A loud explosion sent me for ducking for cover.
7
“What was that?” Tommy said in his high voice, having changed into jeans and a hoodie. I shook my head, leaning back to the window and looking to where the soldiers had been only moments before, but all I saw was the last of them disappearing through the door they’d just thrown a grenade into.
I watched, only able to pull away when bursts of gunshots started. They were clearing the houses.
Stumbling from the window, I turned to Tommy.
“We’ve got to go.”
Ushering him down the stairs, about to put my hand on the door, I looked at him.
“Where are your dad’s shoes?” I asked, watching as he pointed along the short hallway and the cupboard under the stairs.
Pulling the cupboard open, I hurried the worn slippers from my feet, but the two pairs I tried were far too small for my size tens. When I felt another explosion through the wall, I gave up, pushing my slippers back on.
Before I opened the door, I grabbed Tommy’s wrist, then peered left to glimpse soldiers rushing into the next house with smoke still pouring from the front door. It was a scene I would have expected to see on the TV news of some conflict in a third-world country.
It was worse than I thought. They were going from house to house to make sure there was no one left alive. They weren’t even checking if people were acting weird. I’d heard no calls to check if the people in the house were afflicted. The soldiers were killing people on sight.
What had the world come to? Was whatever had affected my mum, Steve and everyone else I’d seen in the village so far so dangerous? Was there no way they could get better? Was there no hope for me, or Tommy?
It was like a video game; like the one I’d been playing that morning, but at least then I’d had a gun. Perhaps if I could get one, it would even up our odds.
I pictured a soldier lying dead, attacked by someone from the village and bleeding out by the side of the road. Could I take the rifle from his body?
Dismissing the thought with a shake of my head and about to turn to Tommy, I stopped, seeing movement from over the road. A door opened two houses along and an Asian man in boxer shorts with a woman in a dressing gown behind him stepped over the threshold. Both looked around in search of what was going on.
I recognised their faces but not their names. I’d seen them before, like everyone else in Cowithick.
The muffled commands from the soldiers pulled me away from the question of their name, the calls growing more frantic. I imagined them shouting for them to stay where they were and get to their knees, but they wouldn’t do as they were told.
As if in a daze, they looked on as the soldiers ran toward them with their rifles raised.
Still stood in the doorway, I wanted to call out. I wanted to tell them to turn and run, bar the door and rush out of the back like I needed to do. But I couldn’t get the words out.
Seeing the soldiers hadn’t looked my way, I stepped back into the house, closing the door but leaving just a crack so I could peer out. I watched the inevitable gun shot, the first of many cutting the man down, sending him stumbling back with a look of utter shock as he clutched his chest.
The woman screamed, dropping to her knees, then turned back to their doorway where a kid stood with his mouth wide.
Mo. I knew his name. He was only a year younger than me.
His mum tried to stand, but a plume of blood sprayed backward before she could rise. I turned away, gripping Tommy’s head as the volley of explosions came, bucking my body with each echo between the houses.
As the gunfire halted, I released Tommy, keeping my body between him and the terrible sight I couldn’t bring myself to look at. I looked past the first sign of his tears and gripped him by the upper arms.
“We have to run,” I said.
By his slow nod, he understood, but from his hardened expression I couldn’t tell if he’d seen the result of the shots fired. I couldn’t tell if he realised the soldiers weren’t there to reunite him with his mother.
He didn’t give any other reply, and I gripped hard, releasing my hold just a little when he tensed as if in pain.
“Do you understand that we have to get away?”
He nodded.
“I know somewhere I think will be safe. Somewhere where we can look for your dad.” I nodded, hoping to prompt the same again in return.
His reply was much shallower, but his eyes lit up when I spoke again.
“So when we hear that loud noise again, we have to run. Hold my hand and go as fast as you can. Do you understand?”
He nodded and I forced a smile as he mirrored my expression. The only difference was that mine fell as soon as he couldn’t see. I leaned to the wall to wait whilst holding my hand out toward him at my back.
His hand felt so small in mine. I was sixteen and closer to being a fully-grown adult, whereas he had such a long way to go. So much of his life to live.
They hadn’t even bothered to move the bodies. Edging forward, I saw the soldiers had moved back to the house they’d been at
