Girl Divided

by Willow Rose

  "So…can we die?"

  The bottle came down. He nodded. "Sure. But only by the hand of someone like us. Just don't piss off anyone like you, I always say. At least not enough for them to want you dead. Kept me alive for centuries."

  Jetta stared into the darkness, seeing everything so clearly in the yard. She wondered if seeing in the dark was a power she had received from her father or mother.

  "It's getting dark," Shango said and got up. "We should go inside."

  He bumped into a patio table on his way, yelled out at it for being in his way, and Jetta knew her answer. Seeing the dead had to come from her mother as well.

  She turned her head back toward the yard as she rose to her feet. That was when she spotted Nanna standing at the end of the yard. Next to her stood Kevin and Mr. Richards. But Kevin was no longer alone. With him were Alyssa, Clive, and John.

  Jetta sighed when seeing them, feeling sad.

  At least they're finally together, she thought, then followed her dad inside.

  Part V

  Chapter 58

  Three weeks later, they were playing in the yard with Amare. Shango had built a kite out of an old newspaper found in the basement and a few sticks. He was showing Amare how to fly it. It had been a series of great weeks, actually probably the best in Jetta's life, as far as she could remember. She enjoyed having a family, even if it was a strange one, but who could say their family was normal, right?

  "Then you let go," Shango yelled, running as fast as he could, staggering through the yard, the kite tagging along behind him before falling to the ground for the fifth time.

  Oya chuckled. She was setting the table for dinner outside since it was such fine weather. The smell of her cooking reached them all the way in the yard. As usual, it smelled phenomenal, and Jetta was looking forward to it. Dinnertime was her favorite time since it was the only time they were all together. Tyler had been at the mayor's office hanging out with DeShawn and his army during the daytime and she only got to see him in the evenings. She missed him. He usually came home talking about fronts and how they had now managed to bomb this and that. Usually, it was in New York or Washington. They had a lot of sleeper cells in the cities, as they called them. Usually, they were white people who had been recruited to fight with the blacks, and they would place a bomb or shoot into the crowds, spreading terror among whites, letting them know they weren't safe even within their massive walls. Some would blow themselves up doing it. It was hard for Jetta to comprehend that anyone would kill a lot of people and themselves just for some cause, but that was the nature of war, wasn't it? It occurred to her how both sides believed the others were the demons, the monsters. Each side believed they needed to rebuild the world in their own image. So much blood had been spilled on both sides, she worried they would never be able to forgive and forget. Would things ever be like they had been before she was born? Back in the times that Nanna had talked about? Would they ever be able to be neighbors again?

  Shango sighed disappointedly and looked at the kite, then at Amare. He handed him the string.

  "Here. You run now."

  The boy's face lit up. It was obvious he did not take the task lightly. Amare set off in a sprint as fast as he could, and the kite started to lift, but then immediately began to sink again. Shango grunted in disappointment. Oya looked at them and their disappointed faces, then—without anyone noticing it, except Jetta—she quietly blew a gust of wind toward the kite.

  The kite immediately soared into the air and stayed up in the sky, much to Amare's satisfaction. Oya smiled and winked at Jetta as the boy shrieked in happiness and Shango took all the glory because he was, after all, the one who had shown the kid how to do it.

  Tyler appeared on the porch, wearing his black uniform with the red band on his upper arm, showing the black army's symbol. He had such a serious look on his face, it worried Jetta.

  "Good, you're back," Oya said and wiped her hands on her apron that—very fittingly—said, KITCHEN GODDESS.

  "Now, we can eat."

  Chapter 59

  They had made a nursery with what little they had in one of the rooms upstairs and Jetta took it upon herself to tuck Amare in at night. She was standing by his bedside watching him doze off, after telling him three different stories, all the same ones that her grandmother had told her when she was his age. The boy still didn't speak a word, but he seemed to understand them better and better as the days passed.

