Our War

by Craig DiLouie

  “Shouldn’t we stay and help?” Hannah said.

  “Do you really want Kristy bossing you around?”

  She’d had her fill of that. “Okay, let’s go.”

  The militia’s babble faded as they walked down the street. It was so empty here. Downtown Indy had its hazards, but you could always gauge them by watching what others were doing. People moved in herds. As soon as one person sensed danger, everybody reacted to it.

  “So why don’t you sleep in our room?” Maria asked her.

  “I don’t know.”

  The girl frowned. “Fine.”

  Hannah was in the gang now. She’d gotten her first mark. More important, she’d made a new friend in Maria. She didn’t want to mess it up.

  “I’m scared, okay? I’m not as tough as you guys with your tattoos.”

  “Talking tough doesn’t make us tough,” Maria said. “You take all the time you need. I just wanted you to tell me the truth. We’re friends.”

  They crossed several blocks. Hannah gazed at the derelict houses lining the street ahead and imagined them filled with rebel snipers. In the distance, a blue slab blocked the road. Behind her, the militia seemed very far away now. The air was cold, but she was too amped up to notice.

  “Don’t worry, Hannah Banana,” Maria said. “They won’t shoot kids.”

  Hannah hesitated at the muffled reports of gunfire. The fighting in the north was still raging. Maybe the rebels didn’t shoot kids on purpose, but stray bullets killed just as well.

  Maria turned. “Come on.”

  Hannah gave the daycare another longing look. “Sabrina said don’t go too far.”

  “I’ve been cooped up in the same place for a year. I want to explore. Please. We’ll go as far as that big blue thing down there. That’s it, I promise.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” The girl marched off. “That’s why I want to go see it!”

  The blue slab turned out to be a shipping container. Before the war, Hannah had seen them hauled by tractor trailers on the highway.

  She marveled at the strangeness of it. “What’s it doing here?”

  “Blocking the road, silly. So enemy trucks can’t drive through and kill us.”

  They walked around to the other side. The container’s face was spray-painted with a black skull and crossbones and the words, INDY 300. Some terrific force had ripped gaping holes in the metal. Scraps of it littered the asphalt.

  Maria started climbing it using the holes as handholds.

  Hannah watched her in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  Her friend peeked over the edge. “Nothing on top.”

  “Get down!”

  “Okay, okay. Hold your horses. Doesn’t anybody want to be a kid anymore?”

  “The alive kind,” Hannah said.

  Maria reached the bottom. Her eyes flashed with excitement. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

  This was the girl’s first taste of freedom in months, sweetened with risk. As for Hannah, she’d had her fill of risk. Right now, she wanted a sense of security.

  “Can we go back, please?”

  “I’ve been scared of them for a year. I have nightmares about them.”

  “Maria, no. No way.”

  “I’ve never actually seen one.”

  Hannah had, during her family’s flight to Indy, after the IED killed Dad. An experience she’d never forget and had no wish to relive.

  “They…” No, I’m not sharing this now. “I’m not going with you.”

  Maria frowned at this betrayal until she caught the look on Hannah’s face. “Hey, it’s okay. You stay here. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  Soon, Hannah would be alone without knowing when her friend was coming back.

  “Wait!” She ran to catch up. “You’re a lunatic, you know that?”

  “I know.” Maria grinned.

  “If we’re going to do this, let’s stick close to the houses.”

  “Yeah! Good idea.”

  “Shhh,” Hannah scolded.

  “Okayyyy. This is supposed to be fun, you know.”

  “I’m really scared.”

  Maria took her hand. “Just a little farther.”

  They crept across the yard behind a house facing the rebel line. The back door was gone. Snowdrift reached into the kitchen, where dead leaves littered the floor. Drawers, cabinet doors, and anything else that burned had been removed for firewood.

  Nobody home. It was exciting, being in somebody’s house. And sad too. People lived here once, laughing and loving and working hard to get by. The war had killed them or driven them out just as it had Hannah’s family. She mounted stairs decorated with framed pictures of a smiling Black man and woman and their teenage daughter. Hannah hoped they’d made it somewhere safe.

  Like downstairs, people had ransacked the second floor for valuables and removed anything that burned.

  “Hannah!” Maria hissed from the master bedroom. “Come here!”

  “What?”

  Her friend crouched grinning in front of the gaping hole where a window used to be. “Check it out.”

  Across the street stood a church surrounded by trenches and dugouts excavated from the earth. Heads bobbed along the trench.

  Hannah was looking at the rebels.

  A soldier turned the corner behind the church, zipping up his pants. He froze and looked directly back at them.

  She flinched from the hole, her heart slamming so hard she thought it would punch through her ribs.

  Maria waved at him.

  Hannah grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  Her friend laughed. “He’s waving back.”

  “He’s the enemy!”

  “He doesn’t know that. To him, I’m just a kid.”

  The rebels killed Dad during the flight from Sterling, Mom in the middle of Mile Square. They’d hurt Mom first on the road to Indy. Not this man, but men like him.

  Did she hate him?

