The shell cracks your eardrum. You taste copper.

You are Sergeant Elias Thorne. You are on the roof. The rain is cold. It hits your face like needles. You are looking at the water tower. It is old. Rust eats its skin.

You see movement. A shadow. It is not a man. It is a bird. A starling. It is black. It is wet. It clings to the rusted rail.

You raise your rifle. Your hands shake. You do not want to shake. You pull the trigger. The gun kicks. The bird is gone. There is only a hole in the metal. A small, dark wound.

You lower the weapon. Your heart hammers. You check your magazine. Empty. You throw it away. It lands in the mud below. You take out a new one. You slide it in. Click.

You are not alone. You feel eyes on you. You turn.

Major Silas Vane is there. He stands by the door. He wears a grey coat. It is dry. You are wet. He holds a glass of water. He does not drink. He watches you.

"Elias," he says. His voice is soft. It is like silk over stone.

You do not answer. You look at the hole in the tower. The rain fills it. It drains. The hole remains.

"Why did you shoot?" Vane asks.

"It moved," you say.

"It was a bird."

"I know."

"You know it is a bird. And you shoot."

You look at him. He is smiling. It is not a happy smile. It is a sad smile. He knows something. You do not know what.

"Come inside," he says.

You do not move.

"Elias."

You turn. You walk to the door. You do not look back at the bird. Or where the bird was.

The room is warm. It smells of dust and old paper. There are desks. There are maps. There are radios. The room is empty of people. But it is full of silence.

Vane pours you a glass of water. You take it. You drink. The water is warm. It feels wrong.

"Sit," he says.

You sit. The chair is hard. Your knees knock.

"We have a problem," Vane says. He sits across from you. He leans forward. His elbows are on the desk.

"What problem?"

"Your accuracy."

"I am accurate."

"You are too accurate. You see things others do not see. You see the bird. You see the hole. You see the truth."

"I see what is there."

"No," he says. "You see what is hidden."

You look at your hands. They are clean. But they feel dirty.

"Who is the bird?" you ask.

Vane laughs. It is a short, dry sound.

"You know," he says.

"I do not know."

"You know. You always know. That is why you are here. That is why you are special."

You feel a coldness in your chest. It is not the rain. It is fear.

"Who?" you ask again.

"Look at the map."

You look at the map on the desk. It is a city. It is your city. It is the place you came from. It is the place you are guarding.

You see a red dot. It is in the old quarter. It is near the library.

"You know who lives there," Vane says.

You close your eyes. You think of Margaret. She lives there. She lives in the house with the blue door. She has a garden. She grows roses. They are red. Like the dot.

"Is it her?" you ask.

"No," Vane says. "It is not her."

"Then who?"

"Her brother."

You open your eyes. Your heart stops. Then it beats. Fast. Hard.

"Thomas," you say.

"Yes."

"He is dead," you say. "He died in the war."

"No," Vane says. "He did not die. He ran. He hid. He became something else."

"Who?"

"You know."

You think. You think of the days before. You think of the arguments. Thomas and Margaret. Thomas and you. He did not like you. He said you were cold. He said you were a machine. He was right.

"Where is he?" you ask.

"He is in the building next door. The one with the broken windows."

You stand up. You feel dizzy.

"Elias," Vane says. "Do not go."

"I must."

"You are a soldier. You follow orders. I am giving you an order. Stay."

You look at him. You look at the map. You look at the red dot.

"No," you say.

"You will fail," Vane says. "You will hurt her. You will lose everything."

"I will do my duty."

"Duty is a lie," Vane says. "Duty is a chain. You are not a chain. You are a man."

You pick up your rifle. It is heavy. It is cold.

"Go," Vane says. He does not move. He does not stop you. He watches you. His eyes are wet.

You walk to the door. You open it. The rain is still falling. It is harder now. The wind is loud.

You walk down the stairs. You walk through the building. The floor is wet. Your boots slip. You do not fall. You are steady.

You go outside. The air is sharp. It bites your skin. You look at the building next door. The windows are broken. The glass is on the ground. It shines in the dim light.

