Chapter 586 I Am Sorry
As the sound of gunfire raged on, the soldiers on the walls collapsed in puddles of blood left and right.
The incoming Eastern Army soldiers looked like death itself as they marched through the poisonous gas and thick smoke wearing bulletproof vests, gas masks, and thermal goggles.
Without the cover of heavy gunfire from the turrets, the enemy soldiers were able to continue their advance without much resistance.
In less than ten minutes, they had taken over the entire wall on the east of the prison.
After occupying such a favorable location, members of the Special Forces began to harvest like crazy while using the west wall as a defensive fortification.
The poisoned soldiers inside the prison rushed toward the west wall.
They knew they were most likely charging to their deaths, but they refused to give up without a fight.
Being a part of the Mysonna Army, they would rather face their enemies and die gloriously in battle than surrender.
Like moths to a flame, more of them kept coming, even though they were being mowed down.
Shot in the neck, Malcolm lay dying on top of the wall.
“Why…”
Although he could only see the eyes of the man standing in front of him, Malcolm knew it was none other than Horace himself.
Horace stared at Malcolm, who was lying in a pool of blood, as he reached behind his head and undid the straps of his gas mask.
He then removed his thermal goggles and helmet along with his gas mask.
“Commander! You mustn’t expose yourself to the poison gas like this! Hurry up and inject the antidote!” shouted one of the soldiers from the side.
Even so, Horace simply shook his head and said, “Just do your job, soldier. I have the antidote, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
He wiped the sweat off his forehead as he searched his pockets and found a box of cigarettes.
After retrieving two cigarettes from the box, Horace lit them and placed one in Malcolm’s mouth.
“Here, have a cigarette. Think of it as a token of apology from me.”
With trembling lips, Malcolm spat the cigarette out as he mumbled weakly, “Why…”
Despite having everything figured out, Malcolm insisted on hearing it with his own ears.
Taking a puff of his cigarette, Horace shook his head and responded with a smile, “No reason in particular. I’m a soldier. Following orders is what I do.”
“Do you not question if what you’re doing is right?” Malcolm asked weakly.
“Is there even right and wrong in war? Did you ask yourself that question when your Mysonna Army killed the soldiers from the Ibica Army? What about when my Eastern Army kills the enemy soldiers from Remdik? If you have no issues with all of that, then what difference does it make when you and I fight each other? We’re nothing but human weapons, after all.”
The light in Malcolm’s eyes began to fade away, but Horace did not seem to notice as he sat down beside Malcolm and continued, “Honestly, I don’t get it either. Why are we fighting all the time? There doesn’t seem to be an end to these wars. It’s really exhausting.”
He was interrupted when a soldier came running over all of a sudden. “Sir! According to our radars, a fighter jet is approaching from the south at high speed! It should be arriving in about fifteen minutes!”
“Acknowledged.” Horace casually waved at the soldier as he ordered, “We have already achieved our objectives. Tell the men to retreat immediately and leave the border according to the pre-planned routes. There will be someone waiting for them.”
“Yes, sir!”
The signalman was about to leave when Horace called out to him again, “Also, put Maximilian Schmidt in charge of the retreat.”
“What about you, sir?” the signalman asked in confusion.
“Quit asking so many questions and just do as I say!” Horace exclaimed impatiently.
“Yes, sir!” the signalman responded and ran off to carry out his duties.
After taking another puff of his cigarette, Horace saluted at a camera on the side. “I know you’re watching, Boss,” he uttered solemnly. “I’ve accomplished the mission you assigned me with. Thank you very much for the training you’ve provided me all these years.”
He then pulled out a pistol from his holster and placed Malcolm’s finger on the trigger. “Commander Wallace, I can neither stop the war nor disobey my orders. I can’t tell right from wrong either, but I will make it up to you. I’m sorry!”
Bang!
A loud and clear gunshot rang out as Horace squeezed the trigger using Malcolm’s finger.
The bullet went into Horace’s forehead and exited cleanly through the back, spraying the air with a bloody mist that dissipated in the wind.
Horace died in a kneeling position in front of Malcolm while facing Northern Crimson Prison.
Nobody knew if his apology was directed at Malcolm or everyone within Northern Crimson Prison, but that no longer mattered since he was already dead.
Those who came running after hearing the gunshot were in shock and disbelief when they saw his corpse.
With just an army of a thousand men, Horace had successfully breached Northern Crimson Prison’s defenses with almost zero casualties. Given his amazing accomplishments, he would have been regarded as a hero among all the soldiers in the Eastern Army upon his return.
In fact, he could have even become a world-renowned legend.
However, he chose to give up his honor and glory and die at the hands of a dead man instead.
Everyone felt confused by his actions, but deep down inside, they kind of knew why he did that.
That moment was interrupted by a voice that rang out on the public channel. “What are you all looking at? I’m in command now that Captain Queen is dead! Everyone retreat according to the plan! I don’t want anyone messing this up! Get moving right now!”
The men then glanced at Horace’s corpse one final time before running off and disappearing into the sandstorm.
Meanwhile, in the southeastern area of the prison, Hayes stared at the eight hundred bloodied men in front of him.
They were soldiers from the southeastern area who had just ended the lives of over eight thousand prisoners.
“Listen up, everyone! Most of the prison has been contaminated with poisonous gas. We’re safe here on the southeastern side of the prison because we’re upwind, but I’m planning on providing backup to those on the west side. Since this is a suicidal mission, I won’t order you guys to come with me. Feel free to tag along if you’re in!” Hayes said as he climbed into a jeep and drove straight for the west wing.
The sounds of car engines starting rang out as the soldiers hopped into the cars and followed closely behind.
The sky darkened as strong winds blew across the area, causing a wall of sand to roll in from the southeast direction.
The howling wind sounded like the tragic wails of the fallen, and the sandstorm felt as if it was meant to blow away the horrors of bloodshed.
Horace’s special operations unit was long gone by the time they arrived at the western side of the prison.
Blood was trickling out of Hayes’ mouth when he rushed to Malcolm’s corpse.
“It’s too late… The sandstorm came way too late… Had it come even just thirty minutes sooner, the poisonous gas wouldn’t have been able to spread across the area! At least half of our men could’ve survived! What’s the point of it coming now? How will I even find those b*stards and get my revenge? Argh!” Hayes yelled at the top of his lungs as he fired his pistol into the air to vent his frustration.
A few seconds later, Hayes stumbled backward and coughed up a huge mouthful of blood before dropping dead on the spot.
