It's early. The morning horn hasn't rung yet, notifying the camp residents of the morning meal. A sharp ray of sunlight streaks through the corners of the tarp curtain and hits me directly on my eyelids. I can feel the heat burning the thin layer of skin, so I have no choice but to wake up.
Without causing too much commotion across the mattress, I stand up slowly and tiptoe out of the tent. The sun is barely over the horizon, but somehow it found me, woke me, and now calls me outside.
The camp is quiet, except for a few early risers contemplating the reason and meaning of things. I walk to the same rock I visit every morning, just 20 feet away, and see the same five people sitting atop of it. I take my usual spot to the left on the down slope. They all nod to me, and I nod back to each of them. Silence is the new greeting, eye contact, and a nod. No happy hellos.
Everyone has lost someone. They killed and took whoever and whatever they chose. Their ships tore houses up from their foundations and lifted them to the sky until they disappeared past the clouds. Homes that were occupied by entire families hiding inside were leveled in seconds. Some houses still stand, untouched. Schools, firehouses, government buildings--no place was safe. There was no pattern of destruction. They snatched people, destroyed everything, and killed randomly, as if they were rolling dice, selecting their targets based on capricious criteria.
And the ones they returned... weren't themselves anymore.
This section of the Palisades was not harmed. Trees still stand, giving us a minuscule sense of protection, and it doesn't smell like smoke.
"I finally had a full night of sleep last night," Emilia whispers next to me as she stares out over the Hudson River.
"Did you dream?" I ask.
She nods. "Kim was in it. She was playing with her building blocks and humming. She had on her pink princess pajamas and those pink slippers I hated so much. They were so raggedy, even in the dream. But Kim was... so... "
I place my hand on Emilia's back when she lowers her head and whimpers. We have all learned to listen, silently, without consolation, to each other's grief. Maybe the silence helps with the healing process, maybe it doesn't, but you can only hear so many "God has a plan" or "they're in a better place now" remarks before punching someone in the face.
That's what Emilia did on the 5th day when Carl, a pastor, repeated his mantra for the thousandth time. After she had slugged him, he took off his clerical collar and threw it over the edge of the mountain. He cursed, punched the air, whipped his arms around in a frenzy as he shouted questions to God, the universe, and anyone who was listening. When he was done, he sighed, apologized to Emilia, and went back to his tent and changed his black clothes to the standard issue brown tee shirt and cargo pants the military supplies us.
Now he sits right next to Emilia on our rock, every morning. No morning masses. No more "God has a plan" speeches.
"I'm sorry guys," Emilia says, wiping her tears. "I'll shut up now."
Carl tugs at her arm. "Don't you ever be sorry. You say whatever you need to say. That's why I'm here. That's why we're all here." He hands her a bottle of water and turns his head back when he hears a ruffle on the grass behind us. He smiles. "A.J.! You are just in time. Your mom is in desperate need of your hugs."
Eight-year-old A.J. jumps onto the rock behind Emilia and wraps his head around her neck. He buries his face on her thick, springy curls. Emilia smiles and inhales profoundly as the embrace changes her somber mood.
I wipe the tears that rolled down my cheeks and sigh. "I didn't sleep well last night. I'm going to go back to bed until the morning horn."
"We'll see you at breakfast," Carl says as I climb down our rock.
I nod at Carl and retreat to my tent. Inside, I reach for my blanket and gently climb onto the mattress. When I place my head on my pillow, Luke, half asleep, turns to face me. I stare at the tiny version of Chris's face as he smiles in his sleep, almost giggling, and I sigh. What could Luke be dreaming about?
YOU ARE READING
Waking Up
Mystery / ThrillerChris wakes up in a pile of building rubble. The last thing he remembers is giving a presentation in front of an office full of his co-workers. But now, the buildings around him are gone and he can see the horizon for miles, which is unusual for som...
