All You Need Is Kill

“Not really. It’s not sweet. I prefer chocolate.”

“Pity.”

“It smells nice, though. And these ones definitely smell best of all,” Rita said.

“Ah, then there’s hope for you yet. What do you say, care to take over my shop when I retire?”

Rita’s father, who until then hadn’t looked up from the coffee beans, interrupted. “Don’t put any ideas in her head. We need someone to carry on the farm, and she’s all we’ve got.”

“Then maybe she can find a promising young boy or girl for me to pass on my shop to, eh?”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it,” Rita answered with indifference.

Her father set down the bag of coffee he’d been admiring and kneeled to look Rita in the eye.

“I thought you wanted to help out on the farm?”

The old man hastily interjected, “Let the child make up her own mind. It’s still a free country.”

A light flared in the young Rita’s eyes. “That’s right, Dad. I get to choose, right? Well, as long as they don’t make me join the army.”

“Don’t like the army either, eh? The UDF isn’t all bad, you know.”

Rita’s father scowled. “This is my daughter you’re talking to.”

“But anyone can enlist once they turn eighteen. We all have the right to defend our country, son and daughter alike. It’s quite the opportunity.”

“I’m just not sure I want my daughter in the military.”

“Well I don’t wanna join the army in the first place, Dad.”

“Oh, why’s that?” A look of genuine curiosity crossed the old man’s face.

“You can’t eat Mimics. I read so in a book. And you shouldn’t kill animals you can’t eat just for the sake of killing them. Our teachers and our pastor and everyone says so.”

“You’re going to be quite a handful when you grow up, aren’t you.”

“I just wanna be like everybody else.”

Rita’s father and the old man looked at each other and shared a knowing chuckle. Rita didn’t understand what was so funny.

Four years later, the Mimics would attack Pittsfield. The raid came in the middle of an unusually harsh winter. Snow fell faster than it could be cleared from the streets. The city was frozen to a halt.

No one knew this at the time, but Mimics send out something akin to a scouting party before an attack, a small, fast-moving group whose purpose is to advance as far as possible then return with information for the others. That January, three Mimics had slipped past the UDF quarantine and made their way up the Mississippi River undetected.

If the townspeople hadn’t noticed something suspicious moving in the shadows, it’s doubtful the scouting party would have taken particular notice of Pittsfield, with its livestock and acres of farmland. As it turned out, the shot fired from the hunting rifle of the night watch led to a massacre.

The state guard was immobilized by the snow. It would be hours before a UDF platoon could be lifted in by helicopter. By then, half the buildings in town had burnt to the ground and one out of three of the town’s fifteen hundred residents had been killed. The mayor, the preacher, and the old man from the general store were among the dead.

Men who had chosen to grow corn rather than join the army died fighting to defend their families. Small arms were no use against Mimics. Bullets only glanced off their bodies. Mimic javelins ripped through the walls of wooden and even brick houses with ease.

In the end, a ragged bunch of townspeople defeated the three Mimics with their bare hands. They waited until the Mimics were about to fire before rushing them, knocking the creatures into each others’ javelins. They killed two of the Mimics this way, and drove off the third.

Dying, Rita’s mother sheltered her daughter in her arms. Rita watched in the snow as her father fought and was killed. Smoke spiraled up from the flames. Brilliant cinders flitted up into the night. The sky glowed blood red.

From beneath her mother’s body, already beginning to grow cold, Rita considered. Her mother, a devout Christian, had told her that pretending to cry was a lie, and that if she lied, when God judged her immortal soul she wouldn’t be allowed into Heaven. When her mother told Rita that if Mimics didn’t lie they could get into Heaven, the girl had grown angry. Mimics weren’t even from Earth. They didn’t have souls, did they? If they did, and they really did go to Heaven, Rita wondered whether people and Mimics would fight up there. Maybe that’s what awaited her parents.

The government sent Rita to live with some distant relatives. She stole a passport from a refugee three years older than she who lived in a run-down apartment next door and headed for the UDF recruiting office.

All over the country, people were getting tired of the war. The UDF needed all the soldiers they could get for the front lines.

Provided the applicant hadn’t committed a particularly heinous crime, the army wouldn’t turn anyone away. Legally, Rita wasn’t old enough to enlist, but the recruiting officer barely even glanced at her purloined passport before handing her a contract.