Chapter 1: Charles Owens

U.S. DECLARES WAR.

Congress acts quickly in response to the attack on Pearl Harbor.

-The Washington Post

"How has this happened?" was the question that occupied Charles' mind as he stared down at his bloodied hands and the corpse lying just a few feet from him. The alleyway was as dark as the night skies, only small bits of light creeping in from the empty streets.

A rat scavenging for food from garbage brought him back to reality. Only now did the foul smell of human waste and long-expired food reach his nose. Coupled with the strong scent of blood, it was enough to make him puke. He had no idea such a nice neighborhood shadowed such places.

The corpse belonged to a man. An innocent man whose head he had made exploded. Charles was simply asked the time, but the off-putting way the man acted caused Charles to assume the worst. The rest of what happened was all blurry, it was all a blank.

He knew for certain that he hadn't meant to make the man's head explode. He knew that he hadn't, because he wouldn't hurt a person for no good reason. All he could remember was the vivid image of blood covering him and the walls next to him.

Adrenaline coursed through his body. He couldn't go to jail, he still had a whole life ahead of him. He wanted to finish school and hang out with his friends, not be wasting his life away in a cell. He couldn't fathom what would happen if his parents found out. They would be angry and disappointed and saddened.

Charles knew he couldn't cause them that pain. He had to get away from here.

So he did, he bolted from the alleyway and entered the once busy streets. No one was around to see him, although it didn't come as a surprise to him considering the time. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the trees and houses he passed becoming nothing but a blur.

If he could get home without being seen then everything would be fine. He would be safe.

Once he arrived before his house, he was ready to burst through the door before it occurred to him that his clothes were covered in blood too. His eyes searched around before landing on the fire escape that stood before his window.

That would do the deed.

Upon reaching his room, a shower was all he needed, so that's exactly what he went for. Throwing himself in the shower, he could feel the blood and dirt wash off him, yet the guilt and panic of the situation were only intensifying. Getting out, he didn't bother drying himself, he just threw himself into bed.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep quickly, thinking that his worries would occupy his mind for the entirety of the night. Instead, he was out like a light.

///

The annoying ringing of his alarm woke him from his slumber, the sun shining right on his face the moment he rose. A moment passed by with him simply staring at the wall, before the shouts of his mother called him back to reality.

Last night came back to him like a head-on collision. Things he hadn't thought of before coming to him now. What if he left some evidence behind? What if there were witnesses that he didn't notice?

When he made his way downstairs, his mother was cooking and his father was at the dining table staring grimly at the newspaper. He opted to sit down at the table instead of striking up a conversation with his father like usual.

"Try to get home before midnight next time," his father said between bites, "You gave us a scare last night."

"I'm sorry," Charles responded with a nod.

Shoveling down the breakfast in silence, he made his way to the school bus where he slumped into a seat and counted passing pedestrians to pass the time.

///

Charles sat in his seat quietly, his mind still occupied by the events of the previous night. His mind kept making up scenarios of possible outcomes--how he would be killed in jail, how he would be critically injured in jail… somehow, everything seemed to end with him dead.

"Hey, Carlos!" the shout of a classmate pulled him from his thoughts, "Can you believe it? My dad told me we are going to war with Germany!"

"What? You're lying," the boy questioned as another kid piped in, confirming the boy's claims. The topic spread like a wildfire in the class, soon nearly everyone was talking about it.

Sound didn't reach Charles' ears, his thoughts spiraling.

What, war? What would that mean for him and his family? What if dad got conscripted? What if they conscript him too? What about the economy? Bomber planes? What if they lost their money and had to sell their house? What if he was made into a human shield because of him exploding that man? Suddenly, the classroom door opens, and the teacher walks in late.

"Alright class, quiet down," he starts, prompting everyone to drop the topic. "By today, all of you have finished "Great Expectations." We will be discussing the book and begin writing an essay."

"You, the girl in the back row, how about you start us off by telling us what the moral of the story was," said the teacher, catching the girl off guard.

"Uh, that wealth can change a person?" she half-asked, half-answered. "Yes, that is partly correct. What else? Mr. Owens?"

