War Kids (6 page)

I rush down the stairs to give the blanket to my brother. I don’t want my anger anywhere near his blanket. I lift up Lucas’ arm and place it underneath. He will feel better for having it, I tell myself. Brushing his hair to the side again, I kiss him softly and lean over to my mother and kiss her one last time. I close my eyes.

Dear Lord… please take my mother and brother to a refreshing land of freedom, peace and joy. Let them pass to you unharmed through the gates of Heaven to dwell with the blessed in light. Let them rise with all the saints to inherit your eternal kingdom. I ask you, Lord, to protect my family. Amen.

“I love you,” I say. Then I turn and walk away.

ZAK

Army tracks surround the factory where my father works.

Fucking hell, they’ve been here.

Hundreds of boots have left tread marks in the drying, sandy ground. Between the tracks there are mixtures of different footprints, and then weird lines, like people have been unwillingly dragged somewhere.

Jesus, I hope Father wasn’t one of them.

There is a lone white sneaker in the middle of the path with splatters of blood on it. It’s not my father’s shoe, thank God.

This building is not on fire and not even smoldering. In fact, it looks out of place. All the other structures are charcoal black, and this is white with windows. It feels wrong.

Before, this was the ugliest one in the village; now it’s the only one standing. The whole place is silent. From the markings on the ground, it looks like the army has been here and left.

I slowly look through the open door, expecting to see bodies on the floor. But there is no one.
Phew.
I let out a sigh of relief. The factory corridor is empty.

My heart is beating so loudly, I feel as if it is screaming to the soldiers. I take in a deep breath. I walk into the corridor; flashes of the horror in the school hallways keep appearing in front of my eyes. But there is no blood here, and the silence is deafening.

My father used to bring me here when I was little. Then, as I got older, I’d pop by on the way home for money and candy. I wish I was just coming to ask for some money now.

All the machines are off. I’ve never heard the factory this quiet before.

I head over to the area where my father works. His station is empty. He isn’t there. No one is. I check the dining area… empty. I check the main offices… nothing.

Scared to my soul, I have to check the bathroom. I swing open the door, preparing for the worst. I have one foot in and the other in the corridor ready to run away, but my preparation is wasted. It too is completely empty. This whole place is vacant. Where is everyone?

I walk out of the factory, confused. Where is everyone, where is my father? I kick the dust on the ground. Whose shoe was on the floor? There is a track beside it….

I follow the path, and it soon becomes clear that the tracks have been made by someone who is injured. There are specks of blood. The trail goes around the side of the building and then disappears into the woods.

I stare at the bushes up ahead, looking for any kind of movement. But the shrubs just dance in the wind. The injured person must be in there; maybe they’ll have a clue as to where my father is.

Then I hear a whimpering, a very low moaning, like an injured animal.

The bushes are moving in a different direction from the others blowing in the wind. I can see that this particular shrub is darker, like someone is hiding in the shadows.

I cautiously step forward, not wanting to scare whoever is hiding there. “Hello, I mean you no harm. I am Zechariah Shahzad, the son of Reuben Shahzad. Are you okay?”

Nothing happens for a few seconds, and then the bushes begin to move again. I step closer and lean over to see a thin man lying on the ground with a gunshot wound in his leg.

The top of his pants are covered in blood, and drip marks show on the lower part of his leg. He gives me a hopeful look.

His face is worn and covered in wrinkles. I can see he was once a happy man.

He has smile wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, like hundreds of tiny spider webs. Mud, dirt, and dried blood sticks in the canyons now. The man is around my height, but he looks like a bag of bones, frail and hungry.

“Hello, sir. I am Zechariah. Everyone calls me Zak. Are you okay?”

The man reaches out his hand to me. I take a firm hold and help him off the muddy ground.

“Sir, do you know where my father is?”

The man struggles to steady himself, leaning to one side, unable to put pressure on his left leg.

“They took him. They took them all,” he finally mumbles.

“Where did they take him?”

The man shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know, dear boy. I don't know.”

“Who took him?” I quickly ask.

“The soldiers. They took them all except me.”

“Why didn’t they take you?”

The man lowers his bald head in shame.

“Because… because I'm old and useless,” he stutters, embarrassed by the words coming out of his mouth.

“What do you mean, 'because you are useless'? I have to know everything if I’m going to find my father.”

The man begins to tell me everything that happened:

“It was a normal day in the factory. We’d just begun work, and over the speaker system there was an announcement. ‘Gentlemen, today you have a choice... to protect your family or murder your family.’ Everyone immediately stopped what we were doing and turned off the machines.

“We wondered if we'd heard correctly. We all looked up to the office windows above us where the speaker system was, and the window was filled with soldiers dressed in their combat uniforms with their sleeves rolled up, holding rifles in their hands for everyone to see.

“In the middle, the Captain was holding the microphone, wearing a red beret with a gold badge. The doors opened to the factory floor, and soldiers marched in, one after another. It was like the whole country’s army was there with rifles in their hands.