You see a light in the window. It is yellow. It is small.

You climb over the fence. The wire cuts your gloves. You do not feel it. You go to the window. You break the glass. You step in.

The room is dark. It smells of mold. There are books. They are old. They are torn.

You see a shape in the corner. It is moving.

You raise your rifle.

"Thomas," you say.

The shape stops. It turns.

It is a bird.

It is a starling. It is black. It is wet. It looks at you. Its eyes are bright. They are like stars.

You lower your rifle. Your hand shakes. You drop it. It clatters on the floor.

"Who are you?" you ask.

The bird does not speak. It hops. It moves to the window. It looks at you.

You remember the hole in the tower. You remember the rain. You remember Vane.

"You are not Thomas," you say.

The bird nods.

"Where is he?"

The bird hops to the table. There is a letter there. It is white. It is folded.

You take the letter. You open it. You read.

*Elias,*

*I am gone. I am dead. I am not here. Do not look for me. Look for the truth. Look for the bird. The bird is you. The bird is the mistake. The bird is the end.*

*Forgive me.*

*Thomas*

You drop the letter. It falls. It floats. It lands in the dust.

You look at the bird. It looks at you.

"You are him," you say.

The bird opens its beak. It makes a sound. It is not a bird sound. It is a human sound. It is a cry.

"Help," it says.

You step back. You hit the wall.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"I am the memory," the voice says. "I am the guilt. I am the thing you cannot kill."

You feel the cold again. It is in your bones.

"Vane knows," you say.

"Vane is my keeper," the voice says. "He feeds me. He keeps me here. He uses you to keep me trapped."

"You lied to me," you say.

"Did I?" the voice asks. "Or did you want to believe it? You wanted to kill the enemy. You wanted to kill the brother. You wanted to kill the past."

You think of Margaret. You think of the roses. You think of the blue door.

"She is safe," you say.

"Yes," the voice says. "She is safe. But you are not. You are the bird. You are the thing that shoots. You are the thing that is shot. You are the hole in the tower."

You look at your hands. They are trembling.

"What do I do?" you ask.

"Let it go," the voice says.

"Let what go?"

"Yourself."

You look at the bird. It is small. It is fragile. It is alive.

You close your eyes. You breathe. The air is cold. The air is clean.

You open your eyes. The bird is gone. The window is empty. The rain is falling.

You walk out. You walk to the main building. You walk up the stairs. You go to the roof.

Vane is there. He is waiting. He has the glass of water.

"Did you kill him?" he asks.

"No," you say.

"Did you find him?"

"No."

"Then you failed."

"No," you say. "I succeeded."

Vane frowns. He takes a sip of water.

"What did you see?" he asks.

"I saw the bird," you say.

"And?"

"And it was me."

Vane stops. He looks at you. His face is blank.

"That is a lie," he says.

"No," you say. "It is the truth."

"You are a soldier," Vane says. "You do not see yourself. You see the enemy. You see the threat. You do not see the man."

"I see the man," you say. "I see the hole."

Vane laughs. It is a loud laugh. It echoes in the rain.

"You are broken," he says. "You are useless. I will remove you."

"Remove me?" you ask.

"Yes. I will send you home. You are done. You are the bird. You are the mistake."

You look at him. You do not feel fear. You feel peace.

"Is that an order?" you ask.

"Yes," he says.

"Accepted," you say.

You turn. You walk away from the roof. You walk down the stairs. You walk out of the building.

The rain has stopped. The sky is dark. The stars are out. They are bright. They are like holes in the sky.

You walk to the edge of the town. You stop. You look at the water tower. It is far away. You can see the hole. It is small. It is dark.

You take out your pistol. You do not shoot it. You hold it. You feel its weight. You feel its cold.

You think of Thomas. You think of Margaret. You think of the roses.

You put the pistol in your pocket. You walk home.

You walk to the blue door. It is closed. There is no light.

You do not knock. You do not ring the bell.

You sit on the step. You wait.

The night is long. The stars are bright.

You are still. You are quiet.

You are the bird.

You are the hole.

You are the rain.

You are the silence.

You wait.