Holding Peace

Chapter 2

        It has to be early morning when the bombs finally stop. I am huddled against the wall with Carrie, hugging each other for the warmth the stone cellar steals. Mother and Father are across the room, Clive is standing at the foot of the stairs, and Luke is sitting in the shadows of the corner. I don’t look at him, as I know he must be mourning over the death of his mother, so I leave him be. Once the bombs have ceased for a while, Carrie looks up from my shoulder, looking around the room. She pulls away from me and stands.

        “Do you think it’s stopped, can we go up now?”

            I don’t want Carrie to see the brutality of the scene she will see when she steps beyond the cellar door. I know, based on what I saw a few hours ago when I was up there with Clive, it will be littered with the dead and wounded, which will be hundreds.

            Clive walks over to Carrie and me, and hands Carrie her doll, Danielle. Carrie lets out a short gasp, and clutches Danielle, holding her close to her chest. Clive then turns to me, and our eyes meet. From the corner of my eye I see Luke walking over from where he was huddled in the corner. Clive digs in his pocket and pulls out the knife Father gave him on his fifteenth birthday.

        “Before we go up, I want you to have this. To keep,” he says. Clive closes my fingers around it, and hugs me tight. I hesitate, and then hug him back. He is truly the best brother a girl could have. He draws back and walks back over to the stairs. I follow him, pocketing the knife, and so does Luke. Father stands at the foot of the stairs, and turns to us.

        “We are all going to go up. Help who you can, but otherwise, keep walking. We need to find shelter, because my guess is that will not be the last attack on us. Don’t separate, and stay close behind Clive. I’ll walk with your Mother.” Clive steps up on the stairs and Father walks down and walks across the room to pick Mother up in his arms. Father gives Clive a short nod, and we all follow Clive up the stairs, in darkness.

            My heart is pounding. I don’t want to see the sight again. Or hear it. The blood, the fire, the screaming, the bombs. I try to prepare myself; I swallow hard, because my heart seems to have risen up into my throat. Clive opens the door, and I can hardly breathe. Smokey fumes fill the air, with the smell of burnt items mixed in. The remains of are still there, but that’s it. Only a foundation and a pile of rubble.

            I look over my shoulder and look at Carrie, and I see her face. It is solid and serious, but I can see past her blank expression, and see the pain and the tears she is trying so hard to fight. There was only one other time when I remember seeing that cold, serious expression, and that was at the death of Castry.

I felt helpless then, and I feel helpless now.

        “Come, Carrie, we have to keep walking. There is nothing we can do.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder.

I try to remember when I was ten. I was always taken care of by Clive. He would baby me sometimes, too. Well, always. He would get my plates from the cabinet, draw my bath, he would even help me fold my clothes. It’s natural for me to do this to Carrie, and I guess she doesn’t appreciate it.

We continue walking, and eventually we are passing Luke’s house, which is six houses down from ours. Luke is walking next to me, not looking at his home, but at the other side of the street. I look at what remains from his house and quickly look away.

        In a pile of wood, under what looked like had once been a table, was Sans Kelver’s bloodied head. Maybe it wasn’t her head. It just looked like it.