  Abigail had told her the rebels were people like her but different. They saw the same problems, wanted the same things for their kids. But where the liberals wanted the government to make things better, these men saw it as only capable of making things worse. Even though they were the enemy, the commander said, they deserved compassion.

  Sabrina hated the rebels. The way she’d explained it, what they’d done, nobody could forgive. And if she had her way, she’d kill them all to make room for the world she wanted. Hannah found the woman’s hatred kind of scary but also thrilling, even righteous.

  You were your deep, driving desire.

  She peered past the jagged edge of the hole at the soldier in his camouflage outfit. He was grinning and waving at Maria.

  He seemed happy to see them. It was hard to hate him.

  “You really are a maniac,” Hannah said.

  Another soldier left the building and shoved his comrade inside. Hannah and Maria waved at him too. He smiled and aimed his rifle up at the window.

  “Pow,” he yelled.

  They bolted down the stairs.

  Fueled by blank terror, Hannah ran until the shipping container came into sight. Maria huffed next to her, running for all she was worth.

  They stopped gasping at the container, still bouncing with tension.

  Maria smiled at Hannah, who giggled.

  They hugged each other and couldn’t stop laughing.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Gabrielle’s stomach flipped when the militia fighters stepped into the road. “That must be them. The Free Women.”

  The fighters signaled to park in front of a daycare, where a crowd of militia waited.

  “Yeah, that’s them.” Aubrey stopped the car and killed the ignition. “You’re about to kick a beehive. You sure you want to do this?”

  Gabrielle stared out the grimy windshield at the uniformed women cradling rifles. Plenty threatening, though they didn’t seem hostile. “They’re Blue, right?”

  “That’s not the
point,” the reporter said. “Actually, that is the point—”

  “If they have child soldiers, I need to know it. I don’t care if that upsets people. They want the UN’s help, they can stop using children as weapons.”

  Aubrey shook her head. “I’m talking about the political situation. You might end up hiring militias for security, right?”

  If Gruber awarded Gabrielle a budget, she’d stay on as monitoring officer. She’d hire an accountant, PR firm, administrators, and drivers, and reach out to nongovernmental organizations such as the Red Cross to help distribute supplies. She’d also need to rely on the IMPD and in some cases militias to safeguard the flow of aid throughout the city.

  “A UN contract is money and prestige,” Aubrey went on. “You’re about to talk to the Free Women, a Leftist militia. The Left Bloc will use your visit in their propaganda, and the Centrists won’t be happy about it. The government, the IMPD. Little things like this can upset the balance of power.”

  Gabrielle spotted two girls standing by the daycare’s gate. About ten years old. Black winter jackets and hats, army surplus pants bloused into boots. Big bright eyes. Cheeks glowing a healthy pink in the cold.

  They stared at her with open curiosity. She stared back.

  Then she got out.

  “Well, okay then,” the reporter said as Gabrielle closed the door.

  One of the fighters said, “I’m Sabrina.”

  “Gabrielle Justine, UNICEF.”

  The woman raised her arms. “Can you go like this for me?”

  She did. Sabrina frisked her, then Aubrey.

  “Where’s the Indy 300?” the reporter said.

  “They went to arrest President Marsh and end the war,” the woman said. “We’re holding the line until they get back.”

  Aubrey smiled at this clever way of saying, “No comment.”

  A stout, middle-aged woman cut through the throng of fighters. They parted for her, showing respect. The commander, Gabrielle surmised.

  The woman shook their hands. “I’m Abigail Fulham. Welcome to the Free Women.”

  Gabrielle gave her the usual speech about the UNICEF mission. “We’re passing through. I’m on my way to the rebel lines to talk to them.”

  Abigail raised her eyebrows. “Are you now?”

  “I have evidence they are using child soldiers in violation of the Geneva Conventions and international law.”

  The woman glanced at the two girls still standing by the gate. “I see.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether they participate in the fighting or not. If they are children and serve in a militia in any way, they will witness violence and may be injured or killed. They’re soldiers.”

  It came out harsher than she’d intended. While the United States had agreed to these international laws, the major combatants were police and civilian militias. Most of these women probably weren’t even aware of the prohibitions.

  Even so, it was common sense. You didn’t use kids in war. Full stop.

  Abigail said, “Maria, Hannah, come over here.”

  The girls gave Gabrielle a wary look as they approached. She crouched to talk to them. “Hi, I’m Gabrielle. I live in Canada. I’m with the United Nations. A special part of it that helps children like you.”

  “Hannah, tell her what happened to your parents,” Abigail said.

  The girl’s gaze dropped. “They were killed by the rebels.”

  “And where would you be if you weren’t with us?”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “Orphanage.”

  Abigail shot Gabrielle a questioning look. “Have you been to the orphanages?”

  “A few.”

  They were filthy places run by a struggling hodgepodge of churches and other organizations. Kids growing up way too fast but still half-wild. Scarce food. Rumors of abuse. Little real schooling. The city streets were their primary teacher.

  “Then you understand why we haven’t sent these girls there.”

  “Part of my mission here is to make the orphanages better,” Gabrielle said. She’d already put in a request for aid packages, school kits, and funding for counseling.

  But all this wouldn’t come until later. It didn’t help these kids now.

