The Forgotten Soldiers
1281 Words
The safehouse in the Carpathians had become a sanctuary.
Xander stood in the corner of the main room, watching the soldiers. There were dozens of them now, scattered across the floor, their faces pale, their eyes distant. Some of them were catatonic, lost in their own minds. Others were agitated, their bodies trembling with the remnants of the programming.
They'd been bringing them in for weeks. Every day, more soldiers arrived, their minds shattered, their lives destroyed. Elena's network had been working tirelessly, moving them to safety, providing what care they could.
But it wasn't enough.
"We need more resources," Elena said, her voice tired. "More doctors, more medicine, more space. We're overwhelmed."
Xander nodded. "I know. I'm working on it."
"Working on it isn't enough. These men need help now."
"I know." Xander's voice was hard. "And I'm going to get it for them."
---
The sequence from the Karakum facility had been a breakthrough.
Anya had spent days analyzing it, working with the doctors to develop a treatment protocol. They'd tested it on a small group of soldiers, and the results had been promising. The programming was fading, their minds beginning to heal.
But there were thousands of them out there. And the treatment required resources they didn't have.
"We need to find more funding," Anya said. "More supplies. We can't do this alone."
"Then we find a way." Xander's voice was hard. "We always do."
---
The message came on a Thursday.
Xander was in the main room, helping to move a soldier to a bed, when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his heart sinking.
The message was from a number he didn't recognize.
I know what you're doing, Cross. I know you're helping the soldiers. I want to help you.
Meet me at the old church in the village. Come alone.
Xander stared at the message. It was a trap. It had to be a trap.
But he didn't have a choice.
---
The church was old, its walls covered in ivy. Xander pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The interior was dark, the only light coming from a few candles. A figure stood at the altar, tall and imposing.
"Sergeant Cross." The voice was cold, familiar. "I'm glad you came."
Xander raised his weapon. "Who are you?"
The figure turned. It was a woman, her face hidden by a hood. She pulled it back, revealing her features.
Xander's blood ran cold.
It was Maya Reyes.
---
"You're dead," Xander said. "I saw you die."
"Did you?" Reyes's smile was cold. "Or did you see what I wanted you to see?"
"You're a copy. A duplicate. Like the one in the clinic."
"I'm something better." Reyes stepped closer. "I'm the real Reyes. The one who survived. The one who's been working against Volkov from the inside."
Xander's mind raced. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I have information you need. Information about the soldiers. About where they're being held."
"Where?"
"There's a facility. In Siberia. It's where Volkov was keeping the soldiers who were too damaged to use. They're still there, abandoned, forgotten."
Xander stared at her. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to help. Because I've been fighting this war for as long as you have. Because I want to end it."
Xander was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Then tell me everything."
---
Reyes told them everything.
The facility was in Siberia, a remote outpost in the middle of nowhere. It was where Volkov had been keeping the soldiers who were too damaged to use. They were still there, abandoned, forgotten.
"There are hundreds of them," Reyes said. "Maybe thousands. They've been there for years, their minds shattered, their bodies broken."
"How do we get to them?" Xander asked.
"There's a way. A transport route that brings supplies to the facility. If we can get on that route, we can get inside."
"Then that's what we'll do."
---
The journey to Siberia was long and brutal.
Xander drove through the frozen wasteland, his eyes fixed on the road. The others were with him—Reynolds, Davis, Thompson, Anya. Reyes was in the passenger seat, her face pale, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
"This is it," she said. "The facility is about ten kilometers from here. We'll have to walk the rest of the way."
"Then we walk."
---
The facility was a massive structure, built into the side of a mountain. The walls were steel, the windows dark. There were guards at the perimeter, their weapons ready.
Xander studied the layout, his mind churning. "There's a service entrance on the eastern side. It's less guarded."
"How do you know?" Anya asked.
"Because that's where I'd put it."
They moved through the darkness, their footsteps silent on the snow. The service entrance was a steel door, frozen shut. Xander forced it open, and they stepped inside.
The corridor was dark, narrow, lined with pipes and cables. Xander moved forward, his weapon ready. The others followed, their breath misting in the cold air.
"This is it," Reyes said. "The main holding area is on the third level."
"Then we go up."
---
The third level was a vast chamber, filled with rows of beds. Hundreds of soldiers lay on them, their faces pale, their eyes closed. Some of them were catatonic, lost in their own minds. Others were agitated, their bodies trembling with the remnants of the programming.
Xander moved through the room, his heart aching. These were the forgotten ones. The ones who'd been left behind.
"We need to get them out of here," he said. "All of them."
"How?" Reynolds asked. "There are hundreds of them. We can't carry them all."
"Then we find a way." Xander's voice was hard. "We always do."
---
Anya moved to a console, her hands flying across the keyboard. "There's a transport system. A way to move them to the surface."
"Then activate it."
The facility began to shake, the machinery whirring to life. The beds started to move, carrying the soldiers toward the surface.
"Cross!" Davis shouted. "We have company!"
Guards poured into the room, their weapons blazing. Xander returned fire, taking down one, then another. But there were too many.
And then Reyes appeared at his side, her weapon ready. "I'll cover you. Get the soldiers out."
"Reyes—"
"Go! I'll be right behind you."
Xander nodded, then turned to the others. "Move! Now!"
---
They emerged into the snow, the soldiers stumbling behind them. The facility was collapsing behind them, the explosions echoing through the night.
Xander dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. They'd done it. They'd saved them.
But Reyes was gone.
He turned, searching the chaos. She was still inside, fighting the guards.
"Reyes!" he shouted. "Reyes!"
She appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her body covered in blood. She stumbled toward him, her eyes fixed on his.
"Cross," she said. "I did it. I saved them."
"You did." Xander caught her as she fell. "You saved them."
She smiled, a small, tired smile. "Then it was worth it."
And then she went still.
Xander held her, his heart aching. She'd given everything to save them. To save all of them.
He stood up, his eyes wet. "We need to move. Now."
---
The journey back was long, but it was filled with hope.
Xander walked at the head of the group, the soldiers behind him. They were free, whole, ready to face whatever came next.
The war was over. The soldiers were saved. The future was theirs to shape.
And they were going to make it a good one.
- Writer
