by HJ Lawson
My mouth fills with saliva, and I begin to feel woozy and get a stomach ache. No, I cannot be sick, not again. Looking back at Mohammad, the nausea is gone. Closing my eyes, the wooziness slips away, and my mouth feels back to normal. Am I getting used to the horror around me? Is that it?
I’m not sure what makes me feel sicker, the body at my feet or that I’ve become so numb to seeing the carnage. I stand there in a daze. Is this all a dream… a really horrible nightmare? Am I going to wake up?
“I can do this. I can get to my home,” I say to myself. What sights will I see when I get there? The image of my mother and Lucas fills my mind… of their burnt bodies. I cannot put it off any longer. I have to see my mother and Lucas. Please Lord, let them be okay!
I have to see them now, so I focus on running home. Clenching my fists together, my body feels like a ticking time bomb of anger ready to explode. I see bodies lying on the ground, one after another, from the corner of my eye.
The whole village is dead. They killed everyone. Hot rage burns in my veins; I want nothing more than to torture them all the same way they have tortured the innocent around me.
Then I see something else, and I immediately halt. Is someone alive? I spin around in the direction of the moving object. It’s a black Labrador dog. He halts in shock when he sees me. Looking straight at me with his head slightly cocked, he just stares with his large, innocent eyes.
He opens his mouth and flashes his pink tongue, like he’s trying to smile. I smile back. I love animals, sometimes more than people, because they don’t judge. All they want is love.
His ears point upwards, and he begins to wag his tail. He watches me with hopeful eyes. I kneel down to the ground and pat my knees. “Come here. Good boy, come here.”
He slowly approaches, taking cautious steps. As I pat my knees, he happily snorts and bounces towards me. My anger fades somewhat just by making a little room for joy over my new friend.
He rubs his nose on the side of my cheek, leaving a wet trail. I place my arm around the dog’s neck, and he nuzzles his head into my side.
The hairs on his nose tickle, and the warmth of his body fills me within a second.
It has been a long time, too long, since I have felt a warm body. His whole body shakes as he wags his tail.
His mouth is open and saliva drips down as he pants with joy. He continues to rub me under the head. Pushing me to the ground, he licks my face, covering me in wet kisses. I begin to laugh. My laughter takes us both by surprise, and he jumps back in shock. How long has it been since he’s heard a voice? I stand up and pat my knees again. Within a split second, he is there, standing at my side.
Don’t scare him off, I tell myself.
I smile down at him. “What’s your name?”
He just looks up at me with his big black eyes, tail wagging.
“Mmm, I think I will call you Liquorice.” He flops his tail, mouth open, flashing his teeth. “Yes, Liquorice it is. Will you come with me?”
He looks up and takes one step in front. It’s like he knows I need him. Maybe we need each other.
I begin to run, hoping that he’ll follow me, and he does. Liquorice jogs by my side as both of us focus on the finish line. I know there are bodies all around us… the whole village must be here. As I get closer to my home, I think about the last time I saw my mother and Lucas.
Where were they?
I remember… they were in the garden playing with chalks on the path that leads to the front door. Lucas was drawing pictures of people, his favorite subject. Why was I not in the garden with them? Where was I? I need to remember!
That’s it… I was in my room reading, lost in one of my silly novels, to take me out of the life I was living in. I must’ve fallen asleep before the attack took place. Maybe that’s why I’m still alive — because I wasn’t near the blast. Mother and Lucas could still be alive, just like me.
I begin to sprint closer to my house. I am here. My mother and Lucas are laid out on the front path. I quickly swing open the metal gate, just like when I was waiting for my father to return from work.
I run over to my mother… my beautiful mother. She looks like she is sleeping, lying there on the ground with her arm reaching out for my brother. Lucas is beside her, their fingertips touching. Collapsing to my knees, my body buckles over my mother’s corpse. Uncontrollable sobbing and howling words pour from my mouth, but nothing is making sense. They cannot be dead. They cannot be.
“Mother, wake up. Wake up.” I shake my mother’s lifeless body. She doesn't move, and she never will. My world is tumbling down in front of me. They have disappeared forever.
I’m all alone now.
They took my father and killed everyone I love. My body has an overwhelming feeling of emptiness… complete despair. I wish I’d died with them.
My heart is broken and it feels like someone just stabbed me in my chest. Guilt rushes through me, a deep regret for all those things I left unsaid, and for all the times I could’ve said “I love you” to someone. I lay my hands over my mother’s heart and sob.
Dark spots from my tears appear on my mother’s blue dress. I stare at them, remembering when my father brought home this dress as a surprise for her.
She was so excited. We would walk past the store every day when mother picked us up from school. She’d stop and stare at it. Happiness filled her face, and she looked so young, too young to have me as her daughter.
