War Kids Read online

  War Kids

  HJLawson

  ~~~

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2014 by HJLawson. All rights reserved.

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  First Printing, 2014

  www.hjlawson.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Wake Up. Run.

  Chapter 2 Their Corridor of Death is my Corridor of Freedom.

  Chapter 3 I am Alive. I am Alive. Protect Me.

  Chapter 4 Evil Cowards.

  Chapter 5 Follow my Beating Heart Back Home.

  Chapter 6 Blue Sky Above.

  Chapter 7 Fear Cannot Dominate My Life.

  Chapter 8 Bridge to Hell.

  Chapter 9 Goodbye Father.

  Chapter 10 The Devil is Calling.

  Chapter 11 Black as Liquorice.

  Chapter 12 He’s Back.

  Chapter 13 Goodbye Jada.

  Chapter 14 Trust Me.

  Chapter 15 Wander.

  Chapter 16 Goodbye.

  Chapter 17 Beware: You Do Not Know What You Have Woken.

  Chapter 18 Ghost From the Past.

  Chapter 19 Sunrise Over a New Era.

  Chapter 20 Picture of Hope.

  Chapter 21 God Bless my Beautiful Daughter.

  Chapter 22 New Friends.

  Chapter 23 You are Not Alone.

  Chapter 24 Mia.

  Chapter 25 Born in Hell.

  Chapter 26 Reunited.

  Chapter 27 God Bless.

  Chapter 28 The Journey Begins.

  Chapter 29 The Mission.

  Chapter 30 Zaatari Refugee Camp – Tent Town.

  Chapter 31 They Know Where They Are.

  Chapter 32 Empty Shell.

  Chapter 33 Our Sanctuary.

  Chapter 34 Extra Pair of Hands.

  Chapter 35 First Taste of Happiness.

  Chapter 36 Hell on Earth.

  Chapter 37 Training Day.

  Chapter 38 New Life.

  Chapter 39 Many Happy Returns.

  Chapter 40 Tent Town.

  Chapter 41 Reunited with Our Fathers.

  Chapter 42 They Have Returned.

  Chapter 43 Refugee Camp.

  Chapter 44 Lambs to the Slaughter.

  Chapter 45 Reunited With Their Fathers.

  Chapter 46 Black Shadow.

  Chapter 47 Reborn.

  Chapter 48 One Month Later.

  Epilogue

  Authors Note

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Wake Up. Run.

  JADA

  “Wake up. Run.”

  Jada wake up! I scream in my head.

  Bracing myself, I take a deep breath and millions of tiny molecules fly up my nostrils and down my throat. What is this familiar taste? It reminds me of when I was young and played with chalk.

  Where am I?

  A cold shiver runs over my body as questions flood my mind. What happened? Why do I feel like I’m covered in dust? Father never trained me for this… are they going to kidnap me, the same way they did him?

  I’m terrified to see what awaits me. But I force myself to open my eyes. In a flash, like a lightning bolt, I see the unthinkable horror in front of me.

  Chaos.

  A blurred image of a young boy stands trembling at the end of my hospital bed, his bewildered face covered in dust and tears. I can see his dazzling white teeth as he screams... Why can’t I hear him? Oh my God, what has happened to the poor child? Where is his mother?

  Where is mine? Why can’t I hear anything… is this real, or a crazy nightmare?

  I frantically look around for my mother, but I don’t see her anywhere.

  Mother, where are you?

  The sheet of gray dust over my face reminds me of the times my mother and I would play dress up and she would add blush to my cheeks. I wish I could go back to those happier times, before the war, to when I could just be a child.

  But those times have gone.

  The gray walls of the hospital are like a snowy day in the city, and they are crumbling in front of my eyes. A blaring light fights against the protective cover of the few blind slats on the window that survived the attack. Where is the light coming from? It’s the middle of the night! Is my mind playing tricks on me?

