Drowning in the East River

by Kimberly Pierce

  "I've made my peace," David said, shifting his eyes back to the road.

  David couldn't say if he envied or pitied the men for their faith. 16 years of Catholic school demonstrated that for those who believed, faith in God served as a tremendous comfort. However, there were no books or Bible verses telling you what to do when God had forgotten about you.

  David looked down the line. Twenty men were a part of the ragtag brigade and had reported to help on that cold February day. When he had been staring down the prospect of a gun battle a few years earlier, at this point he had taken the snapshot of Jessica out of his pocket, reminding himself why he had to make it home alive.

  Aidan replaced the rosary beads in his pocket and stood up from where he was stretched on the ground. In the blink of an eye, he morphed into a different man as he started down the narrow path which had been worn into the grass. He projected clearly, making sure he was heard by everyone. "Tá na fir tar tháinig i ár dtír , ionradh ár sráideanna agus mharaigh ár dteaghlaigh . Coinnigh do cinnirí suas deartháireacha , agus a ligean ar a sheoladh ar na bastards ar ais nuair a tháinig siad as!”

  David managed picked up a few words of Gaelic since he had been in Ireland, but even without catching every word, he felt the passion behind them. The men surrounding him shifted their attention to Aidan, watching him with wide and emotional eyes. They believed every word.

  "When is this convoy supposed to come through?" Callum asked, directing the question to no one in particular. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. The sun climbed ever higher in the sky, though it brought no heat to the bitterly cold morning. “I can barely feel my fingers.”

  "Any minute now," Aidan replied, his eyes darted up and down the street as he searched for the convoy. His face looked completely calm, but his fingers were white knuckling the trigger of his rifle.

  Silence fell over the hillside as the brigade laid in wait.

  David stared at the ground in front of him. He closed his eyes, listening to the pulsating silence surrounding them. Even the air felt heavy with tension.

  David shifted his glance to look at the pitch black night sky. His rifle lay at his feet, the bayonet dug into the ground where he had been etching pictures in the mud.

  He closed his eyes, envisioning the men across the in void in the German trench, probably doing much the same thing as he was.

  "What're ya doing over here, Freeman?”

  "I had to get some air," David replied, shifting his glance over to the sergeant who had just emerged from the bunker. He had seen the boy around, but they had never really spoken. A military school boy, the officer looked barely out of his teens.

  The boy, who's uniform said Collins, sat down next to him in the trench. Taking off his hat, he looked up at the stars and rang his hands nervously in front of him. "I couldn't breathe in there.”

  "Claustrophobic?" David asked, suppressing a chuckle. "You're in the wrong place for that.”

  "Fell in a well as a kid. Tight spaces give me fits.”

  They glanced up as two mortars exploded in the sky, having been fired from the opposite trench.

  "The Krauts are trying to send us a message," Collins said. He looked at the caked mud at their feet. He poked at a rock with his boot. "Wish we knew what it was.”

  "Are they gearing up to attack?" David asked. He closed his eyes, trying to listen passed the silence.

  "At some point," the young officer replied. He grabbed a helmet from a rack over his head, and glanced tentatively over the top of the trench. "They've been gearing up for something for the last few weeks.”

  "They've been really active tonight," David said. His stomach gave a nauseating lurch.

  "Where are you going home too, Freeman?" Collins asked. He dropped his head back down below the wall of the trench. He glanced over at David, taking a moment to wipe a layer of sweat from his forehead. He flashed a toothy smile as he continued. "Do you have a girl?”

  David nodded, he dug in his pockets for a moment and produced his snapshot of Jessica. Handing it to the officer, he could feel himself blushing. "That's her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Jessica.”

  “Are you two going to get married?" He asked, taking a long look at the snapshot of Jessica. The picture was one of the few she had sent him during the long year he had been overseas.

  "As soon as I get back home, I hope. “

  "Where's home?"

  "Brooklyn."

  "I hope we all can get home," Collins said. There was a somewhat forlorn note to his voice, heavy with tension as he stood up and grabbed his musket.

  It could have been ten minutes or two hours when they finally heard the rumbling of trucks moving south along the single lane, dirt road.

  Pressing his rifle to his shoulder, David could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears as the adrenaline in his body surged, sending a quivering anxiety through his muscles. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to center his racing thoughts.

  He had heard the plan analyzed and reevaluated close to twenty times in the past week. The final approach of the convoy would be preceded by the explosion a land mine planted along the road.

  David glanced over and made eye contact with Callum who sprawled on the ground a few feet to his left.

  Callum looked over, meeting his eyes and flashed him a tense smile. “Are y’ ready for this?”

  David did his best to return the smile, “As I’ll ever be.”

  They lapsed into a few moments of deafening silence as they waited on bated breath for the explosion they knew would be coming.