When Father gave it to her, she leaped for joy like a happy schoolgirl. “Fashion show! Fashion show!” we all chanted. Mother laughed and went into her room. Five minutes later, she walked out of her bedroom and glided up and down the hallway like she was on a catwalk.
Then she twirled, the blue dress shimmering in the living room, and her smile grew wider. Father jumped up and spun her around, laughing. They kissed, and warmth filled my heart as I looked at them. They were in love… true love.
“Stop kissing, you’re going to make me puke,”
Lucas said, laughing. Father kissed Mother again, and Lucas pretended to gag.
“Five more minutes,” I cry out. “Just five more minutes, Mother.”
Yuck, what’s that on my face?
Opening my eyes, I see a big pink tongue licking me across my cheek. It’s Liquorice. I’m saddened to be woken from my dream… all I want to do is to go back to happier times when my father was here and my mother and brother were still alive.
Slowly, I lift my head up from my mother’s cold body. Liquorice nudges under my chin, helping me up. He moves closer to me and laps up the tears from my face. I’m totally numb as I stand looking over my mother’s and brother's lifeless bodies.
My brother was only five… he hadn't even lived yet! How dare they steal his innocent life? How dare they! They are all going to hell, and I’m going to send them there! Anger towards them is raging through my body. I’m going to use every piece of my father’s training to kill whoever did this in the most painful way. I will show them no mercy!
Saliva is dripping from my brother’s mouth. I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe it clean. I spit on my hand and brush his hair just the way mother used to do. Then I ruffle it a little, just enough that they would both like it.
Bending down, I kiss my tiny little brother on his forehead. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I set one arm under his neck and another under his legs, slowly raising him from the ground, hugging him for the last time. A piece of chalk rolls from his hand and onto the concrete. He just wanted to draw.
Then I slowly lay Lucas on my mother’s chest, carefully placing his head so it looks up at her. I take her straightened arm and wrap it carefully around her young son. A strand of shiny brown hair peeks through her scarf. I tuck the piece back in and kiss her on her cheek.
It’s like I’m in a trance… I feel so numb, like I’m living in the darkest nightmare and am unable to wake up from it.
I wander over to Mother’s favorite garden. Sitting on the grass, I select the most beaut
iful jasmine flower – the one with six perfect petals. The sweet scent drifts up my nose as I brush the other blooms. Then I choose a fiery red rose with fresh leaves and no brown around the edges. I carefully pick it, avoiding the thorns on the stem. I delicately arrange the flowers into bunches, then I pull out a long piece of grass and wrap it around the bouquet.
Looking down on my arrangement, I know my mother would be proud.
I walk over to my loved ones, carefully opening my mother’s hand and placing the bouquet in it. I wrap her fingers around them and then place her other arm on top.
She looks beautiful. Like an angel.
Lucas is missing his little pastel blue blanket. He’s had it since he was a toddler, and he would rub it between his fingers at night before falling asleep. I used to tease him about it, calling him a baby. If only I could take that back, now. I’m sorry Lucas! He is a big boy now, so the blanket stays indoors in his room.
The front of the house is open… are the soldiers in there? How did I get out of the house? Who rescued me? I wished they’d left me to die with my family!
Nervously, I step into the hallway and stand there silently, motionless, listening for any sounds. I hold my breath for several long moments. There is no one here… only the dead are left. I leap up the stairs two at a time to Lucas’ room, and suddenly Mother’s voice rings through my head, “walk like a lady.”
Lucas’ room is a mess, with his toys all over the floor. I reach his bed, but the blanket isn’t there. Where is it? I lift the duvet up… nope, not there. Under his pillow? Nope.
I lie down on the floor and look under the bed. Oh boy… there is so much rubbish under here. I see a corner of the blanket peeking out from beneath some paper. I pull out the blanket, and the paper follows.
It’s one of Lucas’ newest drawings. He’d drawn all of us. Mother, Father, Lucas and me all standing together, smiling, grass under our feet and the sun shining brightly in the sky. A single tear rolls down my face, onto the top of my lips. I have no more tears left, but the shooting pain in my heart reminds me that I’m still alive.
The picture will never be real. Lucas used to cry when he was drawing pictures of Father, because he kept forgetting what his smile looked like. Mother and I would show him photos of Father smiling to help him. There will never be any more happy drawings. I’m broken inside.
I carefully place the drawing into my pocket, and I hope that it will remind me of a happier time. I cuddle up to Lucas’ blanket with a lump in my throat. I can still smell him. Anger replaces my sadness as my body fills with rage.
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.
Chapter 12
He’s Back.
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 were 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 announcem
ent. ‘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.”
Chapter 13
Goodbye Jada.
