Eden
It has been five days since I had last seen my father. He went out to fight in the war, in only one battle, and he never came back.
My mother and I worried for his safety. There were three reasonable assumptions to why he was not back yet. Either (a. He was killed in combat (b. My father was captured by the enemy, or (c. He was injured and was currently at the military's infirmary many miles from here. We were all hoping for the ladder.
Although, my brother, Jasper, had a different view on the situation. My brother believed that my father was taking his sweet time in getting home. He was neither injured nor taken, but instead, stalling. We all knew that if a warrior were not to return, the family would get a fighter's paycheck until he returned or was pronounced dead. Although it was possible, it was highly unlikely that my father would leave my mother so on edge for so long.
My mother was not too distraught, however. She busied herself with her job. She worked as a doctor in the next city over, and helped those who were caught in the crosshairs of the war. My mother was very skilled at removing shrapnel from the skin, and patching them up so well, that it seemed like there never was an injury in the first place.
Currently, Jasper and I were helping our mother pack first aid kits that we were going to deliver to at risk communities, which were positioned closely to the battlegrounds. They were the ones who were most likely to attacked by a wayward enemy soldier. Our family was willing to help the people that the government did not bother to protect.
In total, we made forty kits. We would be giving two to each household so that we did not have to return for at least another three and a half months. We wanted to cover enough ground, without having to back track so often. It would cause our supplies, which were difficult to come by, deplete quickly, and we could not afford for that to happen--both finically as well as morally.
It was a long walk to our destination. We never used any vehicles to get there because they would either be stolen, or damaged by warfare. The safest possible thing for the three of us to do was walk, not matter how long it took us. Jasper was always a complainer, claiming that his legs ached, and that his chest was burning from the excessive exercise. My mother and I easily ignored his whining, and continued to move faster.
"Stop going so fast, please," Jasper panted as he took a momentary pause to catch his breath. My mother and I just shook our heads. "Eden!"
"Enough with your grousing," I scolded my older brother. "Think of the less fortunate."
Jasper continued with his annoying protest. "How can I help them if I keel over dead?"
"Sometimes, I cannot believe that you are the oldest," I snorted to myself. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jasper glare at me.
"Trust me, I wish you were the older sibling," he confessed, causing our mother's eyebrows to raise. "Being the big, bad protector is exhausting sometimes."
I scuffed almost inaudibly. "Who said you were the 'big, bad protector'?"
"I did, considering that I'm carrying more kits than you."
Sometimes, my brother made me laugh. He thought that just because he was now the man of the house, he was our saving grace. Jasper was too consumed in preserving his masculinity, and believed that he was the only one who could protect the three of us. Well, he was sadly mistaken, considering that I was trained in mixed martial arts (thanks to my mother, of course). Being able to protect yourself, was the one thing that my mother stressed throughout Jasper's and my childhood.
"That's not a valid argument," I retorted. "I could easily beat you in a fight." Jasper did not respond because he knew that it was true. Despite Jasper having many inches over me, and having more muscle than I did, I was surely faster and more cunning when it came to hand-to-hand combat.
After our little discussion, it only took a few more minutes for us to make it into town. There was a sharp contrast between this place and where my family lived. The air was rancid, and the streets were littered with trash. Many beggars panhandled fruitlessly, due to the fact that most of the people here were too poor to even buy necessities, let alone give to others freely. It saddened me tremendously, but made me appreciate the place I currently resided in.
The first house we stopped at was right next to a market. I could see a small boy, about the age of seven, peaking through the curtains of one of the windows. His doe brown eyes were wide when he saw us approaching, and he scrambled away. Seconds later, the front door opened, and the little boy was waiting there for us.
"Christopher," a female voice streaked. I was assuming it was his concerned mother. The woman stared at us in uncertainty. I would have, too, if I were in her position. For all she knew, it could have been a vengeful soldier at the door, ready to take advantage of her and kill her young son or any other male in the house.
"I am sorry to startle you, ma'am," my mother said, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible. "My family and I would like to give you a couple of first aid kits, and assist anyone in your household who is sick or injured."
The lady tilted her head in thought. Though, soon, she nodded her head and motioned us inside. She shut the door as soon as my brother stepped inside. We followed her into her small living room. My mother sat in a chair across from the stranger. My brother and I shared the couch, and the little boy, Christopher, sat on the floor in front to me. I offered him a seat next to me, but he politely declined at first. However, after a minute or so, he decided to snuggle up next to me. Jasper scowled at me because the little boy did not want to sit next to him. I simply laughed at my brother.
"My son has a very of bad cough and even wheezes. It's off and on, though," the woman informed us. "Also, my daughter is bedridden. Her arm was grazed by a flying object, and now it has become infected."
My mother nodded her head at the information. "May I see her?" The woman directed my mother to her daughter's bedroom, while Jasper and I were left with Christopher.
"How frequent is your coughing?" I asked him.
"Whenever those big men in black stomp by," he muttered to me. He must have been referring to the soldiers. "Then I start coughing a lot, even after they are gone."
I took a second to think about what was causing the problem. Then, all of a sudden, it clicked. The roads here were not made of cement, but instead, were dirt roads. When the soldiers came by their house, they kicked up dirt and the aroma from moldy trash on the ground, which must be bothering Christopher. My guess was that he had asthma. The mixture of the airborne spores and dust must be triggering symptoms.
"Can you do me a favor, Christopher?" He stared wide-eyed at me, waiting for my response. "Whenever you hear those men come by, tie a bandana over your nose and mouth, and stay inside until at least twenty minutes after the last person passes. Does that sound like a plan?"
"Sure. But can I ask you a question?"
I chuckled softly. "Of course."
"What's your name?" he asked me, flashing me a snaggletoothed smile.
"I'm Eden, and this is my brother, Jasper." I pointed at him, yet he made not a sound.
Christopher beamed at me. "Nice to meet you, Eden...and Jasper." Jasper glared at the little boy, and I nudged my brother roughly in the stomach, silently telling him to be nice.
Within seconds, my mother, as well as Christopher's, came down the stairs. My mother's face held a solemn expression. "She has cellulitis in her right arm. It's curable, thankfully. All you have to do is give her these antibiotics, as well as put fresh gauges on her arm every few days. With that, she should be better in a few weeks."
"Thank you so much," the woman exclaimed, suddenly bursting into tears. She rushed into my mother, giving her a big hug.
"It was my pleasure."
With those words, my brother, mother and I made our way out. Before I could step out, Christopher grabbed onto my waist.
"Bye, Eden," he gushed. "I'll miss you."
I ruffed his brown hair playfully. "I will miss you, too, bud."
I was the first one out of the door. I turned left, only to crash into a hard chest. Then next thing I knew, I found myself on the dirty ground. Above me, was a man with curly brown hair, and green eyes glowered down at me. His arms were crossed over his black shirt.
"Watch where you're going next time, princess," he sneered. Then, the ill-mannered man began to make his way to his destination.