But that thought had to wait. We had faced a startling problem.
We were right back at where we started. The impact craters and the coagulated blood circle were still there. We stood there, awestruck.
Ren said, virtually unable to speak, "I...I don't believe this! We're right back where we started! That's impossible!"
Sonic said, doubtfully, "I'm sure we're not back where we were."
"No, Sonic," I said, "Ren's right. We are back where we started."
"Prove it."
"The impact craters? The splattered blood? The decomposing pieces of the unfortunate fellow who got blown to pieces? Sonic, this isn't a coincidence!"
Sonic now began to realize everything. He then dropped to his knees, pounded his fists to the ground, and yelled, "Damn it!!!"
"Hey," I said, in a hopeful tone, "there is some good in this."
"What's so good about ending up in the exact same place as we had started?!"
"We have a roof over our heads and a headquarters where we can heal our wounds and eat real food and not bugs and plants."
"I guess you're right," Sonic said, now in a less hostile tone. "But I can't believe that we went in a circle."
"It was nothing to lose your head over," I joked.
We all headed inside Sonic's house. We were thankful that we still had food that was still good. We were still a bit hungry, so we ate a sandwich made to the way we preferred them. Mine was a ham sandwich with a bit of mayonnaise. Everyone else's was a plain ham sandwich. I assumed that they were a bit hungrier than me, since they didn't have much on theirs.
After that, we almost had nothing to do. Ren asked us what it would be like if he was the president of the United States. After a brief moment of silence, we gave our answers. Let me tell you...we didn't think good would be done.
Sonic said, "I don't know...would you genocide all Republicans?"
Ren gave a sarcastic laugh.
I said, "I just know that bad things will happen if you were."
Ren then said, in a somewhat threatening tone, "You really think so?"
"Um..."
He was about to say something to me when a beam of light shot down to the ground. It carried ten enemy humanoid soldiers.
I said out loud, "Why the hell is it that their army is always greater than ours?"
Ren said, "At least their army's not a thousand soldiers strong."
"True..."
We all knew this was going to be an easy battle to win. I knew the strategy that was going on here: Ivan was sending small squadrons at a time to make us expect less from him, then he'll send out a ridiculously large squadron to kill us off one by one. Once I had it all figured out, I thought, Ivan, you are one clever bastard.
After that easy victory, with only minor injuries, I felt the urge to warn the others about what was conspiring.
I said, "Don't get too cocky with these victories. Soon, Ivan will send out larger troops to catch us off guard and kill us off."
Tails and Ren said, simultaneously, "What?! When?!"
"Lord knows when. But for now, expect the worst."
We left our headquarters and began to search for more enemies. Then, a squadron of four dropped down on us. I made an exasperated sigh and felt like saying, "Give us a break!" But I knew we had no other choice. After only five shots fired, one from the enemy, we were victorious. But that victory was immediately pushed aside.
I noticed Ren was critically wounded.
He fell to the ground in a curled-up position.
"Ren!" I shouted, now in deep apprehension. "Ren! What's wrong?!"
"My stomach..." he rasped, "it has been injured..."
"Let me have a look."
He lifted his hand off of where a horrible wound had taken place. He was bleeding there badly. Then, I remembered that I had the power to heal people with only a Latin chant and a movement of the hands.
"Hold still, Ren," I said, now serene.
I chanted something in Latin three times while my hands were posed one over the other, palms down, and then Ren's bleeding had ceased and reversed. He then began to feel better and was completely healed in only a minute.
In a thankful tone, Ren said, "You saved my life!"
"Well, I won't let any more of my friends die before me eyes," I said, smiling.
Ren stood up and had his rifle at hand. He made sure it was loaded and cocked so that way he could instantly kill somebody.
By this point, our uniforms were raggedy, with dirt and blood stains. Despite that fact, our name tags were still very incandescent, and the names were still legible.
One of our allies from the campsite had seen my powers, and ran up to us.
"Wow," he said, awestruck, "you're the one our ancestors have talked about and passed on for nearly five hundred years! You're the One!"
In a perplexed tone, I asked, "The One?"
"Da, the One will guide us through any hardship and battle. He will lead us to victory! You are the prophesized one!"
He then knelt to pay homage to me.
I thought, I never knew I was someone this vital. On Earth, all the kids at my school saw me either as a nobody or a weird person.
The ally then stood up again and said, "Come! I must tell everyone else!"
The four of us then followed the ally to wherever he was taking us, which was apparently in the thick forest we left just a while ago.
After a fifth-mile of walking that took fifteen minutes to achieve, we were taken to the ally's campsite.
I asked him, "What is your name?"
He looked at me and said, "Mikhailov's older brother, Zakhari, but you may call me Zachary or Zach."
"Pleasure to meet you, Zach."
Zach had the same features as his brother, except his shoulders were broader, and his eyebrows were thicker and more defined.
When we arrived, Zach announced to everyone at his campsite, in Russian, "My allies, I have found the one who was prophesized for centuries!"
Everyone there gathered around me, then uttered sighs of awe.
I was thinking, If only Americans were this trusted by Russians on Earth. Oh well, at least we know that more Russians are working with us rather than against us here.
Zach looked at us and said, now in English, "You four could use some extra weapons to help you."
I asked, "Where do you keep spare weapons?"
"Come," he said, smiling, "I will show you."
We followed Zach to the weapons storage shed. The whole way there, the soldiers at that campsite got out of our way, as though I was their tsar.
The shed had words neatly etched on the shiny, metal door, like they were made by a guided laser. The words read:
Только Квалифицированным Персоналом.