  "Fuck!" David said, as the explosion finally rang out, shattering the tranquility of the morning. They were immediately thrown back by the shockwave, sending the area into unrestrained chaos.

  "Steady lads!" Aidan called out. His voice blurred with the panicked shouts of the British troops caught in the chaos of the explosion. Aidan picked up his rifle and ran down the line. He shouted out encouragement as he dropped to the ground further down. “Steady!"

  Pops of gunfire exploded down the line, the first bullets immediately hitting their blindsided targets who crumpled to the ground, dead.

  David pushed himself from where he laid and slid into better cover as he was able to fire off two quick shots.

  David squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to steady his senses again the intensifying pop of gunshots. Between shots, the air was filled with indiscriminate shouts of the wounded on both sides.

  David glanced to his left as he watched Callum slump onto the hillside, a pool of blood oozing from underneath his head. All around him, men on both sides collapsed as bullets whizzed through the air, hitting their targets indiscriminately.

  Firing off another few shots, the momentum of the battle seemed to shift.

  "Pull back!" Aidan called out. He kept his shotgun tightly to his body as he stood up, his eyes frantically scanning the landscape for the next move. His eyes were wide as he shouted again, fighting to be heard over the volume of the chaos. "Pull back and spread out!”

  David picked up his musket and backed into the dense grove of trees behind him, firing three quick shots to give himself cover.

  "After them!" Came the call from one of the British commanders as the few dozen soldiers who were still alive managed to bring themselves under control. "Don't let them get away!”

  As David zigzagged through the dense grove of trees, he could hear an onslaught of activity following behind him. Moving through the trees, he paused. The path opened onto another quiet, rural road just across from County Dublin Field, one of the city's many, and biggest, cricket pitches.

  He didn’t pause to think as he picked up his pace, and sprinted across the open road towards the field. The sun had climbed high in the sky, and he could see a cricket match had just gotten underway for the afternoon.

  David kept his gun held tightly to his side as he zigzagged into the bustling cricket pitch. As he moved deeper into the field, his
eyes scanned the crowd. The stands were packed with fans, many clad in green and white, the colors of the home club. He forced himself to adopt a restrained walk, not wanting to stand out in the crowd as he weaved further into the bustling crowd.

  David ducked behind one of the bleachers as the pop of gunfire erupted somewhere across the field. As he dropped to his knees, he could feel Jessica’s rosary beads clacking in his pocket. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to center himself and calm his skyrocketing nerves. He needed to be silent, but he felt certain that the deafening pounding of his heart in chest would give him away.

  For a moment, the revelry from the crowd continued as the gunshots grew louder. After a beat, blind panic spread over the cricket pitch, the audience stampeding for the exits in sheer terror.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  David pressed himself flat against the back of the aging and splintering wooden bleachers. Brushing an errant strand of hair out of his eyes, David scanned the chaos surrounding him. He dropped the pistol clutched in his hands, it landed with a thunk into the mud pooling underneath his feet.

  David grabbed a discarded green and white scarf laying in the dirt. Wiping the top layer of mud from his face, he opened his eyes, the wool was stained with blood.

  He threw the scarf away, wiping the remnants of the blood on his pants. It smeared over his hands, it was still warm and sticky on his skin.

  The perpetual North Atlantic rain continued, shrouding everything in a constant, soaking mist which hadn't let up in days.

  David could still hear gunshots echoing throughout the cricket pitch, making it almost impossible to gauge the direction of the blasts. The screams continued as people failed to escape from harms way.

  David closed his eyes, trying to listen through the pounding of his heartbeat to the shots, to figure out where they were coming from. Opening his eyes, he saw a platoon of British soldiers advancing quickly on the field, rifles firing in synchronization as he dove for the best cover he could locate in the split second.

  Peeking up above the bleachers, bodies were strewn around the seating area. Blood streamed down the slight incline of the pavement, the syrupy red liquid forming pools in the drainage ditches embedded into the pavement behind the bleachers.

  David tried to swallow to moisten his dry and cracked throat as he heard the cock of a rifle just to his right. Shadows had started to fall over the stadium, and he could just make out the shapes of the British soldiers in the darkness.

  "Drop the fucking gun!”

  His hands quivering, he brought his hands up above his head. He closed his eyes, biting back the fear building in the pit of his stomach. He kicked his gun under the bleachers. “All right! It's on the ground!" He said, projecting his voice above the gunshots which were still echoing from somewhere in the distance.

  He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing under control and the skyrocketing anxiety out of his body language as he stepped out in front of the anxious platoon of soldiers. He didn't want to see dozens of shaky muskets all aimed in his direction.

  With his hands empty, the troops quickly surrounded him. They kept the muskets aimed squarely at his head, as one of the men moved towards him. "Get on your fuckin' knees.”

