5 Years After

by Richard Correll

  She heard a howl of a voice that tickled her ear as she fired a burst into a crowd of faces. A boy of fifteen with earphones hanging ridiculously from his ears had a bullet enter his mouth and explode out of the back of his neck. The spinal cord severed and he dropped to the floor without a second of hesitation. A bus driver, clearly dead for sometime took two bullets. One entered his right eye and the second in his left cheekbone. The bullets exited with explosive force, leaving a headless trunk that seemed to still be grasping at her as it fell.

  “Get down.” The voice howled again. It was like a whisper, that inner voice that loved to torture her so much.

  She squeezed the trigger for a second burst. A woman of fifty, naked above the waist and very overweight had a shell plant itself firmly between her eyes. The eyes rolled back and for a second seemed to change. In her dreams, Maggie would be looking at the soul of a woman. One who was thankful for final peace.

  Maggie had once seen water fill up a entire floor in Hurricane Katrina. It was like that now but a different deluge. More and more crashed through the door, some staggering and some crawling on useless limbs and missing legs. You went up those stairs like that?

  It was a hurried thought as Maggie concentrated again on the closest ones. A fireman with extensive bites and an arm that was a withered, devoured stump snarled at her. A single squeeze of the trigger and a bullet collided with the bridge of his nose. His body pitched backward from the pointblank blow. The air seemed to vibrate and the windows picked up a drumbeat. Maggie took a second to look over shoulder.

  A helicopter hovered impossibly close to the building. There was a manned A6 heavy machine gun in cargo bay and an assistant with a bull horn. He bellowed again:

  “MAGGIE, GET DOWN!!!”

  The micro second Maggie’s head disappeared from the window the A6 opened up. Air cooled and spring operated, it could fire up to eleven hundred 7.62 mm rounds per minute. The windows imploded, sending a wall of razor sharp projectiles into unfeeling, dead skin. At this range, the shells were large enough to rip limbs from bodies and cause exit wounds the size of dinner plates.

  Maggie pressed herself against the wall and covered herself to protect against the flying glass. When she did glance up the carnage was frightening to see up close. A man in a white t-shirt had a shell hit his left cheek bone with such force it blew out the back of his head. A red mucous film covered the two figures behind him and blinded them for an instant. They were decapitated an instant later when the machine gunner’s arc returned to their position.

  On her hands and knees Maggie crawled out of the line of fire amid glittering shards of glass. When she reached the other side of the room, Maggie stood up and fired a tight semi circle into a window pane. With room to maneuver at a different altitude the rescue helicopter took the cue. Maggie loaded a second clip into her C7A2 and waited for the machine gunner’s belt to run out. A few seconds later, silence replaced the powerful chug-chug-chug of the machine gun. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone in pre planning. As the Huey Helicopter backed up to give the rescue chopper room a few soldiers opened up while the belt was fumbled into place. Inside, the walls and some unbroken windows were streaked with thick, black fluid. The floor in some places was no longer visible with heaps of unmoving bodies that were piled on top of one another like dirty laundry. Maggie tracked and fired three shells at a man in a white lab coat. The bullets traced up his body from the stomach to the chest and then cleaved off the crown of his head.

  The apocalyptic thunder of the machine gun started up again as Maggie felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped for a second before a crewman slipped her into a harness. It was still an unrelenting tide. They were just faces at the door now that were almost instantly obliterated by heavy machine gun fire. Maggie was almost hypnotized by it all as the crewman tapped her on the shoulder and yelled; “Okay Maggie, here we go.”

  Maggie nodded her reply without taking her eyes off of the room. Suddenly, she was looking down between her boots at the airport below. Her attention was diverted a few seconds later by a column of

  black smoke rising to the west. A second inverted cone of smoke boiled out of nothingness like an active volcano. Massive chunks of concrete were jettisoned into the early evening sky. One ton rocks spun like tops in their flight before crashing back to earth and imbedding themselves in the soft, grassy knolls around the highway.

