Then Came War

by Jacqueline Druga

  He wasn’t tired, not at all. He sat with his back against the bed listening to Harry’s heavy breathing.

  What is in the box, Harry?

  Tyler could see it sitting on the dresser. At one time that box was gift wrapped beautifully, but now it was tattered and torn.

  It was time for Tyler to open that box. He had permission and looked forward to seeing if he knew what it was.

  He lifted the box. It was heavy. Carefully and quietly he removed the gift wrap paper and folded it.

  The box wasn’t as old as Tyler expected. It was silver and heavy and engraved on the lid were the words, ‘Freedom leads to prosperity. Freedom replaces the ancient hatreds among the nations with comity and peace. Freedom is the victor.’

  “Wow.” Tyler read the words. He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant together, he’d ask Harry, but he knew the words Freedom and Peace, and even if he didn’t have a clue what was in the box, those words truly fit what was happening.

  The hinge was a small silver knob and Tyler turned it.

  He lifted the lid, the box had a black interior and it was thick. But he didn’t expect to see what he did.

  There was an envelope and inside there were papers and a picture of a president and another of a man with a sledge hammer ready to hit something.

  But those weren't what surprised Tyler. He could see those being important. But that other thing in there baffled him. Why was it there?

  It was simply a small, fist sized, piece of rock.

  How, Tyler wondered, was that so important?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Brendan considered himself a geek. Actually a lot of people did. He was a computer guy in his thirties who had maybe two girlfriends his entire life. He favored video games with his friends over nights out at clubs looking for girls. He loved the BBC America channel and wouldn’t think twice about staying up all night watching documentaries.

  He attributed those documentaries to saving his life.

  Civil war, Cold war, future wars, biological weapons, he loved those programs. He wanted to leave New York City, but he stayed an extra day, finding a great hiding spot in an office not far from the tunnel where the invaders were setting up what seemed to be a complex camp.

  He dared not go into the tunnel, but he watched and took note of everything they brought it. He wrote it down in a tiny notebook.

  When items and trucks stopped coming, it was time to make his way from the city.

  He went higher in the building to see where they were and what direction he could take.

  A car was out and by foot was his only means of travel.

  Once he actually made it out of the inner city, Brendan found a bike and started to peddle.

  From that moment on, he started to count how many times he was shot at.

  In five days since emerging from the train wreckage, he made it out of New York City and New York state but not without being shot at nineteen times.

  Twice on the bike he was shot at so he ditched it and ran. He was chased. He found a car but that wasn’t such a good idea; he was shot out there, too. While on foot … he was shot at. But the farther away he got from the state, the more he started to think he was safe, and he was. Despite how far he got, each passing day there were still the sounds of war. Gunfire, explosions, airplanes over head zipping by followed him.

  He found a horse and deemed that his main means of transportation,

  Then again, he had never ridden a horse and he fell off three times. He thought he might have broken his wrist.

  But he kept moving on.

  He ate only a minimal amount of food and had only sips of water.

  Food was only what he could scavenge from homes and store, and most of them had already been ravaged.

  He was trotting along on horseback when he saw the sign for Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

  He thought it ironic and began thinking of Jesus. In fact he prayed. Maybe Bethlehem was a sign. It was four miles outside of Bethlehem that he spotted a truck.

  He pulled on the reins of the horse to move him from sight and as he did a plane flew over and fired at the truck.

  The truck pulled off the road and soldiers jumped out, flying into the trees, taking cover. They began loading anti-aircraft weapons and firing.

  But there was something different about the soldiers that fired at the sky.

  They were Americans.

  Brendan breathed a sigh of relief.

  He had been lucky thus far in not getting shot and he wasn’t going to take a chance on friendly fire. He hid himself in the brush after securing his horse and waited for a pause in shooting before he called out.

  He kept calling out until someone heard him, acknowledged him and eventually found him.

  He did it.

  He made it from an attack zone, into territory occupied by allied forces and he did that all in his homeland.

  ***

  They did not travel far and they traveled at night.

  Foster would say the hardest part of their journey was crossing the bridge. It was probably the scariest time of his life.

  After he and Judith had survived the massacre at the senior citizen recreation area, they stayed at the apartment for a day, got cleaned up and rested, filled their bellies and then moved on.

  But it was the next day that they started to hear shots.

  Not occasional shots but continuous firing.

  It was far in the distance and to the north of them, so they travelled away from the gunfire.

  They didn’t know who was firing or what they were firing at. They just wanted to be safe and move forward.

  The least amount of gunfire was at night and in the early morning. By moving at those times, it was easier to stay out of sight.

  He held Judith’s hand and arm and led her. They stayed quiet while they moved. They had to.

  The problem was they didn’t have a clue where they were or how far they had come. They also didn’t know how far they had to go.

  On the fifth night they crossed the Goethal Bridge right off Stanton Island and made it into New Jersey.

  It was dark, it was late, and the stars were hidden behind a veil of smoke that carried a stench in the night air.

