A crowd of screaming teenage girls roared to the point where they could deafen until a spotlight hit a single figure on the stage, sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar in his lap. Everything else was black, pitch black, so the only thing able to seen was the boy and his guitar. He glanced up, his chocolate, youthful eyes sharing a smile that matched his lips. Looking over what he could see of the crowd through the spotlight, his fingers began to move over the strings, sending vibrations caught by a microphone and amplified so the entire crowd could hear. The screams seemed to silence when they realized who was playing.
He glanced down at his hands as he switched chords, his fingers seeming like a part of the instrument, which caused the instrument to seem like it was a part of him, instead of shaped wood and strings. The music that he created fell over the sold out arena, deafening in its beauty. The smile never left his face as he continued to send out waves of emotion through his fingers in the form of notes.
His lips moved closer to the microphone in front of him, his eyes closing softly, and he gently began to sing. He kept his eyes closed as his notes rang out, clear and strong, and moving to the point of tears. His words told the tale of an innocent but stricken being, torn between the life he had to fake and the life he had to live, broken in two and thrown around like a piece of meat but all he could do was smile about it and pretend things were okay behind his innocent eyes.
The boy opened his eyes to look at the crowd, his fingers ending out the tune on the guitar. As the notes faded away, the people began to scream and clap again, and he smiled. "Thank you," he said, getting up and about to leave. "You were a great audience. Bye!" He waved and walked off the stage. Quickly he handed the guitar to a roadie and ran back to the bus that was awaiting for him and his two brothers, and they left before the lights even went on in the arena.
"Zac, that was awesome," Taylor said to his little brother, sitting down with him at the back of the bus. "I was kind of worried, but the crowd loved it."
"Well that's really all that matters," the boy said.
"Hey guys," Ike said, walking to the back of the bus. "Turn on the television. They're talking about Korea." Taylor flipped on the television and the three watched a CNN news anchor speaking about the situation that was arising in Korea.
"�the president has officially stated that he will be sending troops into South Korea to reinforce the 100,000 casualties resulting from the surprise attack on the South Korean capital of Seoul yesterday. The draft has been started again and all males eighteen and over who will be drafted will receive a letter from the government in the mail in the near future. That news again, North Korea has officially declared war on South Korea involving the territory along the 38th parallel."
"War?" Taylor asked, speaking for everyone in the room. "There's a war?"
"And we're involved," Isaac said.
"I thought relations between North and South Korea were getting better," Zac said, not completely understanding.
"Yeah, they were. But a few months ago everything got worse and they started a cold war," Isaac explained. "But I guess it's not so cold anymore." He sat down next to Taylor, looking back up at the news anchor on the screen.
"You don't think they'd actually draft us, do you, Ike?" Taylor asked.
"They did it to Elvis." Taylor sighed, sitting back. "Taylor, we're going to be fine. We don't know details. For all we know they only need a few thousand and not many people will get drafted. It's all random." The president's face appeared on the screen. Zac turned away, walking to the front of the bus. The television was on up there too.
"Why so down?" his mother asked, sitting down in front of him. He looked up at her. "I guess you heard about this war going on. Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"Well honey you're not old enough for the draft, why so glum?"
"Taylor and Ike are," he muttered, sitting back. "I hate war." Zac sighed. All his life he'd been raised knowing that violence is wrong and was taught never to hit anyone and now friends and possibly family might have to go to a far away country to kill people.
"I don't know what to tell you, honey," she said. "I know you don't like violence and you never have but I'm not the one who decides how things work. I can't do anything to stop this but I'll do what I can to make you feel better."
"Well, my back kind of hurts," he said, squirming a bit in his chair to accent his words. "I worked hard tonight. I could use a back rub�" He bit his lip, hoping it would work. His mother smiled and moved next to him.
"Okay, honey."
"All right!" he said, and turned his back to her. Hey, maybe this war is good. He's getting a free back rub out of it�
Zac was working on a song, an acoustic guitar sitting in his lap and a notebook on the nightstand in front of him. He was sitting on the bed very uncomfortably. He could very well just go into the basement to work, it was a heck of a lot more comfortable and was made up just so he could work down there, but when the idea came to him he was in his room and he hadn't gotten the energy to move yet.
He pushed his hair out of his face when suddenly the door to the room burst open and a very flustered and very upset Taylor ran in, a letter in his hand. Isaac and their mother were following him and in the midst of all the confusion, Zac wasn't even noticed.
"I'm not going! I might as well just kill myself now because that's the only thing that'll result from this! No! I refuse to go!" Taylor threw the letter on the table and turned away, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Taylor, it's not your decision."