  Someone was in the doorway. It was Tyler. He gestured for her to come. She stood up, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and followed Tyler outside. He had that serious look on his face, the one she didn't like.

  "What's wrong?"

  "The boy needs to go," he said.

  "What?"

  Tyler shook his head. "We can't keep him here."

  "Why not? Because he's white?" Jetta said, furious. "Because so am I. At least half of me, remember?"

  He sighed, cupped his mouth, and breathed loudly. "I know. I know. But with you, it's easier to hide. We can't hide him forever. They'll find him and then we might all be in trouble. Things are getting worse out there. Us hiding a traitor will not be looked upon lightly."

  Jetta snorted even though she knew he was right. She had known all along that Amare wouldn't be allowed to stay with them, but it had only been three weeks. She could hardly send him back into the streets, could she?

  "We don't know where his parents are, and we can't send him back to the street. He'll die out there."

  "Of course not," Tyler said. He was rubbing his hands together. Jetta wondered if he was sweating because he was nervous to tell her. "We won't send him back. Don't worry."

  "It sounds like you've already made the arrangements," Jetta said, her heart sinking. "What are you going to do to him? Tyler?"

  "I've talked to DeShawn about him."

  "You did not! Tyler!"

  "Easy now. I told him our situation. He's my brother, I know him, Jetta. I couldn't keep hiding this from him. He was going to find out eventually anyway. It was better this way. Trust me."

  "So, what is going to happen to him?"

  "DeShawn will take him to an orphanage," Tyler said. "The boy will be taken good care of there. My brother promised me."

  Jetta felt sick to her stomach. She had grown to care so much for Amare over the past few weeks; it was going to be hard to give him away. She wondered how he would do among other children in an orphanage.

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow morning."

  "Tomorrow? But..."

  "It needs to be done, Jetta. It's what's best for everyone. Including you. You've gotten too attached to the boy."

  Jetta snorted. Her nostrils were flaring.

  "He has a name, you know."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You keep calling him the boy. He has a name. His name is Amare. He's a human just like you."

  "I know," Tyler said. "Don't you think I know that?"

  "I don't know anymore."

  Jetta left Tyler at the top of the stairs and walked down, biting her lip to hold back her tears.

  Chapter 60

  They came the next morning just like Tyler had said. Five of them stood outside the house and asked for Amare. The looks on their faces seemed more suited to dealing with a criminal than a child.

  Jetta had gotten him ready for them. She had fed him and bathed him. While getting him dressed, she had talked to him about what was going to happen, telling him that soon some nice men were going to come and take him to a place with many other kids where they could take good care of him. That was when he had reached out his hand, put it in hers, and said, "Kite."

  "You're worried about your kite. Yes, of course, you can take it."

  Jetta almost cried. It was his first word. She took him into her arms, kissed him, and spun him around while laughing. Then, as she stopped, she looked into his blue eyes, and said, "You're gonna be fine, Amare, you hear me? I am certain you will."

  The boy
smiled, and that was when she heard the voices coming from downstairs. Loud voices, asking, demanding for them to hand over the boy.

  Jetta walked down with him, carrying him in her arms, her face covered by the hoodie. Amare was laughing happily and giggling playfully, but as soon as he saw the soldiers, he turned his head towards her and clung to her neck hard, his tiny body shaking.

  "It's okay, Amare," Jetta said. "These men will take you to the place with all the children, remember? It's gonna be fun. A lot more fun than staying here with us, that's for sure."

  One of the black uniforms stepped forward, approaching her as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "I'll take the child from here."

  "His name is Amare," she said, spite in her voice. "Remember to tell them that when you give him to the people at the orphanage."

  The man nodded. "Sure."

  Jetta sighed deeply, then pulled Amare's small arms from her neck. She knelt down and put his feet down on the floor, but he wouldn't let go of her neck. He was sobbing.

  "You have to go, sweetie. You have to."

