War Kids (8 page)

He won’t be happy for much longer. With lightning-fast reflexes, I point the gun toward his face; one last bead of his sweat drops onto my hand. The laughter has stopped, and his eyes look to the gun, then to me.

Who is the prey now, you bastard?

My finger is on the trigger, and adrenaline is running through my body. “Breathe slowly, Jada” my father’s voice rings in my head. A calmness washes over me, like he’s here, teaching me my last lesson.

I aim for the best place I know -- the between-the-eyes kill shot. I squeeze the trigger and exhale. A loud bang, his look of fear, and then his sweat-dripping body falls on top of me.

I hadn’t planned for him to land on me; the weight of his body feels like I’ve been hit by a car. He’s crushing my lungs; it’s becoming harder to breathe.

I reach my arms up, forcing them into the dead man’s stomach and moving my body out from beneath his weight at the same time. From my waist upwards I am free. With the last of the adrenaline in me, I kick his head and shoulders off me.

I did it… I killed a man.

As I Spring up from the floor, my hand and gun are ready for him to get up, like in the horror movies.

But as I look down at the repulsive body, I understand he is not going to miraculously come back to life.

There’s a single bullet wound between his eyebrows, right in the middle of his head.

Good shot!

There is a hole of crimson flesh slowly oozing out blood. His eyes are still open, with the look of fear in them. His tiny childlike mouth is open, with spit seeping out.

Drops of sweat roll off his face onto the floor and his repulsive odor fills my nostrils. The thought of what could’ve happened crosses my mind. He only wanted one thing from me. A shiver runs through my body. How can humans treat each other this way when there is a war going on? All he was thinking about was himself.

I kick him in the head. “Shame on you! I have killed you in this world; now it is time for your maker to judge you,” I shout at his lifeless body.

Lord above, what I have I become? I cannot feel any guilt for what I have done, because I had no choice. But why do I feel ashamed?

Mother and Father told me to protect myself at all costs. This was my only choice, my only salvation. They told me to do it.

This is not the first thing I’ve killed, but it’s the first person. It feels different; wrong and right at the same time.
Lord above, was I right to kill this man?

My body begins to tremble uncontrollably, like I’m going into shock.

I try to stay calm and reassure myself that I did the only thing I could’ve possibly done. It was his life or mine. No question.

“Don’t let his sins weigh on your soul, Jada” my mother’s voice rings in my head.

Trembling, I stagger into the living room where there are some old white and red candy canes in the TV stand. I take one out, place it in my pocket, and then take one more. I sit on the sofa in the same place where Mother had warned me about men like that. Unfortunately, she’d been right.

I refuse to feel bad or guilty for what I’ve done here. He deserves to go to hell.

I know I have to leave. I have to go now.
Lord, I plead with you… don’t send any more in, let me escape from this nightmare.

I unwrap the candy cane and place it into my mouth. The fresh minty taste tickles my taste buds, reminding me of the happy time of Christmas. But this is not the time to daydream.

Wiggling my toes into the carpet, I realize I have no socks or shoes on. I must’ve kicked them off last night. I’d packed my running shoes in my bag in case I had to make a quick exit.

Standing up from the sofa for one last time, I grab a handful of candy canes.

I have a feeling I’ll need a lot more of these.

Walking out of the living room, I look back to the wall with our family photographs from happy times when we were all together, and I savor the memories. I will keep them with me, alive in my mind.

But I need to get out of here now, in case someone else comes. Placing my blue cap on, I decide it’s safer to look like a boy. Plus it will keep my head warm in the night.

Leaving my sins in my once happy home, I take off on my unknown path.

GERARD

“Jada’s house is there,” Anis, the young boy from the truck, informs me. The young girl, whom he told us is actually his sister, stays with Faith at the hospital. He points to a small house with a metal gate.

“Anis, stay in the truck. They’ll keep you safe.” Anis slumps his shoulders. He looks tiny against the UN soldiers. I called in a favor to get them here, and I have a feeling this mission won’t be the last time I ask for help.

Taking my gun, I step out of the truck and open the gate. There is a lady lying on the ground wearing a blue dress with her arm around a small boy.

What?! No!
No… it can’t be… I don’t understand!
Mia is lying dead in front of me, cradling a small boy and flowers. I drop to my knees. Am I seeing a ghost? Is my mind playing tricks on me? What the fuck is going on? Mia died fifteen years ago with León.

She looks beautiful, just like the last time I saw her. But today, her olive skin is pasty white and cold to touch. Her radiant smile is taken from me once again.

So many questions fill my mind, I can barely think.

“Gérard, are you okay? Do you know this lady?” One of the soldiers gets out of the truck and questions me.

“No, soldier. Just checking that they’re not still alive,” I lie.

The soldier looks at me and then at the bodies. It’s clear they’re dead… they are colorless and motionless.

