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When War Calls(37)

By:Zy J. Rykoa


Jaden had to get to his family.

At full pace he sprinted to reach the tennagen field, glancing only briefly at the people congregating there as he passed. It was the last place he would have thought safe, but he did not have time to help them just yet. He had to get home first. He had to protect his family. He had to make sure they were all right.

Dark houses still untouched by the bombs flickered by as he passed them, easing his fears slightly as he ran as fast as he could. There were only three or four fires within this area; it seemed the attacks had been mainly concentrated on the edges of the village. His family would still be alive. He still had time, but not much. The approaching military unit would be at the tennagen field soon enough, and then it would not be long before the entire village was in their grasp.

On the final hill before he reached his road, he breathed a sigh of gratitude and relief as he spotted his home, still dark, still untouched. They were safe. He began to jog instead of run toward them. He had to slow down from the pain in his side. It allowed him to focus on the far away sounds of battle and incessant screaming filling the air. It made his heart falter and legs shiver to know what was going on; such senseless destruction, such injustice, all seemingly without warning. The question “Why?” went through his mind repeatedly, each time without answer. Why was this happening? Why did it have to be this way? Why now? Why after thirty years of being free of the wars? Why was a defenceless village being attacked? None of it made any sense. It almost seemed impossible that it was happening.

The questions were silenced when a third deafening roar came from above, another wave of fighter jets, this time unleashing their devastating load on the inner parts of the village. Several of the bombs were falling almost directly above him, but there was no shelter anywhere near. He couldn’t hide. All he could do was duck close to the ground and put his arms over his head as if he were in the foetal position for protection, trying to clamp them hard against his ears to protect them from the sound of explosions ripping through the buildings to his left and right. Louder than the jets, the explosions left his ears ringing and caused him to yell out in pain as a fragment of wood struck his shoulder hard.

The dirt and ash that fell on him then covered his back completely, staining his hair, clothes and skin alike, and he held his breath to prevent any of the soot from entering his lungs.

It was over in seconds. He was able to stand. Fires were now rampant around him, this area of the village no longer different to the others. There was hardly a building left standing, some caved in while others now existed as large smouldering craters.

Gone. So quickly, so terribly, they were gone.

His home…

His head jerked forward and his eyes rapidly searched through the smoke. Where was it? His mouth hung open in disbelief as he slowly began to jog forward again. It should have been only one hundred yards away, behind the great tower of black smoke billowing upward where more than one of the bombs had hit. Yet … it was not there.

Jaden felt the blood drain from his chest, leaving him cold and cringing within. He didn’t want to think it. He didn’t want to believe it. He made a quick dash the last of the way to his home, so he could ease his fears and comfort himself with the vision of his home magically escaping harm. But it was not to be. He was stopped short of his destination, the heat becoming too intense as he neared, and he fell on his knees with his hands on the ground and head down, unable to bear the sight.

Collapsed. His home had been reduced to rubble. And his family…

Tommy…

Embra…

His mother…

Their faces flashed before his eyes. They were gone, all of them. If only he had run faster. If only he had lost the game of tennagen. If only he had yelled louder. They could still have been alive.

He turned his head slowly from side to side, tears seeping through tightly closed eyelids as he fell backward and covered them with his hands. There he sat in anguish, in front of the tombstone of his family’s final resting place, completely helpless. All he could do was sit and await death to find him as well. He hoped it would come soon, with another strike on the village or a single bullet from a soldier searching out survivors. He just wanted it to end. There was no point in going on now. Not without his family. Not without the ones he loved. The pain was too much.

The sounds of war seemed to fade away then, his mind withdrawing from reality and into oblivion. All was lost. Those he idolised had failed. He had failed. The tranquil paradise he had grown up in had been ruthlessly wiped out. There was nothing that could have been done.

He had been so close to saving his family. They were in sight, he could have yelled to them if they had been standing outside.