Then Came War (4 page)

“What? What’s wrong?”

Lana pointed. “What in the world is that old man up to? He’s going to get hurt.”

Ben turned and looked.

Eventually, Harry would make it up there. He was just having a hard time purchasing a footing on the tilted car.

“Sir?” Ben approached him. “Is everything all right?”

“Not really. If you can give me a boost I’d appreciate it.”

“You want a boost into there?” Ben asked.

“Yep.”

“Sir, I can’t let you do that.”

“Can’t let me do that?” Harry nodded. “Uh huh. And why is that?”

“Because you could get hurt. If you’re looking for something, wait until help arrives.”

Harry was mid attempt, leg lifted and he stopped. He moved closer to Ben and lowered his voice. “Help isn’t coming. Didn’t you notice that little odd thing where everyone’s phone went off at the same time?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“Did yours ring?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Ben nodded.

“Who was it?”

“My mom, but I couldn’t talk to her. The connection was bad.”

“How often does your mom call at 8:30 in the morning? Everyone’s phone was ringing. Something was happening. Something did happen, right there above us, and that’s why we crashed. Now I ain’t saying anything to anyone. I hope to God I’m wrong, but I’m not holding my breath waiting on help.”

“Okay, still.” Ben held up his hand. “You can’t go in there. You can get hurt. Or worse, something happen and you get killed.”

“Yeah, well, ain’t that a life is cut short at my age. No, son. I have to go in there. Not for me. But for him.” Harry pointed to Tyler who stood across the open area. “He needs to find his dad. He’s in this train and I’m gonna look for him. Better me than that little boy, right?”

Ben hesitated and then with an irritated and frustrated ‘fine,’ he reached for Harry. “I’ll help you in. But I’m going with you.”

It was starting to smell pretty bad in car number two. It was a sour smell caused by the blood mixed with spilled coffee and expelled bodily fluids.

But it was quiet.

The emergency light flickered and Ben gave a hard swat to it causing it to stay on.

“There ya’ go,” Harry said.

But somehow, Ben wished he didn’t get those lights on. Things looked worse in the light.

They could see the faces of those who had died.

There were looks of pain, fear, peace. Mouths open, pieces of faces missing.

It was a massacre.

And walking wasn’t easy.

They had to balance on the seats, using them as stepping stones.

“TJ!” Harry called. “TJ, you hear me?”

“TJ?” Ben joined in calling.

“TJ!”

Cough.

They stopped. Harry turned to Ben. “Where’d that come from?”

Ben shook his head. “Whoever coughed, cough again.”

Whoever it was tried, but it was strained and painful.

“Oh my God,” was Ben’s reaction when he finally saw him.

No one saw him before, not just because it was dark, but because no one looked up.

He was at the far end, pinned almost to the ceiling by a large piece of metal that protruded through his chest.

Harry didn’t need to know the man; he knew who he was by the well described blue shirt.

It was TJ.

Ben and Harry rushed as fast and carefully as they could to TJ.

TJ coughed and choked. “My … my son.”

“Tyler is fine,” Harry said. “Don’t worry. He’s just fine.”

TJ closed his eyes and released a single sob.

Ben examined the wound. “This goes right through him.”

“We need to get him down.”

“He’s not gonna make it if we remove the object.”

Harry whispered, “He’s not gonna make it either way. Go . . . go get a couple of the men out there. Let’s get him down and out of here.”

“Do you . . .” Ben strained to keep his voice low. “Do you really think that little boy needs to see his father like this?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “But this man needs to see his son one last time, and that boy does need to say goodbye to his father. Trust me. Now go. Go get help.”

Ben took a deep breath and reluctantly agreed, finding his way out of that car.

Harry reached up and grabbed TJ’s hand. “I’m right here. Help’s on the way. You hold tight. OK.”

TJ barely opened his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“That’s right; you try for that boy of yours. You try.” Harry squeezed his hand. “It’ll be just fine. You’ll see. It’ll be just fine.”