  It was time to stop for the night. It was pushing morning and daylight was hiding time.

  There was a food warehouse just past the bridge near the underpass for the interstate. Foster saw the signs for it and thought it would be a safe place stay.

  He brought them around the back to the loading dock area. One of the garage style doors was partially open.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” asked Judith.

  “I don’t know,” Foster replied. “But it’s shelter and maybe food. We haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday.”

  “I know. But the stores have already been hit. The soldiers are clearing them all out.”

  “We have to try.”

  In the days of journeying there were certain items that Foster had carried with him at all times. He carried them in a back pack. A blanket, can opener, water and flashlight. He also had a mini lantern.

  He had a knife in his back pocket, but how much good that would do him, he didn’t know.

  He told Judith to wait by the dock and he quietly climbed the stairs. Lying on his belly, he used his flashlight and peeked under the opening of the garage door. It seemed clear and he didn’t see anyone.

  He opened it some, very slowly and almost without a noise and then walked down to Judith and escorted her.

  “It looks empty. We can stay just inside the door, OK?”

  Judith nodded. “I haven’t heard any shots in a while.”

  “Me either. We can rest here.” Holding Judith’s arm he brought her up the six steps and to the door which he had raised about four feet. “You have to hunch down,” he instructed her. He did his best to guide her, holding his hand over her head, inching her inside. Then Foster slipped in.

  He shut the garage door all the way and with flas
hlight in hand turned around.

  The flashlight nearly toppled from his hand when he found himself and Judith facing a line of shotguns. But they weren’t soldiers. They were people in every day clothes, and most looked Hispanic.

  Foster raised his hand. “We mean no harm.”

  “What’s going on?” Judith asked.

  “There are people here.” Foster told her.

  “Soldiers?”

  “No, they’re Americans,” Foster said.

  The one man, possibly in is forties, and Hispanic, gave a nod of his head. “She blind?”

  “Yes,” Foster replied. “She became blind in the attack. We just need to rest, to hide and to eat.”

  Again, the man asked, “Anyone follow you?”

  “No,” Foster said. “We were very careful. We move only at night.”

  “Don’t we all.” He motioned his head to the others and then he lowered his gun. “I’m Manny.”

  “Foster.”

  “That your mom?” he asked.

  “No, I found her.”

  Judith spoke up. “And he has been nothing but a Godsend helping me.”

  Manny sniffed. He was a barrel-chested man, strong and with no nonsense about him. His Mexican dialect was thick. “You can’t stay here.”

  “Please,” Judith said. “Just for a spell, then we’ll be on our way. We need to stop and rest. Eat perhaps.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Manny said. “This warehouse hasn’t been hit by the Ranuelans. It won’t be long before they find it. They’re positioned about four miles north of here. We came to get what we could tonight. If you need to be safe, we can take you with us to our camp.”

  “You don’t mind?” Foster asked.

  “We’re all in this together, right?” Manny asked.

  Foster nodded. “Thank you. We are.”

  “For now, though, let the woman sit. I can use your help loading the trucks.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but aren’t you afraid driving trucks at night?”

  “We move slowly and we move without lights. We have a twenty mile journey, but we have to get this food. We won’t be spotted if we move fast. Like I said, they are four miles north of here. They don’t come at night. We do. Let’s move.”

  Manny gave a swing of his arm to his men and turned. Foster had so much to ask, so many questions. He was in the dark in so many ways. And he was certain he would get the answers. But first he had to help these men with the trucks, get Judith to their camp, and then he would see what he could find out.

  For the first time in days, he felt safe and a bit relieved that one leg of his struggles was over.

  ***

  Utah Man was his code name and using a national FEMA frequency he was able to broadcast to those hidden or stuck. Anyone with a radio, any kind of radio, could pick him up.

  His songs were clues; he took the idea from the New York radio stations that were hijacked from the enemy.

  He was the one that put out the word to everyone, very early on, to only move at night. He used the song Maneater, and after the end of the song, he reiterated with a chuckle, “That’s right folks, only come out at night.”

  Two nights prior, he announced a push from American soldiers, calling them Sam’s kids, and sending out a Matchbox Twenty song.

  He played other stuff, too, to make sure no one took the songs as weird warnings. His code was precise.

  So precise, in fact, that the Committee, as they deemed themselves at The Tap, were marking a map. Those in Agabarn relied heavily on what Utah Man said. They were deep into the newly occupied territory but they hadn’t heard any shots at all, only planes that constantly flew during the day.

  Harry wasn’t on that committee, but liked to listen in. Everyone did. He wondered, after viewing the map, when the push would not only come from inland toward the occupied territory but from the ocean as well.

  “If I decoded right,” George said. “They hit several of our airfields overseas. We lost a lot of planes. We’ll have to regroup.”

  Harry peered at his watch. He knew Utah Man would be signing off soon; it was nearly six A.M. and he never aired after that time. Six A.M. was bed time. Sipping the last of his wine, Harry looked at Tyler. The boy never left his side.

