by Eric Walters
“It’s open!” Willow yelled toward the trees. “Just let me leave…let me get to the boats…that’s all I’m asking…please!”
His words sounded desperate and scared and pleading, which they were. But it was probably good for them to hear that desperation, to think that they had nothing to fear from us.
Then he turned and ran.
He reached the shelter and I grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him.
“Don’t you ever do anything like that again!”
“I think the correct response is, like, thank you for risking your life for me,” he said.
“For me?”
“I didn’t want you to risk your life,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“We have to go,” Lieutenant Wilson said. He handed me and Willow our rifles and then together we turned and started off.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw the invaders starting to come out of the trees. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body. They were coming, and there was nothing to stop them except us.
We followed the path through the forest and quickly reached the fields surrounding the runway. A few weeks ago these had been filled with crops—tall stalks of tomatoes and cucumbers and beans that would have provided cover. Now they had all been harvested, and there was nothing but open space all the way to the irrigation ditch that marked the edge of the runway. It had been dug to save us the work of bringing water to the crops. Now it was going to save our lives—at least I hoped it would.
All along the ditch were our guards, stretching out in a line, standing, waiting, shuffling around. They had all abandoned their spots on the perimeter wall and this was the agreed-on fallback position.
“Everybody listen!” Lieutenant Wilson yelled. “On my command, you are to spread out along the line. Our lives depend on you staying silent, staying low, until I give the order. I want to alternate, teenage guard and adult guard, all along the line. Weapons are ready, but nobody is to fire until I fire.”
They all looked so scared, so uncertain. Exactly the way I felt. They needed more.
“We can do this!” I called out. “They’re not expecting us to fight. They’re not expecting us to be here. We have surprise on our side. That’s why we’re going to live and they’re going to die.”
The lieutenant nodded in agreement. “We’re going to win. Now take your positions!”
All along the ditch people started running and then climbing or jumping or sliding down into the ditch. It was muddy and at the bottom was a shallow pool of water. Lieutenant Wilson and I took up a spot in the middle. I was right beside him, and Willow was right next to him on the other side.
“Thanks for doing that. They needed to hear it,” Lieutenant Wilson said.
“I’m not sure if I was talking to them or to myself.”
He took out the walkie-talkie. “The perimeter has been abandoned. Please await evacuation until the final guards have arrived. All of the guards will be at the pier within two minutes so we can completely abandon the base. Do you read me?”
“We read you.” It was Chris. “Four boats have left. Two will remain until your arrival.”
“Roger that,” he said.
We all knew that message wasn’t real because he didn’t use his name.
He turned to me. “A little more false information and false confidence for our attackers. I don’t think we’ll be waiting for long.”
Lieutenant Wilson took the angled scope—the periscope—and positioned it so he could see out of the ditch without having to peek up and reveal himself.
I leaned back so I could see along the ditch in one direction and then the other. On both sides were people I knew, people who had come to be my friends. Some were seniors and some were my age or a few years younger or older. They used to be farmers, yoga instructors, actors, retired government employees, or just high school students. Now, together in this ditch, we were all soldiers. We were just here trying to stay alive—and to do that we’d have to kill other people.
There was complete silence. It was so quiet that I could hear the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees. And then I heard something. They were coming. I clicked off the safety on my rifle. All along the line I caught glimpses of people doing the same thing. Everybody was low and silent.
“They’re coming out of the trees,” Lieutenant Wilson whispered.
“All of them?”
“So far only a few.”
That was what we’d feared. We needed to get more than a few advance scouts. We needed to surprise the main body and mow them down. If that didn’t happen the rest would flank our position, moving off to the sides, and this ditch would become our graves.
“There are more now,” he said. “And more. It looks like they’re all coming.”
The bluff had worked. They were so positive that what they’d heard on the radio was true, that we were all retreating, that they weren’t taking any precautions.
There were voices now. They were loud, and there was laughter mixed in. This was a joke to them. We were a joke.
“The first are within twenty yards and closing,” the lieutenant said quietly. “We need to let them get a few steps closer…another few seconds.”
The time seemed to tick by in slow motion.
“And now!” he yelled.
The lieutenant jumped to his feet and I did the same. Now others along the line rose up, and his gun and my gun and theirs all exploded in fire. Out there, the enemy was just a few feet away, so close I could see the surprise and terror in their eyes as the bullets ripped into them. Bodies were spun around by the impact, tumbling to the ground. Others were falling to take cover, turning and running away, and still being cut down! We fired and fired and fired, the smell of gunfire overwhelming, the sound pounding in my ears.
“Cease fire!” Lieutenant Wilson yelled.
The gunfire slowed and then stopped. The ringing in my ears was the only sound that I still heard. In the distance I saw a few people running off into the forest. I waited for more but there weren’t many. The rest were stretched across the field. There were bodies, lying in the mud, twisted into grotesque piles. Except for a few last twitches they were still. Except for the few who had fled they were all dead.
“We did it,” I said.
—
Most of us were still in the ditch, guns at the ready and aimed out, waiting for a counterattack that never came. We weren’t going to be caught by surprise.
After more than an hour of simply waiting and watching, and tending to the three of our people who had received minor wounds, Lieutenant Wilson led a detail of ten guards out through the killing field, into the woods, and out to the gate. It wasn’t until he radioed back that they had all fled, and that he had resealed the gate, that I felt we were free to let down our guard even a little. It had been almost three hours since that first shot had been fired.
I climbed out of the ditch, out of the mud and water. I was cold and wet but I was alive. I felt alive. In front of us were hundreds of what had once been people but were now simply bodies. There was no point in looking any more. I turned away, toward the control tower and beyond that to the pier, where I could see the boats had berthed. They’d been radioed to return and were now letting people off. Soon the Mustangs would be back. Soon my mother would be back.
“It feels good,” Willow said.
“What feels good?” I asked.
“The sun. It feels good to have the warm sun shining down on us.”
“You’re right. It does.”
I raised my face to the sky and took in a deep breath. The sun felt good on my skin. The air felt good in my lungs. We were still here. We were still alive. We had survived. At least for now.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The character Chris is based on my grade 5 teacher—to whom this book is dedicated. In February 2017 she turned 93 and I went down to have a cup of tea with her at her place. She lives half the year on Ward’s Island. The island in my story
is called Ward’s Island. When I pictured the events of my story happening I pictured this community. When I wrote about my character’s cottage in the book it was her cottage that I pictured. More importantly, when I crafted this character who is wise, kind, decent, and caring, I pictured her.
My mother died when I was very young. My life circumstances were often desperate and difficult. Thank you, “Miss Gay,” for being there at an important time in my life and believing in me. Thank you even more for continuing to be there and continuing to believe in me.
With love,
“Ricky”
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