment I turn around. I wonder what they'll hit? In the head? Certainly not... In the torso? What organ? My vision went dark. What choice do I have now? A grenade? They'll mow me down before I throw it. Should I shoot them? I don't even know exactly where they are.

My throat was dry, my tongue felt like a wooden stake, surrounded on all sides by sandpaper.

I have to shoot, I'll fire a few bursts, I'll die anyway, but I'll fight.

"What's the point in tearing away another second of my suffering-filled life?" A voice that kept coming back to me. A voice more terrifying, in its rationality and perceptiveness, than the forest itself...

Suddenly the wind rose, rustling through the branches of the old trees. In the distance, I heard the sound of a branch breaking. This was my chance, I realized. I turned toward the enemy, simultaneously taking a shot. It didn't come off as quickly as I'd hoped. Adrenaline filled my entire body, every nook and cranny. My heart ignited. I was burning, literally burning with emotion: excitement and terrifying fear. There was no way to aim, I could barely see anything. But the enemy was close, I knew I'd hit. And I fired, simultaneously switching on my tactical flashlight, and fired twice.

The rifle kicked me in the shoulder.

The world slowed, there was no one there, now I saw it. I fired into the empty forest. "You finally managed to make a noise," a voice inside me said.

Every enemy for miles around heard the shots. My closest allies were a day's journey away. I understood that soon I would find out: what true fear tastes like.