Mercy (The Last Army Book 1) (4 page)

Staying put might not have been such a terrible idea after all.

The extent of the tragedy that had taken place hit me with every block we left behind. The few buildings left standing seemed like battered dollhouses, their tasteful brick facades or floor-to-ceiling windows shattered and lying in heaps along the sidewalk, exposing crumbling interiors. Some of the buildings slanted at impossible angles, defying gravity… at least for the time being. We tiptoed under their shadows. I feared the stomping of our feet would be all it would take to bring them down.

Dozens of people with blood streaming down their faces emerged from the dust cloud which covered the streets, holding injured body parts and screaming for help. Every so often, vaguely human sounds could be heard from within the wrecked buildings.

I felt the urge to ask Mr. Jenkins—who’d taken over our class—for permission to check for survivors. None of my classmates seemed to be aware of the faint moaning coming from the wreckage, though. Either I was the only one who heard the noises, or they were very good at hiding their concern. Maybe it really was all in my head, since even with my nostrils clogged with dust I thought I could smell the stench of spilled guts and pooling blood nearby.

“Hey, Lala, can you hear that?” I asked Karla, leaning toward her as we walked by the wrecked buildings.

“What?” she asked, staring at the fractured pavement.

“I don’t know. Sounds like someone’s hurt.”

“Maybe it’s one of the guys up ahead.” She nodded in the direction in which our injured schoolmates were being carried. “I’m sure they’ll be fine once we reach St. Anne’s.” She rubbed her shivering hands as she walked. “I just… God, I just hope Tom pulls through. I know my dad can get him looked at straight away… when we get there.” She closed her eyes and failed to stifle a sobbing spell.

My mind raced for something to say that would cheer her up, but I kept stumbling over thoughts of my own parents. Sometimes it might’ve felt as though we went for days without crossing paths, with them treating our apartment more like a hotel room than a home, but during the few hours we spent together, they always tried their best to make me feel loved. I remembered trading beauty tips with Mom, watching movies with Dad… just talking about whatever I felt like talking about.

There was no time for self-reflection, though, as we had to be on the lookout for cars and clumps of debris strewn along the road, hindering our journey to the hospital. Again and again, we ran into streets in which the rubble was heaped up to ten feet or higher, and the shambling procession of students and teachers had to skirt around it, only to find the next street blocked as well. At every intersection, it wasn’t ruined buildings that barred our way but heaps of twisted steel and broken glass where cars—sometimes more than a dozen—piled up in burning wrecks.

I watched with morbid interest the outcome of an especially gruesome crash when I spotted a blue minivan with one of those “Baby on Board” stickers on its cracked rear window. Concern overtook me, and as we marched by the pileup, I scurried over to the smashed vehicle and wiped the dirty passenger window to take a look inside. I instantly regretted my decision.

A young woman sat behind the wheel, her beige slip dress and light-blond hair spotted with blood… and her brains scattered across the dashboard. Splotches of bright-red blood and gore gelled on the busted windshield, the same color as the solar eclipse that was still lingering in the sky almost three hours after the earthquake had ended.

I breathed in short gasps as my throat tightened and my heart fluttered in my chest. The woman’s gruesome remains didn’t bother me as much as I would’ve thought, but the empty baby seat in the back was a different story. I frantically swiped the rear-side window and pressed my face against the murky glass until I could make out a baby-shaped figure lying on the carpet. I covered my mouth with my filthy hands to muffle the piercing shriek escaping my lips.

“Hey, wait a second!” I screamed to my oblivious classmates already several feet away as I yanked on the van’s door handle. Locked. I desperately searched for something to break the glass with and found a chunk of concrete the size of my head. I slammed it at the window by the passenger’s side. My wrists stung from the impact, but the glass burst and spilled onto the empty passenger seat, far away from the baby. I unlocked the sliding door, pushed it away, and crawled inside the minivan.

“Come on, Becca! What are you—”

Finally noticing my absence, Karla had come to fetch me but froze in place a few feet away as I emerged from the minivan with a baby cradled in my arms.

The little guy couldn’t have been more than a few months old, his tiny light-blue polo shirt and khaki shorts baggy on his small, pale body. I barely felt his weight as I held him in my shivering arms. Thin lines of blood trailed from his mouth and nose.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I staggered toward Karla. Her feet remained planted firmly on the ground, but her body leaned away from me, as if she wanted to run away.