  Just like that, the soldier grabbed Amare and pulled him forcefully away from Jetta. He was crying helplessly, screaming, while the soldier held him in his arms, trying to get him to calm down. Amare was kicking and hitting him, trying to get loose, but failing. Jetta couldn't hold back her tears anymore and looked up at Tyler for help. His face was cold as stone, yet his eyes revealed he wasn't as cold on the inside.

  "Please," Jetta said. "Please, make sure he's well taken care of. Can we visit? When can we visit?"

  But the soldiers had already turned around and were on their way out the door, carrying the screaming Amare in their arms. As they closed the door behind them, all Jetta could hear was his screams, and soon they were gone too. As she turned her face, she spotted the kite on the floor. She picked it up.

  "He forgot his kite," she said.

  "He'll soon forget about it," Tyler said, forcing his voice to sound harder than necessary. Jetta could hear he was emotional too, but he didn't want to show her.

  Outside, there was a rumble as thunder approached and, seconds later, it was pouring down rain. In the kitchen, Oya yelled at Shango for creating a thunderstorm without telling her. Shango yelled at her to get off his back. Not all thunderstorms were created by him. It all ended in a loud fight and doors were slammed. Jetta couldn't stand listening to it and went upstairs to hide in the nursery.

  Chapter 61

  That night, Jetta had a nightmare. She dreamt of Amare, which wasn't strange given the day she had had, but what was strange was how she saw the world from his perspective. She was inside of him. She was in his mind and seeing the world through his eyes. She was even sensing his emotions and most of all fear, as he was taken by the soldiers when he was carried outside of the house, then thrown in the back of a van where many other faces stared back at him, most of them belonging to other children. Their clothes were dirty, their faces obviously marked by malnutrition or even starvation.

  And they were all white.

  Next thing she saw was the van stopping, the back being opened, and all of them being told to get out. Being the youngest, Amare didn't know what to do until some woman grabbed his hand in hers and guided him along. Soldiers, all wearing the black uniform, were pushing and shoving them, yelling at them to hurry. Amare looked up at them but found no compassion for him in their eyes.

  They were taken inside a building and asked to take off their shoes, which were all put in a huge pile outside. At first, Jetta believed it had to be the orphanage, but not for long. They were all placed in the same room, standing so close it was hard for them to breathe. There were no windows in this room, no lights, and not much air either.

  Then the door was closed and it went completely dark. Jetta was certain she also heard it being locked and it sparked fear in her. Someone screamed when the lights went out. Amare didn't feel well in there. He was sweating, and other people's feet were trampling on his bare toes. He was crying. The darkness made him afraid, reminding him of the years he spent in the janitor's closet. Jetta sensed his fear and realized it felt very similar to when she had seen Tyler at the ghetto and thought he would die in the fire.

  When the yellow fog emerged through the ventilation system, Amare didn't see it until it also sunk down between people's legs. It smelled funny and tickled his nose as it entered his body and went into his lungs. People screamed, but not for long. A woman next to him was the first to fall to the ground, eyes lifeless. Amare looked at her face while feeling the dizziness overtaking him the more he breathed. More bodies thumped to the ground around him, grown-ups and children alike before it all went black.

  Jetta woke up with a scream.

  "AMARE!"

  Her heart was thumping in her chest so hard she felt like it was going to explode, a million emotions rushing through her. Sweat prickled on her forehead. She blinked in the darkness, trying to calm herself down.

  Nanna was in the room, sitting by the window next to Kevin and his family and Mr. Richards. Jetta panted and stared at them; when the smell of rain hit her nostrils forcefully, she turned to look in the direction of it.

  Next to her bed stood Amare, looking directly at her. He was no longer crying.

  He wasn't breathing either.

  Chapter 62

  The room was spinning around Jetta. It felt like she couldn't breathe; she could only take small ragged breaths that stuck in her throat. She kept seeing the pictures from her dream. She couldn't even cry, it was so horrifying.

