Shattered

Lost

It was silent. Had they left? This was our chance, and even though death was a possibility, this was our only chance. With equal amounts anticipation and fear, and with Grandpa and Spot watching, I unlocked the door. That was the easy part. Now, the much scarier part was at hand. Heart pounding, I slowly twisted the doorknob... and cracked the door open just enough for a head to fit through. Even the little sunlight shining through the crack was blinding after a week in a dark basement. I let my eyes adjust for a minute, and then peeked my head through. Immediately, I saw the shocking aftermath of a whole week of shooting.

The once green, gentle slope leading into the woods was now a ravaged jungle. It was an inch taller from a week of neglect, and it was mostly a charred black color from the occasional grenade and other throwable weaponry. Some areas of the grass were still smoking, indicating that the armed forces left recently, if they actually had left at all.

To the left of my view, the nearest house was slightly damaged, but nothing too shocking. The wooden boards on the side of the house were peeling, and a few fallen boards lay strewn on the grass. Other than minor sinking in some areas, the house was intact. Survivors were a possibility.

However, the house on the right was a complete disaster. The entire house had caved in towards the middle (bombs were likely), and the only distinguishable section was the back porch, which contained several large sinkholes and a coating of rat droppings. The fence of the porch was mangled completely out of proportion. Survivors were not a possibility.

Our house, from what I could gather, seemed structurally intact. We didn't have a back porch, so that's one less thing that could have been ruined. (Attempting to put that in a positive tone failed.) We were lucky that our house didn't collapse on us over the course of the week.

Although the neighborhood was ruined, nature seemed at peace. From the ruined trees, birds sang songs of joy. The trees blew with the gentle breeze, proving that nature recovers much faster than civilization. It was comforting to see that all was not lost.

I opened the door and stepped out onto the grass, motioning with my hand for them to come outside also. Haltingly, they began to move in the direction of the door. Once I convinced Spot that the surroundings were safe, he ran through the doorway and started to jump and bark, obviously happy to be outside. I quickly shushed him in case there were remaining armed forces. Eventually, Grandpa hobbled out into the daylight. He looked sickly pale, but I did too.

My plan really only reached to this point. We were all outside. Now, I was unsure of how to continue. I decided that the first thing to do was to check for remaining armed forces members. To do this, we'd have to creep up the slope leading to the road in front of our house. I wasn't sure how I would get a look without them seeing me, that is, if they were still there.

I turned to Grandpa and Spot. "Wait here," I said. "I know a way to check if there's any people left." After saying this, I ran back into the basement. I finally found what I was looking for (a mirror) on top of the mini-fridge. Holding my prize, I ran back out.

I showed them the mirror and said: "Just follow my lead." I crept over to the left side of the house and peeked my head over the corner. The slope was too steep; I couldn't see anything. I fell to my knees and crept up the slope a little ways. Spot followed, but Grandpa stayed back.

"I can't bend down with my knees, and a week of sitting didn't help. Just go, I'll stay back." I nodded because I sincerely believed Grandpa. He sounded weak, and I didn't want to make him exert himself too much.

Spot and I laid on our stomachs and shimmied up the grassy slope. (As you can probably tell, Spot is a very intelligent dog.) We climbed a quarter of the hill, then I pulled out my mirror. I faced it towards the road and looked at the reflection. Nothing but empty road.

I ran up to the middle of the road, which was shattered into pieces and was decorated with the occasional overturned car. Spot sprinted up to me in a state of furry joy, and began to jump up and down and bark. I spread my arms and yelled at the top of my lungs. I didn't really yell any words, I just yelled for the sake of making pure noise. I filled my lungs with air, and even though the air smelled smoky, it still felt great.

We ran back down to notify Grandpa that the scene was safe, but when we stopped at the bottom of the slope, Grandpa was nowhere to be found. My heartbeat quickened. Did someone take him? Where else could he be? Does this mean there are still people?

I called for him, but there was no reply except for the resounding echo of my panicked voice. Spot read my nervousness, and he began to look nervous too. I slipped my head into the basement, but it was empty. Suddenly, I heard a giant explosion and we both fell to the ground from the shock. The entire ground quaked with the force of a collapsing skyscraper. All around us, birds flew out of the shaking trees. As I was laying on the grass next to Spot, unable to move, I began to hurriedly calculate things in my mind.

It sounded close, probably no more than five houses down. It could either be a bomb or a house gas tank exploding. My shocked brain really couldn't process more than that. Then, I heard an earsplitting crack. I turned my head to the right and saw our house collapse into a huge ruin. A cloud of dust enveloped the entire yard and billowed outward, stretching across the road and to the yard on the other side.

I looked up towards the sky and saw a huge pile of roof within breathing distance above me. I could literally lick one of the cracked shingles (not that I would want to). I was grateful that we weren't buried alive, but I was worried that we were trapped.

I wiggled my shoulder blades left, then right, then I used my elbows as an anchor on the grass and I pulled my body out of the wreck. I gathered my strength for a minute, then I pulled the whimpering Spot out. We both had a few cuts and scrapes, but we had evaded any injury. I picked up Spot, who was wildly shaking, and held his furry body tightly against my chest. I thanked God over and over again that I didn't lose another loved one.

I just sat there for a long, long time, hugging Spot.