“Do you think he might still…?” I tried to ignore the limpness of the baby’s stubby arms and feet, the coldness of his skin… all that blood.

“Oh, Jesus…” Karla covered her mouth with both hands and whimpered, but soon regained enough composure to stretch out a hand toward the baby’s neck. She jerked it back right away.

“Put him back, Becca.” She turned her face away, sobbing into her hands.

I walked back to the minivan, crying, taking care not to stumble on the scattered rubble as I dragged my unsteady feet. I laid the baby in his car seat and reached for the plushy white blanket sprawled on the van’s floor to cover his pale, blood-streaked face. As I lifted the blanket I found a small stuffed monkey beneath it. The dumb smile sewn on its face seemed to mock me, and I felt the urge to toss it away, but instead I placed it in his owner’s arms and covered them both with the blanket.

I stepped outside the minivan and wiped the tears off my cheeks before shutting the door. Steadying my breathing, I hurried to Karla, who stood where I'd left her. She wept and clasped her hands as if praying. I’d barely reached her when the sound of rapid stomping approached us. One of our classmates materialized out of the dust cloud.

“Hey, what the hell—are you guys coming or not?” He tried to catch his breath. “What, you found a cute handbag in there or something?”

I strode up to him without saying a word, my face flushing as my grief turned to anger. Somehow, I managed to contain my burning desire to sock him straight in his stupid mouth and settled instead for shoving him to the ground.

“Shut up. Just shut up,” I said, trembling with rage and breathing heavily as I looked into his eyes. He frowned at me as he got back on his feet.

“Crazy bitch.” He brushed off his clothes and walked away.

I stormed after him, but Karla grabbed my arm. I turned back to face her, and the sight of her hazel eyes shimmering with tears doused the fire burning inside of me.

“Let it go.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

I didn’t answer, but I didn’t struggle, either. She let go of me. I gave the minivan one last tearful glance before marching back to our classmates.

With all recognizable landmarks flattened during the earthquake, and our hazy surroundings barely lit up by the crimson glow of the solar eclipse, it was hard to tell how much progress we’d made in our tortuous march to the hospital. Besides, my thoughts still lingered on the baby, wondering how long it would be until he and his mother got a proper burial. I soon lost track of all the twists and turns we made as we bypassed every blocked street.

I sighed with relief as the familiar oak trees and short, cast-iron fences of a small park came into view. I’d spent hundreds of hours at that park with Karla when we were kids. St. Anne’s was just a few blocks away now.

Karla squeezed my hand. “Oh, thank God.” She gave a joyous smile, showing her unnaturally white teeth.

“Yeah, almost there.” I mirrored her smile.

We found even more reasons to be happy as we met with the first signs of government presence since the disaster had struck. It was hardly an impressive operation, though. There was only a squad of soldiers—probably a National Guard unit that happened to be in the area—directing people toward the safety of the park. Many of the people had been injured, and they lay down on the park’s narrow benches or on the trimmed grass along the pathways.

Principal Wong’s lanky figure stuck out from within the crowd gathered there. He smiled as he talked with one of the soldiers, pointing every so often at the students assembled at the edges of the park, but the thick streams of sweat running down his face made his desperation clear. The soldier shook his head without smiling back.

Mr. Jenkins directed us to an empty space on the curb next to the other students. He whipped out the list he’d made back at the school’s parking lot and called out our names. Everyone was accounted for.

“All right, people. I’ll need you guys to stick together and wait for me while I go and see what’s going on, okay?” He sprinted toward the principal.

We immediately proceeded to ignore his directions. Almost half the class rushed after him as soon as he turned his back. The other half was too scared to question orders. The people at the park flocked around the soldiers, demanding answers.

“Where should we go? What’s happening?” a woman asked a young soldier at the edge of the crowd.

Everyone around her echoed her questions. The soldier couldn’t even manage to speak and only stared wide-eyed at the desperate people surrounding him as held tightly onto his rifle. The poor guy didn’t look much older than me. His face seemed smooth even under the layer of grime coating it. He didn't seem to have any privileged information on the ongoing disaster.

I took a deep breath and shoved my way through the desperate mob, hoping to get some answers from the older soldier arguing with the principal. I looked over my shoulder and waved at Karla, urging her to follow me, but she just stood at the edge of the crowd. She leaned away from the struggling bodies, arms raised against her chest as if expecting to be attacked by them.

