Then Came War

by Jacqueline Druga

  With the exception of a few who could see light and dark, every single person was blind.

  Foster gave Abby the job of getting everyone together and calm while he went into one of the houses and gathered up water to clean their wounds and any pain medication he could find.

  It took three houses for him to get what he believed was enough aspirin.

  Stepping out of the last house, Foster had to label Abby’s job of gathering people a piss poor one. They still weren’t organized.

  “Everyone!” he called out. “I need to know who can hear me at this level.”

  A lot of people raised their hands.

  “Ok, just stand still. We’re gonna get you seated and situated and help as best as we can.”

  “We need medical attention,” someone said. “My eyes hurt.”

  “I know,” Foster said. “But I don’t know where to take you. Whatever it was that happened, it happened all over or at least in New York. So… bear with us and we’ll figure something out.”

  It took Foster a good hour to get everyone seated on the curb in lawn chairs and chairs he brought from houses.

  Abby pretty much did nothing.

  Foster tried to ignore that and kept moving. He gave Abby a pan of water and told her to start at one end of the line of people while he worked from the other end.

  Foster wiped off faces, gave calming squeezes to hands and reassurance as best as he could.

  Abby had helped only three people.

  There was an older woman, at least to Foster she was old. She was maybe sixty years old. Her makeup was smeared; her reddish gray hair was all over the place. It appeared that she probably was all dolled up the day before. However, unlike the others she wasn’t crying. When Foster arrived at her side, he said, “Thank you for your patience.”

  She grabbed his hand and said, “Thank you for your kindness. You sound young.”

  “I am. I’m sixteen.”

  “This is such a grown up thing for you to be doing.”

  “I’m trying ma’am.” He wiped her face. “I’m glad you can hear me.”

  “How many are out here?”

  “I counted forty.”

  “Oh, so five are unaccounted for,” she said. “My name is Judith. What is yours?”

  “Foster.”

  “Foster. Is that your given name or last name?”

  “Nickname.” Foster smiled. “My real name is James.”

  “Oh, you are a Jimmy. I always liked that name. Honey, I was with four people from my Synagogue. I have called out to them but no one is answering.”

  “Some people can’t hear.”

  “Can you look for them?” Judith asked. “They’ll be wearing name tags like this.” She reached for her chest, felt around and found the tag.

  “Yes. I will.” Foster finished cleaning her face. “Judith, what happened? Do you know?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. I was on the train. It crashed. We came up from the subway to find everyone dead. You people are the first people alive that we found.”

  “They’ll be more. If we lived, there has to be. I think we were far enough from the explosion not to die.”

  “I think that too.”

  “All I know is that there were four explosions. We heard them and looked up. We thought, my God, another terror attack. But the sky lit up as if it were on fire. Flames just …. It was like the sky exploded. I dove under the bus. Not an easy task at my size.” She nodded with a smile. “Then a few moments later, I’m expecting the fire, but instead it was pressure, a lot of pressure. My head felt as if it was going to explode. My eyes …. My eyes felt as if they were coming from the sockets. And then … I passed out. When I woke, I heard everyone sounding so confused. And none of us could see.”

  “So you know pretty much as much as we do,” Foster said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.” Foster stood. “I’ll find out though. And if you guys survived, other did too. We just need to get further from the city. Maybe there’s help there, a hospital, the military, FEMA, something.”

  Aimlessly her hand reached out for Foster’s face. “Thank you, Jimmy. You’re a good boy.”

  Foster didn’t know how to respond; he just squeezed her hand and moved on to the next person.

  Abby didn’t see the point in wiping any more faces. She felt bad that these people were injured and blind, but she wasn’t a doctor or a nurse and she was pretty certain, wiping their faces wasn’t doing a damn thing. It was Foster’s juvenile thinking that made him believe a pan of water and a couple of ibuprofen would cure all.

  Abby was thirsty and she set down her pan of water and looked around to see where she could forage some water.

  She wasn’t in the mood. In fact, her whole entire purpose of going with Foster was so that he could find his mother. It definitely wasn’t to help a bunch of injured people wandering the street like blind mice in a maze.

  Her attitude grew worse and resentment brewed inside her.

  The day before, in the subway, she was scared and a bit in shock over the accident. She actually didn’t mind helping down there. Of course Abby hadn’t expected to get out of there. Not on her own at least.

  She had come to grips with the fact that she failed her suicide attempt before the train wreck. She had come to terms with the fact that she didn’t die on the train but just as she started to believe she was meant to live, they had arrived at the train station to find everyone dead.

  It was a slap in the face to her by God.

  Abby didn’t want to live. She wanted to die. Yet all around her again was death and she kept escaping it.

  Nothing that occurred made her want to stay alive; it just made her resentful that she wasn’t lucky enough to die.

  Abby spotted a convenience store a block down the street. That was her focus. A part of her was thinking about walking there and then just keeping on walking.

  But then what?

