AIM Chapter 25: Die
"I never asked for any of this. All I wanted was for him to finally see where he's been wrong all of our lives."
Mutale slowly made his way through the battlefield. Heavy dust clouds surrounded him from every direction. With each passing second, the air grew darker, heavier and more difficult to breathe.
"What he's denied me... all of my life."
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Chapter 25 : " die "
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The battlefield stretched endlessly before him.
BOOM!!! BOOM!!! BOOM!!!
Explosions echoed across the war zone as both the Zambian and Twazwe forces continued their relentless assault against one another. The sound alone was enough to shake the ground beneath their feet.
"I can't breathe...
A soldier's vision blurred as he stumbled forward. His weapon slipped from his grip before he collapsed onto the dirt.
The soldier beside him immediately stopped firing and knelt down.
"What happened?!"
He reached out to help his fallen comrade, but then looked around.
Everywhere he turned, there were explosions.
Massive clouds of smoke and dust covered entire sections of the battlefield. Missiles streaked through the sky. Soldiers were disappearing into the darkness created by the smoke.
The battlefield had become impossible to see through.
"We need to cease fire!"
His voice cracked as he shouted.
"Our men are going down! We need to cease fire!"
BOOM!!!!
An explosion erupted directly where he stood.
---
Meanwhile, back at the Zambian Defense Tent, Mr. Zimba stood before a holographic table displaying the battlefield.
His eyes moved across the map as he searched for an opening. One hand scratched the side of his head while he studied the situation unfolding before him.
Beside him stood the grey-haired strategist, who observed the battlefield in silence.
The man finally spoke.
Grey-haired Man: "They've created a wall, making it nearly impossible for us to break through and reach their tent."
Mr. Zimba kept his eyes on the battlefield.
Mr. Zimba: "I'm well aware."
Grey-haired Man: "To make things worse, this wall is made up of their own men, explosions, and our own soldiers as indirect bait."
The strategist folded his arms.
Grey-haired Man: "Any reckless attack will only lead to more casualties."
Mr. Zimba: "I'm aware."
Suddenly, a transmission burst through the room.
Transmission: "MR. ZIMBA!!!"
Mr. Zimba immediately looked up.
Mr. Zimba: "What's wrong?"
Static crackled through the communication line.
Transmission: "It's Makhaza... I just found his body lying lifeless on the ground."
The words struck him harder than he expected.
A sharp sting ran through his chest. For a brief moment, he felt dizzy. His hand stopped scratching his head.
The room suddenly felt quieter.
Mr. Zimba: "Is Mutale okay?"
Transmission: "He's not here..."
The voice hesitated.
Transmission: "And what makes it even more tragic is that Makhaza is just one of the many men we've lost on this field."
The transmission officer paused.
Transmission: "It's pointless."
ZZZZZZT
The transmission cut.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Mr. Zimba stood completely still.
Five minutes passed.
The room remained silent.
---
A memory appeared in his mind.
A young Makhaza sat beside him beneath a tree in South Africa. The two stared at the sunset together while discussing their dreams for the future.
Back then, everything felt simpler.
Back then, nobody imagined it would come to this.
The memory faded.
Mr. Zimba lowered his head.
Mr. Zimba: "I'm sorry..."
His voice was barely audible.
Mr. Zimba: "I let the child down."
The grey-haired man noticed but said nothing.
On the holographic battlefield, red dots continued appearing.
One after another.
Each dot represented a confirmed casualty.
The number had already reached fifty.
Mr. Zimba stared at the display. His body trembled slightly before he took a deep breath.
Mr. Zimba: "This is what I signed up for, huh..."
Another memory surfaced.
The University of Zambia.
Professor Banda.
Conversations from years ago.
Dreams from another time.
Mr. Zimba slowly shook his head.
Mr. Zimba: "I see why you chose not to go through with it, Banda."
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Mr. Zimba: "I see why."
The grey-haired strategist stepped forward.
Grey-haired Man: "Zimba... it's done."
Mr. Zimba remained silent.
Grey-haired Man: "What we have to do now is focus on how we're going to break this wall with fewer casualties."
Mr. Zimba looked down.
Mr. Zimba: "There will never be such a thing as fewer casualties."
