The Ward Crucible: Even the strong will be broken

by Grayson Crew

  Kettle points to one.

  “Good a chance as any,” he says. He fastens his flashlight to a shoulder strap, puts his gun ahead of him and takes the lead

  They’re Back

  The walls have rusted holes in them exposing wires and rooms on the other sides. He keeps the light straight ahead, occasionally sweeping around to check behind us.

  We pass bunks, offices, laboratories and storage rooms.

  At a three way intersection we go right. I think he knows about as much about this place as me. Every choice seems random. We come to a set of double doors at the end of the passage.

  The man puts his ear to the door and listens. Then he lunges through and sweeps the space, his beam fading before it can reach the walls. Tables and benches cover the floor.

  “Cafeteria,” he says.

  “There’s an exit,” I say while pointing through the beam. Just then, Violin grabs my arm, clenching tightly around it.

  “I hear something,” says Kettle.

  We listen. Then they come; Whispers.

  The man sweeps the flashlight around. We don’t see anything.

  “On three,” he says, “We run.”

  Sisters Forever

  I take Violin's and Kettle’s hands and we race headlong to the exit across the room. I slam my shins into a bench and topple over. Scrambling to my feet we rush to the doors.

  A solid hand grabs me and pushes us through. The man places the lock.

  He shines the light around the room. Food pantries, sinks and stoves are in rows. The smell is wretched and bugs are crawling over everything. They scatter when the light falls on them.

  He points to some low cabinets under a row of sinks.

  “Hide the girls in there,” he says.

  Violin breathes deeply then presses herself inside.

  She puts her arms out for Kettle.

  Kettle goes and takes Violin’s hand.

  Her eyes are streaming and she’s shaking. Violin wraps around her, rocking her back and forth.

  “You got your axe still?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Guard them, just in case . . .”

  I nod.

  “My light’s about dead. I’m sorry but I’ll need yours.”

  I hand it over.

  “Stay low, don’t make a sound and don’t listen,” he says.

  I hear the scraping of metal as the man slides shelf after shelf in front of the door, barricading it.

  “I’m shutting the cabinet,” I say as quietly as I can to the girls.

  Kettle shakes her head rapidly, but stays quiet.

  “It’s safer,” I say, then slide the cabinet door shut. Pressing tightly against it, I wrap around my knees and listen. The Whispers are louder now.

  They won’t hurt you. The voice is clear enough now for me to recognize. It's Hiro.

  Then comes a jolting crash. Something’s pounding against the barricade. I hear the shrill sound of metal being rent into shreds.

  A gunshot fires. The light from the flashlight flies around the room before setting in place on the floor.

  Get the light, says Hiro's Whisper.

  Around the corner I can see the beam of light-- low to the ground and not moving. I crawl toward it.

  Something falls over, like a pan or dish. There’s another shot. Something rushes by me.

  I bolt for the flashlight, picking it up, I sweep it around the room.

  The beam lands on a shadowy figure holding the man. He’s struggling. I throw my axe at it. When I refocus, the shadow and the man are gone. Whispers are getting louder and louder, a chaos of nonsense. Hiro’s voice rises over the rest.

  Violin.

  The Most Precious

  Little Girl in the World

  Rushing back to where I left them, my beam glides along the cabinet doors.

  The one where I left them is open.

  A blue moth crosses the light and lands on a yellow bow.

  Violin is wrapped around a trembling, terrified Kettle.

  Then I see the bullet holes, the red blossoms on Violin’s shredded dress.

  I shake Violin, feel her pulse, look for breathing.

  I forget about the creature, about the man, about my life.

  Now I’m throwing things, screaming, beating anything in my path. Violin is dead. Moira is dead. Cliff is dead.

  Cries come from a pit deep within me, erasing any remnant of reason. I grab a corroded knife, looking for the shadow, for the man, for the voice--for whatever the hell is doing this to my friends, my family--the only people I care about.

  I see three shadows crash through the doors, ripping what’s left off their hinges. They move steadily and deliberately toward me.

  Kettle is screaming and crying.

  Hatred, grief and desperation fuel through me. I can’t leave Violin down here for those . . .

  things. But I can’t carry her and Kettle, and Kettle can’t keep up on her own. No more time to think.

  I kiss Violin on the forehead and close her eyes, then scoop up Kettle and run. I don’t know how or where, but we’re moving.

  My muscles become machines.

  There’s a door. I kick it open.

  We race up the stairs, leaving the shadows and Whispers behind us. A corridor widens.

  Daylight.