  Maybe find a gun and blow her brains out or return to the river and jump?

  Either way she was done.

  “Abby,” Foster called after her as she started to walk away.

  Abby exhaled and stopped. She turned around with attitude. “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m thirsty.” She pointed up the street. “There’s a store.”

  “Oh, good,” Foster said. “Good thinking. See if you can find something we can pass out to these people to hold them over.”

  ‘Hold them over until what?”

  “Until help arrives.”

  “Help isn’t coming Foster, or haven’t you noticed.”

  Foster stepped back. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Why are we doing this?”

  “We? We? You haven’t really done much, Abby.”

  “That’s because I don’t want to.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Yeah, well, me, too.” Abby started walking again.

  “Abby.”

  She huffed and stopped. “What?”

  “I’m gonna finish up here and go look for the bus. Judith says it is a couple blocks away. I’m thinking it’s probably closer.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Get them out of here and try to find help.”

  “Foster, be realistic, okay? Why are you helping these people? There’s nothing you can do.”

  “I can try. Abby …” He inched toward her. “Have you always been so mean and bitter?”

  She stared at him for a moment. “No.” Without saying anything more, she turned and walked away.

  ***

  There was no electricity, no gas, and no means of power at all. But there were lots of candles at the beach house. Frequent storms made Ben’s mother keep stocked up.

  In fact his mother had stocked the house with plenty of supplies. Summer was coming. But Ben and Lana had opened the beach house early.

  They went home to find more death on their stree
t. They picked up their car at the train station, went to their home, cleaned up, gathered some belongings and decided to return to the beach house.

  They’d go there for a few days, mourn their families, rest up and then figure out what to do.

  They hoped that during the days they planned on spending at the beach house, answers would come.

  They needed that time alone. Both of them were weak and the injuries from the crash were finally surfacing.

  Lana’s leg sported a huge bruise from thigh to calf and she had her feet propped up on the railing.

  Her phone was next to her and she heard the chime of the alarm.

  At first she thought it was a text message, but when she lifted it, she saw the warning that her battery power was fading and she’d better recharge.

  Recharging was going to be futile since they didn’t have any power.

  It was then as she dismissed the warning and prepared to shut off her phone that she saw it. She had been looking for it all day.

  It was the little symbol that told her she could connect to the network.

  “Ben!” she summonsed him.

  Ben was in the kitchen, using Sternos to make soup. He came out. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can get on the internet.”

  He quickly pulled up a chair. “Go immediately to the news.”

  The news was her homepage so there wasn’t even a question of where to go. Every day, while others read the newspaper, Lana opened up her phone and read the headlines. If something grabbed her attention, she read the article.

  The second the news page opened up, the headlines were bold. The first headline ‘Under Attack’ wasn’t a newsflash for them; it was rather obvious that it had occurred.

  Images of the Statue of Liberty, partly crumbled and burned graced the page.

  “Read it,” Ben said. “I don’t have my glasses on.”

  Lana pulled up the article and read. “The United States struggles to organize following the surprise attack that has brought the country to a grinding halt. The extent of the destruction and invasion is still unknown and the President …”

  Lana’s phone shut down.

  “What!” Ben blasted. “No. Power up and see what happens.”

  Lana tried, the phone only cycled through part way then shut down again.

  Both Lana and Ben sat back with exasperated expressions and heavy sighs.

  “So, we were attacked,” Ben said.

  “And invaded,” Lana added. “We got that much.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “But by who?”

  ***

  Harry brought him to his home.

  Tyler cried all the way and there really wasn’t much Harry could do.

  He’d ask the boy later if he had any other family, telling him that if he did, then Harry would help him find that family. Tyler packed a small duffel bag full of clothes, his toothbrush, other things that were important and pictures of his mom and dad.

  He told Harry he was glad to be going with him.

  The bread was fresh and so were the chips. Harry made Tyler a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He pulled the apple juice from the cupboard.

  “Will you eat for me?” Harry asked.

  “I’m not hungry,” Tyler said. “Thank you.”

  “I understand. But I’d like you to try to eat.” Harry set the plate in front of him. “Please.”

  Tyler nodded.

  “Now you stay put. I’ll be back.”

  As Harry passed him, Tyler spun in his chair. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m just going down to the basement, that’s all.”

  “Why?” Tyler asked.

  “I have a radio down there. It’s an old one. I think I may be able to hook it up to the car battery I have in the garage. We can see if we can find out anything. I’ll be right back.” Harry walked to the basement door. He hadn’t even grabbed the handle before Tyler was right there.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “It’s dark down there. No lights.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Good. But when we come back up, you eat. Clear?”

  “Yes, Harry.”

  Harry gave a nod and headed down to the basement with Tyler.

  Harry was a man prepared. On the wall of the basement stairs, hung a flashlight. He grabbed it and turned it on. “Boy, haven’t been down here since my wife died.”

  “I’m sorry she died,” Tyler said.