“‘Gentlemen, hard working men, you have a choice. Come with me quietly, or you and your families will all be killed.’

“Everyone froze in their tracks with their feet cemented to the ground, turning their heads from side to side staring at their co-workers, not knowing what to do.

“I looked back up to the window where the captain was, but he was gone. Like a phantom, he had disappeared, but then he reappeared on the factory floor.

“‘Time to go!’ the Captain ordered. No one moved. He shot me in the leg, and I fell to the ground. Everyone was frozen except your father. He was at the station next to me, and he dove over and placed his arm around me. ‘Go now, or you’ll be shot like the old man!’ the Captain yelled. They all hurried to the door, terrified. Your father... he stayed kneeling down at my side. The Captain walked over to him and asked, ‘Do you have a family?’

“‘Yes,’ replied your father.

“‘Then you have a choice,' the captain said ‘Stay with this old, worthless man and die with him, or come with us now.’ I told your father to go. He had no choice.

“He looked down at me with a tear in his eye and said, ‘I’m sorry. I have to do this for my family.’ And then he left with the Captain.”

JADA

Turning on my heels, I walk inside the family home. The door bangs shut, and it’s like the world outside is gone, like nothing is real anymore. The old Jada died when I kissed my family and sent them off to heaven. My life has changed forever. I can hear the demons in my mind, wanting revenge. I’m too tired to argue with them, so they become distant background noise.

My stomach begins to rumble, taking me away from the monsters in my head. When was the last time I ate? Like a zombie, I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge door, taking out sliced ham, cheese, and butter. I get a plate and two slices of bread, but when I open the butter, it’s melted. I make a sandwich with potato chips on the side. I’m thirsty, so I pour myself a glass of orange soda.

I take everything into the front room and set it on the table. It’s sandwich and television time. I try to turn it on, but nothing happens. The power is off.
Great.
I sit on the sofa and finish my sandwich. It’s weird… I feel like I’m not here, it’s as if my body has taken over because my mind has shut down. I have to snap out of it and find my father. I need a plan.

Father taught me to be prepared for anything. I need to get ready for the journey ahead of me.

Heading to the cupboard, I take Father’s big, black backpack down and empty everything from it. The smell of rotten food wafts out, like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages. The bag is full of pockets – this will be perfect. It feels like I’m acting, as if someone has taken over my brain, blocking it from the trauma of the death outside. It’s scary to feel out of control, but it’s better than reality.

I take a mini leather case from the top shelf and set it by the bottom of the stairs… I’ll sort that out later. Next, I take down a small tin Mother showed me when Father was kidnapped. “Jada, if anything happens, take everything from here. Do you understand?”

Inside are Mother's, Father’s, Lucas’ and my passports, as well as two hundred dollars. I’ve never had this amount of money before. The most I've had was ten dollars that I got for my birthday. There is also a sliver key with a ring on it which reads "62276" on one side, and on the opposite side is an address. I place it back in the tin and put it inside one of the backpack pockets to keep it safe.

Like a robot following my father’s orders, I move on to the next thing -- food. I open the fridge. This food will not last long in my backpack.

I make a pile of sandwiches and wrap them up in foil. I take an apple and then head over to the cupboard and take some crackers, potato chips, and cereal bars. I need light foods that will last. I pour some Cheerios into a bag.

There are some crackers with cheese spread in them – Lucas’ favorite snacks. I grab them all. There hasn't been much food since all the prices went up and we cut back on eating, saving this kind of food as a luxury.

I take some candles from the next cupboard, a box of matches, and the travel first aid kit.
Perfect.
I open it to check that everything is in there.
Water… I have to pack water
. I take a bottle from the side, making sure nothing spills out. My father’s survival instructions ring through my head as I prepare everything. It’s almost as if he’s here with me. I know he’s not really… but it helps.

Carefully I place everything in the backpack, filling every space at the bottom. I’ll need room for clothes on the top. I add the water bottle to the side mesh pocket, closing the drawstring.

That was tiring work. I place the bag by the front door and make a quick stop at the restroom.

Shifting my attention toward getting clean, I turn the taps on for a bath and run to my room to grab some fresh clothes. Mother always said layers are the key to staying warm, so I take some of everything.

I shove the clothes, along with the toilet paper, into the bag at the bottom of the stairs. I throw a thin jacket over the top of it. I take the little leather suitcase in the hall and set it in my bedroom. I will sort that out after my bath. Following my parents' routines helps me to disconnect from the world.

It’s bath time. I strip down, and it becomes clear how much I need to bathe. Looking in the bathroom’s full length mirror, I appear almost like I’m still wearing clothes. My fingernails are covered in mud, and my hands are black with dirt and dried blood.

I notice something I hadn’t spotted before… a square white bandage, about 2 inches by 2 inches, on my arm. I peel it back to see my white skin under it, along with angry bruises and a needle hole.