  The smell of death is all around me. As I shift uneasily on the bed, the plastic material squeaks against my sticky, sweaty skin. No! I have to stay quiet and not draw attention to myself.

  I look at the bed next to me. The overhead light has fallen down, and sparks are flying from the ceiling. I see the same dusty gray layer, but it is turning blood-red. An elderly man is slumped over.

  As the light continues to flash, I see him more clearly.

  He has large, overgrown eyebrows on his small, wrinkled face, and there is blood seeping through his clothes. He is dying right in front of me.

  We stare at each other, frozen in shock. Not daring to speak, his dark eyes hold my gaze. His thin, straight lips start to slowly part. Fear floods through me. I shake my head and plead to him with my eyes.

  Please don’t make a sound!

  The old man’s eyebrows rise up, and he silently mouths, “Run.” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle to the rhythm of my terrified heart, but I remain still, too afraid to move.

  Someone help me, anyone! I cannot do this!

  I have to move… to get out of here before they get me. I slowly shift myself to the edge of the bed. My legs are numb, and my toes are tingling. My body is weak, but I have to stay strong.

  As I look down on the floor beside me, where my feet are about to land, I see a dust-covered body. It is the caring lady doctor, the one who was looking after me. Faith. I can see glimpses of her golden strands of hair through the soot.

  Not Faith!

  I remember her soft voice as I faded in and out of consciousness, and the blurred image of her peering over me like a beautiful angel, telling me everything would be okay and that she would protect me. Tears pour down my face as I gaze at her now lifeless body.

  Suddenly the silence is broken by the sounds of screaming. I cover my ears to block the unbearable noise. Screaming everywhere, all around me.

  This is not a dream; this is a true-life nightmare.

  Light beams hit my face, and a door opens. As my eyes adjust, I begin to see shadows in the doorway.

  I can't stay. I have no choice.

  Soldiers are standing in the doorway, a sea of blue helmets with sage and brown camouflage, with black jackets projecting their heartless bodies, their faces covered by gas masks. Their belts bulge with water bottles. I'm so thirsty for just one tiny drop… to get the taste of chalk out of my mouth.

  Big black boots stand amongst the debris, sturdy, confident. Each soldier holds one hand over the long barrel of a gun, the other over the trigger. Poised, ready. My heart skips another beat.

  There are too many of them. Even if I had my gun, I wouldn’t be able to kill them all. But maybe enough to make a run for it…

  My father taught me how to use a gun before he was kidnapped over a year ago, when I was thirteen. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and cry, but Mother dragged me out and forced me to continue. I lashed out at her and begged her to leave me to grieve for my father, but she insisted.

  I’m a perfect shot now.

  “Run, child, run!” the dying man screams to me.

  I leap off the bed and land on Faith.

  “Ouch!” she grunts.

  Oh my God… She’s alive!

&nbs
p; As I crouch down beside her, the sounds of footsteps get closer.

  “Faith, I'm so sorry… are you okay? What's happening?” I gasp.

  “Run!” she yells. “RUN!”

  I jump up and grab the bewildered young boy in front of me. The soldiers are coming; they are bloody coming!

  “Come on, we have to get out of her,” I say to him.

  A soldier reaches out and grabs the child’s arm.

  “Ouch!” he cries.

  “Get off him!” It feels like a golf ball is in my mouth. I stutter as I squeal, and the boy’s eyes look like they’re going to explode.

  “Leave him alone; you are hurting him!”

  But the solider is too strong and continues to pull. With one fast swoop, the boy is out of my hand and the solider picks him up in his arms.

  The child screams and thrashes his arms and legs in a violent rage.

  “Leave him alone!” I shout again.

  “Kid, we’re here to help! I mean you no harm,” the solider informs me as he marches away.

  Here to help?! Does he think I’m crazy?

  The room begins to spin; my mind cannot handle this. Oh God, they’re moving forward; the soldiers are coming for me now!

