Then Came War (24 page)

“Me either.” Lana sniffled. “And it’s not over. Our life is not over. Someone will come. Someone will come in here and …”

The door opened and the sunlight burst though.

“See,” Lana said of the shadowy figure. “See, someone is here to help.”

It was soldier and he walked in. But he wasn’t there to help, he was aiming at them.

Lana breathed out heavily. “Oh, God.”

“What?” Ben asked.

The soldier shouted something in a language she didn’t understand.

Quickly Lana reached for her weapon, but it was awkward since it was behind her and Ben’s head rested on her lap. “Don’t shoot,” she pleaded and then saw his face.

He was just a boy, no older than nineteen.

“My husband is hurt.” Lana’s free arm reached around and she felt the rifle.

But Lana never got a chance to bring her weapon forward or to engage the chamber.

The soldier fired. More than he needed to. He fired a rapid spray that was aimless and wayward, sending bullets into the floor, then into Ben and finally ripping into Lana.

She peered down, then lifted her eyes and looked at the soldier. Then Lana fell forward onto Ben.

***

Harry had made it to the top of the stairs, pushing his way through and into the hall of the school.

He was beyond frantic. He hoped above all hope that Tyler was grabbed by a Marine, but he didn’t see him. And when he was told to get back into the school, Harry took another way out.

He had to find Tyler.

The bus that was loading people was still in the back of the school and Harry slipped by it, calling out, “Tyler! Tyler!”

But was he heard over the gunfire?

It was all too reminiscent to Harry, memories of street wars that he had seen in his life. He was in the back of the school and he could only hear the battle. Thus far, it hadn’t reached there and Harry felt safe to keep calling for Tyler.

Tyler said he had to get the box and the only place it could be was George’s house. He had brought it home the night before from the library.

George's house was close, just a short walk or run.

He ran from the school, taking the long way around to avoid town. Harry was certain that when he found Tyler, he’d have to hide with the boy. It was far too dangerous to go into town.

“Tyler!” Harry yelled. It was getting tough. His legs were tiring and he was getting winded.

But he got to George’s street and his calls were more easily heard. “Tyler! Harry had to slow down. He limped some, catching his breath as he neared George’s house. “Tyler!” On George’s lawn he bent over to stabilize his rapid breathing, rest just a few seconds and then go into the house.

“Harry!” Tyler yelled.

`Smiling, Harry lifted his head. Tyler was standing at George door.

“I found it.” Tyler grinned. He used his body to push open the screen door and the big box was wrapped in his arms. “Look, Harry, I got it!”

“Stay there.” Harry lifted his hand. “We have to get inside.”

“Why?” Tyler asked, racing down the steps of the porch to Harry. “I got the …”

Bang.

Harry’s eyes widened at the sound of the shot and he watched in horror as Tyler was hit so hard by the bullet, it sailed his small body back ten feet and the child landed on the ground with a thump.

Harry raced to Tyler, screaming out a heartbroken and deep, “No!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He wheezed and his chest hurt worse than when he got hit with a ball during the last little league game. And when Tyler lifted his head, it hurt, too. He was afraid, really afraid to look down at his chest. He had played enough video games. The last he remembered was feeling a tremendous hit to his chest and flying back. He passed out when his head connected to the ground.

But he had to look. He had to see how bad it was because it really hurt.

He opened his eyes, but had to keep them squinted. Wind whipped around him blowing dirt in his face. It took him a moment to realize it was a helicopter.

Then he lifted his head and peeked.

Nothing. His hands felt his chest. No bullet hole, no blood. It hurt like heck, but why was he not bleeding? Then he saw it.

The box.

It lay next to him and Tyler rolled to his side. A grin wide and bright smeared across his face when he saw was sticking in the top of the box.

It was a bullet.

Harry said there was something about that box and there was.

