Waking Up

7 - Stealing

With our backpacks full of dried foods, water bottles, first aid supplies, and more, Delia leads us down Clover Street towards a walkway along the Hudson River. The streets are just dead, devoid of life. It's as if the plants have started to wither and die. And not your normal Fall foliage drying process; the tips of branches have curled up like a scary tree from a Tim Burton movie.

Some houses are crushed flat to the ground, some partially destroyed or burned up into ashes, and several were left untouched. I wonder about the selection criteria during the demolition process. Was it arbitrary? Are we ants under a microscope for someone to burn at will, randomly choosing the next victims, scooping us up from our world to be placed into a human glass tank to watch us interact, go crazy, and eventually die?

How many people did they take versus how many they killed? Or disintegrated, rather. I just now notice I have yet to see a dead body in this area. There were mangled body parts all over lower Manhattan, but that was all a part of the rubble. Collateral damage. We pass another squashed house. How many people were in their homes, eating dinner, watching TV, or playing with their kids when all of this happened?

"Wait," Delia says as she turns on her feet. "River Road should be right here. The signs are missing. I can't tell. Give me a second." She squints her eyes far down the road to the right.

"Mommy, look." Eli points past three crushed houses to a two story white house that seems untouched. "A boat."

Delia takes a few steps forward and then turns back toward me and raises her eyebrows. "Let's check it out."

We rush towards the house; Eli giggles as he runs ahead of his mother who chases him in mock-tag, the dogs running alongside him. The tiny laughter makes my heart pound. I can almost hear Luke yelling out to me, running towards me, "Daddy's home!" as he would always do whenever I returned home from a long trip.

The dogs run ahead of Eli at full speed, just like they did last night, and I sudden l recall last night's events. I dash to Delia and Eli and pull their arms to hold them back. Goldie, Blackie, and Brownie are sniffling at the boat's wagon, its wheels, the car hook. Their detective work leads them to the backyard of the house. No barks.

"Hold on," I whisper to Delia. She grabs hold of Eli and stays back as I peek inside the windows along the side of the house. "Stay close to me."

We sneak down the driveway to the back door. The dogs sniff around the garden of roses and don't seem to be disturbed by anything in particular. They are more relaxed than before. As if having completed a command I ordered, the three dogs line up and sit on their hind legs.

"Hello?" I shout out nervously over my head, but not too loud. "I don't hear anything. Do you?"

Delia shakes her head as a bead of sweat trickles down her forehead. Eli clings to her right arm and hides half of his face behind her elbow.

"The dogs don't seem agitated. I think we're safe, but, I'll go in with Blackie first. Wait here."

I grab the loose skin behind Blackie's collar and spread my other hand open to Goldie and Brownie to signal them to stay. Then, I point to Eli and mouth the word "Go". They both walk over to Delia and Eli and sit at their feet.

Blackie walks at my side as I enter the back door. She pulls me into the mud room where I nearly trip over a pair of pink rain boots covered in a ladybug print pattern. I pick up a small blue set of rain boots with gray robots and red and yellow lasers printed on the sides. Luke has a pair of green rain boots with a brown monkey jumping on the side. He was so excited when he got them. Neon green is his favorite color, right next to bright orange.

Maybe he's wearing his green rain boots right now. Nah. He's probably wearing his blue sneakers with the neon green laces. Those are his favorite. "Neon green," I whisper and then chuckle as I recall the neon green alien decals in Luke's bedroom wall, and the neon green sweatshirt hoodie he wears every day, and his black baseball cap with a neon green logo. He's got so much neon green stuff!

"I bet Luke has his favorite sneakers on," I whisper to Blackie.

I put the boot down and proceed to the kitchen. Where is the family? Where are the children? Are they still alive? Did they get a chance to leave? Were they sucked up into the air like the other poor souls, or disintegrated?

Blackie sniffs across the white tiled kitchen floor and leads me to the living room. Jackets tossed carelessly on the black leather sofa. Shoes piled up by the front door.

Feeling intrusive, I quickly scan the room for keys. I find a key hook hanging by the door over a small console. One of the sets has a key chain ornament with the word "Destiny" etched into the metal backside. On the front side of the metal plate is an etched drawing of a boat sailing in water.

"Delia," I whisper.

I suddenly wonder, why am I whispering? I'm not an intruder. I'm not stealing or hurting anyone. I know this isn't my home, and this isn't my family, and these aren't my things, but I have to take them. I have to survive. I have to find my family. There is no shame in surviving.

"Delia," I say as I walk out the back door. "Got the boat keys and the keys to that truck. Where is the nearest harbor?"