Invisible Break

She coughed into the dirty rag while 20 young eyes watched and waited for her to continue. Gulping air and swallowing, she worked to get the fit under control. It was getting worse. She forced a smile between coughs.

The smallest of the children, Poppy, fidgeted as a crease pulled dark eyebrows toward each other. “Miss Cora?” Poppy stood, but Cora held up a hand and motioned for her to sit. Poppy sunk down on Laylah’s crossed legs and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m scared.”

The children’s emotions shined from their eyes. The most familiar ones now watched with concern or alarm, while the new arrivals were more curious and guarded.

“I’m fine.” Cora croaked the lie as convincingly as possible.

She lifted a dented pail and took a sip of their precious water before continuing the history lesson. It was more important than ever to tell the stories that had brought them to this place. To share what they knew so they could survive their mysterious circumstances.

She had shared her story many times since the Change of ‘22 had transformed their world. Eight months ago, they had put her in charge of educating the children as they came through. She did her best even though her heart wanted to be out there, searching for her daughter, Kira. But with the injuries she’d acquired, she knew she wouldn’t last long on her own.

On the day of the change, she had been teaching a class of 4th graders when the lockdown alarm had sounded at her school. Following procedure, she’d huddled quietly with frightened students, thankful that Kira had recently started junior high and was safely in a different building.

However, doubt crept in when she’d heard the destruction outside. As students cried, it was all she could do to remain calm and reassuring, even while her mind raced with questions and fears about what was going on in their small town.

The classrooms in Cora’s corner of the building had received the least amount of damage after that first wave. Outside of the school, another teacher had taken Cora's students so she could run two blocks to the junior high. Every home and business along the way seemed to have taken damage. She’d been met with countless bleeding, desperate, and confused people. Some had clutched at her, begging for help. Each one had only made her more frantic to shove past them and find Kira.

When she’d turned the corner, where the junior high building should have been standing tall, she stumbled, confused. It took a moment to realize the giant pile of rubble was all that was left. It was as if someone had punched her in the gut. She’d dropped to her knees and wrapped arms around her stomach.

She wanted to scream. But her lungs were empty, breathing had become impossible. She wanted to run to the rubble and dig for her daughter, but she was afraid of what she’d find.

It wasn’t until she’d spotted teachers and students, roaming from the football field, that her lungs had reopened. A few had taken off in various directions, probably searching for safety or loved ones, as she had done.

Suddenly, she was on her feet, racing to the mess, eyes scanning every student. There she was! Kira had been bent over another student, helping her up.

“Kira!” Something erupted between them, tossing Cora like a piece of trash on the side of a busy road. She only remembered bits of what happened next. Dizzy. Ears ringing. Trying to stand. Trying to get to her daughter. Falling every time she took a step. Not understanding why her legs refused to keep her upright. Finally, being stopped by a large man with a kind face. His lips moved but she couldn’t make out his words.

Her next memory was beside a tree, at a nearby park, with dozens of others. Some seemed to be sleeping, others cried, a few sat, staring but not seeing, many more had appeared to wander. A man and a woman had been moving from person to person, looking them over for injuries and asking questions. The man with a kind face, she later learned his name was Benson, leaned over her. “Oh good. You’re awake.”

Cora tried to get up, but when the park spun, Benson had eased her back down. “Ma’am, you won’t be walking for a while. Please stay still and let us help.”

“I have to find my daughter. She was there. I saw her before…” Before what? What had happened?

He nodded. “What does she look like? I’ll see if we can find her.”

Cora had started to describe Kira when she'd remembered the heart shaped locket Kira had surprised her with last Mother’s Day. Inside was one of Cora’s favorite pictures of Kira, with her dad, after Kira had hit a home run. Cora’s husband had snuck out of the hospital, determined not to miss Kira’s playoff game. They all knew it was his last. He must have been in pain, but he’d smiled without complaint. It was a beautiful memory.

Cora took the locket off and let it dangle in front of Benson. “This is my daughter, Kira. You’ve got to find her. She was out there. She was okay. I saw her. Please.” Helplessness took over and Cora broke down, crying.

Benson took the locket and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Everyone she’d talked to since had shared similar stories. Every man-made structure experienced wave after wave of destruction until nothing remained standing. No schools. No hospitals. No buildings. Every home appeared to have been flattened as well. But no one seemed to see who or what was behind the attacks. How could they fight an invisible enemy?

When Cora asked for a phone, she was told phones did not work. Radios did not work. Motor vehicles did not work. As time passed, they found that it was as if all technology and modern conveniences defied science as they knew it. As if the laws of science itself had changed. There was even a rumor that the laws of mathematics had changed, which was what brought down the buildings. These things must still exist, but they had shifted. People could no longer capture and harness electricity or even radio frequencies. Someone had pressed the reset button on science. But who or what caused it?

Seasons had not stopped and without homes, electricity, running water, or even basic survival skills, people were unprepared. Too few survived. And those who did, had to quickly learn to live off the land or die. New communities formed.

Information needed to be passed directly from person to person. Many, like Cora, searched for lost loved ones but without pictures or the ability to print them, without the ability to make posters, without street addresses, without… just without… how could they find one another? Cora only hoped her daughter was safe within one of these communities. But finding her… that she must leave to the scouts with her locket.

The scouts were constantly coming and going, gathering information, and passing information. She insisted that they always take her locket with them. They probably had the image of her daughter memorized by now. But she wanted them to show travelers the locket and talk about the mother and daughter who had been separated. There were so few pictures left that Cora knew the locket, and picture it contained, would be remembered. She only hoped it would also be talked about and, one day, Kira would hear about it and come looking for the scouts with the locket.

Teaching was entirely different than it had been before. She now taught children of all ages. But to teach what they needed to know to survive, she had to learn. She shared her story, and she listened to theirs with more attention than she’d ever listened to anyone before. She took new information to their community appointed leaders in the evenings, along with the question she always asked. “Has anyone seen Kira yet?” She always received the same answer.

But since Kira’s dead body had not been spotted either, Cora always walked away with hope. Kira was smart, thoughtful, and had been resourceful. Wherever Kira was, Cora knew she was there because she was needed by others. As soon as Kira was available, she would come.