  The Girl With the Yellow Bow

  I sprint through the pain in my lungs and heart. Specks clutter my vision. My forehead is dry.

  I smell salt and hear water.

  The sea spreads before us as we race onto a wooded beach where there’s a chain of pier’s stretching out into the stormy waves.

  Dilapidated ships that look like they’ve been washed up for centuries dot the beachside. The shadows aren’t anywhere to be seen.

  I collapse. My whole body is shaking.

  I know we have to keep running, but I don’t know where to go. If I stop much longer, I might not be able to start again.

  Don’t think. Don’t stop.

  There’s a road leading away from the pier.

  “I’m going to get us somewhere safe, Kettle.”

  “We can’t leave her down there . . “ she says. Then, opening her hand, she shows me Violin’s yellow bow.

  I look away because now my eyes are streaming and I can’t stop it.

  “I’m so sorry . . .” I say, “But we can’t.”

  I wrap the ribbon around Kettle’s wrist. There’s an emblem sewn into it that I’ve never noticed before. It’s sewn in with golden thread.

  A dove with spread wings within a circle. Stars spread over its head and leaves spread out below it.

  This is the emblem I saw on Hiro and Ana. What is it? Where did Violin get this? It must have to do with the movement Ana was talking about, but why would Hiro have it? Why Violin?

  No time to think about it. I put Kettle on my shoulders and move.

  The Settlement

  We walk along the coast toward a concrete road that’s cracked and overgrown. As we follow it we have to climb over trunks that have fallen over the road, an emerald colored snake speeding across one of them.

  Ahead, the road straightens and becomes clearer. There are homes in the distance with colorful roofs that glimmer in the sunlight. They’re like the old villages I’ve seen in my history textbooks: Wood and stone homes with lots of windows and a porch to each door.

  Smoke drifts out of their windows toward the mountains. This must be the settlement. As we approach, the smell of cinder gets stronger.

  Burning embers litter every inch of the ground. Gaping holes from the fire stretch like sores through the quaint settlement.

  “It’s so stinky,” Kettle says while plugging her nose.

  Walking through the rubble the smoke gets thicker. I don’t see any people. Kettle is coughing, so I veer off the road and into the jungle.

  Laying her down, I feel her skin. It’s cool even though she’s sweating. She needs something to drink.

  Up the hill there’s a strea
m where we rest. Kettle leans against me and falls asleep mid-sentence. I try to keep my eyes open, but they keep closing until I pass out too.

  The End of the Road

  When I wake up, the sun is directly overhead. There are some berries and other fruits not so far away that I gather for us to eat before moving again.

  We skirt the edge of the settlement until we see the road at the edge of town. It’s not like the last one we were on. This one is clear and smooth, winding along the coast. I can see sheets of rain falling along the horizon.

  “I’ll bet the Mister and the Misses are looking for me," Kettle says, “When will we find Mommy and Violin?

  Before I can say anything back, I hear shouting in the distance.

  Save This Little Girl

  “They don’t sound very happy,” says Kettle.

  “No they don’t. Stay behind me.”

  The road bends, then opens to a full view of the sandy cove below. A crowd of hundreds is lined up along the beach.

  Getting closer I see men with tattooed faces toward the back. Men in khaki uniforms with guns seem to be keeping everyone in some sort of order. Far in the distance is a ship.

  Near the beach is one boat rapidly filling with people as they wade through the water in single file toward it.

  The lifeboat fills with women and kids who must be from the settlement. Others trying to clamber on are pushed off. As we enter the crowd, I clutch Kettle’s hand tightly in mine.

  We’re in the back with those from the camps. Murmurs spread that another boat is coming. They’re taking kids first. Kettle doesn’t have a tattoo. They’ll think she’s from the settlement. I have to get her on the next boat.

  “Kettle, we need to run.” I scoop her onto my shoulders and run forward. The uniformed men push people out of the way for me once they see Kettle. One of them grabs her from me and pushes me back.

  Falling into the sand, the crowd closes over me, cutting Kettle out of my sight. I hear her crying. She shouts for me. I push my way back up and yell out for her, but can’t rise above the roar of the crowd.

  I knock settlers out of my way as I work back to the edge of the crowd so I can find her. I can see another lifeboat coming.

  The line of settlers moves as the women swim out to the boat and climb in one after the other. I’ve pushed myself in the water as far as the men with the guns will let me go. I see a panicked Kettle being passed forward to the boat.

  A rumor builds like a wave. They’re saying this is the last boat. The men start pushing forward, surging around the women waiting in line.

