War Kids Read online

  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 beautiful 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 was 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 announcement. ‘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.

  JADA

  Turning on my heels, I walk inside the family home. The door bangs shut, and it’s like the world outside is gone, like nothing is real anymore. The old Jada died when I kissed my family and sent them off to heaven. My life has changed forever. I can hear the demons in my mind, wanting revenge. I’m too tired to argue with them, so they become distant background noise.

  My stomach begins to rumble, taking me away from the monsters in my head. When was the last time I ate? Like a zombie, I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge door, taking out sliced ham, cheese, and butter. I get a plate and two slices of bread, but when I open the butter, it’s melted. I make a sandwich with potato chips on the side. I’m thirsty, so I pour myself a glass of orange soda.

  I take everything into the front room and set it on the table. It’s sandwich and television time. I try to turn it on, but nothing happens. The power is off. Great. I sit on the sofa and finish my sandwich. It’s weird… I feel like I’m not here, it’s as if my body has taken over because my mind has shut down. I have to snap out of it and find my father. I need a plan.

  Father taught me to be prepared for anything. I need to get ready for the journey ahead of me.

  Heading to the cupboard, I take Father’s big, black backpack down and empty everything from it. The smell of rotten food wafts out, like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages. The bag is full of pockets – this will be perfect. It feels like I’m acting, as if someone has taken over my brain, blocking it from the trauma of the death outside. It’s scary to feel out of control, but it’s better than reality.

  I take a mini leather case from the top shelf and set it by the bottom of the stairs… I’ll sort that out later. Next, I take down a small tin Mother showed me when Father was kidnapped. “Jada, if anything happens, take everything from here. Do you understand?”

  Inside are Mother's, Father’s, Lucas’ and my passports, as well as two hundred dollars. I’ve never had this amount of money before. The most I've had was ten dollars that I got for my birthday. There is also a sliver key with a ring on it which reads "62276" on one side, and on the opposite side is an address. I place it ba
ck in the tin and put it inside one of the backpack pockets to keep it safe.

  Like a robot following my father’s orders, I move on to the next thing -- food. I open the fridge. This food will not last long in my backpack.

  I make a pile of sandwiches and wrap them up in foil. I take an apple and then head over to the cupboard and take some crackers, potato chips, and cereal bars. I need light foods that will last. I pour some Cheerios into a bag.

  There are some crackers with cheese spread in them – Lucas’ favorite snacks. I grab them all. There hasn't been much food since all the prices went up and we cut back on eating, saving this kind of food as a luxury.

  I take some candles from the next cupboard, a box of matches, and the travel first aid kit. Perfect. I open it to check that everything is in there. Water… I have to pack water. I take a bottle from the side, making sure nothing spills out. My father’s survival instructions ring through my head as I prepare everything. It’s almost as if he’s here with me. I know he’s not really… but it helps.

  Carefully I place everything in the backpack, filling every space at the bottom. I’ll need room for clothes on the top. I add the water bottle to the side mesh pocket, closing the drawstring.

  That was tiring work. I place the bag by the front door and make a quick stop at the restroom.

  Shifting my attention toward getting clean, I turn the taps on for a bath and run to my room to grab some fresh clothes. Mother always said layers are the key to staying warm, so I take some of everything.

  I shove the clothes, along with the toilet paper, into the bag at the bottom of the stairs. I throw a thin jacket over the top of it. I take the little leather suitcase in the hall and set it in my bedroom. I will sort that out after my bath. Following my parents' routines helps me to disconnect from the world.

  It’s bath time. I strip down, and it becomes clear how much I need to bathe. Looking in the bathroom’s full length mirror, I appear almost like I’m still wearing clothes. My fingernails are covered in mud, and my hands are black with dirt and dried blood.