  “Me too.” Harry tossed the beam of the flashlight to the right. “It’s over here. Be careful where you step.”

  “It’s cleaner than our basement.”

  Harry chuckled and found the radio. “Dusty. Hope it works.” He found the antennae and wires and then he and Tyler took it upstairs and placed it on the kitchen table.

  A second trip was needed. They went outside to the garage and on a shelf in there, Harry found car battery. He always kept a spare.

  He wasn’t quite sure if he remembered how to power up an old radio with the car battery and it took him several tries as Tyler watched and, as promised, ate his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  “Is this one of the radios you can talk through?” Tyler asked.

  “Used to be able to, but can’t anymore. The input thingy went bad.” Harry pointed.

  “How come you have this?”

  “Well, my oldest son, Harry, was in the Boy Scouts when we got it. I don’t really recall now why. It’s was during the height of the cold war.” Harry spoke as his hands worked.

  “How old is your son?”

  Harry paused to think. “Let me see. Harry … Harry would have been 57 in June. Yeah, 57 or 58. Goddamn I can’t remember. Are you good at math?”

  Tyler nodded.

  “I was twenty-two when he was born. I was in the Navy. I’m eighty now, how would Harry have been?”

  “Fifty-eight.”

  “Fifty-eight.”

  “How come you said he would have been fifty-eight?”

  “Well, because Harry Junior died when he was twenty-five. He left a wife and a baby. My grandson is close to thirty now.”

  “How did he die?”

  Harry looked at the young boy so full of questions. “He was shot. He and his wife were going to a Broadway show. Walking to the subway he was robbed and shot.”

  Tyler’s head hung low. “That’s sad, Harry.”

  “Yeah, I know. It broke my heart.” Harry exhaled.

  “My mom and Dad were thirty or something like that. My dad was older.” Tyler propped his face in his hands as he watched Harry connect the antennae.

  “That’s mighty young to pass away. Say, Tyler …” Harry halted in his task. “Do you have any other family that is not from this area?”

  Tyler nodded. “I have a grandfather and two grandmothers.”

  “Know where they live?”

  Tyler shook his head. “Not exactly, but I know the state. They’re all from Ohio; that’s where my mom and Dad are from.”

  “Hot damn, Ohio isn’t far at all. We can drive there. We just need to find out their address.”

  “Oh!”

  “What?”

  Tyler gave him a bright smile, slid from the chair and raced in the other room.

  “What are you doing?”

  Tyler returned with his duffel bag. He opened it and reached inside. “They sent me a card.” He pulled it out, still in the mailing envelope. “The address is there.” He handed the card to Harry.

  “Columbus, Ohio. And we have a street. We’re good to go.”

  “Will you take me there?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Where will you go after? Will you stay?”

  Harry shrugged. “I’ll probably try to find my other son and daughter; they live out that way, too. We’ll try to find out what’s going on using this radio. We’ll rest up and head out in the morning. Will that work?”

  Tyler nodded excitedly. “Yes.”

  “Good. And … ha!” Harry smiled and cocked b
ack when static emerged from the radio. “We have a signal.” He turned the tuner. “This is a shortwave. We’ll be able to find something out there, a station that’s reporting ….”

  A rush of static, and then a male voice came over the airwaves. It sounded like a newscaster on an AM radio station.

  “Now we have confirmed reports that the USS Bridgeport has sunk in its Mid Atlantic voyage back to the United States. The US is trying to recall all armed forces to America, but engagements in the Atlantic and Pacific are hindering those efforts. The British Prime Minister has gone on record as stating the strikes are in direct violation of the United Nations and is calling upon the United Nations to act and assist while the UK and the US both recover from the devastation. Meanwhile, Japan has expressed its outrage over the attacks, and while they are a sovereign nation, has promised to assist in any way possible. We’ll have more updates in the next half hour or as they come in. This is Stan Smith, Salt Lake City, Utah.”

  The station went to static and Harry continued to search the dial.

  “Harry? What does this mean? What’s going on?”

  “Quite simply …” Harry looked at him. “Don’t know why, but some way, somehow, we are at war. And I think son, the war has come here.”

  ***

  Foster found it. He kept going around the blocks up and down, until he finally got the bright idea to go to the roof of a nearby building and search for the bus.

  After he did that, he was able to locate it.

  It was parked by a diner and coffee shop about two blocks to the west. He loaded what he could from the coffee shop and then loaded all of them on the bus.

  Foster had never even driven a car; he knew the basics and prayed he’d be able to drive the bus.

  The keys were still in the ignition and he wasn’t even sure he knew what to do.

  He started it and the gears ground.

  Okay that wasn’t right.

  He didn’t have to back out and that was a good thing. He couldn’t believe how hard the wheel was to turn.

  It felt heavy as he drove. At least he didn’t have to worry about traffic or hitting another car.

  He practiced braking before pulling onto the street where the injured were located.