Olivia had spent a long night riding to get into position at the top of the hill overlooking the dirt road she knew the army would be marching on. Her camouflage outfit allowed her to blend in with the tall grass, but she was a bit worried that the color of the grass in her outfit didn’t perfectly match that of the surrounding environment. Her dark red hair always bothered her in these moments, it was as if her whole body was designed to make her stand out when all she ever wanted to do was blend in. She tightened her hat on her head and quieted such thoughts from her mind. Neither the grass nor her hair would give her away, it was merely paranoia eating at her mind. What would they do if they found her? A crazy old lady with a gun with no bullets. She’d be a funny story to tell at the campfire before bed.
Hunting and marksmanship had been part of Olivia’s life for as long as she could remember. Her family lived on the frontier of the Kingdom. She had fired her first gun by the age of five and killed her first deer at eight. When she met Butch Miller at one of his expositions she was the only one to offer any criticism of his firearms and even suggested some improvements to his scope. Their courtship and marriage led to a partnership over the design and use of rifles. Butch had suffered a horrible leg injury falling off a horse as a result it he spent his time making the rifles and Olivia used them. Now with war seemingly inevitable and rapidly approaching it was time for the Millers to prove what they had was true. That their firearms were the greatest in the Kingdom and could be a great tool against the Utopians and their armies.
An hour later she heard the drums as the army approached. She slid her rifle out from under her body and had a pale green eye stare through the scope. Minutes later the Utopians showed themselves, officers on horseback, drummers and flagbearers leading the way and then a seemingly endless procession of young men in green uniforms that looked like they had been put on for the first time. Olivia’s heart ached as she looked at the faces of the men. They were but children, so young and ignorant to what war was. She wanted to shoot one of them in the chest, make the rest of them run around in a panic to try to save him and then fail and watch him die. Instead of the dealing with the horrible truth of war the men were singing. She assumed it was a song in honor of their God. A mass of delusional people celebrating and re-enforcing their delusion.
Religion was the scariest part of the Utopians. A world that had rightfully shunned and ridiculed religion had managed to create a nation that allowed lunatics from all corners of the earth to come and bask in the nonsense of an almighty being that reincarnates people after they die. Olivia was old enough already and she was quite ready for death to take her. The idea of dealing with all this bullshit all over again was a nightmare to her, as was the idea of some unseen being checking boxes off to see if she was doing right or wrong. The Utopians had to be stopped and their poisonous religion exterminated.
It was in that moment as she scanned over the army that she came to the understanding that she could kill. She had killed animals all her life but killing a person was different, and now she knew she could pull the trigger. All the pain she would cause the families of those she killed, all the horror she would inflict was a worthy trade off if it meant pushing back against their madness. Maybe if she killed enough of them they would wake up from their insanity and see that God wasn’t with them.
She sighed, she knew that was impossible. For a nation to be so deluded they would make excuses over whatever happened. These were a people who nearly burned their church down after a couple rich fools had been declared God had killed themselves in drug fueled orgies. The church placated them by making some girl from a poor neighborhood their new God and they accepted it. They would have to be beaten, conquered, and occupied for a generation to finally leech the venom of religion from their veins.
Olivia marveled at how slow they marched. How straight the line was that they marched in. They were sitting ducks, she could kill a dozen of them before they would ever find her location and even then she could kill countless more before they finally discovered her. It was only her desire to not be the one to fire the first shot to start the war that prevented her from doing this. She wanted the Utopians to do it. To march to Midpoint and bully the smaller Kingdom peace keeping force. She wanted the shame of the beginning of the war to fall squarely on their shoulders. A grandmother hiding in a suit covered in long grass on top of a hill wasn’t about to be the person to fire the first shot. She was only here to test her nerve, and she had passed that test.
A smug smirk creeped across her face pale as the Utopians marched past her and towards Midpoint. Let them march and sing and celebrate their God for now. Soon enough they would be lying bleeding out on the battlefield pleading with their God. Begging Him to explain why He had let them die.
Their God hadn’t left them to die. He had done nothing. He didn’t exist.