  Before he had a moment to process the words, David buckled and dropped into the thick mud which lined the shredded turf of the field as a boot slammed into the back of his knee. He grunted as a musket was pressed to the back of his head. If he could keep control of his breathing, they wouldn't see his fear.

  "Hands behind your fuckin' back." This one was another voice, it was rougher than the first, more rural.

  David obeyed, and a pair of shackles were roughly snapped onto his wrists, pinning his hands behind him.

  Despite the nerves flipping his stomach as he was shoved towards the exit of the stadium, a deep part of his brain realized he suddenly wasn't scared anymore.

  The adrenaline coursing through his system told him that he should be scared, that he should try and flee, but his brain overrode the urge. He tried to lick his lips, but his cotton mouth robbed him of saliva.

  Nothing that could happen to him would have been any worse than what he had already been through. When you have no one at home to go back to, can you ever really find your way back?

  The question of death was one which had gone through his head dozens of times in the last year. There had been times when the thought of suicide had legitimately gone through his head, but something always stopped him. There was still something he had to live for, but suddenly he wasn't scared of death, anymore. As he heard the cock of a musket behind him; the thought of death suddenly sounded like a relief.

  Stepping up into the waiting police wagon, his mind flew to Thomas. He had forced himself to cling to the thought of his son as a happy and healthy toddler back home in New York, well fed, and under a caring eye. He bit back a pang of regret, missing the last reminder he had of his wife and the life they had so briefly enjoyed. He forced himself to picture her dark eyes, smiling up at him on their wedding night. It was less painful than the thought of his son, who he wasn't sure he would ever see again.

  He stretched out in the bed next to Jessica. The early morning sunlight streamed in through the open window. They were in a tiny Niagara Falls hotel room which David had scrimped and saved to be able to afford. He had wanted even a brief escape from the bustle of the city to enjoy her, to just be a couple, for even just a few of days.

  The satin of her nightgown clung loosely to the curves of her body. She had kicked off the covers sometime during the night; she was always too hot. It had only gotten worse as she grew bigger with the approaching baby. He watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing, as she slept. One arm was draped over her eyes, trying to shut out the light of the early morning.

  Her other hand was draped loosely over her stomach, which seemed to be growing increasingly round with each passing day. They had delayed as long as they could, but once she had started to show, it became noticeable quick. By best estimates, she was at least five months pregnant.

  He slid his hand over, resting his hand on her stomach. The feeling of his baby moving inside of her was one which made him giddy with excitement. He closed his eyes, letting the pitching and rolling of the baby overwhelm his senses.

  "Perhaps I should tell you to keep your hands to yourself.”

  He looked up at Jessica, her eyes were open. She flashed him a mischievous smile, her eyes reflecting the tired relaxation of a full and relaxed sleep. She hadn't been sleeping well either, especially when he had his nightmares. "He was calm. If you wake him up, it'll take him forever to calm down again.”

  "Perhaps we should get used to sleepless nights," David replied. He leaned in, planting a light kiss on the tip of her nose. He sat up on his elbow, and ran his fingers through the thick mass of hair which had fanned out behind her on the bed. He traced his fingers slowly down the length of her body, gently tracing over the arch of her stomach. "I hear that comes with the territory.”

  "Speak for yourself," Jessica replied, giving him a gentle smack on the chest as she struggled to sit up, her stomach making movement hard on the soft mattress. She grabbed the bedside table, pulling herself to a sitting position. She looked over at him, a look of forced seriousness crossing her face. "I had to smack you to stop snoring last night. You sounded like a steamship.”

  He had slept soundly the night before. It had been the first night in a long time when he hadn't been woken by the nightmares. "Was I?" David asked, sitting up on the bed. He picked up his shirt, which had been thrown on the floor during the night.

  "You were certainly sleeping soundly," Jessica replied. She walked across the room and grabbed her robe from where it was hanging on the back of the door. Turning back toward him, she slid the thin silk over her shoulders and tightened it around her waist. "I don't think I've heard you sleep that well in months...Was there something different that you didn't have any...problems?" She paused, searching for the right w
ords in her head.

  "Come here," David said. He grabbed Jessica by the hand and gently pulled her back in to him. He wrapped his arms around her expanding waist, leaning his head against her stomach. He could feel softest kick inside of her.

  "What's gotten in to you?" Jessica asked, curling her fingers through his hair which stuck out on all sides, wild from inattention. She looked down at him. Her lips pursed in contemplation, as she barely restrained a soft smile. "You're behaving strangely.”

  "I love you, baby," David replied, he let out a soft sigh. He could feel the baby kicking and squirming inside of her at the sound of his voice so close to its head. He looked up at met her soft glance. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you.”