“Harry!” Tyler called brightly. “Harry, check this out.” He scurried to his knees, then got to his feet and grabbed the box. “The box saved my life. Look here’s the bullet.”

Tyler spun to look for Harry.

He saw him.

Not ten feet from where Tyler had fallen, Harry lay in a pool of his own blood, motionless. His head was turned to the side facing Tyler, his body bloody and tattered, ripped to shreds by bullets.

“No.” Tyler whimpered and ran to Harry, dropping to the ground. His knees slid in the blood and he let go of the box. “No. Harry?” Tyler shook him. “No. Wake up, Harry, wake up.” His little heart broke right then and there. He grabbed on to Harry, lowered his head to Harry’s chest and sobbed.

Harry was all he thought about, he couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t.

Then Tyler felt someone grab his arm.

“Son, we have to get you on the chopper. Now!”

“No, I can’t leave him.” Tyler shook his head and then looked to the soldier who reached for him.

“I’m sorry, you have to go.” The soldier reached for Tyler, but the moment he tried to lift him, Tyler started fighting.

“No!” Tyler screamed. He grabbed hold of Harry and held on for dear life.

“Let go. We have to go!” With a hard jerk, the soldier yanked Tyler into his arms. He held his arm around Tyler’s waist.

Tyler kicked, his hands reached out, the entire time. “Harry! Harry!” he cried, lacing the name with deep sobs.

He was placed in a seat in the helicopter.

“This yours?” the soldier asked and handed him the box.

“It was Harry’s.” Tyler sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” the soldier said solemnly and strapped Tyler in and closed the door.

Tyler could still see out the window. He held onto the box, his vision blurry form the tears, his hand reaching for the window. As the helicopter lifted, he kept watching Harry

***

Judith may not have been able to see very well, but she could hear. It wasn’t long after Foster and Manny left to get the medication, maybe a half an hour, before the young woman died. Her infant son was crying in the arms of a stranger instead of in the arms of a mother he would never know.

The explosions went from constant to occasional, the gunfire from rapid to slow.

Then soon there was only a pop of a gun here and there until suddenly it was silent.

After hours upon hours of gun fire, there was silence at last.

The silence was broken when a lone voice began singing
The Star Spangled Banner
. Then everyone joined in. Judith couldn’t sing. More so than ever before, the song made her cry. She sat alone in the corner of the room, her head down, her arms folded close to her body and cried.

Foster never returned.

Manny never returned.

She heard someone say it was well after three AM, and she was sick to her stomach.

She kept asking, “Has anyone seen Foster? Did he return?”

No one had seen him. Foster would have found her if he had returned.

She allowed herself to feel hopeful when she heard the eruption of cheers in the shelter. But the hope was short lived. It was US soldiers and allied forces saying that the battle above them was over and they had pushed the enemy back.

They were evacuating the bomb shelter.

Angeline took hold of Judith’s arm and told her she was helping her out. As she started to go, Judith stopped. “I need the notebook. Can you go see if Foster left his notebook in our room please? He wrote in it all the time.”

“Sure,” Angeline said. “I’ll be right back.”

Judith rubbed her arms. Her entire being ached for a boy she had met not long ago but ended up loving as if she had known him a lifetime. They had shared quite a bit.

“Here,” Angeline said. “It’s right here.” She placed the notebook in Judith’s hand.

Judith embraced it as if it were Foster and placed her lips to the edge of the pages.

“Let’s go.” Angeline guided her.

Judith only nodded. She was guided by Angeline out of the shelter. The entire way out, instead of cheering like the others, Judith wept.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THREE MONTHS LATER

Las Vegas, NV

‘And this whole place smells like hand sanitizer.’ Foster had written in the notebook. ‘I wonder if she’s drinking it to get a buzz.’

Judith laughed at that line. She adjusted her glass. They were thick as coke bottles but at least she was able to see. Every day she read a little of his journal and prayed for Foster.