  “Almost bedtime you know,” Harry told him.

  Tyler was drawing. “I’m not tired. I want to finish this.”

  Harry peered at the drawing, the date was on there, and it showed a soldier with a gun. Behind him was a United States flag and the soldier was firing at the state of New Jersey. “Ah, you listened to Utah Man tonight.”

  “I think he said we’re tight in those Jerseys. I took it as New Jersey.”

  “We all did. Good boy. Good drawing.”

  “Thanks. I’m putting them in the box with that rock.”

  “Figured out that rock yet?”

  Tyler shook his head.

  “Did you read the paperwork in the box?”

  Tyler gave another negative shake of his head. “Not yet. I was trying to figure it out on my own.”

  “I see. Well, have Rick take you to Miss Sims. She’s been teaching the kids. Have her give you one of her history books.” Harry winked.

  “Ah,” Tyler whined. “You said I didn’t have to do the school.”

  “I’m not saying you do. But it will help you figure out the rock, and maybe make a friend.”

  “I have you, Harry.”

  Harry smiled. “Yep you do. But don’t you wanna play?”

  “Not really.” Tyler shook his head. “It’s not fun playing inside.”

  “Makes sense. But you need rest. How about finishing that drawing in the evening? Sun’s coming up now,” Harry said. “We need to rest.”

  Tyler smiled with a shake of his head.

  “Why’s that funny?” Harry inched to him.

  “We sleep during the day and work and play at night. We’re like vampires.”

  With a ‘hmm’ Harry nodded. “I guess you’re right. But let’s gather this stuff up. Maybe I’ll let you finish the drawing at the house.”

  “Okay. That’ll work. Can I eat a cookie? That nice lady gave you cookies for me.”

  “Just one.” Harry held up a finger and helped Tyler gather his things.

  Everyone that was in The Tap was saying their goodnights, yawning and heading to the door to get home before the sun came up.

  “Harry,” Tyler asked as they headed out the door. “You think everyone sleeps during the day now?”

  “On this side of the lines,” Harry said. “My God, if they don’t, they’re fools or ill informed.”

  Tyler yawned as Harry grabbed his hand. He knew he wouldn’t be working on that picture too long. Tyler had adjusted to the new ‘life’ schedule. He’d be asleep before the sun was fully shining.

  ***

  Lana had hurt her ankle when her bike hit a divot and veered off to the left tossing her over the hill.

  For three days it was swollen and both she and Ben feared it was broken.

  But days of taking anti- inflammatory medication and staying off the foot had brought the swelling and the pain down and they were finally able to move onward again.

  They continued to stay within the wooded areas where they felt a lot safer. Only a few times did they see a plane and not once were they shot at.

  When they finally crossed over into Massachusetts, they celebrated vocally as if they had won the super bowl.

  But unfortunately, it was more of the same. No people. No noise.

  They had even found a radio when they were holed up in an old house while Lana was recuperating. But that didn’t provide them any information. They heard only one station and it played bad music.

  There was no news and it was as if nothing had happened.

  They were peddling in their own twilight zone.

  Then they saw a McDonald’s.

  They had gotten off the highway and figured, even if it was closed, they would find things in there they co
uld eat. After all, they had found things like cookies, bread and juice boxes in other McDonalds.

  But when they got there they found it had been wiped clean.

  The McDonald’s still had electricity but nothing remained in the freezer— not a meat patty or a bag of frozen French fries … nothing.

  Even the Apple Juice boxes were gone.

  Someone had cleaned out the McDonalds and it was the first time they had seen that.

  Who wiped it out?

  As they were leaving the establishment they saw the sign for the small town.

  Agabarn – two miles.

  It was down a nothing road off the highway.

  Did the people in the small town wipe out their McDonald’s?

  Figuring it was two more miles and what would it hurt to check it out, Lana and Ben headed to Agabarn.

  ***

  Brendan opened his eyes, not because his body had rested enough to awake him, but because the continuous calling of ‘Mr. Doe’ brought him to wakefulness. He wondered who this Mr. Doe was and why he wouldn’t respond.

  Last he recalled he had run into Allied forces, American soldiers, and they had taken him with them in the back of their truck.

  He had fallen asleep.

  “Mr. Doe.”

  It was when he fully opened his eyes that he realized the soldier standing above him was talking to him.

  “Are you talking to me?” Brendan asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He groaned and sat up. “My name is Brendan Lane.”

  “Mr. Lane, how are you feeling? I’m Captain Weurl.”

  “Groggy,” Brendan responded as he sat up., “But good.” He looked around. He was in a tent, lying on a cot. “How did I get here?”

  “My men picked you up yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” Brendan freaked.

  “Yes, sir, you passed out. Are you hungry?”

  “Very much so., I don’t know when I ate last.”

  “Good. I brought you a hot meal.” The Captain said, laying a warm brown pouch on his stomach and handing him a fork. “Hope you like ham.”