They must’ve put something in me when I was in the hospital. I rip the bandage off, throwing it in the trash. I check the rest of my body. No more surprises, just dirt, bruises, and lots of small cuts. This hot bath is going to sting like crazy when I get in. I fill it with the last of the bubble bath so hopefully I can clean the smell of death out of my nostrils.

After the bath, I decide to rest in my bedroom for the last time.

GERARD

“Gérard, where are you?” Faith suddenly wakes from her unconscious state. God, it’s nice to hear her voice.

“I’m here, Faith. Calm down, it's okay,” I try to reassure her. I kneel down, brushing her hair from her face.

Faith tries to sit up, holding her bandaged arm, but falls back down onto the bed, wincing in agony. I hate to see her in pain. She pretends to be tough, but I know my Faith is really a softy.

“Gérard, where are they taking us? What about the children? Did they get out?”

“Faith, you need to rest. You are safe. The UN came, and they are taking us to the hospital,” I tell her.

“What do you mean ‘the UN came’?” Panic fills her voice. I don’t understand why she is upset.

“You took a bad hit to the head,” I tell her. “You have a concussion, and you need to rest.” She’s going to have a nasty scar, but her hair will hide most of it. I don’t tell her this part.

“No, you don’t understand! I told Jada to run. I told her to run!” Faith screams at me.

“Why did you tell her to run?” I ask, confused.

“When the soldiers came in, I told her to run. I thought it was the rebels.” Tears roll down her face. “I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. I heard their heavy boots stomping on the ground, so… I told her to run. I thought they would take her and force her to be a soldier or sell her as a child bride.” Faith is unable to control her emotions anymore and explodes into tears. She is crumbling in front of my eyes at the thought of what is happening to Jada.

“Jada asked me to protect her. I sent her out into the wild, and they will get her!” she sobs.

She’s right. Jada will not be able to survive out there on her own. She’s just a child.

“She will be okay,” I say reassuringly.

“You know she won’t be okay! Don’t lie to me! She’ll starve to death, or they’ll find her!” Faith yells.

She’s right. Jada will die out there, or worse. Faith made Jada a promise, so it basically means I made a promise as well. If anyone can find her I can, but time is running out. I just hope Jada’s got some sense about her and hides.

“I’ll find her,” I promise. Faith will never be able to live with herself if I don’t. I have to find her. Jesus, I have found terrorists all around the world, surely I can find one girl.

“What do you mean you will find her?” Faith looks confused with my reply.

Fuck Fuck Fuck! Hold it together!

“You know, I was a soldier. I still have contacts, and they owe me a few favors.” She doesn’t need to know any more than this, not now, not ever, or she’ll run at the first chance she gets. I cannot lose her the way I lost Mia.

“Really? Do you think we can find her?”

“I’ll do everything I can, I promise you that.” Leaning over, I kiss Faith on the head. I cannot promise that I will find Jada. She’s been gone for hours. She could have already been taken by the rebels. She could already be dead.

Faith presses her lips together and nods as her eyes fill up.

“Sir, sir? Excuse me, sir.” The silence is broken. I turn around, following the sound. Behind me, sitting on the truck floor, is a young boy around Jada’s age with a bloodied bandage over his eye. He has his arm wrapped around a young girl who is nervously biting her nails.

“Sir,” the boy repeats.

“Yes, what is it son?”

“Sir, did you say the girl’s name was Jada, the one who ran?”

Silence falls once again in the truck. The boy becomes aware that everyone is watching him.

“Yes, her name is Jada.”

“If it’s the same Jada that I went to school with, I know where she lives,” the boy informs us.

Faith is alert at this point. “You know her?” she asks calmly.

“I think so, ma’am. We were at school together, but once the war started, she stopped going. We all did…” The poor kid looks so nervous. “Was Jada about my age?”

Faith and I look at the boy.

“How old are you? She does look around your age, maybe a little younger?” I smile to help make him feel at ease talking to me.

“I’m fourteen. Jada and I were lucky; we look young, I guess. I think that’s how we’re still alive.”

“Where do you think she has gone?” I ask him. Jesus, I hope he has an idea, because he’s my only lead at this point.

“Where we all want to go: we want to go home. She would go home,” he replies without hesitation. He’s right. Where would a scared child go? They would go to the security of their family.

“Do you know where she lives?” Faith asks quickly.

“Yes, in the village next to mine. I once went to a birthday party at her house,” he says. I cannot believe what I’m going to have to ask him.

The poor boy and the girl next to him look like they’ve already been to hell and back.

“Can you show me?” I feel guilty for asking as soon as the question leaves my mouth, but he’s the only hope Jada has.

The boy looks down to his feet.

“Please, I beg you. She’ll die out there on her own,” Faith pleads.

The small girl stops biting her fingernails, or what is left of them, and looks up at us. “He will show you.”

The boy looks over and shakes his head.

“You’re her only hope,” the girl says. “You must. What if it was me who was missing?”

The boy lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I will show you.”