The room became silent once more.
Mr. Zimba: "So long as we're at war..."
He paused.
Mr. Zimba: "We're playing a losing game of chess with the Angel of Death."
The grey-haired man had no response.
---
Additional Zambian forces had arrived at the tent.
Fifty soldiers stood waiting.
Waiting for instructions.
Waiting for a strategy.
Waiting for Mr. Zimba.
But he remained silent.
Finally, he spoke.
Mr. Zimba: "Give me a second."
He activated another transmission.
The Commander General answered almost immediately.
Mr. Zimba: "Hey... hope you're okay."
Commander General: "We're at war. I can't be okay."
Mr. Zimba gave a small nod.
Mr. Zimba: "Yeah... so... I need you to stay where you are."
Commander General: "Why's that?"
Mr. Zimba closed his eyes for a moment.
Mr. Zimba: "Please listen to me."
His voice softened.
Mr. Zimba: "We've already lost many of our children."
The room remained silent.
Mr. Zimba: "We don't need to lose anymore."
A pause followed.
Commander General: "Alright."
The transmission ended.
---
The room stayed silent for a few seconds.
An ant struggled beneath a glass cup beside the holographic table.
All eyes remained fixed on Mr. Zimba.
He finally looked up.
Mr. Zimba: "...Out of the fifty of you present..."
The soldiers straightened themselves.
Mr. Zimba: "Twenty-five of you will attack from below."
Silence filled the room.
The grey-haired strategist frowned.
Grey-haired Man: "Huh?"
Mr. Zimba: "Just listen to me."
He activated another transmission.
Mr. Zimba: "Khumalo. Matimba. Are you two okay?"
The response came immediately.
Khumalo: "OF COURSE WE'RE NOT OKAY!"
BOOM!!!
Khumalo: "WE'RE DODGING MISSILES OUT HERE!!!"
BOOM!!!
Matimba: "It's getting uncomfortable sitting on his back and almost dying every time."
BOOM!!! BOOM!!!
For the first time in a while, a faint smile appeared on Zimba's face.
Mr. Zimba: "Good."
The room looked at him.
Mr. Zimba: "I'm glad you're okay."
Matimba: "Errrr..."
BOOM!!!
Mr. Zimba took a deep breath.
Mr. Zimba: "Matimba. Khumalo."
The two listened.
Mr. Zimba: "I promise that you two aren't going to die here."
The room fell silent.
Another red dot appeared on the battlefield display.
Nobody said anything.
Matimba and Khumalo simply listened.
Mr. Zimba straightened himself.
Mr. Zimba: "Alright."
He turned toward the soldiers.
Mr. Zimba: "Men."
The soldiers stood ready.
Mr. Zimba: "Deploy. Activate battle gear."
"RIGHT!"
The soldiers activated their battle gear.
Large shields made of slime-like copper emerged from their equipment. The material shifted and reshaped itself according to the user's commands.
The shields quickly formed defensive structures around them.
Mr. Zimba: "Go in with your shields first."
His expression hardened.
Mr. Zimba: "Destroy anyone who is an enemy."
"RIGHT!"
Twenty-five soldiers immediately deployed.
The remaining twenty-five stayed behind.
Mr. Zimba returned his attention to the transmission.
Mr. Zimba: "Matimba. Khumalo."
BOOM!!!
Mr. Zimba: "I'm giving you approximately two minutes."
The battlefield continued roaring in the background.
Mr. Zimba: "It's time to land one final attack."
He stared at the holographic map.
Mr. Zimba: "It's time to break this wall and end this war."
---
Meanwhile, Mutale continued walking through the dust and smoke.
The explosions behind him never stopped.
BOOM!!!
BOOM!!!
BOOM!!!
He eventually came to a stop.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
The battlefield continued raging around him.
Then he whispered.
Mutale: "...Die..."
His eyes remained fixed ahead.
Mutale: "I'm not dying till it's finally over."
In front of him stood a group of Twazwe soldiers.
The moment they noticed him, they immediately pointed their weapons at him.
Mutale didn't react.
He simply stared back at them.
The smoke drifted past him as explosions continued in the distance.
Mutale: "Die..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Mutale: "...or—"
To Be Continued...