Divided Future

The eight consecutive days of bright blue, cloudless skies and scorching heat were finally broken by a morning of ponderous gray clouds. That should have provided a welcome respite from the unrelenting sun, but instead it ushered in the fresh hell of falling bombs.

It started the way it always did, with the intermittent, almost hopeful, chirping of birds. Whether the avian chatter lasted for a few hours or only minutes, it was invariably followed by a relatively brief, unsettling silence. That quiet before the maelstrom was then broken by a few distant, muffled rumbles as the first bombs made impact at the far range of our hearing. Quickly, the rumbles became more frequent and more thunderous until the earth itself seemed engaged in an attempt to viciously shake us from its surface.

There were no specific targets of this destructive precipitation. The delivery of the bombs was intentionally indiscriminate, a cruel and oppressive reminder that we no longer had any power or standing in our own homeland.

This time, the physical casualties were minimal: three dead and a dozen or so with minor injuries. The fear and the uncertainty, however, were beginning to take a more obvious toll on us, especially the youngest. I lost count of the number of children I saw crying, some softly sobbing in a mother's embrace while others wailed alone in the street.

As I surveyed the area immediately around me, one girl, probably no older than nine, caught my attention. She wasn't weeping, but was comforting a woman I assumed to be her mother. The woman was on her side, her body heaving and wrenching. Her words were mostly unintelligible, delivered between gasps and moans. The little girl cradled the woman's head in her lap, gently stroking her hair and whispering calming affirmations.

I approached slowly, making eye contact with the girl as I neared. "Can I help?"

The girl smiled but motioned for me to keep moving. As I backed away, the woman sat up abruptly. Her heaving had stopped and her breathing normalized. She studied my face intently; her piercing gaze was so discomforting that I had to look away.

“Can you help?” she asked incredulously. “Can you make the bombs stop? Can you make our countrymen not hate us anymore?” The scoff that followed was her own answer to those questions.

When I looked back at her, she was clutching something close to her chest. I could see the chain was broken. She appeared on the verge of tears again when I heard myself say, “I can fix it… Your necklace, I can fix it.”

The woman’s eyes brightened. She stood and grasped the little girl by the hand, looking at me expectantly. With a purpose I’d not felt in quite some time, I turned and led them toward the storefront I called home.

We walked in silence for several minutes, my two new companions three or four paces behind me. As we approached my shop, without turning around I said, "I'm Isaac, by the way." My introduction was met with continued silence. I took no offense. An uncomfortable silence is often better than the alternatives on a day like the one we were having.

Fumbling with my keys, I unlocked the reinforced steel and glass outer door and the wood and glass inner door to the shop. I ushered my guests into the small seating area I’d arranged before closing and locking both doors. While I knew the locks would do nothing to protect us if the bombs started to fall again, I still found them comforting.

Once a journalist by trade, I took over the vacant hardware store when I was forced to give up my former career. I wasn’t the handiest guy around, but I’d learned a few tricks in the intervening years. While the woman and her young charge sat awkwardly in my makeshift living room, I picked through bins of random wires, rings, clips, and fasteners. “Now let me see that necklace you were so worked up about.”

The little girl pried the necklace from the woman’s fingers. Holding the broken chain with both hands, she stepped forward and offered it to me. “Be careful with it, please. We don’t have much else.”

I smiled and nodded, gently taking the piece of jewelry from her and placing it on the countertop. I flicked on an adjustable work light. The chain was comprised of chunky sterling silver links with a large silver and gold heart locket attached. While the chain had definitely seen better days, the locket was well cared for. I fought the temptation to open it, opting to fulfill my promise to the best of my ability.

“It’s not a perfect match by any stretch of the imagination, but it’ll hold together.” The little girl held her hands open and I carefully placed the locket in them.

“My name is Mara,” the little girl told me. “That’s Lilah.” The woman looked over her shoulder at me and nodded.

“We should be going now,” Lilah told Mara. She stood, smoothing out her clothing. It seemed an odd habit to continue in times like those, but I was locking doors to protect me from falling bombs, so who was I to judge?

I wanted to ask them to stay, to offer them a humble meal and some relative safety from the heat of the day. Instead, I quietly stepped to the front of the shop and unlocked the doors.

As they passed through the threshold, Mara looked up at me. “Thank you, Isaac.” Her tone was sweet and soothing. Lilah studied me as she passed, her eyes still penetrating, but less harsh than when we met. She nodded and turned away.

As they began walking in the direction from which we’d come earlier, I called, “You know where to find me if you need anything.” Mara stopped and turned fully around. Smiling, she waved at me before continuing on her way with Lilah. She took the woman’s hand in hers as they walked to the end of the street. I watched them turn the corner then stepped back into the shop.

A sudden wave of fatigue washed over me. I staggered into the back office I was using as my bedroom and collapsed on to the army surplus cot that was my bed. Staring at the ceiling, I realized I hadn’t locked the front doors after Mara and Lilah left. Too tired to stand, I decided to forgo my superstition this one time.

Unable to fall asleep, I stared at the ceiling, wondering where my new acquaintances might go and how they might survive. I closed my eyes and noticed the eerie hum of silence. Within a minute, the bombs started to fall again.