That meant, "Qualified Personnel Only."
Zach opened the door and allowed us to enter. We walked in and looked around. It was almost pitch-black. Then, Zach turned on the light switch, and the room was lit so suddenly that our eyes flinched just like how someone wakes up in the morning to prepare for school and then the light comes on.
Once our eyes relaxed, we were absolutely speechless. There were so many pistols, rifles, shotguns, bazookas, silencers, machine guns, and revolvers on both walls, organized neatly and in horizontal rows. There was not one single askew line. I didn't count, but I assumed there were over two hundred guns in that shed.
I could tell that Zach gave a smirk and seemed like wanting to say, "Are you impressed?" Then, he broke the dead silence.
"You may choose up to five of these guns," he said. "You'll need them soon."
The very suddenness of his words startled us. But we proceeded to take no more than five guns off of the walls of the shed.
Ren picked out two rifles, a bazooka, a machine gun, and a pistol. He stared at them hungrily, with his broad, jagged-toothed smile and gave a chuckle.
Sonic picked out three machine guns and two rifles.
Tails picked out two bazookas, two pistols, and a rifle.
I picked out one of everything.
"Alright," I said, "We have everything we need."
"Good," Zach said. "Now the only thing you must do now is to not to get killed out there."
I nodded. Then Zach instructed us to leave the shed before we get caught.
Once back outside the shed, we felt ready for any battle we would yet be confronted with. But I knew I'd not have much time to fight, since now that everyone knew that I was "the One." I'd be used every time someone was injured or sick, and it'd get pretty hectic, especially when there's a situation where bullets are constantly flying everywhere. I'd risk getting killed.
Then, one of the soldiers yelled out, in Russian, "The enemies! The enemies are coming! Get ready for a battle!"
Zach then started to command everyone, also in Russian, "Alright, everyone, you heard Leonidovich! Get into your positions! All of you!"
Everyone hurriedly got into a quadrilateral formation, with rifles in hand. We got into eighty rows of five. The four of us and Zach were in the first row. We were ready for whatever was to be thrown at us.
We marched forward, all four hundred of the troops, just to meet up and kill the enemies. We marched for what felt like a half-hour, when it was really for five minutes. That's when we met up with them. This time, like I expected, the army was larger. They had the same number of soldiers as ours.
One of the enemies yelled, in Russian (since that's the only language they spoke), "Your rebellion will fail just like your precious campsite!"
Zach retorted, speaking in his native language, "Our rebellion will succeed in overthrowing Ivan! It is you who will fail!"
Then, without another word, bullets flew. Some of them went into the hearts of our Russian-speaking allies. Ren and I were wounded in the left leg, but we were still able to fight. Many of the allies were killed—I think there were two hundred ninety-five who were killed; after the bloody battle there was only me, Sonic, Ren, Tails, Zach, and one hundred other troops¾and the remaining five enemies surrendered and became POWs. Zach killed off four of them, but one of them begged for mercy. Unfortunately for him, Zach wasn't too lenient. He killed him right on the spot.
We were all astounded. Our army used to comprise of four hundred troops. Now our army was comprised of only one hundred five.
Fortunately, no other attacks were made that day. But now we were faced with a serious dilemma—the next attacking army might consist of more than four hundred troops, and they'd be able to kill off each and every one of us, no matter how old we are. And if you thought that by this point I felt ostracized because I was the only human on that planet, then you are only somewhat right. But, more to the topic, I could tell that Zach was mourning over the loss of his younger brother. I once saw him kneeling in front of a black-and-white photo of Michael. He was holding a rosary and praying in Russian. After all, Russians are Orthodox Christians.
"Gil," Ren moaned. "I'm starving."
I looked at him with a blank expression on my face. Then, I whispered, "Just go to the food tent."
"Which one is it? I can't read Russian."
"It says Питание on it."
"Can you show me?"
"I don't know..." I said, pondering.
Ren then looked at me with half-closed eyes and a discontented frown and remarked, "Do you want me to tear off your arm and eat everything down to the bone?"
"No." I almost felt offended.
Now with angry eyes, he snarled, "Then take me to the food tent!"
Trying to dissemble my resentment, I mumbled, "Sure."
Although he didn't show it, I could tell that Ren felt a strong need to apologize to me for hurting my feelings. But he didn't think about that at all for the moment. He just wanted something to go down his gullet.
I led him to the food tent and allowed him to eat as much as he can handle, but I warned him not to eat every last scrap of food. He understood and then proceeded to devour anything he could get his hands on until he was finally satisfied. He had consumed only five percent of the food. After his large meal, Ren let out a long, vociferous belch that people halfway across the world would be able to hear. I had to laugh.
"I gotta say, Höek," I said, smiling, "you had quite an appetite today."
After a hiccup, Ren uttered, "Never...call me Höek..."
Then, the food coma set in. He fell fast asleep. And to think it was only six in the evening! I joked in my head, I hope I don't need a forklift. The very thought made me laugh out loud. I carried him off to the tent we had occupied and laid him down in his sleeping bag. He was snoring just a bit, so I took great care not to wake him up; you can't imagine what kind of things he'd do to you if you woke him up and he was still lethargic. I'll elaborate more on that later...
The rest of the day went like normal. Ren was talking in his sleep. He mumbled about food and also about maiming Stimpy.
It was very late at night—about eleven at night—when we decided to get our rest. We tucked ourselves into our sleeping bags clustered around Ren. After we closed our eyes to sleep, the long day was finally over.
