The Empty Chair by Shome Dasgupta

    “Imran’s shot,” I said.  “He’s by the generator.  But I was able to take two of them down by the bushes.  We got to make sure to go back and find Imran’s body.  He deserves a proper burial.”

    “Right,” Kahn whispered.  “I know there are some by those lamp posts.  They have situated themselves in that ditch.”

    “That’ll be tough,” I reply.  “Too much open area.  We should get them from behind.  I’m almost out of bullets.”

    “I’ve plenty,” Kahn said.  “Where are Walid and Salman?”

    “They’re staged in the right flank, north of where we are.  They were able to scramble to that small bunch of bushes ahead of us.  In our last contact, they were heading for the main house, where Joe is hiding.  Once we capture him, we’ve won.  We control the whole area.”

    “Come on,” Kahn said.  “Let’s make our way around to surprise them in the ditch.  We’ll make it our own stronghold.”

    We headed south, down a side road, and crawled through the fields.  I thought we would be ambushed in the grass, but no one was there.  If we could take away their station at the ditch, and if the others could get Joe, we would be in an excellent position.  Our allies were securing the surrounding areas, and we would gain control of Parkway View.  We have lost a lot of men, but we all kept thinking that it all was for a good cause - to control our own freedom and the freedom of others.  The war had been going on for about a week, which was longer than we expected.  The enemies were not surrendering.  I wanted it to be all over; I wanted to be home with my family, eating dinner, and watching television.  The heat was unbearable, thick with humidity, and an enemy in itself.  I wanted to end it all before night came, for I didn’t think I could fight through another day.  I could tell Kahn was ready to go home as well – constantly looking at photographs.  He missed his sister, his house, and he constantly talked about his bed.  As we made our way to the ditch, I kept thinking of Imran and how he had his whole future taken away at the age of fourteen.  I pictured him covered in red and rolling around in agony from those bullets immersed in his stomach.  We all envisioned a quiet war with minimal casualties, but now we found ourselves in the fight not only for our lives, but for the lives of others- our families and friends, our neighbors, and our world.  It all came down to us, and I was ready to release the burden that lay on the shoulders of our soldiers. 

    My dreams of future harmony died as I felt the beads spilling red all across my back.  I could see Kahn, who tried his best to fight back, but soon he lay on the ground beside me.  This was it.  We had failed.  I thought of Imran, and how he must have experienced the same feelings as us. I looked into Kahn’s eyes as we lay in the dirt facing each other.  His eyes tearing as he took his last breaths.

    “Sorry,” I whispered.

    “Sorry,” Kahn replied.

    He closed his eyes and let the bloodstained dirt become his new home.   I tried to keep my eyes opened as long as possible. I breathed every breath to its fullest for the possibility of being saved.  In distant echoes I could hear my mother call me, as she would always call me:

    “Roy,” she shouted.  “Come in.  It’s time for dinner. Wash up and set the table.  Roy. Roy.  Hurry in.”

    I could hear her voice sounding stronger and stronger.  She was calling my name as I lay dying next to my dead friend.  I closed my eyes and pictured my family.

    “Roy,” mother shouted.  “Hurry in.  Call your friends.  Dinner is ready.”

    “I’m dying,” I whispered.