“I’m fine! Get back in the truck. I will check inside!” I order. I am the highest ranking soldier here, and I’m in command.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier yells in response. I cannot let them see me crumble at the sight of my love, my Mia, the woman I’ve loved all my life. After fifteen years I find her again, and she’s dead.

I tell myself to keep moving, and I open the front door.

The stench is overwhelming, and I have to place my hand over my mouth. Flies come swarming from the house, and I step back. With the door wedged open, I can see where the odor is coming from: a decaying male corpse in the hallway.

Many years of war experience have given me a strong stomach, but rotting flesh is one of those gut-wrenching smells that stays with you for the rest of your life, no matter how tough you are.

My hand firmly over my mouth, I walk into the house, eying the foul mess on the floor. This man was shot and killed with one gunshot wound to the forehead. One perfect shot.

Had Jada done this? She had been here? I suspect so, judging by the way Mia and the boy were laid to rest so carefully and lovingly.

Stepping into the living room, I see a wall filled with pictures from happier times. I instantly see León.
What the fucking hell is he doing here?!
The wall is filled with photos of Mia and León with Jada and the young boy. They didn’t die all those years ago!

“No!” I yell. I swipe my arm across the wall, knocking the picture frames. They fly across the room. How could the mother fuckers do this to me! León knew how much I loved Mia! What the hell is going on here?

Slumping down onto their sofa, I’m in shock, unwilling to accept what I’ve just discovered. My love
had
been alive. My
best friend
had been alive, and they’d been
together
. For all these years, they made me believe they were dead.

Picking up one of the pictures, I brush the glass out of the frame. In the photo, Mia and León are standing happily next to each other. Mia’s glowing smile stands out. Next to her, Jada is beaming, just like Mia.

León has his arm around a small boy – the dead boy who is now lying outside. He is a miniature version of León, with his brown hair and brown eyes. They all look so happy. Jada looks a little different than the rest of her family, with her bright blue eyes, while Mia and León have brown.

I
have blue eyes. Could…?

No. I shake my head… it cannot be.

I need to find Jada. She was so close to me, a piece of Mia, and I let her go. Mia is dead, but León could still be alive if he was kidnapped with the other men from the village. He can tell me what the fuck happened!

I will find them.

ZAK

The sun rises slowly, casting sunbeams in every direction and illuminating the destroyed city. It’s a beautiful sight, but I know today will be another horrible day, just like every day this week.

The other older kids are tired, and Haytham's mother grows weaker each day. They have to get to the hospital soon. Haytham's mother is pregnant, and the baby is due at any time. I pray she doesn’t go into labor before she gets to the hospital. Just the thought of it scares me.

What would we do? I’ve seen things about childbirth on TV, but I’m no doctor; and since I'm the oldest here, they’d all look to me. I need to think of a way to get her somewhere safe before this happens, for both of our sakes. I cringe at the thought of what would happen otherwise. This is no world to bring new life into.

The day my brother Ali was murdered was the day I met Haytham. I’d gone to get Tilly from school, and he was there too. It was his last year. His family decided to join me on our journey to tent town. Safety in numbers. It was weird that I became the leader.

Now I sit on the edge of an apartment floor, looking out at the once-bustling city which has turned to ruins. The entire front wall of the building I’m in has been demolished. It's as though the skin has been ripped away from its body, revealing nothing but a skeleton.

When I came to the city with my parents, we’d walk past the high-end luxury apartments, admiring its glory. It was one of the oldest buildings in the town and had just recently been converted into homes for the rich people in the city.

But today it is my home; people fled before the bombing began. At least that’s what we assume, because there are only a few bodies. If they had not fled, there would’ve been thousands.

I try to shield Tilly’s eyes from the sight of the corpses. She is too young to see this horror. I let her choose our room for tonight. Like an open chocolate box, all the apartments are uncovered and exposed, and you can see the grand details inside. My only conditions are that it has to be on the second floor so I can have a good look-out view, and that it has two exits. One is clear, with the front of the building ripped off; the second exit is inside the building, so we are not trapped if anyone comes. And finally, it needs to have a clear line of vision toward our second group.

When Tilly goes to choose a room, it’s like she’s her old self, before the trauma.

A twinkle appears in her eyes, and a smile grows across her sweet face. I choose the street off the main area, but with a clear line in and out of the town. It’s easier than I think to get a clear view, due to the demolished city. It looks like the soldiers came in with their tanks, because there is a path through the city with tracks, overturned cars pushed out of the way, and a few shells on the ground.

Tilly walks up and down the street on our side, and one of the little children in the other group does the same. Early on, the older children decided we’d let the little children choose where we all slept as long as they followed our rules. Really, we limited the options to the safest choices, but they’re too young to understand what we're doing. But with everything else being taken away, we wanted to give them something, something as trivial as this, and it is helping.

I guess which apartment she’ll choose - the one with the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The morning sunshine will hit it, creating a beautiful show before they go to sleep. There is a large bed that looks like it can fit four children.

