The Jacket Brought by Revolution by Nataliya Zaboychenko

The main square gaped in the center of the city

in a blur of emptiness, leaving only the red flag of the revolution to be torn apart by the gaze. None of the townies remembered what was painted on the flag initially, before it was drowned in human battles. Revolution had passed, but its consequences stayed. Locals hid in their homes, preparing for the winter, wondering if they could survive it.

Bo Jackman have seen a similar situation in every city where he went — an empty town full of terrified people. No one knew Bo, he was rarely welcomed with his scarred face and his eyes filled with regret. Bo didn't blame them, he wouldn't welcome himself either. Bo traveled from north to south, but wherever he went, the ghost of Peter Haskins followed him around. And maybe that is why people from every town avoided him. Because they could see a shadow of killed soldier behind him. A shadow of his best friend.

On the day when it happened it was an anniversary of the revolution. People were fighting in a civil war for a year and it didn't seem to end soon. It was an anniversary, but not a holiday. People celebrated it in different ways, some dedicated their day to mourning for loved once, others were preparing for the next battle. On that day Bo received a letter from the last person he could expect. His best friend decided to celebrate the anniversary by reaching out to Bo. There would be nothing strange about it if Peter didn't choose the wrong side a year ago, when everything started. Exactly a year ago childhood best friends found themselves on opposite sides of the barricades and have never spoken since then. 

Bo have thought about that day many, many times. He replayed events in his head like an old film strip. He imagined what could have happened if he ignored the letter and never opened it. What would happened if he never received it. If Peter didn't send it. Unfortunately, history does not know such word as "if".

Bo opened the letter with shaking hands, trying to lie to himself that he wasn't nervous or scared. Peter hasn't written him for a whole war, something bad had to happen for Peter to reach out. Something could have happened to his wife or daughter, who were waiting for him at home. Bo didn't have any family left, but he couldn't bare a thought of something happening to Peter's loved once. Before revolution came to town, before Bo's brother passed away, Peter's family was Bo's family too. Bo opened the letter preparing for the worst. On a ripped paper it said, that Peter would love to meet Bo on a neutral territory, one on one. Peter wrote that he wanted to talk like they did in the good old days, that he missed Bo and that the anniversary of the tragedy is a best opportunity to reconnect. 

Bo wanted to believe the letter with all his heart, but it has been a year of bloody battles and he has learned to think more like a soldier and less like a human. To think like a soldier meant to consider the worst case scenario and decide whether it's worth is or not. Little boy inside Bo wanted to hug his best friend, grown up soldier in Bo did not belive a single word. It sounded like a trap. It sounded like an attempt to lure Bo into an enemy camp and take him hostage. Would Peter do it to him? They have been fighting against each other's beliefs, armies, but they have never fought against each other. In spite of all his thoughts Bo immediately started getting ready. If his best friend wanted to see him — he had to come, no matter the reason. Bo Jackman did not ran away from people or battles.

It has been a while since that day and today's Bo would ran away from any battle if that meant that battle would not happen. He would ran away from any person who had bad intentions in mind. Bo is not a hero anymore, he is a disappointment, a fool, and a killer. When he killed Peter it felt, like he killed himself and from that moment Bo was nothing more then a body with basic needs and stupid feelings. He worked hard, trying to rebuild the world that they destroyed, but no matter how much he did for towns and people, it did not fulfill a gaping hole in his soul. Bo knew, that he deserves it. It was his punishment. Bo was emotionally bleeding and knew that there was no way to stop it. The emptiness left after Peter's death ate Bo from the inside. Pain was absorbing reality, leaving only bitter memories and a share of regret.

It was colder in the forest than Bo imagined, or maybe he was trembling from anticipation. He walked out the forest and found himself on a hill. The hill was full of childhood memories and there was no wonder why Peter has chosen exactly this place to meet up. When they were kids they used to spend all of their summer break jumping from this hill into the lake bellow it. They played and talked, they built send castles. Every inch of this place meant a world to Bo even many years later. Bo felt a wave of nostalgia washing over him, he let himself believe for second that there was no trap, that Peter understood his mistake. That Peter wanted to change sides to fight next to Bo, to win together. He daydreamed for a moment and suddenly heard a wood crack in the forest. 