  The boat is overcrowded and Kettle’s still not on it. I’m screaming to the guards to let her on. Gunshots fire.

  The boat nearly topples in the waves because people are trying to force themselves on. Red spreads through the water and people back away.

  A girl in a flowered dress jumps off the boat and into the water.

  Kettle is given her spot. As the boat engine roars, she catches my eyes.

  I see the yellow bow around her wrist flashing in what little sunlight is shining. Then the chaos overtakes me.

  Kettle

  Gunshots are firing somewhere close. Fighting is breaking out in the water so I go under, trying to get away from the rushing crowd.

  Resurfacing, I can see the carnage growing. Men from the camps are charging at the guards with machetes and stones. The women get tangled in the violence, some of them floating lifelessly out to sea.

  The girl in the flower dress rises out of the water not far from me. She pauses when she sees me. I see her. Red lips. Green eyes.

  Ana.

  I don't know if she recognizes me or not, but she helped me before and now she saved Kettle. It's my turn to return the favor.

  "Stay close to me," I shout, "we need to get away from the crowd."

  We fight through the rising panic trying to get away from the fighting, but the crowd grows around us, funneling us onto the beach into the center of the battle.

  I fight to keep close to Ana. Then the crowd turns, they’re going back to the water. Guns are firing faster, men are screaming.

  People who’ve fallen are getting trampled. Ana and I get out from the center of the mess just long enough to see why they’re rushing back to the water.

  Dark figures are overtaking the men with guns. Whispers rise like a flame and sear through me. More men with guns rush onto the beach and open fire on the shadows.

  Then the air shakes.

  Explosions blast through the palms, leveling them in a wall of flame. More dark figures rise amid the smoke.

  I see a tail of fire and smoke shooting across the sky and toward the ship Kettle should be on by now.

  Tremors rock the sea and earth as the ship explodes into a ball of flame.

  All goes quiet, even the guns. The shadows freeze.

  Kettle.

  Valley of Flowers

  Then, as quickly as the silence came, it evaporates. The fighting picks up again, creating a current in the crowd that sweeps us back toward the heart of the fighting.

  A machete flies in front of my face. Ana screams, but we keep moving. We get to the edge of the jungle. I see more dark figures coming. The Whispers are louder.

  “We can’t go that way!” Screams Ana. Bullets burst through a palm near us.

  We drop to the ground and crawl as fast as we can along the edge of the jungle, away from the shadows and panic.

  We get far enough to stand, so I take her hand and run deep into the bush. The Whispers become shrill, like razors against metal.

  My ears are throbbing in pain. Ana cups her hands around her ears.

  We keep moving. The pain builds until I don’t think I can bear it.

  I can’t run straight, I can’t see, I can only hear what’s become a whirlwind of dry screams. I huddle into a ball and pound at my ears, shouting to make it stop.

  Ana takes my hand and pulls me along, clawing our way through the brush.

  In the dizzying blur surrounding me, I see something white.

  I clamber forward with Ana beside me. As we get closer to the white blur, my vision becomes clearer, the screaming quiets down until finally, there’s silence.

  We’ve come to a valley of white and green flowers.

  What’s Happening

  In the silence, I remember Kettle crying out. In my mind I see her reaching out for me. Then the explosion. My breaths are heavy, like a stone is pressing my chest.

  Ana is on her knees, hair falling over the flowers with her palms on the dirt. She bursts into tears. Clawing handful after handful of dirt she tosses clumps of roots and flowers back into the bush.

  I kneel next to her because I think that's what I'm supposed to do; it's what Cliff would do.

  She collapses against me, her tears soaking against my shirt. I wrap my arms around her the way Cliff held Moira. I hold her until her tears stop.

  "Did you find the home?" She asks.

  So she does remember me.

  “You’re shaking,” She continues.

  I didn’t even notice.

  “And you’re cold.” She starts to rub my arms rapidly. My skin warms up. The sweet smell of something like honey and mint rises from the petals.

  I hear the faint burst of gunfire, then quiet again. Ana folds her arms around herself and looks away.

  "You're not very talkative," She says.

  It's not something I've had a lot of experience with.

  “We should move” I say.

  “If we leave this valley we’re dead."

  “Let’s just follow it as far as it goes.”

  ". . . Tell me what's happening."

  “I don't know what's happening.”

  Ana

  We move farther into the valley, staying close to the flowers that roll along like carpet. Lush, jagged mountains rise on either side, blocking the setting sun.

  Behind us a wall of rain closes in. I cup handful after handful and drink in the tropical rain as it soaks us t
o the skin. Ana’s dress clings against her body.