by HJ Lawson
Father and I were out in the garden, and the birds were singing all around us. It was a beautiful summer day, and I loved days like that when it was just the two of us. I chuckled to myself at the irony of appreciating how beautiful nature was while I was heading off to the woods to catch something for lunch. But it seemed right. We were hungry, and God put food on the earth for us.
Checking that no one was around, Father placed the handgun into the palm of my hand. It was heavier than I thought it would be, but I could carry it just fine. It fit my hand like a well-tailored glove. Carefully, I wrapped my fingers around it. “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded yet,” Father told me.
But I wasn’t worried, not one little bit. I felt alive.
I gripped the textured handle in my right hand, pointing the barrel down to the dancing green grass. My thumb rested on one side, with my pinky finger on the handle. My hand began to tremble because I was holding it too tightly. I relaxed my shoulders a little, and the shaking stopped. It was a bit weird, but I felt like I’d held a gun before, like I knew what to do with it.
My father watched me closely. “You’re a natural. I guess you take after me. Let’s see if your target skills are natural as well.” He looked proud of me, but also uncomfortable.
I wondered why… I knew he was in the army for a long time, but he never talked about it.
“Watch me… this is how you should stand,” he said.
I watched him intensely as he stood with his feet about shoulder-width apart, his arms extended.
I copied my father as he went through the motions and got into the same stance as him. Father reached out his hand. “Pass me the gun, time to add the bullets and practice.”
Whoa, bullets! Best day ever.
Father loaded the ammunition in the chamber by pulling back the slide. I watched him and tried to memorize each step.
He passed me the gun, pointing it down to the ground. “Be careful, it’s loaded.”
I took the gun from him; it felt a little bit heavier now. As instructed, I kept it pointed it down toward the ground.
Father said, “Raise the gun into position.”
I pointed it at eye level, with the tree as my target.
“Now get a good focus. Take a deep breath, half exhale, and slowly squeeze the trigger.”
I did as he said. The bullet flew out with lighting speed.
A loud bang followed, and all the birds in the tree flew away. The force of the shot made me step back. Lowering my hand to the side, I looked over to my father. He was smiling proudly, and I passed the gun back to him.
“Let’s see where it landed.” We walked over to the tree, looking straight at the point where I was aiming.
“I did it! I did it!” I jumped for joy.
“Jada, you’re a natural! Let’s practice every day. This can be your new schooling,” Father laughed.
Sounds perfect to me!
Before falling asleep, I carefully place a gun under my pillow. My parents had taught me to be prepared for everything.
The day my father first taught me to use a gun, my mother followed through on that conversation with me. When I came back to the house after training, Mother was sitting in the front room. I went and sat next to her. Father nodded and placed the leather briefcase with the gun on the top shelf of the cupboard under the stairs.
Father quickly called Lucas to help him with the chicken wire fence, and they disappeared outside.
I hoped this was not going to be one of those awkward mother-daughter chats; that would put a damper on my day. We sat on the brown sofa in the front room; our house was one of the smallest in the village, but suddenly it felt even smaller. I sensed that this was going to be an important conversation, maybe not to me, but to her.
She patted the space beside her, indicating I should move closer. I shuffled over. She brushed my bangs to the side and tucked the lone piece of hair behind my ear. She smiled at me for a second, making me feel a little uncomfortable. I could tell something was wrong.
Then with her soft, loving voice she began to speak. “Jada, my darling, you are getting older. You’re such a strong and beautiful girl. I’m very proud to be your mother. Always remember that I love you.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “I wish you were older, able to live your childhood as innocently as I did. All the other children around the world are, but unfortunately that is not the case here. And as your parents, we have to prepare you.”
Prepare me for what?
Tears slowly filled her eyes, and then she took a deep breath to compose herself.
“We are in the middle of a war. The most horrific war a person could imagine. A war in which soldiers and rebels are killing everyone, including children. I know you heard your father and me speaking about the bombings at the schools and churches…”
I looked up at her and nodded silently.
“No one is safe, and you can’t trust anyone. If you are scared, run and hide. If you cannot run, protect yourself any way that you possibly can. Even if it means their life for yours. Father will teach you everything he knows to prepare you for the worst. God will always be on your side. Remember that.”
My gaze dropped to the ground. I knew what Mother was saying: always protect yourself, no matter what. Could I do that? Could I kill someone? That’s basically what my mother was telling me to do, and my father was teaching me to do it.
Mother placed her hand under my chin, lifting it up and looking into my eyes. Hers were filled with love and pain. “Jada, I know I’m asking a lot of you. But I know you are stronger than you think, and with Father’s teaching, you will always be safe, which is all I want – for you to live the life you deserve and not one of fear.”
She placed her arms around me, hugging me close to her body. I rested my head on her shoulder, feeling old and young at the same time. So many emotions ran through me. “Jada, train with your father every day. He will give you the tools to protect yourself.”
I’d placed my father’s backpack by the front door in case I needed to make a quick exit, with my jacket on top of it. I can smell the rancid, intoxicated breath getting closer. I have to move now. There’s no time left.
I leap down to the side of my bed, stuffing my hand under the pillow and grabbing the gun. Knocking the pillow off the gun, I raise it straight to the man in front of me. It’s like something out of the movies… everything is happening in slow motion.
The repulsive, vile man stumbles back in surprise. He’s wearing brown worn shoes, black office pants around his oversized stomach, and a buttoned-up, white, sleeved shirt.
His neck is too fat for a collar size to fit him. He has a very round, tiny head, out of place with the rest of his body. It’s as if his head stopped growing, and the rest of his body could not stop.
His face is covered in greed, from the smug grin on his face, to the sweat dripping down his face. His greasy hair is swept across his head, trying to hide the baldness beneath it.
His evil pointed nose and the devil in his soulless eyes repulse me. He dares to stand there laughing at me, thinking I will not use a gun.
He’s right. I’m not going to use a gun, not here in my bedroom. I am going to make the fat bastard run to his death! Time to put my training into practice. Time to see if I can do what I need to do – kill a man if necessary. But do I even have a choice?
Running to the door, I swing it open. Shit! He tries to grab me, but I make it through to the hall. He is right behind me. I didn’t expect someone of his size to be able to move so fast, but he really wants me. “Get back here, little girl. I just want to be friends,” he says, and laughs.
Friends? God, who wants friends like him? A devil of a man!
I make it to the stairs, leaping down two at a time; I can smell his revolting breath like he’s right behind me. Landing at the doorway, I reach out to take my backpack and jacket. Ouch! He’s grabbing hold of my hair and, with one yank, is crashing me backwards onto the ground. My head slams on the hallwa
y floor.
“Get off me!” I yell out.
But he continues to laugh. “I just want to be friends, little girl,” he says again.
I lie on the floor. This is it – the moment I’ve been preparing for. I am not scared, I am ready!
He stands with his legs at each side of my head, arching his body over his enormous stomach and eyeing his prey. He laughs, pleased with himself. He thinks he’s caught me.
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.
Chapter 18
Ghost From the Past.
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.
Chapter 19
Sunrise Over a New Era.
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.