Harry said those words with the utmost assurance to TJ, even though he knew from the bottom of his heart that they were far from the truth.

It took six men.

Two held TJ to the wall, two pulled out the metal and two were on hand to catch him when he fell.

They had to move fast, though. The second the impaled object was removed from his chest it was like unplugging a kiddy pool.

Everything just gushed out.

The wound went straight through.

TJ cried out in pain, but he lacked the strength to produce a loud cry.

He was weak and growing weaker by the second.

Using a dead man’s suit coat, they covered the front wound and carried him as best as they could to the door of the car.

Harry reiterated that they had to be quick and lay him down right away. They may have covered the gaping hole in his chest but there was no way to conceal the exit wound or the bones and ligament that hung from that hole.

Take him out, keep him covered and set him down.

That was the plan.

“And we found thirty-two bottles of water,” Tyler said excitedly to Abby. “I counted them.”

“Good for you.” She glanced at Foster. “Was this all?”

“For now, but I’m sure there’s more. It was kind of gross in there and I …”

“I understand,” Abby said. “Tyler, you’ll help me go through these things too, right?” she pointed to the purses and bags. “Maybe we can find useful items. We need other things besides food and water, like medication.”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “I’m a good finder. My mom used to tell me …” his eyes grew wide. “Dad?” He took a step and ran off as fast as he could yelling, “Dad!”

“Easy now, easy,” Harry instructed as the men gently placed TJ on the ground. “There you go. Thank you.”

“Dad!” Tyler broke through the wall of men, stopping cold in his tracks and immediately turning pale. His voice quivered and an abundance of sadness took over his voice. “Dad.”

Ben rubbed the corner of his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, and then extended a hand to Harry. “You did well.”

“Me? No, you. Thank you.” He gave Ben a firm handshake.

Ben nodded. “I’m gonna head back over with my wife.”

“That’s a smart thing,” Harry said. Then finally, he looked down at Tyler who was kneeling by his father.

“What happened to my father?”

“You father ... well, son, he was hurt pretty bad.” Harry strained and knelt down by Tyler.

“Will he be okay?”

Harry exhaled. “Sometimes things aren’t within our control. This is out of our control.”

Tyler sobbed and grabbed his father’s hand. He started to move the coat.

Harry stopped him. “Just . . . let that alone and look at your dad. Talk to him. All right?” Don’t worry about his injury.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, listen to me.” Harry laid his hand on Tyler’s back. “I’m gonna give you some time with your father. You hold his hand and tell him you love him. Maybe share a story, okay?”

Sniffling, Tyler nodded.

Harry grabbed on to the train for support and started to stand.

“Mister?” Tyler called for him.

“Yes.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” Harry laid his hand on the boy’s head.

“Will you stay here with me?”

Tight lipped, Harry nodded and said, “Of course.” And he lowered himself back to the ground.

***

Lana had moved.

Not much, but away from the old woman, and she sat by herself against the wall. Others were gathered in small groups. Not Lana. When he moved closer to her, he saw why she had moved.

She had scooted away to change.

“You put your workout clothes on,” Ben said. “Now’s not the time for vanity. I know you hate being dirty.”

“It’s nothing to do with vanity.” Lana rummaged through her bag. “I was very uncomfortable. My shirt was bloody and if . . . no, when I have to help out, it’s a lot easier to do so in jogging pants than a skirt and wet pantyhose.”

“True.”

“Here.” She handed him a wetted tee shirt. “Wipe off your face; you have a lot of blood on it.”

“Thank you.”

“That was . . . I was … I was proud that you went into that train.”

“I was doing what I had to do.”

“You always do. You found his father.”

“We … we found his father, yes.”

“How bad was he?” Lana asked.

Ben only shook his head.

Lana peered around him to see Tyler. “That poor boy.”

“Makes me kind of glad right now we never had any kids.”

Lana bit her lip and gave a soft look to Ben. “I have a secret. I have never been glad we didn’t have kids.”

“Neither have I.”

There was a quiet moment.

Ben handed her the tee shirt. “How’s the head?”

