Alternate Universe "Immortal 7"
The road was empty. Not a soul was in sight as he walked along its side under the early morning sky. The rays of light just peaking over the lush tree line did little to cut through the chill that had settled deep in his bones. Ezra Standish was at complete loss as to exactly how he ended up there.
He sighed deeply. A glance down at himself confirmed his suspicions. He’d died. No doubt about it. From the tattered remains of his clothing, his death had been brutal.
Immortals healed from every wound and form of death save decapitation. But that ability did not mean recovery occurred in the same amount of time every time. There was considerable variation.
Slight wounds healed nearly instantaneously. Deep wounds took longer, anywhere from minutes to hours. Forms of death followed the same pattern. A direct stab wound to the heart could be healed in a matter of minutes. But having one’s chest caved in and shattered by collapsing debris from a building under assault by heavy artillery took a bit longer.
Ezra glanced up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds promised rain. He grimaced. He liked rain well enough, saw the value in it, but he hated being wet. Rain was best observed from the comfort of one’s living room, while lounging by a warm fire and reading a favorite novel.
He had no idea where his unit might be now, or even how much time had passed since he died. Ezra didn’t begrudge them abandoning him. No sensible person would have remained with a corpse, or attempted to rescue one during the blistering assault they’d been under. Retreat was really the only viable option, one he was damn glad whoever was in charge had finally seen.
He wondered how many of them had managed to escape. He would have sent a silent prayer heavenward for their safety if he hadn’t lost faith in the Almighty at least four hundred years ago. Ezra Standish assumed God didn’t much care what they did, how they did it or why. If he did, then men like Hitler would never have risen to a position where he could inflict so much damage.
Ezra kept walking. He wasn’t sure where he was, or where he was going. He didn’t clearly remember digging himself free, or even understand exactly how he’d come to be walking down this road. It didn’t really matter.
What mattered was how he could explain his ‘death’ and ‘resurrection’ had anyone from his unit witnessed his demise. There were days when he really longed for the simplicity of being mortal. He might be dead, but at least he wouldn’t be cold, or…looking up to feel the first drops of rain on his face, wet.
Ezra sighed again, eyes returning to the road he walked. He understood the wisdom of them not all enlisting together, or serving in the same unit, but there were days when he really, really missed being with the six other immortals he claimed as friends. He hoped they were all weathering the war better than he was at the moment.
Josiah had looked too old to enlist, but that hadn’t stopped him from signing on to work as a code breaker. Ezra figured if anyone could understand the incomprehensible babble that served as information relay it was Josiah. The man was constantly spouting parables no one else could understand.
Nathan was working in a field hospital somewhere in France. Not as a doctor, but as a medic. Unfortunately for all the progress they had made in race relations, they were still not that far from the notions that had nearly rendered America in two just a century ago. Ezra still held out hope that his friend could one day achieve his dream as a full fledged doctor.
JD had looked too damn young, but then so many lied about their age no one questioned one more innocent face. Ezra hadn’t bothered trying to talk him out of joining, nor did any of the others. The young man had already seen the horrors of war when they’d fought in the First World War.
Ezra snorted, remembering the way they’d described that conflict as ‘the war to end all wars’. It was a nice little bit of propaganda that in moments of silent reflection the former conman wished had been more truth than lie. It was not to be, nor would it likely ever be.
He took comfort in knowing Buck and JD had signed up together. The last he’d heard they were with the 101st airborne. Not a duty likely to keep them safe, but at east they had each other. Buck would watch out for JD, and JD would watch out for Buck.
Ezra hadn’t heard from Chris. He knew taciturn blond was somewhere in the pacific. Ezra wondered if anyone had bothered to warn the Japanese. Chris took the attack on Pearl Harbor personally, and had been adamant that fighting the Japanese was the duty he wanted.
Ezra knew Vin had signed on with the Marines, but had no clear idea of where he was or what he was doing. Some how he doubted the Marines would overlook the former bounty hunter’s skill with a rifle. Vin was too good a shot not attract attention.
Ezra silently promised himself that when peace was declared, as he had every confidence it would be some day, he would not sign up with the army ever again. He wasn’t going to watch any more men die. He wasn’t going to march through wind and rain. He wasn’t going to wake up from dying wondering what the hell happened. Not ever again.
Ezra shook his head, and knew he was being a fool. Promise or no, he and the others would likely end up engaged in a conflict again. It was their nature. They simply couldn’t stand idly by and allow the country they’d claimed as theirs to suffer and attack.
Ezra pulled the tattered remains of his field jacket closely about him. He hoped to meet up with an American unit soon. A cup of coffee would be most welcome about now.
THE END
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