STORY 8: Warrior

Everything was white and lull. It seemed the world has turned black and white. And life was running like an inaudible movie. 

Fog was making it difficult to see further than a few metres and the cold wind was restraining me from  moving forward. The small bundle wrapped in shawl on my back felt heavy. I pulled my clock with my unsteady hands to secure it more tightly. I could feel the numbness of my fingers and toes. My breast was aching due to shortness of breath, and with each new step, it ached more. 

After a few more steps, my feet disagreed to move further. I ceased. I turned back to see in the same direction from where I was coming. The trailing signs of my footsteps were making it apparent that I have come a long way. I kept gazing at my footsteps. Fatigue was overpowering my mind. The picture in front of me was turning blur. But I abstained myself from closing my eyes.

I was jolted by a sudden violent gust of cold wind.  It brought me back to reality. 

I have to fight back this storm. I can't stop. They will chase us. They will kill us. No, I can't stop.

******

The wind had slowed down. The sun was visible through the clouds. The silver linings were shining beautifully. My body was coming back to life. I could feel the numbness releasing my fingers. I brought my hands to my back to feel the bundle, just to assure myself that he is safe. 

I looked back. Nobody was following. I can rest. I wandered for a while and found a trench. I sank into it and sighed with relief. I slowly removed my clock. I untied the shawl and carefully brought the wrapped bundle to the front and laid it on my lap. 

My baby. The serenity on his face erased the turmoil in my head and wiped out the tiredness of my body. I caressed his face and kissed him gently. I didn't want to wake him up. He must be hungry. I should feed him. 

But wait! What's this! They are coming! They are coming! 

The stomping of their boots ripped me away from my inner thoughts. I shouldn't have stopped. I wrapped the shawl around my child and held him tightly in my arms. I stood in bewilderment.

Oh! No!

My eyes couldn't absorb what they saw. They were  everywhere. They had guns. They had hand grenades. They were thousands in number. They had come closer. Their war cry could be heard clearly. I bent low and sat down clutching my baby to myself.  They have come for us. They have come to ruin my family. Again.

Suddenly, the stomping stopped. The war cry stopped. There was silence. Utter silence. I raised my head to check what's going on. 

From nowhere the command came "FIRE!" and that very moment a bullet hit my temple.

I woke up on my bed with a jerk and gasped for air. 

"Oh Jesus! That was just a nightmare." I conferred to myself. I checked upon Joe. He was fine in his cradle. He was sleeping with both his fists at his sides. 

All I needed to fight the night terror is tranquility on my child's face. 

I checked the clock. Just below it, I could see Martin's picture in the framed news paper clipping, "Killed in action" the headline said. Since his demise, night terrors outgrew and episodes like this were now common for me.

But Martin was a warrior and so am I. I can fight this. And I will fight this. I love you Martin. And Joe too loves you.