STories

Apples and Bullet Holes

by Jeweliet Coffee

I have killed more people than I can count. 

Of all the deaths, one girl’s bloodied body comes back to mind, haunting me even into retirement. While tapping my well-manicured nails against the mahogany desk, I can’t help but lose my appetite at the sight of the bright red apple. It mocks me--reminding me of what I did. It’s taken twenty years, but after coming to the end of myself, I am finally ready to face my past. I thought winning the war would satisfy me, but it left me emptier than ever. The emptiness inside me is like an ever-caving hole that will suck my soul into oblivion if I don’t stop it. Maybe the girl’s words were true. There is only one way to find out.

I place the sealed box on my desk.

It holds the last remaining possession of the one person who never deserved to die. 

Rows of tired soldiers and workers stood before me in a salute. Their monotonous voices pledged allegiance to our country.

I smoothed my uniform again, relishing the attention I received in this position of authority. One thing kept me from enjoying this moment as I usually did. One of the new cooks, captured from the last raid, refused to salute me. Instead, she raised her hands in honor of some unseen leader.

After the rest of the camp finished their chant, I dismissed them and stormed over to the stupid girl. She jumped up as I approached.

“You must have a death wish to disrespect our country.”

The girl was dirty, homely, and annoyingly calm. “I bow down to Jesus Christ alone.” 

My hand found her face with a loud pop. “Don’t say that name again, or I will ensure you lose the ability to say anything ever again.” 

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The handprint started to form a red welt on her face.

From that day forward, confrontations with the girl were few, but her actions echoed like a shout throughout the camp. 

She served the soldiers each day from a large metal pot filled with some semi-edible food. I eyed her cooly when she spooned a portion to Liam, my boyfriend. He refused to move forward in the line and pierced her with a hard stare. “Who were you bowing to yesterday?” 

“Jesus Chr-” Before the words left her mouth, the pot of steaming soup spilled down her dress. 

All the soldiers in line laughed at her, and Liam winked at me. I knew she was gullible enough to answer the pre-planned question. 

She grabbed the pot off the ground, heaved it back onto the table, and continued spooning lunch to the soldiers. Although they continued to laugh, there was a collective sense of awe about her. Her determination and humble grace earned their respect.

That infuriated me. 

Not only did the soldiers now admire her, but the few children living in the camp fought for her attention daily. They clung to her as she worked and they argued over who would get to help her cook. 

I could hear the young girls in the servants’ tent listening to her speak every night. “Love everyone. Pray for those who hurt you. Love as Jesus loved, because we were all once sinners, under the curse-”

Finally catching her with that dead prophet’s name in her mouth, I stormed into the tent.

“What’s going on here?” The girls fled and left the girl alone with a worn book in her lap. Those girls used to follow me around. They practically worshiped the ground I walked on. Now they circle to worship an ugly servant?

“They wished to learn about Jesus-”

“Don’t you dare speak that name.” Something must be done about this Jesus freak. 

Suddenly the idea hit me, and I smiled with anticipation. “Pack your things because you will accompany the medics into the invasion tomorrow.” A death sentence without legal restrictions. 

In the morning, I expected her to be quaking in her shoes, but instead, she stood resolute, waiting to be given orders. Knowing that she would soon be dead was the only thing that quelled my anger. 

Preparation for the invasion was prompt and orderly. As I accepted the army’s salutes greedily, the soldiers eyed the slave girl respectfully as she walked through their ranks to the medical tent. 

Liam approached me. “What is she doing here? She is going to get killed.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s the point.” Ugh, men.

His jaw clenched, but he returned to his post without another word. 

The invasion commenced, and my sole focus was on destroying the opposing side. Enemies fell at my right and left, but through the haste and blood lust, I noticed the servant-girl dragging the wounded to safety. Not just my men but the very person I just shot. Rage tore through me. 

After the battle was won, I stalked toward the girl and grabbed her by the collar. Before my hand could connect with her face again, Liam grabbed my wrist.

Not giving him a chance to speak, I jerk my hand away and yell, “She was saving the enemy, and she has to die for her actions.” 

“They can be used for interrogation. She did us a favor.” His calm expression only fanned the flames of my rage, but I couldn’t argue with that. 

Despite this, I vowed to destroy her. Not only had she won over the whole camp, but Liam too.

I called the Jesus freak from the servant’s tent to a secluded bonfire that night. She didn’t seem scared despite our many intense interactions. I offered her a bright red apple as she sat across the fire from me. “An apology for earlier.” 

Although she eyed me suspiciously, I continued on. “What do you think of our camp’s morals?”

Her fingers traced the apple. “When the first humans chose to turn from God’s perfect design, they were separated from Him because of their sin. They ate a fruit, possibly even an apple. They sinned, just as we have today.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I grabbed the apple from her hand, took a bite, and threw it into the fire. 

The following day she stood trial before the whole camp. She admitted to following Jesus and believing that the morals of our camp were wrong. She looked to Heaven as the jury condemned her to death.

Silence filled the camp as her fate was decided.

But Liam stood and shouted. “Wait! She has never harmed anyone.”

Others agreed with him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

But despite their pleas, the jury was indifferent. 

As requested, I was granted the honor of shooting a single shot.

She stood across from me with annoyingly silent resolve as she refused the blindfold. 

I was allowed to proceed on my own timing, but I took one last look at Liam before proceeding. If I followed through with this, our relationship would surely be over. Just one more reason for the girl to die.

Everyone held their breath as she whispered something, then stared into the heavens, hands clenched before her. 

I aim for her abdomen, anticipating the pain she will slowly suffer. A quick death would be too good for her.

Despite my previous resolve, my hands start to sweat. I have killed many in battles, but somehow this seems different. Maybe this was a bad idea… No, she had to die. This girl had to die as an example of what happens to those who follow a dead, politically incorrect prophet.

I took a deep breath and found the trigger quickly.

One shot rang out. 

She fell to the ground in a splash of blood. 

My ears rang. Suddenly there were many wailing people. Despite the chaos, Her eyes met mine. The peace in her eyes propelled me forward. I couldn’t help but move in slow motion toward her.

She grabbed my hand, and I tried to jerk away. Instead of anger, pity was in the servant’s eyes. “I forgive you,” she whispered. Despite the pain etched on her face, she pulled a book from her dress and pressed it into my shaking hands. 

Now, as an old woman, I have seen many people die--most fallen from the bullets of my own gun. 

And yet, every day, I have asked myself the same question. Was that one moment of revenge worth a lifetime of pain? Surely not. I would always be that young, malleable general groping for happiness, jealous of the peace, joy, and admiration the little slave girl received. I finger the book. Dried blood mars the otherwise holy cover. Or maybe the blood makes it all the more holy. 

Taking the apple in my hand, I drop it into the wastebasket and finally open the martyr’s book.