Charles took a second to gather himself, then another to think of an answer. "That family triumphs over wealth," he said.

"That too is correct. Boy in the third row, how about you give us an example of how family triumphed over wealth in the book," the teacher told a boy in the back row. The lesson continued with the teacher bombing the class with questions before assigning everyone a topic to write an essay on and ending the class.

When Charles exited the class, he spotted the school secretary waiting there, and upon spotting Charles, the secretary approached him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Owens? Could you follow me to the principal's office please?" the secretary asked, spiking up fear in Charles.

Was he found out already? He briefly considered running away, but there was no way to know if they had truly found out about last night. He could just be creating unnecessary problems for himself here.

He gave the secretary a nod, deciding to follow the man.

The two walked in silence. Charles was occupied by his worries and the secretary was known as a silent person altogether.

"Poor kid, he had such a bright future, too."

Charles' eyes snapped to the secretary, "Sorry?"

"Hm?" the secretary asked, confused as to what Charles meant. "But- didn't you just- never mind. I must be hearing things," Charles muttered.

"Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong," the secretary offered with a smile, which Charles replicated in turn. "Here we are." the secretary stopped in front of a door, gesturing at it with his hand.

Giving a nod in acknowledgment, Charles opened the door and walked in, his heart rapidly thumping as he did so. Inside was the principal sitting behind his desk and an unknown man standing beside him.

That's when he noticed the man's military outfit. 'That's it, I'm going to jail, they found the dead mugger,' he thought, freezing in place. The secretary must have lied.

"Hello, Charles. Please, have a seat," the principal said in a serious tone and Charles obeyed the man.

Sitting down on the chair opposite to the two people, he tried his best to keep his hands from shaking. The officer took a second to look Charles up and down, before reaching for a folder. A few nerve-wracking seconds passed as the officer flipped through the pages.

"Charles Owens, excellent grades, plays quarterback. You are graduating this year, do you have any plans for what you will do after?" the officer stared straight into Charles's eyes.

"Uh, no sir. My parents would like for me to go to university, though," Charles responded, his voice breaking. His foot was bobbing up and down, slowly starting to go faster and faster. Every part of his body was itching, telling him to run but he couldn't because he felt like he was glued to the chair.

"Yes, that would be a great option. Tell me, have you ever thought about joining the military?"

"N-no, not really," Charles admitted.

"Let me be frank here, son. I am here to recruit you to the Army Ground Forces," the officer said, letting those words sink in before continuing, "This is a very special offer. If you choose to accept our offer, you will be paid more than double that of a normal soldier's paycheck for only two years of service. You will be conscripted regardless, but we need smart lads like you right away. Consider this a bit of an incentive to speed up the process."

Charles stared at the officer for a moment, happy swelled up in his gut at the words before turning to worry once again, but for a different reason. He could see the point the officer made, but man, he really didn't want to join the war. He didn't want to risk his life, he wanted to live. But the officer did bring out a good point, that he would have to enlist either way.

He could maybe gather honor, or credit in the military, so when the dead mugger was linked to him, he could maybe not be sentenced to death outright.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so damn lost. What happened to drinking soda outside the corner store and desperately writing an essay because you forgot it was due?

"Uh-"

"Mr. Owens, this is an exceptionally rare one-time offer, I recommend you take it." the principal piped in, seeing the different emotions going through Charles's face.

"So, I can't consult my parents?" Charles questioned.

"You can, but we need your answer by tomorrow."

Why were they in such a hurry? Couldn't they let a person think about a life-changing decision? What could talking with his parents even achieve here. He would just tell them that this was happening and accept. There wasn't another way.

"Fine, I accept," he relented.

A grin formed on the officer's face, "A wise choice." As those words reached Charles' ears, the room began to get foggy. His breathing became restricted and the world around him started to spin.

Soon, pain followed. It felt like somebody was ripping his hair out, one by one. The world around him began to crumble, his consciousness seeping away.

Just before everything went black, he could hear a few words echo throughout his mind, "Another one secured."