  I turn away from them and start to run without looking back. I have no choice. There is nothing else I can do.

  I have to keep moving… it’s the only way to get out of here alive. Bodies are strewn everywhere, some small and wrapped in blankets. All are covered with the gray dust.

  What the hell is going on?!

  Chapter 2

  Their Corridor of Death is my Corridor of Freedom.

  JADA

  Running from the hospital room, I enter a dark corridor.

  I hesitantly stretch my arm out to the wall and scrape my fingers down its rough sides. My hands are my eyes as the walls guide me through the black hole. My heart is racing, and I can barely catch my breath.

  Heavy footsteps echo close behind me, and my body trembles with cold beads of sweat. I have to find the energy to continue, but my legs feel like jelly.

  “Keep going, Jada. Move faster!” I tell myself.

  THUD, THUD, THUD.

  They are close… they will get to me soon.

  All I see is darkness everywhere. It's as if I am blind – there is simply nothing I can see.

  The hairs on my skin stand up as my fear increases. I don’t have much time, and I have to choose. I have to go left or right, because there is nowhere to hide.

  My sense of direction is lousy in daylight, never mind in bloody darkness.

  Looking left, all I see is an abyss of darkness. Down the right corridor, I see it: the sliver of hope. Light is shining through a gap; it’s a door! All my senses tell me to run… I have to run to the door of freedom!

  The odor of death fills my nostrils until my body feels numb with the stench. Flies are swarming everywhere. I start to run, but I fall to the ground with my very first step.

  “Jada, you need to be more graceful,” my mother’s voice rings through my head.

  I try to stand, but why is the ground so soft? It’s sticky and moving beneath me, and I hear grunts of pain.

  Oh, Dear Lord, no…

  I’ve fallen on a person. I jump to my feet in horror.

  Turning back will mean my own death. What choice do I have? Go down the path of death, or surrender?

  Holding the rough-textured wall, I hesitantly step onto the body in front of me, with my bare feet wrapping around what feels like a leg. There’s still some warmth. With my entire weight on the person beneath me, I wait for a scream or a grunt, but all I get is silence.

  My gut twists up as I realize the person is dead.

  Overwhelmed with the smell of death, I begin to feel dizzy… so dizzy.

  I lean against the wall to steady myself as flies swarm everywhere.

  “Come back!” a voice echoes down the corridor. They are here. How stupid of me to stand around and cry.

  I wish I had my gun! I'd shoot every last one of these bastards!

  I begin to move forward, carefully and quickly stepping from body to ground. It is tricky to navigate; I don’t want to fall again. My stomach begins to contract, and I try not to retch at the thought of what I’m standing on.

  My attention is drawn away from my feet as I hear a low buzzing, like hundreds of flies gathering together, singing in unison.

  With a loud crack, my sanctuary of darkness is gone, as the lights come on.

  Adjusting my eyes to the brightness, I look down the corridor to freedom. There are rows after rows of bodies lined up with their injuries plain to see.

  Skin is peeling from their bones; white foam flows out of their mouths and noses. Hundreds of flies are hovering around them, disrespectful to their prey.

  Jumping back in shock, I look down at the true horror beneath my feet. I’m standing on a small boy… maybe five years old, with white foam pouring out of his mouth, painful red blisters on his young face, and brown eyes bulging wide with constricted pupils.

  The thought of someone killing these innocent children makes my stomach contract uncontrollably. Warm bile begins to rise bitterly in my throat.

  I vomit until there is nothing left.

  My face is covered with tears and sticky sweat, as if I’ve been outside on a muggy spring day and have been caught in a shower.

  Mother, I need you! Help me!

  Tears pour down my face, and I become very dizzy; I’m so weak that my legs begin to tremble under the weight of my body.

  I collapse to the ground. “Lord above, I'm kneeling down before you, begging you to stop the murders of the innocent.” I silently plead for hope, for an answer, but no one can hear me. No one can answer my prayers – they are all dead.

