I was woken up by my mom. She was crying. Between her hysterical sobs, I want to say that I could discern what she was saying. But that just wouldn't be true. And I've never been one to lie. My father came in, he spoke with a clarity. An authority that could only arise in a moment of chaos, such as this. For this house was a house ruled by mom, like many in those days. But in that moment of uncertainty, we both needed dad. I think he was happy to finally have a say.
I next remember being rushed out of my room, still wearing my black and silver colonial miner pajamas. Through that great big living room window, condensed from the morning cold, I could see my neighbors running suitcases to their car. Landon, my neighborhood friend, was similarly being rushed out, he too still in his pajamas. They weren't as cool as mine. I never saw him again after that day. I guess they never made it.
I was carried into the car, my father assured me, "Everything will be okay."
He lied. I didn't know it at the time, or even care. I just wanted to go back to sleep. I was hungry, too. My mom ran into the house, brought out the kitchen - or at least, what food she could carry. I looked out the back window as we drove away, at the home I never saw again. I waved goodbye to Kid, my golden retriever, still chained up behind the white picket fence. Mom made me a sandwich as we drove. The bread tasted like that strawberry lotion she always wore, and was moist from her tears. That was the worst sandwich I ever had.
I came to some time after eating that terrible sandwich, when a man in a grey uniform broke the window on mom's side. He must have wanted mom's necklace, the one with the clear rock, because he tore the buttons on her blouse to get it. She was screaming. Another soldier was slumped forward on the hood, on dad's side. He stared at me with blank eyes, I think he was scared. Dad was outside the car, standing over the soldier. He had a gun in his hand. One of those sidearms, like my colonial miners. He pointed it like them, too. It hurt my ears, as before but I learned to like that sound.
I think we drove for a few days. I really hated the way the wind blew through the broken window. Mom was in the back seat with me, most of the time. She would stroke my hair, and try to hum me to sleep. Sometimes, when the loud noise came back, she wouldn't let go. After, dad's fingers would be white knuckled to the steering wheel. One time, he had a gash on his head, which mom had bandaged. The gun was laying in the passenger seat. I remembered that it looked exactly like the one that Landon had showed me a year before. Sounded like it, too. Thomas never got the chance to hear it that day. I think he would have liked the sound. Landon always said my toys were stupid. I should have shown him instead. But he didn't lie like Thomas had.
I was dizzy, and there was warmth falling in my eye. I picked up the sidearm, pointed it, just like the colonial miners. Just like before. Bang. Bang. Bang. It had more kick than I remembered, made my ears ring. It smelled good, felt good. I wanted to do this more. I guess they hadn't expected it, the bullet in their backs. Mom had already been sleeping for some time. One of the women who was with those two men drove for me. She was shivering, covered in mud. A gash in her lip bled down to the chin, and her hair was wet. She didn't like the gun. There were wolves in the treeline, they'd been watching the scuffle. They must be hungry, too.
I lost contact with the woman after reaching the passage. They wouldn't let her on. They let me on. They took my gun, asked me where my father was. The man said he would get me a new one on the other side. He lied to me that day. I knew that no one would ever lie to me again.
The other side was cold, despite the sun and clear sky. We traveled over ice and snow. The mountains held secrets. I made sure I knew them all. Even with the lights, I descended into darkness. A part of me remembered how mom and dad slept. Sometimes, I wanted to sleep, too. But he wouldn't let me.
I came to some time after eating that terrible sandwich, when a man in a grey uniform broke the window on mom's side. He must have wanted mom's necklace, the one with the clear rock, because he tore the buttons on her blouse to get it. She was screaming. Another soldier was slumped forward on the hood, on dad's side. He stared at me with blank eyes, I think he was scared. Dad was outside the car, standing over the soldier. He had a gun in his hand. One of those sidearms, like my colonial miners. He pointed it like them, too. It hurt my ears, as before but I learned to like that sound.
I think we drove for a few days. I really hated the way the wind blew through the broken window. Mom was in the back seat with me, most of the time. She would stroke my hair, and try to hum me to sleep. Sometimes, when the loud noise came back, she wouldn't let go. After, dad's fingers would be white knuckled to the steering wheel. One time, he had a gash on his head, which mom had bandaged. The gun was laying in the passenger seat. I remembered that it looked exactly like the one that Landon had showed me a year before. Sounded like it, too. Thomas never got the chance to hear it that day. I think he would have liked the sound. Landon always said my toys were stupid. I should have shown him instead. But he didn't lie like Thomas had.
I was dizzy, and there was warmth falling in my eye. I picked up the sidearm, pointed it, just like the colonial miners. Just like before. Bang. Bang. Bang. It had more kick than I remembered, made my ears ring. It smelled good, felt good. I wanted to do this more. I guess they hadn't expected it, the bullet in their backs. Mom had already been sleeping for some time. One of the women who was with those two men drove for me. She was shivering, covered in mud. A gash in her lip bled down to the chin, and her hair was wet. She didn't like the gun. There were wolves in the treeline, they'd been watching the scuffle. They must be hungry, too.
I lost contact with the woman after reaching the passage. They wouldn't let her on. They let me on. They took my gun, asked me where my father was. The man said he would get me a new one on the other side. He lied to me that day. I knew that no one would ever lie to me again.
The other side was cold, despite the sun and clear sky. We traveled over ice and snow. The mountains held secrets. I made sure I knew them all. Even with the lights, I descended into darkness. A part of me remembered how mom and dad slept. Sometimes, I wanted to sleep, too. But he wouldn't let me.
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