  They must be blowing the 403/410 bridges. Maggie thought distantly as friendly hands grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her into safety. The last thing she saw out of the opening of the Huey before it closed was the machine gun helicopter peeling off to make room for a second attack chopper to position itself and send a volley of rockets into the air traffic control tower. At first the room and then the roof disappeared in a sheet of flame. The building visibly shuddered but stayed up for now, anyway.

  “I owe you one, guys.” Maggie finally spoke when she was able to breathe again.

  “All part of the service, ma’am.” The co pilot turned and smiled.

  The helicopter gained altitude and swung over the residential areas south west of the airport. Maggie felt her heart stick in her throat. It was devastating to look at.

  As far as she could see there were white bed sheets everywhere. There were punctures in roofs with hands waving through the holes, trying to get attention. Here and there, rescue helicopters were working at fighting back from the gathering disaster. Single forms were rising to safety for miles. The hardest part was passing over a street and seeing a horde of them gathered around something on the sidewalk. Sometimes shoes or sandals were visibly protruding from the edge of the feeding frenzy. This is what hopeless feels like. It was the second time she had felt that way in just a few hours. The flight continued in silence.

  When Maggie was dropped off at Borden, she was informed that Downsview was being evacuated and whatever gear she had was on the way. In the meantime, a Red Cross worker with tired, sad eyes tried to find her a place to sleep.

  “There is a bed in the nurses’ quarters.” She offered.

  “Is there a lock on the door?” Maggie inquired.

  “Yes, of course.” The nurse replied. Everything had a lock on it these days. People slept better that way.

  “Perfect.”

  The bed was a bunch of gym mats with a mattress on top. Maggie thought it was pure luxury as she grabbed a blanket and crawled in. It suddenly occurred to her how much her shoulder ached. It happens when you’re not in perfect firing stance sometimes. The kickback can be murder. She eased on to her back to relieve the pressure on her side.

  Everyone has that five or ten minutes of soul time before sleep takes you over. Until you fall asleep it’s just you, your soul and your thoughts. You almost died today. You were just fine with that weren’t you? Why? Her eyes stared into the darkness of the ceiling as if the answer would appear in mid-air before her.

  Maggie felt used up, like a spent battery that had lost its charge. Today felt like a final destination. It was the same as always, one minute at peace, the next in a fighting rage. It’s one thing to be brave. But, this is different. What was it Finerman had called it?

  She felt herself growing heavy. It was easy to give in to sleep right now. The last thing Maggie could feel was a tear finding its way out of her eye and rolling down her cheek.

  Her dreams faded in and out. The large woman in the control tower, she was falling backward in slow motion. Her eyes had that brief instant of relief before closing forever. Dead faces appeared before her through the night. This time they seemed less ferocious and more curious. It felt strange to replay it all as a casual observer. She felt like she was watching a grade school play. The actors seemed wooden but familiar. Her interest in her own life seemed only mildly piqued.

  The sun cast a shadow through the window pane and Maggie felt herself soaking in her own sweat. A small bulk in her pants on the floor caught her attention. She pulled the Blackberry out and saw that it was flashing furiously.

>   Molly: Maggie are u okay?

  Molly: Please answer me.

  Molly: Maggie?

  Maggie counted twenty seven messages from her sister. At no time in her life had she ever conceived of life without Molly. For her sister to be contemplating the same thing must have been a nightmare. Maggie tapped a reply right away.

  Maggie: Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.

  A reply appeared ten seconds later. My god, she must have been holding a vigil.

  Molly: Maggie, thank god. I heard something horrible had happened.

  Maggie: It was a very rough night.

  Molly: But you’re safe, right?

  Maggie: Yes, I’m fine. We lost Pearson and a lot of other stuff, too.

  Molly: I heard the SEC-GEN and the VP had to land on a highway.

  Maggie: It was the only place we could put them down. We were getting swarmed.