Peter would not hid in the bushes, he didn't need to. The wood crack meant only one thing — it was a trap. Whether Peter organized it himself, or he had good intentions, but people from his camp intercepted the letter and decided to follow him. It didn't matter for Bo, when he was surrounded with enemies. The first gun shot came from the bushes. A bullet passed right above his shoulder and Bo had to fall on the ground, reaching for his gun. Of course he didn't come unarmed, but his gun with eight bullets could not be enough. Peter was nowhere to be seen, so Bo wasted six of his bullets on people in the bushies. Judging by the silence, he got all of them shot, but had a few injuries himself. One bullet struck his cheek, leaving a bloody wound on his face, the other one got him in the hand. Seemed like Peter didn't come. A few moment later Bo was kneeling on the ground bleeding into the send, from this exact send he used to build send castles. He was devastated and scared, Bo didn't know if it was safe to sit on the hill for a while, bandaging his hand with his shirt, but he didn't have any other options. He let his guard down for a minute, tying a shirt around his hand with his teeth —  he didn't let go of his gun, it was to dangerous. He raised his head like a wounded animal, fast and scared. There was a person between the trees and before Bo could see the face, he fired his seventh bullet. 

Months and months after the war ended Bo found out from a soldier who changed sides, that it was in fact a trap, but noone told Peter about it, so he wouldn't be able to warn Bo. That night Bo had his first nightmare of Peter screaming at him. From that day it started happening almost every night. Sometimes it would be Peter's wife or daughter who would cry in his dreams or punch him. Bo wanted someone to actually punch him, to accuse, to judge. He almost wrote a letter to Peter's wife explaining himself, but Bo burned it before sending. He didn't deserve to explain himself, she didn't need a reminder of a tragedy. Sometimes Bo would send money to their address, even though he was not sure whether they still lived there. It was the least he could do for them.

Bo gained a lot of new habits, for example he started washing his hands. A lot. When he would wake up in the middle of the night from another nightmare he would rush to the bathroom to wash away the non-existing blood from his hands. He would let water run until he would be able to convince himself that there was no red color in the sink. That the blood on his hand did not exist.

Sometimes Bo wanted to ask universe: "Why?". Just why. Why did Peter had to go and Bo had to stay? Bo couldn't find the strength in himself to do anything. He didn't have new goals, he didn't want new deathes. He only waned to go back in time and build castles in the sand.

Seven bullets were fired that day. The eighth one was left and Bo felt like it was left for him. He still had that gun and the eighth bullet waiting for him. Guilt was like an illness for him, just like cancer it was spreading around his body taking and taking parts of him away. Bo didn't recognize himself in the mirror anymore, with the scar on his cheek and total exhaustion in his body posture. It had to be someone else. Someone else had to cary a gun with a bullet for himself, someone else was washing his hands at night, someone else killed his best friend. Bo would never do such a thing.

He packs his backpack again getting ready to be back on the road. He has finished construction work in this town, and has been planing to go to the ocean. His skin has gotten drastically lighter, he looked pale and tired. Towns by the ocean would not give up extra working hands and Bo will be happy to help. 

He leaves the cabin, putting the key under the porch, just like owner asked to do. It is sunset time. Sun has painted streets yellow, as if spilling honey on the roads. Leaves on the trees which fall turned oranged were burning in the sunlight like little fiers in the branches. World was going through the one more day, air was crisp and fresh, Bo could hear voices from the food market down the street. He didn't know which day of the calender it was, but if he had to guess it felt like Sunday. Backpack on his shoulders was hugging him from the back, the past was leaning over Bo's shoulders, but for a second he was ready to look at the sun and accept things as they are. For a second he was ready to accept himself. 

That nigh he slept better then usual. That nigh Peter came to his dream, but not to scream and not to fight. In the dream Bo was standing at the edge of the hill looking at the sunset. He had a big heavy jacket on him. Bo knew, that it was Peter's jacket. Bo didn't know how he knew, it was just obvious to him. The jacket was black, huge and uncomfortable, Bo couldn't straighten his back, but wasn't able to take it off either. Peter came, being followed by his long shadow, which sunset gifted to him. 

"Long time no see, buddy." Peter sighted "I've heard you have been hard on yourself lately. Please, don't."

Bo heard Peter's words but didn't understand them at first. They sounded wrong, unnatural to Bo. But Peter was standing right in front of him with his smile and messy hair. He did mean it after all. 

Sun was shining with its last rays, when Peter reached out and took the heavy jacket of the Bo's shoulders.

And, suddenly, Bo could breath.