  “We have fourteen girls,” the commander said. “We took them in because they had nowhere else to go. No place safe. We care for them like they’re our own.”

  “Using them as soldiers is a war crime.”

  “Fair enough,” Abigail replied. “When are you taking them to Canada?”

  “As much as I’d like to see that happen, Canada can’t take all the children.”

  “Okay. How about you personally? Take Hannah here with you.”

  The girl burst into tears. “No!”

  Gabrielle winced. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “Then you came here to lecture us without having any solutions.”

  “This is my home!” the girl screamed.

  The shouting drew more fighters, a crowd bristling with weapons.

  “Hannah,” Abigail snapped. “Nobody’s taking you anywhere, sister.”

  On the verge of hysteria, the girl stepped back panting and bolted to the gated building.

  Gabrielle glared at Abigail. “You’re wrong.”

  “They’re victims of violence,” the commander said. “They’ve endured what no child ever should. But they’re safe here. They’re fed and warm and schooled. They’re loved. Every one of us is their mother. Guarantee me a place they can get what they need that’s away from the fighting, and I’ll let them go. I’ll be happy to do it. Until then, I won’t let you hurt them. They’ve suffered enough.”

  Abigail then shot Aubrey a look. “You getting all this down?”

  The reporter nodded over her notepad. “I sure am.”

  “Good. Feel free to quote me. Now you should leave. We’ve only just arrived, and we’re still settling in. If we don’t hold the line here, far more than the children will suffer.”

  Gabrielle started to respond, but the commander had already turned away to talk to one of her people. She stood in awkward suspension until she gave up and returned fuming to the car.

  Aubrey got in and put her notebook away. “That was interesting.”

  “You could have helped me out there.”

  “Why? I got everything I need for the article. Great stuff.”

  Gabrielle scowled and yanked at her seat belt. “I’m glad you’re so happy.”

  The reporter laughed as she started the car. “I was wrong about you dividing the militias. You may have just united them. Against you.”

  “Because I can’t bring a child back to my tiny apartment in Montreal,” Gabrielle complained. “Because I don’t want these girls to kill or be killed or watch others die. I didn’t write the Geneva Conventions. Yet somehow I’m the bad guy.”

  Aubrey glanced at the rearview as they left the Free Women. “When we get to the rebel line, let me do the legwork, okay? I’d rather not get shot today.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Repeat after me: ‘I’m here to offer aid to children in the Red combat zones.’”

  “And then what?”

  “Leave the child soldiers to me,” the reporter said.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Hannah paced the dirty snow in the courtyard. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Maria hung upside down with her legs draped over the courtyard’s iron fence. “It’s safe in Canada. What if we could go together? I could have my old life back.”

  “It’s a lie.”

  Her old life was gone and would never come back, even if the UN lady drove her to her old house and all her things were right where she left them.

  “I’m sick of being a grown-up,” Maria said. “I want to be a kid.”

  “It’s not about that. This is my home now.”

  “This crappy place? A big, cold, stinky—”

  “I meant the Free Women.”

  Kristy and the other girls marc
hed through the gate and surrounded them. “Get down, Maria. This is militia business.”

  “Okay.” She fell in a tumble.

  “We’re not letting that UN person take you anywhere, are we, girls?”

  They shouted their agreement.

  “She might do it anyway,” Hannah said. “All of us. She said kids can’t be soldiers.”

  Maria dusted snow from her sleeves. “We aren’t kids anymore. And we aren’t even real soldiers anyway. What does she know?”

  “That lady’s just stupid,” Alice chimed in.

  Stupid, maybe. But she was a grown-up. More than that, a grown-up with authority. She wanted to decide what was best for Hannah, thinking it was for her own good when it was the worst thing imaginable.

  Hannah said, “She’ll end up sending us to an orphanage.”

  “Won’t happen,” Kristy said. “We watch each other’s backs, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Maria said.

  “I heard you went out to the front line. That was pretty gutsy.” She raised her voice. “They should get a mark. What do you say, sisters?”

  The girls cheered.

  Maria said to Hannah, “What do you want me to draw this time?”

  “Wait.” Hannah spotted Sabrina heading into the building. “Hey, Sabrina?”

  “Hey yourself.” She paused. “You okay?”

  “Can that lady make us leave?”

  “That’s up to the central committee.” The fighter chuckled. “I think the commander made it pretty clear what she thought of it.”

  Hannah seethed. It isn’t up to Abigail either.

  The grown-ups had torn her from her childhood and dropped her in their world to suffer. She’d earned the right to choose. To each according to her need, but nobody was asking what she needed.

  “Teach me more shooting,” she said. “Can you do that?”

  Sabrina gestured at the chaos around them. “Everything is still a mess. If the fascists attack now, they’ll find us unpacking pots and pans.”

  “Can I come with you and help then?”

  The fighter started again for the front doors. “Just ask around.”

  Grown-up code, telling her to go bug somebody else.

  “You girls should go play,” Kristy said. “There’ll be plenty to do later.”

  Hannah turned on her heel and started walking. Kristy was showing off her age again by imitating the grown-ups, but she had the right idea. Act like them, and they respected you.