  Molly: Did you lose anyone you know?

  Maggie: Yes, But I haven’t got time to cry right now.

  Molly: I’m just happy you are safe.

  Maggie: I love you, sis. Don’t give up hope, okay? Things may be fucked up but they’re far from over.

  Molly: I love you, too.

  After a few minutes of reflection, Maggie decided to satisfy a ravenous hunger at the mess. She was at first taken aback that word had gotten round the base of what went down at Pearson, the kitchen staff were more than happy to rustle something up. After thanking them Maggie took a stroll around the base to get some fresh air and saw herself in a window reflection. Damn, I look like a mess, she realized.

  Maggie headed back to the nurses quarters with a shower on her mind. As she approached the front door a private of eighteen was waiting by the entrance. When he saw her he saluted.

  “Ma’am,” His eyes were straight ahead. “Are you Corporal Maggie Hunter, ma’am?”

  “Yes Private, I am.” Maggie nodded and returned the salute. It amazed her again how everyone seemed to know what happened. But, gossip was always a bitch in the army.

  “Ma’am, the CO wanted you to have these things.” The private’s voice was uncertain as he opened up a towel that held a razor, shaving cream and soap. “He was thinking you might want to relax, shave your legs….and other stuff.”

  “Please thank your CO for me, Private.” Maggie accepted the offerings with a straight face. Yup, nothing like the charm of a bunch of guys in uniform.

  “Yes, ma’am,”

  The shower turned out to be more than what she needed. Since it was in the afternoon the hot water heater had been given a chance to replenish itself. The razor was the wrong kind and the shaving cream was meant for a man’s beard but it was better than nothing. Her hair felt full and clean. The normal side of the world had returned for now.

  Word began to spread that they would be sent down to Orangeville for a debriefing. Transports were being prepped to ferry boxes and bags of supplies that were stuffed into vehicles without an inch to spare. The price of fuel meant every inch had to be used to justify the journey. Is this a sign that we’re winding down, losing step? Maggie turned away and took a long look around Borden. The last day had been a touch strange to someone so used to activity. Military life was all about routine. When it even comes out of place for a day it can take some getting used to.

  Maggie felt a touch of dread inside at the mention of Orangeville. It will be like going back in time. If it had not weathered the storm it would feel like more of her life had been erased. But what if it was still the same? Wow, that was a long time ago.

  They would pile into the old minivan in Baltimore. The parents would drive in shifts while Molly and Maggie played games or slept in the back. Maggie thought it curious when she saw other siblings fighting all the time. There were few quarrels with Molly. She was an ally, if was the two of them against the world. They would start with the silliness and dad would have to say “don’t make me come back there.” They knew he didn’t really mean it. It was just two sisters at high volume. Is that how it was? She was approaching an old pickup truck but her thoughts were miles away. Maybe this is just the way you want to remember things.

  Maybe this is how you need to remember things.

  An hour later, Maggie was watching the countryside pass by in the cargo bay of that old pickup truck she had seen earlier. It was loaded down with hay, burlap bags and baskets containing corn stalks. The driver seemed angry that he had a hitchhiker. Still, his lack of affability allowed her to enjoy the drive in silence. She leaned back and watched massive white clouds traverse her field of vision. She had forgotten how close the sky looked up here. As a child, she used to lie on her back and pretend to pluck them from the sky.

  Where are you mom and dad? I’ll probably never know. They were just gone, that’s all. It felt like a surgical dissection of her memories.

  She saw a hostile as they drove up an elevation and chicane in the road between Alliston and Shelburne on Highway 89. He was a short, squat man with Levi overalls with the left hook unfastened revealing a large red spatter on the chest of his white t-shirt. Perhaps it was the gunshot that killed him, Maggie thought absently. The corners of his mouth had lines of dark red running stains down his face that looked like make up for a nightmarish clown. His eyes were sullen as if lost in deep thought and ponderence. He would take a step and then turn around. He would then pause and take two more steps before turning around again. He seemed lost, wandering from moment to moment trying to find his way.