  After what feels like a lifetime down the corridor of death, silently sobbing to myself, I hear the thud of soldiers’ boots. They must’ve been the ones who turned the lights on, and now they’re looking for me.

  Without thinking, I spring into action, as if the sickness and sobbing were the last parts of the innocent Jada inside me. My childhood was stolen, and they took it.

  They took everyone’s innocence – the children here didn’t even get a chance to start their lives, and it’s over now. They broke me; they broke all the children. I will not let them take my life the way they did the others'.

  “You can do it, Jada!” my father’s voice rings through my head. I don’t think I can, but I have no choice.

  I leap up and begin to sprint. “Stop!” shouts a soldier. “We’re here to help. Come back!”

  “Leave me alone, you animals!” I scream.

  “Stop! Don't run!” yells another. They are right behind me now.

  “How could you do this to children? May you and your families rot in hell!” I feel like a demon has taken over my voice; I cannot keep my anger hidden. I want to explode and kill them all. Every last one of them!

  Dashing toward the door, I leap over one body and the next, pretending that I’m playing hopscotch with my friends in the schoolyard. I’m so close to the door that I can almost smell freedom.

  No, something is grabbing me. The last body at the doorway is alive, and it’s squeezing my ankle tightly. Looking down, I see an elderly woman, smaller than I am, with an oversized, crooked nose, bushy eyebrows, and dark, bulging eyes. She’s tiny but strong.

  Oh, my God, someone is alive down here!

  Her blood-stained, long, yellow nails cut into my ankle. I let out a scream of shock and try to jump back. Her wrinkled, thin lips slowly part, and white foam begins to pour from her mouth.

  “Help me,” she grunts.

  She tightens her grip around my ankle as I wriggle to get free. I have no choice but to kick her off me, and she lets out a scream. “Help me!”

  Pushing down on the door handle, I am free in the sanctuary of darkness.

  Chapter 3

  I am Alive. I am Alive. Protect Me.

  GERARD

  A few d
ays earlier

  “Faith, this is Laura from the BBC World News.”

  Laura is younger than Faith, and her black, shiny hair is swept back into a ponytail. Her hazel eyes have a natural warmth to them, and after seeing all these injured people in the hospital, Laura is a breath of fresh air.

  Oh, fuck! Faith glares at me as she catches me admiring the beautiful newswoman. Fuck, she’s going to be pissed later!

  Laura reaches her hand out to shake Faith’s. I catch sight of Laura’s manicured fingernails, and as Faith glances at me and rolls her eyes, I know what she’s thinking: where did she come from? Some five star hotel? Faith can be a little bitchy at times, but I like her fire.

  Faith holds her hands up to show her bloody surgical gloves, and I stifle a laugh.

  Faith reminds me of Mia. It’s weird because they look completely different… Faith has that golden blonde hair and those blue eyes that sparkle when she smiles.

  Mia, on the other hand, had mahogany hair and breathtaking eyes that I could stare into for hours. But their facial expressions are similar, especially the way they both roll their eyes and scowl when they’re pissed off at me. But when Faith looks into my eyes, I know it’s different. No one can replace the love I had for Mia, the love that was stolen the day she was killed.

  Faith smiles at Laura, wipes her gloves down the side of her bloodstained doctor’s jacket, and shakes the reporter's hand.

  “How may I help you, Laura? I don’t have much free time since they started bombing the hospitals; this is the last one in the city.”

  “I understand your time is precious – you are truly doing God’s work here. I’d like to interview you for tonight’s news. All I need is a few moments of your time. My cameraman is here now so it’ll only be one minute, I promise…. You could save thousands of lives.”

  Faith glances at me. “Gérard, what can I say?”

  I walk over and place my arm around her neck. “Say what is in your heart,” I whisper in her ear.

  Faith looks down at her blood-covered shoes and pauses. Then her attention is drawn to her current patient, a petite young teenager.