The last words he said to me were, “I love you, mom."
I didn't know what was happening when the city called us to the high school football field for a mandated meeting. The town police had orders to ensure by any means necessary that every citizen of Marshville was present at this assembly.
Assembly Day was a day all cities and towns across the world had been preparing for. On the news they called it a new form of census-taking. There was an abundance of explanations and reassurances, but none made total sense. We had gotten used to that from the media machine. Most of us were conditioned not to trust anything we heard or read.
A census made sense to me though. After 20 years of pandemics, the population had dwindled. Those of us who remained had demonstrated a strong immune system and maybe even a stronger will to survive. I was pregnant with my son at the beginning of the first pandemic. Now, he was nearly 21 years old and strong as an ox like his mother.
Together, he and I survived his father, both sets of grandparents, his sister, and many others. Together my son and I had stood, hand in hand, with somber faces and broken hearts over the graves of those we loved. Too many times to count.
Now we stood there in the stadium; us and maybe 1,000 of our neighbors all standing in the field looking perplexed. There was a thick layer of tension covering the football field. No school spirit like the games I watched my husband play in our high school days. But the school spirit had died long ago anyway. Sadly, my son never got to experience many of the pleasures I had known in my youth. I wish he had. He deserved so much happiness.
With tension building, I grabbed my son’s hand tightly in mine. He said "I love you, mom" as if he knew the shots were about to start ringing out.
The sound of the guns firing was like a locomotive cutting through the crowd. The screams were deafening, sharp and quick. With my eyes open, I saw people I had known my entire life. people I had sat in doctors’ offices with as their loved ones battled the crippling illnesses of the pandemics. - I saw these people drop like flies. Why were they were opening fire on the crowd? How is this happening?
And then I felt the pressure of being pulled to the ground.
I landed with a thud and then suddenly felt the heavy weight of silence fall over me and the color red consumed my vision behind my closed eyes.
"Gather them up," a loud voice shouted over a speaker, "and finish off the ones that move."
And so, I didn't move; I didn't breathe. I laid there as still as night, feeling my son's hand in mine. His hand was growing colder. Heaves of emotion were rising from some dark place deep inside of me but the small voice within that I had followed my whole life issued a simple warning, "Be still. It’s almost over."
I could hear the gurneys passing up and down the aisles like shopping carts in a supermarket. I could hear men hefting the small and large bodies that lay scattered on the football field onto the carts and the creaky wheels rolling them away to trucks rumbling with ide engines in the back. The stench of the men passing by wafted into my nostrils and a wave of nausea passed alongside my waves fear.
And then I felt my son's hand leave mine, ripped away. I had to let go. I knew I was next. Horrifying anticipation filled my body as I felt arms reaching down to grab me. Oh no! They would feel my warmth even though I was cold inside. They would hear my breathing and feel my heart pounding.
I said a prayer because I knew this was my moment of death. Somehow, I felt a sense of peace knowing I would be going to where my son had just gone. Yet, the strong arms around me did not move towards the sound of the engines. Instead, I heard a rustling of branches and felt myself being gently lowered to the cold ground. I heard the leaves crunching under my body as I felt the earth rise to meet me.
A voice whispered, "Stay small and out of sight until the siege ends."
I opened my eyes and met the kind eyes of a soldier. As soon as our eyes connected. he jumped up quickly running out of the wood line. I knew his were the last eyes I'd ever see.
I laid there now quietly sobbing for all that had been lost in a moment. I could hear the trucks rolling away. I could still feel the warmth of my son's hand in the palm of mine. I felt the world fade and wondered if I was falling asleep or if my body was finally ready to die with the rest of the world.
Next thing I knew, I awoke to the rising of the sun over the trees. I was itching and clammy as I sat up feeling like I was a new soul in a new world. I crawled to the edge of the trees and looked out at the football stadium still standing there the same as it had the night before but somehow different. With everyone gone, it had lost its purpose and surely my purpose had left with the people as well.
The world was eerily quiet. Too quiet. But when I was still, I could hear the crickets chirping and the birds flying overhead. I felt strangely lost and connected at the same time. I was no longer part of a community but was solely part of nature now. Maybe I was always only part of nature and the world I knew had been a dream.
There was nothing now but me and the earth., and maybe some far away threat of the return of soldiers. I had no use for speaking or action in this new world. The only words that existed now, the only words left in my vocabulary were "I love you, mom."
I was alone now, merged with the world all around me.