  Join the club, she watched him pass by and fade into the tall grass, dead trees and wild flowers that seemed oblivious to the passing of time.

  After travelling through the endless green fields and some boarded up buildings down highway 10 they turned onto Broadway in Orangeville. The first few shops came into sight and Maggie felt a slow smile creep onto her lips. A bigger one was on her insides. The big theater and city council meeting area was still there. The Bluebird café was still in business. They had dinner there one night and Maggie felt like a queen. It was just a little town. But it was a little town that had managed to hold on. Hope lives here.

  Maggie’s train of thought ended when the truck turned right and stopped abruptly. It was clear this is where she got out. Maggie jumped off the pickup and didn’t even bother to look back. She was already walking toward the bandstand. There was some peeling paint here. The traces of time had worn through. Dominating the greenery were World War 2 Howitzer field guns and a cenotaph. She paused and read the names slowly and carefully. There were places commemorated like Ypres, Passchendaele and Afghanistan. Is that all this is, right now? Is this just another war and another monument to come through bloody history? She turned away in a thoughtful moment. No, this is much more than that.

  The city hall fire door had thick, unbreakable glass. Maggie had only a small gear bag with her and pulled hard with her free hand. When she entered the foyer she turned left on the neutral carpet and began to approach a city services employee. She was a middle aged woman of fifty. One of the few people left in the world who had worked somewhere all their lives.

  “Can I help you?” She said with a polite smile.

  “Yes,” She dropped her bag and fished through a breast pocket for a piece of paper she had been given when leaving Borden. She handed it over to the woman as she found a pair of reading glasses. There was a pause while the information was digested carefully.

  “They want you at the courthouse.” She said pleasantly, handing the piece of paper back.

  The Courthouse, Where the jails are? Maggie’s face slid into poker face mode and she kept her reaction calm. Did they know she had killed Jay? Had Dwayne told them? Maggie felt a flush of ingratitude. Fuck, I saved that guy’s life.

  “Do you know where it is?” The employee asked.

  “I just came from there, ma’am.” A voice from behind her spoke. “I can show her where it is.”

  Maggie turned to see the magnificent black beard and smiling eyes of Gurpreet. He saluted as always. She returned the sign
of respect and felt a genuine smile cross her face. My god, it’s good to see you.

  “Thank you. I’m good from here.” She turned to the clerk before making her way out.

  The walk up Broadway was casual and almost dreamlike. There were more than a few buildings that had been boarded up but the town had hidden them brilliantly with paintings and photographs of years ago. The Santa Claus parade from 1956, a photograph of Broadway from 1917 covered another with black, burned bricks. Another displayed paintings of the farmers market through the years. There were old pictures of the race track before it was torn down. Maggie found it a skillful way of bandaging the wounds of the present with memories of the past.

  “Hope still lives here.” She whispered. Gurpreet seemed to absently nod in agreement as they passed by the library. She changed the subject to their present situation. “So, how was the debriefing?”

  “They did not ask many questions.” Gurpreet calmly replied. “They seemed to want to forget about it.”

  “Really?”

  “These people seem to be going through the motions.” His voice was a breath of assurance.

  “Gurpreet, their commanding officer is dead.” Maggie offered as they slowly continued up the incline of Broadway. “Do you think they want to know how he died?”

  “Why?” He wisely countered. “If he is not around they can blame the whole mess on him.”

  She had to nod her head at the logic. It’s what we do these days, isn’t it? Find someone to blame everything on. The real cause and effect was unimportant. We were no longer learning from our mistakes, we were just hunting for scapegoats. Maggie tried to forget the cynical thought when she saw a familiar sign.

  “C’mon.” She gently led him by the arm toward a sign that said “Mochaberry.” “I know a place that serves awesome sandwiches and stuff.”