“It’s fine.” Lana’s hand was in the bag. She stopped and smiled. “Ah.”

Ben tilted his head in curiosity. “What?”

“My cigarettes.”

“I thought you quit smoking.”

“I did. But occasionally, I have one or two when I go out with the girls for a drink.” She pulled one from the pack, found her lighter and lit the cigarette. It was apparent that she enjoyed that long hit and took another, releasing the smoke slowly. “Ben. Do you think we’ll get out of here?”

“Yes,” Ben answered quickly and without hesitation. “Yes we will. It may take some time, but we’ll get out. And then we’ll be back to our normal lives of not liking each other.”

Lana softly chuckled and rested her head on Ben’s shoulder.

Ben drew silent.

Immediately he thought about what Harry had said about no one coming and about the phones ringing. But he didn’t say anything to Lana because if he said it, it would make it real and Ben didn’t want that possibility to be real.

The scream filled the tunnel.

It wasn’t a scream made by someone scared; it was a cry of hurt made by a little boy. So much went into his single cry, “No!” It was filled with emotion, filled with sadness and with the revelation that his father was gone.

It echoed across the tunnel and there was not a soul who didn’t lower his head.

He yelled his father’s name two or three times before finally sobbing.

Abby wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, but the child found solace in the embrace of the elderly man who had never left his side.

He was probably better than Abby would ever be.

Truth be known, Abby wasn’t in the right frame of mind.

She questioned why she didn’t die in that crash. Why the little boy’s father had to go when Abby had no one to live for.

Abby would have gladly traded places with the father.

But for some cruel reason known only to fate, she was still alive and probably, aside from Foster, the least injured.

After Tyler’s father had passed on, the boy’s sobs softened. Abby threw herself into work.

No one else really wanted to except for Foster. He, too, wanted to stay busy.

They had a mound of purses and backpacks and briefcases.

They had found Ibuprofen and handed it out to those who needed it. They also passed out the water.

Foster divided up any and all food items that he found, including things from the coffee café.

Abby found herself following the teenage boy’s lead of passing out small amounts of food.

She didn’t want to be a worker or a Florence Nightingale; Abby would have preferred to go to a corner and sit there like everyone else, waiting. But she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t sit still.

Maybe later she would.

Time just seemed to drag.

When she thought about that, she thought about time and Abby walked over to the huge pile of cell phones that she and Foster collected. She sat on the floor by them.

What time was it? Surely a cell phone would tell her. There were so many.

Anyone who came across a cell phone tossed it in the pile.

A lot were broken but most were not.

Abby picked up a phone and looked at it. She pressed buttons to get it to light up and when it did, the words on the screen simply said, ‘searching for a signal.’

She grabbed another phone.

It was the same.

Every phone she lifted had nothing but a lit screen with those same words.

No signal at all. No indication of the time of day.

“Does anyone have the time?” Abby asked. “Is anyone wearing a watch?”

Somebody, she didn’t know who, called out, ‘Seven fifteen.’

Her mouth dropped open. “Seven fifteen?” She questioned softly then stood. Eyes focused ahead, Abby walked away from everyone. She moved past the coffee car, the smashed remains of cars five and six and stood by the last train car that blocked the other side of the tunnel.

That train car formed a wall.

“Is everything okay?” Foster asked.

Abby gasped and grabbed her chest. “Yes, why?”

“Well, you walked all the way over here like you saw something.”

Abby shook her head ‘no.’

“Then you’re fine.”

“It’s seven-fifteen.”

“I heard that.”

“No. Listen.” She leaned against the train wreckage. “Just listen.”

Foster did. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. Nothing. Just quiet. No noise. No saws or jack hammers. No welding. Nothing. It’s seven fifteen. We crashed ten hours ago.” She turned and faced Foster with a look of deep concern. “Where are the rescue crews?”

CHAPTER FIVE

The morning came but it was hard to tell. The tunnel was dark, and the emergency lighting had started to dim.

Most slept and waited for help to arrive.