It looks comfortable, with its white lining, and so inviting, like we’ll have happy dreams even after the horrors we’ve seen. There is space on the floor for extra beds so we can all be together. It looks like a room out of a Hollywood story… very different than what I’m used to back home.

But I would sell my soul to go back there. We all would.

Tilly’s eyes glitter with excitement when she spots the apartment. “This one, this one!” she squeals, jumping up with girly joy. “It looks perfect for us, and we can all fit. I wonder what goodies are in there for us.”

The first day we left our village, she didn’t want to go into any other people’s houses. She said we were stealing, even though everyone was gone. But when she started to get hungry we had no choice… we had to go into someone’s home and take some food.

The village was empty and we waited, watching the house to see if anyone came in or out. But no one did. The front door was open. I knocked, but no one answered. We entered. We looked around the house, but it was clear. No one was there. We had some sandwiches – they tasted so good. Food always tastes best when you are starving.

After a bit, we realized no one was coming back, so we decided to stay there. Tilly did not want to sleep in anyone else's bed, so we made beds on the floor in the front room. Things got easier as the nights went by. As we traveled from village to village, Tilly began to understand that no one was coming back, and needed to eat the food in the abandoned homes to survive.

After a few days, we finally started sleeping in the beds. We were always so tired from the day of walking that we would collapse right away.

Once we felt comfortable in each house, we would start to look around for supplies.

When we left our village, we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. Tilly began telling me to get some clean clothes every time we arrived at a different home.

The first time she finally loosened up, she ordered me around like she was my mother. “Go change your pants and T-shirt, and don’t forget your socks and underwear,” she said.

“Yes, boss,” I playfully yelled to her, raising my right arm to my head, saluting her. She laughed.

“Now go and get changed!”

I did as instructed.

Since that day, Tilly would always look for a girl’s bedroom in each "new" home and see what new clothes she could get.

We didn’t have much when we were growing up, but we were happy. It was interesting to see what things other kids had. Tilly looked for nail polish and jewelry, and she loved girls' clothing and colorful tutus.

“Give me a hand,” Tilly says. She’s excited to get into her new room for the day. Stepping up on the rubble beneath my feet, I carefully make a path for the young kids. Tilly has her hand stretched out, ready to go first. She likes to be the leader.

Cement crumbles from the building as I carefully lift her safely into the room, trying to prevent her from scratching herself on the metal poles that stick out of the rubble.

“Yikes,” Tilly squeals with excitement. “Zak, Zak.”

“One second.” I hoist the last of the children into the room. When I climb inside, Tilly is spinning around like a princess who has just put on a gown for the ball, like in those silly movies she loves to watch.

The room is truly beautiful, with a huge chandelier hanging there just waiting for the sunshine to hit.
God, Ali would punch me if I said that out loud!

Tilly takes the hands of the younger kids and spins them around, laughing. I take Tilly's hand and twirl her around. We all giggle uncontrollably, just like kids again.

“Good choice, Tilly,” I say, and everyone agrees.

I leave the kids to enjoy the apartment, as I wander to a window and look up and down the road for strangers. I nod at Haytham.

Watching the sun rise, I angle my mirror to find the sun and turn it to the direction of Haytham, reflecting the sunbeam onto him so the bolt of light hits his face. This is our signal to warn each other of danger, and also to keep us awake on our shift. We all know how important it is to stay awake. Everyone’s lives depend on it.

“Yes, I got him first!”

Haytham shines the light back at me, smiling. Carefully placing the mirror on the ground where he sits, Haytham picks up his camera and spies me through the lens.

Haytham has dreamed of being a photographer since the day his mother gave him his first digital camera. When the war began, she told him that this was his time to document the events through a child’s eyes. He hopes one day his photos will make him famous so he can get his family out of this hell.

The horizon creates waves on the ground, and my eyes burn and become blurry from staring so hard. I hold them closed for several moments, and when I reopen them the horizon has changed. There is a silhouette in it.

I blink a few times and shake my head. Then I look again… it’s still there. Silently and quickly, I pick up the mirror, find a ray of sunshine, and beam it over to Haytham.

Haytham is a good lookout who protects his mother, younger sister and the other children. He’s already alert and has also spotted the silhouette.

I can’t tell what the mysterious shape is, but it seems to be moving closer. Then it splits in half in front of my eyes. I squint for a better look, placing my hand over my eyebrows to create a shield from the sun.

It is a person and a dog. Shining the mirror to Haytham, I hold up one finger to indicate that it is one person. Haytham shines it back to confirm the same.

Haytham and I planned for events like this and what we’d do. We hoped it wouldn’t happen; it was like fire drills at school, where we learn to be ready just in case. I watch Haytham as he gently nudges his pregnant mother. Rest is important to her, but she’s the only adult, so in times like this it is important that we wake her.

She stands up and moves next to her son, watching the dark silhouette on the horizon.