World War 4: Sticks and Stones

Ben: Part Four

After taking just a second to appreciate the newfound hope that I had discovered in Rosemary's corner, I started to head back to Eliza. I found her sitting on her bed, reading a book aimed at a much younger audience than her. She asked where I had gone. I told her that I wanted to see if the doomsday station on the radio was still active. I could barely hold in my glee as I told her that it was. She stayed stone-faced. She was not mad that I had left, but she wondered what significance that had on our situation. She told me that, as a doomsday station, they would lose a lot of credibility if they were unable to survive. I explained that I knew that, but then I continued to explain that, if we were to figure out how my father used to stand in that corner, we would be able to find out if it was safe to leave. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened into a gaping smile. She became as giddy as I was. She grabbed my arm in excitement. "We're close!" She shouted this as if she were a child on their way to an amusement park. Eliza shouted as though the car had driven just close enough that the tallest coaster was visible. She shouted in such a way that made me aware that, while, the outside was not a guarantee, it was a possibility. After calming ourselves we decided that tomorrow would be the day that we spent standing in every which way to get even the slightest of clues. That night, we slept like babies. I had not had such a good night's sleep in years. When I woke up, Eliza was still asleep. I looked over to her. In her sleep, she smiled. I shook her just slightly to wake her up. It was time. I had never thought, in my entire lifetime, that my fate would rest upon the static of a radio. 

I once again strapped little Destiny onto my chest, but this time Eliza was by my side. I grabbed her hand and we walked with grace. Every step we took was more confident than the last. As we walked, I imagined that we were the heroes of film. I imagined that we walked in slow motion as a building exploded behind us into glorious flames of smoke and debris. I then imagined that we walked in a formation so grand, angry and unnatural that only a director could have drawn it up. It was all just in my mind. In actuality, from the outsider's perspective, it was simply two lovers and their child on a morning stroll with a radio in hand. But even to the outsider's perspective, nobody could deny the determined grin on both of our faces as we knew that our mission, to stand awkwardly in our neighbor's corner with a radio was going to change the course of our history. The walk felt longer than usual, but it wasn't. I knew that my hand was shaking as if a fault line had shifted upon it. I looked to Eliza. Even with her courageous expression, the shakiness in her hand was not very well hidden. Rosemary was still asleep, so we decided to start our mission very quietly. I turned on the radio to a very soft volume and shifted the station to that of our priority. I knew that if I were to I were to do this with Destiny strapped to my chest, I might whack her with the radio and hurt her, so I took her down and handed the bag to Eliza. I went deep in the depths of my memory to remind myself of how my dad used to stand. I knew that he would always keep his feet on a shelf to give himself height, but after that, I could no longer remember his process. I again stood every which way trying to get rid of the static. I still heard voices, but I could not even remotely discern words. I waved around as a fish out of water, as a camel in the middle of the ocean. I did this for ten minutes, then twenty, then for an hour. I was hot, anxious, nearing defeat. I sat. Then, I realized that only two minutes had passed. I tried one more time, this time bearing the soul of my father. Delicately, I closed my eyes. I dreamt of him. I wanted to take myself into his body, see what he saw, feel what he felt. I whizzed passed his corner with Eliza as we explored the unpopulated hallways. I had always glanced to see my father when I did so, but I had never paid much attention to him. I looped my memory. Instead of whizzing past, I stopped to see him. I left Eliza's firm grip and took a step towards him. He was wearing a light gray cotton shirt and blue jeans that were so stretchy, I was unsure if they really were jeans. With my eyes still closed, I possessed my father. I stepped onto the shelf in the same way that he did. I was no longer waving around. I had been thrown back to the ocean, presented with the desert. I realized that he had carried the radio with his left arm, so I did so. I outstretched my left arm with the radio as far as I could. The static faded to a voice that I found very familiar, but much older than I had remembered. I listened intently. "Hello. I understand that many people are still hiding in bunkers." My hand shook fervently as the voice spoke. "I come at you today with news." My hand now shook in what felt like anger. "I..." Static. My hand shook in what felt like a seizure. It was an uncontrollable, painful quake. I tried to steady myself to hear the voice, but trying to control the shaking caused a searing pain throughout my arm. As my mind became more and more focused on my hand, I became less and less focused on the fact that I was standing on a shelf. I came crashing down. I was fine. The radio wasn't. For the first time in my entire life, I understood the necessity of swearing. "FUCK! The goddamn fucking radio! Goddamn it! Fuck!" My hand had decided to shake even further along with the entirety of my body. Although I knew that I would be okay, I could not stand up. Eliza watched in horror as my mental crisis became much more intense. She tried to put her hand on my shoulder. "Get it off of me!" I shouted those words without any hesitation as if her hand was a scorpion. She was not crying until I said those words. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Her mind was not on the radio, but on my wellbeing. I didn't respond. In fact, I didn't look at her. Eventually, I sat up. After a minute or two, I responded to her questions. "I'm not okay, but I'm not hurt though." She understood. "I'm sorry that I swatted your hand away like that." "It's okay. I understand." "Can you put it on my shoulder again?" She did. This time I left it there. Her hand started on my left shoulder. I grabbed it and moved it to the right. We, once again, were no longer distanced. Rosemary was awoken in the chaos and came to us during our silence. "Holy shit that was a crash! Ya'll alright?" We lied that we were and then we explained the situation. "You guys broke your radio? It really doesn't look all too bad, I got a guy who's really good with electronics. I'm sure he would love a job again." There was no denying that Rosemary was a confederate, Karen, dirt bag, jerk face that had the uncanny ability to make life miserable sometimes, but for just a moment, until I gathered my bearings, I was in love.