The last words he said to me were, “I love you, mom."
I didn't know what was happening when the city called us to the high school football field for a mandated meeting. The town police had orders to ensure by any means necessary that every citizen of Marshville was present at this assembly.
Assembly Day was a day all cities and towns across the world had been preparing for. On the news they called it a new form of census-taking. There was an abundance of explanations and reassurances, but none made total sense. We had gotten used to that from the media machine. Most of us were conditioned not to trust anything we heard or read.
A census made sense to me though. After 20 years of pandemics, the population had dwindled. Those of us who remained had demonstrated a strong immune system and maybe even a stronger will to survive. I was pregnant with my son at the beginning of the first pandemic. Now, he was nearly 21 years old and strong as an ox like his mother.
Together, he and I survived his father, both sets of grandparents, his sister, and many others. Together my son and I had stood, hand in hand, with somber faces and broken hearts over the graves of those we loved. Too many times to count.
Now we stood there in the stadium; us and maybe 1,000 of our neighbors all standing in the field looking perplexed. There was a thick layer of tension covering the football field. No school spirit like the games I watched my husband play in our high school days. But the school spirit had died long ago anyway. Sadly, my son never got to experience many of the pleasures I had known in my youth. I wish he had. He deserved so much happiness.
With tension building, I grabbed my son’s hand tightly in mine. He said "I love you, mom" as if he knew the shots were about to start ringing out.
The sound of the guns firing was like a locomotive cutting through the crowd. The screams were deafening, sharp and quick. With my eyes open, I saw people I had known my entire life. people I had sat in doctors’ offices with as their loved ones battled the crippling illnesses of the pandemics. - I saw these people drop like flies. Why were they were opening fire on the crowd? How is this happening?
And then I felt the pressure of being pulled to the ground.
I landed with a thud and then suddenly felt the heavy weight of silence fall over me and the color red consumed my vision behind my closed eyes.
"Gather them up," a loud voice shouted over a speaker, "and finish off the ones that move."
And so, I didn't move; I didn't breathe. I laid there as still as night, feeling my son's hand in mine. His hand was growing colder. Heaves of emotion were rising from some dark place deep inside of me but the small voice within that I had followed my whole life issued a simple warning, "Be still. It’s almost over."
I could hear the gurneys passing up and down the aisles like shopping carts in a supermarket. I could hear men hefting the small and large bodies that lay scattered on the football field onto the carts and the creaky wheels rolling them away to trucks rumbling with ide engines in the back. The stench of the men passing by wafted into my nostrils and a wave of nausea passed alongside my waves fear.
And then I felt my son's hand leave mine, ripped away. I had to let go. I knew I was next. Horrifying anticipation filled my body as I felt arms reaching down to grab me. Oh no! They would feel my warmth even though I was cold inside. They would hear my breathing and feel my heart pounding.
I said a prayer because I knew this was my moment of death. Somehow, I felt a sense of peace knowing I would be going to where my son had just gone. Yet, the strong arms around me did not move towards the sound of the engines. Instead, I heard a rustling of branches and felt myself being gently lowered to the cold ground. I heard the leaves crunching under my body as I felt the earth rise to meet me.
A voice whispered, "Stay small and out of sight until the siege ends."
I opened my eyes and met the kind eyes of a soldier. As soon as our eyes connected. he jumped up quickly running out of the wood line. I knew his were the last eyes I'd ever see.
I laid there now quietly sobbing for all that had been lost in a moment. I could hear the trucks rolling away. I could still feel the warmth of my son's hand in the palm of mine. I felt the world fade and wondered if I was falling asleep or if my body was finally ready to die with the rest of the world.
Next thing I knew, I awoke to the rising of the sun over the trees. I was itching and clammy as I sat up feeling like I was a new soul in a new world. I crawled to the edge of the trees and looked out at the football stadium still standing there the same as it had the night before but somehow different. With everyone gone, it had lost its purpose and surely my purpose had left with the people as well.
The world was eerily quiet. Too quiet. But when I was still, I could hear the crickets chirping and the birds flying overhead. I felt strangely lost and connected at the same time. I was no longer part of a community but was solely part of nature now. Maybe I was always only part of nature and the world I knew had been a dream.
There was nothing now but me and the earth., and maybe some far away threat of the return of soldiers. I had no use for speaking or action in this new world. The only words that existed now, the only words left in my vocabulary were "I love you, mom."
I was alone now, merged with the world all around me.