{"id":3049,"date":"2023-06-05T20:17:25","date_gmt":"2023-06-05T20:17:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.miamioh.edu\/oxmag\/?page_id=3049"},"modified":"2023-06-05T20:46:51","modified_gmt":"2023-06-05T20:46:51","slug":"forever-war-by-chris-lombardo","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.miamioh.edu\/oxmag\/forever-war-by-chris-lombardo\/","title":{"rendered":"“Forever War” by Chris Lombardo"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\tThe day we became certain of the end, Galen threw everyone a party in the iron lung. We each brought beer and a standard deck of cards, the former swiped from parents\u2019 stashes and the latter from wherever we could find. Completeness was no object, his invite had assured; with enough cards, enough of us, the game could last practically forever.\n\tWe arrived early in the evening and filed through the airlock one-by-one, pausing to time each entry with its breath. I\u2019d never been inside before; none of us had, only seen the backdrop through grainy webcam feed. As I stepped across the threshold, I felt it snag my diaphragm, the room squeezing air into my lungs. \u201cLet it out,\u201d Galen shouted from the other side, and I exhaled with the walls, locked together with cold metal in surrender.\n\tOnce inside the thing itself, we sat ourselves in a circle on the carpet. The room seemed smaller on the inside, no sign of the pipes and valves that lined the outer walls like an echidna\u2019s hollow spines. No windows either, just a sign above the door that read: under normal operation, standard pressure carries no risk to healthy bodies. We matched breaths like a choir, the room our shared conductor, and Galen gathered up the cards, shuffled them into one anarchic mass, and then dealt each of us a pile.\n\t\u201cWe\u2019re playing War,\u201d he said. Absent the distortion of a video call, his voice sounded higher, like a child\u2019s, and I realized that his larynx may have never fully grown. \u201cStandard rules, except, when you run out of cards, the house will deal you more.\u201d\n\tI straightened my deck; a few others did the same. But with every breath the walls around us took, the pile trembled back into disarray.\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll start,\u201d he said, and flipped a nine of spades. Next came a four of hearts, a joker, then a faded baseball card.\n\t\u201cSorry,\u201d Milo said. \u201cThose were all I had.\u201d\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s fine.\u201d Galen smiled. \u201cWe\u2019ll match by team, not player.\u201d\n\tI took a swig of beer, mistimed it with an inhale, and the acid set my trachea ablaze. Rhythm lost, near-breathless, I scrambled for the door.\n\t\u201cJust take a minute!\u201d Galen shouted. \u201cWe\u2019ll keep your spot!\u201d\n\tI wheezed something in reply, then stumbled through the airlock, falling to my knees on hard-packed dirt outside. In the trees, cicadas buzzed; distant tongues of smoke grazed the twilit sky, and the humidity had withered with the evening. As I sucked in breath after rattling breath, I imagined myself a wildfire\u2014breathing without pause, churning oxygen and kindling into ash. Within the lung they cheered, a battle won, and I rolled onto my back to face the cosmos. It was nice here in the valley, where the smoke had not yet fallen. Could be for a while yet. Not long enough for Galen, not forever. But maybe long enough for me to learn to breathe again.\n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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Chris Lombardo <\/strong>is a writer from Upper Darby, Pennsylvania. He lives in Chicago, where he is currently pursuing an MFA in Northwestern’s Litowitz Program. His fiction can be found in EPOCH Magazine<\/em> and Ovunque Siamo<\/em>. He can be found on Twitter, so long as it exists, at @canonicalchris, and on his website: sunsetoverithaca.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The day we became certain of the end, Galen threw everyone a party in the iron lung. We each brought beer and a standard deck of cards, the former swiped from parents\u2019 stashes and the latter from wherever we could find. Completeness was no object, his invite had assured; with enough cards, enough of us, … <\/p>\n
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