We Kill Everything

I gently opened the door with the barrel of my gun. The light was low and dust floated lazy in the afternoon air. With my rifle pressed to my shoulder I scanned the room looking for anything that moved.

In the corner behind a low table sat a small girl holding a baby lamb. Her eyes were big and brown and she pet the small lamb from the back of his neck to his tail to calm him. The lamb made little, cooing noises and arched its back.

I lowered my gun a little, “Where are your parents?” She didn’t understand. I pointed at her and letting my rifle sling over my shoulder, I moved my hand, palm down, upwards to indicate a taller person. She shook her head and held the lamb closer. Probably dead. I checked around the rest of the house and found nothing suspicious. As I was leaving the lamb let out a loud bleat. The girl started to sing to him in a small child’s voice that had just started to understand the world and knew all the lonely nights ahead and who only knew love before.

I pulled a protein bar out of my jacket. It was chocolate and peanut butter flavored so maybe she would like it. I unwrapped it and handed it over to her and she took it in her tiny, soft hand. Immediately she took a big bite and started chewing. Her eyes lit up and for the moment it was her and the bar and the taste and the world was not terrible. I got up to leave.

Another soldier burst in, saw the girl and the lamb, shot them both in the head. “We kill everything.” He said and moved on.

We killed everything I remembered.