Her daughter Linda was unbelievably thankful that Judith was alive and grateful to a boy she didn’t get a chance to thank.

Linda used her connections to try to locate Foster’s body.

But a lot of civilians were burned in the air raids that day and a lot of bodies had been placed in mass graves.

It was just after two and Judith had finished her late lunch. She shut off the television. She was tired of hearing about the war. Russia said this, United States said that. Iran did this. England did that.

It was nonstop fighting.

Nothing was new, at least not in the last week or so.

Taking the last state back seemed to be the most difficult task as one country against the US became three, then four. In fact, there was a time when the enemy forces actually regained a piece of New York.

Judith felt safe on the west side of the country. Excluded from the war, it gained momentum and size every day. Ground forces were in every state.

How long would it be, Judith wondered, before the west was pulled in and hit?

The doorbell rang. That was nothing out of the ordinary, since Linda was always getting packages, things for the bunker she was building.

Grabbing a couple of dollars for a tip, Judith opened the front door.

His back was to her and he wore a baseball cap.

“Hello?” Judith said.

When he turned around, she knew who it was.

She was blind when she met him, but she didn’t need to know what he looked like to know it was him.

She whispered his name with surprise and emotion. “Foster.” Her hand reached for his face and she whimpered.

“Jude. They … I was held prisoner in Jersey,” Foster spoke nervously. “I …told them I had to find you. I had to find Judith Freeman. She had a daughter names Linda in Vegas. They helped me. I ….” he breathed out. “Please tell me the offer still stands.”

Judith sobbed and grabbed him. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to answer. She hugged him to, pulling him inside and held on.

She held on for the longest time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Twenty-Six Years Later

Gaithersburg, MD

“Drink your water.”

“Yes, Daddy.” The little boy was about eight and looked up to his father and accepted the canteen. He took a drink.

“More.”

The little boy took another drink.

“Good boy.” Tyler took the canteen and placed it in his pack. He looked around; He remembered the last time he was in this town not far from Washington DC. It was before is son Joshua was born. Tyler was fighting in the infantry. That was where he gained the nickname ‘Falcon’ for his keen ability to spot things. A name that stuck with him. Gaithersburg was suburbia then; now it was flat. There were remains of buildings long since fallen. No way to find direction, no landmarks.

The road wasn’t overgrown, because nothing really grew. It was dusty and grim.

On this day the sun was bright, but it still didn’t make things better.

Tyler swiped his hand over his forehead; the heat was almost too much to bear and no shade to be found.

“Are you hungry?” Tyler asked.

“No, I’m good.”

He ran his hand over the boy’s hair. His hair was longer and dirty. They hadn’t seen a bathing station in days and knew they probably wouldn’t for a while, at least not until they returned to Virginia. Even there, they were few and far between, but there were more water stations for transients in Virginia than anywhere else.

Eventually Tyler would return home with Joshua. They had a small home in Kentucky, and he had a daughter there. She was with a keeper. But they had a mission to complete first. This was stage two of the mission, and not Josh’s first time leaving the safety of his home.

Tyler’s wife died of the plague when Joshua was two. The plague brought an end to the long war. Everything just stopped.

The fighting ceased.

There was actually nothing left to fight about or over anymore.

Tyler did well that first year after the war, farming tobacco. But a wild fire took a good bit of that from him.

Wild fires took a lot from people the first few years. The wars raged for so long. So many bombs were exploded that the entire ozone layer was compromised.

It was dry everywhere with only small pockets green. People just had to find them and access was limited.

It was time to move on. Travel the roads, eat what they could barter. Stay in transient camps, as most of the United States did. Tyler gathered most of the world lived like that.

Gone were the days of television, computers, electronics, and cars.

There was no more gasoline, because there was no way to get it.

The only way to get news was word of mouth.

Tyler had another purpose and another plan and took his son along to implement it. It was a father son thing. On the first part he took his daughter, on this trip, it was just the men.