The Winged Men

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2In the Coastal Mountains

It s a terrible experience to die. I know, for I have done it, as must each one of us will do before we shuffle off this mortal coil. However a much more horrifying experience than dying, is that of waking from death!

When I awoke upon Ares, once more alive and healthy, I was laying upon my back stunned and scared. I found myself staring overhead at a deep blood red sky and a blood red sun with trembling fear. What could this be? Nothing here seemed right to me. It was the first time I can remember ever being so scared. I had always expected death, such is the companion of all fighting men everywhere, and was I not a soldier? Yet I never expected this!

A red sky! A blood-red sun! what was this? I thought I must dead and that I must be in Hell. I thought I had lost my sanity. However, I soon came to grips with myself, realizing that rather than fearing the unknown this new world presented to me, it was actually all rather intriguing. It was an incredible puzzle. It was a new challenge. I wondered just what was going on here, and I endeavored to find out.

I realized immediately one good result of this event, I was no longer wounded. I was not bleeding, nor in any pain, even though I had been shot in the head and had instantly been killed in that battle in Vietnam. And I had died! But now I was not dead! Neat trick, I thought. I wondered how I had done it.

There was something else. I was still in my U.S. Army uniform, still wearing my military boots. It was most unusual.

I moved my arms and legs, and everything seemed in splendid working order. I could feel a warm welcome breeze rustle my hair and blow against my cheek as it flowed past me. I was alive! I did not know how I had done it, but I was alive!

I stilled lived!

And I have always believed that where there is life, there is always hope.

I stood up, a little dizzy at first, and then took notice of my surroundings. They were certainly strange and wonderful, and I began to wonder again if I might be crazy or just dreaming? Maybe I really was dead and this was Heaven? It all seemed so strange, so fantastic. However, upon reflecting upon my Earthly life, I realized that I could just as well be in the ‘other’ place, down in Hell. I soon laughed it all off, and decided to take a look around at this new and most interesting environment.

I found myself on a small green sward-covered knoll, and all around me as far as I could see were endless plains with huge faraway mountains that soared into the blood red sky. Yes, it was certainly a red sky! Now I knew for sure that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore as they say—which meant I was not anywhere on Earth either. An interesting predicament. I wondered, then, just where I might be?

I was trying to figure this all out as best I could when suddenly from behind me I heard footsteps approaching at a run. They were immediately followed by what seemed to be light-hearted girlish laughter, of all things. I looked up and was surprised to see two young women running rapidly towards me. They were laughing and screaming and constantly looked back behind them as if they were being chased.

One of the women had fire-red hair and the other had bright green hair. The green-haired girl surely caught my eye. I had never seen anyone like her before. I had never seen any woman that was so stunningly beautiful in all my life.

I noted that both women were young and extremely beautiful. One had long red hair and a lighter green-tinted skin. Green skin! That was certainly unusual. The other woman had a very light hue of green skin, but this time her hair was bright green, as were her eyebrows and full luscious lips. Her bright green hair hung in long straight locks. She was stunning. I found myself entranced by her beauty. Each woman wore slick black furs that offered only a skimpy covering, while the rest of their supple and amply-endowed bodies were adorned with all manner of glittering barbaric jewelry.

They still laughed as they ran closer to where I lay hidden watching them, still unnoticed by them. They looked back, shouted, and then turned forward and saw me for the first time. I must have presented quite the shock. Their laughter immediately stopped. They both stared at me for a moment startled, then they began screaming in terror.

I raised my hands in a peaceful gesture, certainly not intending them any harm, but hardly knowing how else to react or what to say. It did not matter anyway, for they could not understand my words, nor I theirs.

Then from a massive boulder behind them, a large clean-faced man suddenly jumped down into the clearing before us. He was green-skinned also, with dark hair and sharp eyes. He appeared to be a warrior of some kind and was heavily armed and armored in some type of chain mail. He caught the redheaded girl and laughing, threw her gently to the soft grass. She screamed, and pointed in terror over his shoulder. The man shot a glance up at me and in surprise quickly drew his sword from its scabbard. It seemed to be a Roman-type short sword, and the man walked slowly and carefully towards me uttering strange sounds in a language I could not understand. He eyed me warily, then continued his words more earnestly. More seriously and dangerously.

I shook my head indicating to him that I did not understand his words.

He did not seem to like that very much.

The two girls now positioned themselves behind the warrior in evident fear of me, for I could see they saw him as their protector. Well, I’ll tell you, while they were all scared of me, I was just as scared of them. Curious too, mostly. I was out there all alone and seemingly helpless. My valued M-16 was not with me, probably having fallen to the jungle floor in far away Vietnam when I had been yanked out of there to here. Wherever here might be.

Instinctively, my hand went for my sidearm. I was relieved to feel the cold steel of my .45 still in its holster at my side. It was ready. So was I. I moved my other hand to feel for my bayonet slung down where I kept it, the hilt protruding from the top of my right boot.

I withdrew the bayonet and held it reassuringly in my right hand. It was almost as long as the warrior’s short sword.

I spoke to the warrior, but obviously he could not understand me either. I tried again in every language I knew. It was all met with the same confusion and frustration on both our parts. Nevertheless, the warrior approached me carefully and in what looked now like a peaceful manner. The red-headed girl had already left the clearing, for the warrior had spoken some words to her that caused her to run off. To where, I could not guess. The other girl with the bright green hair stood by as if frozen looking at me intently, apparently unable to move. I stood by, frozen too, as the warrior slowly advanced.