  Amare stood still beside her bed, not smiling or crying. He was freezing. His smell was different than the others. Jetta could still smell the gas on him. All the dead in the room were staring at her like they were waiting for her to act.

  The rage was impossible to keep down.

  Sensing how the walls were suddenly closing in on her, a feeling of claustrophobia rushing through her, Jetta got out of the bed with an explosive movement. She got dressed, then ran down the stairs and outside into the street while gasping for air. She threw herself on the ground, panting, tears streaming across her cheeks. As she looked up, they were all with her, looking at her. Amare was standing in front of them. Nanna, Kevin, his family, and Mr. Richards in the back.

  "What do you want from me?" she said, sitting on her knees. "Why are you following me?"

  She stared into the blue eyes of Amare, then saw it all once again from her inner eye. The people in the van and the eyes staring at him. She felt the fear and saw the door being opened to the room, then closed behind them. She heard the sound of the fog emerging, sneaking inside, and then the people screaming till they didn't anymore. Once again, she saw them dropping lifelessly to the ground. She sobbed and reached out towards Amare.

  "What did they do to you? What have they done!"

  Her hands were shaking as she let go of his. Her blood was boiling and thumping through her veins. Jetta let out a loud scream, got up, and started to run, just run, hoping she could escape the dead, hoping she could run away from the overwhelming feeling.

  Above her, thunder rumbled. As she entered the old Graceland Cemetery, the branches on the old trees rattled above her and shook the inside of the tombstones. She screamed against the sky, fell to her knees and cried out, yelling at the air, crying at the wind, and soon the entire Earth was rumbling beneath her, the tombstones trembling.

  She didn't even notice it happening, being immersed in her anger as she was, but soon she was surrounded. Hundreds upon hundreds of dead people stood around her, looking at her, their bodies rattling as they moved closer.

  "What do you want from me?" Jetta cried while more and more faces emerged from the graves, joining the rest, shaping a ring around her. "What is it you want from me?"

  "They want you to lead them," a voice said.

  It belonged to her mother, who was coming up from beneath a grave, rising and standing tall in front of her, her black leather coat swaying in the wind.

>   "You have called them. They are ready to be your army."

  Jetta swallowed, hard. She looked at the many faces, but mostly at Amare's, who was standing the closest.

  "You owe it to him," Loviatar said, floating towards her, placing her hand on Amare's head. "Look at what they did to him. He was just a child. A child, Jetta."

  Jetta felt the rage rise once again, her nostrils flaring. Thunder was rumbling above her head. As the anger flared, more dead rose from their eternal beds, joining her army.

  "That's it, Jetta," her mother whispered as the earth shook beneath them and hundreds, soon thousands of dead rose. All of them were souls who had a need to be avenged. Jetta didn't know how she knew, but she just did. She knew each and every one of them had a story, a desire they needed to fulfill.

  Loviatar reached her hands toward the sky.

  "Feel the rage, my daughter, my beautiful and strong daughter."

  She leaned down and placed a hand underneath Jetta's chin, then lifted it up and whispered, "Now, kill. Kill them all."

  Chapter 63

  The earth was rumbling underneath the town of Chicago as an army of the dead had begun its march. People woke in the middle of the night to the sound and the sensation of their houses trembling.

  In an apartment somewhere downtown, Jada Jones looked out the window but could see nothing. Her husband, Terrell Jones, a highly ranked officer in the black army and the one who had ordered the people to be gassed as a retaliation for the attack on the black ghetto in New Orleans, came up behind her. He felt the shaking too, and they concluded it had to be an earthquake.

  "We must hide in the closet," he said and pulled her arm to get her away from the window. "I'll go get the dogs."

  Jada rushed to the closet, but what she found in there was as horrid as any earthquake or nightmare for that matter. In between her husband's old suits that he used to wear back when he worked as a sales representative, sat a woman, a white woman. She was naked, her ashen arms bulging, her breasts hanging like old socks. The woman's white lips pulled back into a grin, showing her gums that were rotten and decayed.