Meanwhile, the older soldier ended his argument with Principal Wong and motioned for the people surrounding him to quiet down. Despite being shorter than the principal, the man’s thick, muscular neck and broad shoulders gave him an imposing presence. It wasn’t long before the crowd ceased its barrage of questions, allowing the man to speak.

“We cannot ascertain at this time the nature of the disaster since we have been unable to operate any communication devices. That being said, you can rest assured efforts are being made to implement an effective evacuation procedure.”

Oh, come on…

In short, he didn’t know anything either. Still, his convoluted speech satisfied the crowd somewhat. Official-sounding words from a man in uniform could have that effect on some people. At least, Mr. Wong made the most of the lull and managed to address the soldier before the crowd swarmed him with pointless questions again.

“Listen, umm… Sergeant?” he said, staring at the insignia on the man's sleeve. “My students and I are pushing on to the hospital. Some of them are gravely injured and can’t afford to wait until your orders come through. If it’s all right with you, we can take some of the wounded you’ve got here with us.”

I looked around, expecting a wave of enthusiasm for Mr. Wong’s plan. Instead, I found myself enveloped in the droning buzz of insecure murmuring.

Mr. Jenkins made his way through the crowd, staring straight at me. He combed his thinning black hair with his hand, and I assumed he was getting ready to give me a verbal beat-down for not staying put with the rest of the class.

That wasn’t something I looked forward to, so I rushed through the gaps in the mob, taking occasional glances at the furious teacher struggling to keep up. I should’ve paid more attention to where I was going, since I soon ran straight into a lamppost.

“Oww… damn, that hurt!” I clutched my throbbing ear as I turned toward the offending object.

Oh, crap. No way!

It must’ve been fate—a very cruel and stupid fate. Right away, I recognized the warm brown eyes looking down at me, as well the apologetic smile on the man’s stubbled face. When I literally ran into him that morning in the station, I’d mistaken his chest for a brick wall. When banging the side of my head against his arm, I took it for a lamppost. Despite not being overly bulky, Martin was obviously a very solidly built guy. His well-defined muscles were outlined clearly under his white shirt, now stained with dirt and sweat.

“I’m sorry, are you—?” Martin cut his apology short, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s you. Rebecca, isn’t it? Hey, I’m glad you’re safe.” He smiled, showing two rows of perfectly straight teeth.

I combed my dirty, greasy hair behind my ears, which felt as if they were on fire. The heat spread to my cheeks and to the tip of my nose. A cold layer of perspiration covered my palms. I wanted to cry even as a weak chuckle escaped my lips.

“Yeah, I—thanks. You too. I… I have to go.” I rushed past him, my eyes fixed on my grimy sneakers.

Stupid… so stupid…

I didn’t raise my face until I reached my classmates, gathered at the edge of the park. Karla had already joined them and rushed to meet me. She frowned with concern when she took a glance at my face.

“What’s wrong, Becca? Did the army guys say what’s going on?”

I stared at her for a few seconds, but someone tugged at my shoulder before I could form a coherent thought. It was Mr. Jenkins. His face gleamed with sweat as he started scolding me, occasionally looking around to address the others.

I couldn’t hear a word he said. His harsh-sounding speech went right through me, my brain still focused on my humiliating exchange with Martin. I peeked at him whenever Mr. Jenkins focused his attention on someone else. Martin had gathered a sizeable group around him—probably more than fifty people—and was discussing with them what must’ve been his plans for the immediate future. Even as some members of his group got all worked up and even yelled at him, he never lost his composure. He certainly didn’t run away, flushing with embarrassment, like a certain someone had done.

Mr. Jenkins interrupted his rant mid-sentence as one of my classmates hesitantly pointed out that the other classes had begun to move toward the hospital. He checked that all of us were present again, and we took our places in the column. Large clusters of people trailed behind us, carrying with them most of the injured people. I didn’t fail to notice that Martin’s group had joined us as well.

Not the soldiers, though. They stayed behind, struggling to reassure the few hundred panicked citizens left the park. That was their loss. It wasn’t as if we’d need an armed escort to cross the couple of blocks between the park and St. Anne’s. I made a fist around my silver cross and kissed my knuckles, hoping we wouldn’t run into any trouble along the way.