We eyed each other warily. One soldier, or warrior, to another.

Then with a sudden, wild howl the warrior lunged forward in a mad rush upon me. Instantly I found myself in a deadly duel for my life. Our battle had begun.

Now, I had had some fencing experience in college, and in fact I had won numerous championships. I was accounted one of the best swordsmen in my class, and I knew that training and experience would come in very handy now. I hoped so, at least. However, I also knew that none of that training had been in actual warfare, it was all just a game. This was real. Nor had that been in a fight to the death, as this battle apparently was. However, I have always believed that necessity is the mother of invention and so I was determined to put up as good a defense as I was able. As it would turn out my swordsmanship wasn’t half bad.

Immediately I parried the warrior’s bold thrusts, one after the other his blows were deflected, though occasionally he would get through my guard and nick me, drawing some small amount of blood. He was persistent and an able swordsman. As the battle progressed, these nicks began to happen more and more so that after some time my body was covered with tiny crimson rivulets. It was a hard fought battle. My fencing was rusty, but I was recalling it all very quickly. In this fight you defended yourself from your enemy’s blade, or you died. I put all I knew now to good use.

As the fight progressed I realized that my success so far had become a mere inconvenience to this highly trained swordsman. Try as I might, I knew that sooner or later he would win this contest. I knew too, that I had to do something fast to save myself from the wrath of his furious attacks. And as if the warrior could sense my apprehension in this regard he pressed his attack all the harder.

Finally I decided that the time was right to put all I knew to use and to make my move, to take up the offensive. I knew I could not last much longer fighting only on the defensive. I was bleeding from half a dozen minor wounds and I was tiring, but my opponent was also getting weary. I marshaled my remaining energy and struck hard and fast with the utmost determination.

At first this renewed action on my part surprised the warrior and threw him back. The shock on his face was now evident for me to see, but soon he regained his ground and was at me again. He was a persistent fellow, I’ll give him that.

By this time both of us were using every trick and gambit we knew to outdo the other, yet neither of us could gain the upper hand for more than a few moments. We fought on for a good half hour, an incredible amount of time in this kind of heated battle, and both of us were now obviously exhausted.

Finally, I knew that my plan was working. By my lasting with him, I had gained the edge and now my opponent even had to acknowledge that fact as he gasped at me in awe. It was then for the first time that my blade drove through his guard and nicked him drawing blood!

It was red blood, so I knew he was certainly human after all.

Then I nicked him again!

Then yet again for a third time!

Now I saw the nervous look on the young warrior’s face, and I knew that he realized that I finally had him. I had bested him and his life was mine, should I desire to take it. But I did not want to do that. There had to be a better way to end this and not kill such a brave adversary.

This warrior was a brave men, he did not panic, but fought steadfastly onward, doing the best he could as I pushed him back, nicked him here or there, threatened his heart with my blade many times. He was surprised and concerned. I knew what that meant. He was wondering who I was, who it was who could be besting him? He was a talented swordsman, one of the best I had ever encountered, but now our contest was ending.

Then I cut him good, a deeper wound that shocked him so that he came at me in rage with all that he had left. It wasn’t nearly enough. Unfortunate for him, but he did try his best and I give him credit for that. He pushed me back twenty feet, I lunged forward, caught his sword, lifted it up and pulled it out of his hand.

He shouted in anger, then looked at me with shock and awe. Now he was unarmed and at my mercy.

Instantly I was upon him with my bayonet to his throat.

The warrior just stared at me, apparently unable to believe that I had bested him. He muttered some strange words which I did not understand in some foreign language I did not know. I just shook my head and he repeated the words again more urgently. I wish I knew what he was saying, but I did not.

I now noticed that the lovely green-haired girl was terrified by what had happened, even more surprised than the warrior himself at my victory in our fight. None more surprised than I, of course, at that point for I had been a bit rusty on my fencing skills. Then the girl screamed loud and furiously at me.

The warrior looked up into my eyes, my blade still at his throat, as if o say, “Why don’t you just end it! Run your blade across my throat!”

I could not do that to an unarmed man, nor to such a brave and talented opponent. I am a soldier, a warrior in my own way, much as he is. I am not a killer. I am certainly no executioner. And if the truth be told I kind of liked this young warrior. He was certainly brave, and he had fought me fairly, which is something one warrior appreciates in another—that sense of honor—in an enemy or opponent that matters greatly to all those who have ever been in battle. Furthermore, the idea of killing an unarmed and helpless man, even if he might be my enemy, was abhorrent to me and went against everything I believed in as a fighting man. The truth was that it was I who was the enemy here. After all, I was the invader in his world, not he in mine.

So I decided to take a chance on the look of character I could plainly see in the young man’s face. He appeared to be a man of honor and he had shown honor in his fight with me. I lowered my point from his throat and slowly put my bayonet back into my boot. Then I picked up his sword and handed it back to him.

I saw his face brighten but it was more confused than ever at my strange action. For I was to learn later that mercy was a luxury that while not all that common on Earth, was obviously rarer still on this strange world.

I was about to congratulate myself on my decision when suddenly my head exploded into a volcano of pain and all went black as I sank into unconsciousness.