"Yes it is!" he screamed, turning around. "This is my life! No one has control over my life! The whole idea of government is crap because they're saying I have to go and I am not going to listen to them! I'm going to sit down right here and not go." He sat down on the floor. "If I have to chain myself to the house I will." He huffed. Zac looked up�it was hard not to pay attention, Taylor was screaming so loud.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Taylor got drafted," Isaac explained. "And he's not taking it very well." He gave a pointed look to Taylor.
"I'm not going!"
"Taylor, you have to go. It's not your choice, as much as you may think it is, it's not. You don't have to like it but you do have to go. It's not like you're the only one."
"I'm going to die, Ike!" he yelled. "I'm going to go over there and I'm going to die over there. That is not how I pictured myself dying."
"You're not going to die," Ike said, trying to put some reason in it. He didn't want to see Taylor go any more than Taylor wanted to go, but it was either Taylor goes to Korea on his on will or the government comes and forces him to go.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. I can't die. All the bullets that those damn Koreans are going to shoot at me will just bounce right off."
"Taylor you don't even know if you're going to be stationed where the fighting is," their mother explained, stepping in for the first time since they came into the room. "Just don't be so pessimistic about the whole issue. You have to go to Korea and you have to help out your country. Now you can sit here and be dragged out kicking and screaming, and not be able to say goodbye to your family, or you can go and take the time to say goodbye to us and you'll feel better about yourself."
Taylor sighed. "I know I have to go. I just don't want to�so many people are dying over there and I don't want to be one of them." He stood up. "I'm just really scared."
"So are we, Taylor."
And with that Taylor began to pack. What do you take to war? Obviously not your shiniest black leather pants�no those wouldn't do too well out there when you're trying to blend in with your surroundings so you don't get shot. Everyone besides Zac had left the room already, mostly to leave Taylor to pack and really think about what he was going to do. Zac figured he was there first so he shouldn't leave. And Taylor only had so much time before he had to leave, he was sure he wanted to spend as much of that time with his family as possible.
"Is that a new song, Zac?" Taylor asked. Zac looked up. Taylor sniffed. He'd been crying since Ike and Mom left and he didn't want Zac to know.
"Yeah."
"How much you've got done so far?" he asked.
"Not much, I've got the chorus down and I'm working on the verses right now." Taylor nodded, turning away again. "I'll play it for you when you get back." Taylor paused.
"You actually think I'll come back?"
"Taylor, you're Taylor. I know you'll come back."
"Oh, that's convincing."
"No, I'm serious. You're Taylor, I've always known you to be able to get through anything, whether it be taking care of Zo� by yourself or, well, going off to war. Me on the other hand, I'll be the one who just kind of runs for my life, arms flailing. I'm the one sure to be shot." Taylor shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, but you've got another two years before you can be drafted. The war might be over by then."
"I seriously doubt that."
"You never know. We might kick their ass." Zac shook his head. "Well I can hope."
"Don't worry, Tay, me and Ike will keep up the home front for you. You might come back and find all your leather pants gone, but otherwise we'll keep everything else the same."
"Oh no you don't! I'm taking my pants with me just so you can't get rid of all of them!" Zac laughed and plucked away at the guitar in his lap. "Zac, what do you think we'll do about the band?"
"I'm not going on without you and I'm sure Ike won't want to either. You're the front man of the band and the band just isn't the band without you. We're a trio."
"Well I don't want the two of you just sitting around here while I'm off at war," he said. "I mean, what if I don't come back? Then what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Zac said, looking back at his notebook. "I don't want to think about that."
"Well I want you and Ike to still do this if I don't come back."
"Tay, can you just not say that?" Zac asked, huffing as he looked back over to his brother. Now he couldn't concentrate. Everything he'd had in the back of his mind was clashing with the image of his family sobbing as uniformed Army officers drape a coffin with the American flag. "You're so fucking pessimistic sometimes."
"You really shouldn't swear, Zac."
"I know�" Zac put the guitar down on the bed next to him and rested his head in his hands. "You're not the only one this is affecting, you know. I'm probably not as scared as you are but I'm close."
"Things are going to look up, Zac. Don't worry about me."
"Yeah, well�I'm just against the war."
"I always knew if there ever was a war you'd be the first to protest it." Zac smiled. "You know what, you should write a song about the war. Now there's actually something to write about in the world."
"I'll try, but I'm not guaranteeing a hit."
"Like we've had a hit in the past five years." Taylor sat next to Zac on the bed, moving the guitar out of the way. "I'll come back, Zac. I promise." Zac could only smile.