The Run

Have A Cup Of Tea

"Ding!" the teapot rang as I ran over to take it off the stove.

"Shit!" I yelled, burning my hand and forgetting to use the hot pad for the pot. The steamy tea comes out of the steeple as I pour a cup for my sister, and another for my mom. I grab a container of honey, and set it on the tray next to the two cups out of the cupboard. I look back in the cooler to get a glass of water for myself and realize the last of the water has been used. After this, I'm going home to get more water, since I used the last for the tea.

Jessica is sick, yet again, and I am left to take care of her. My sister has been sick many times this year, and mom and me are scared for her. Not that its been very bad, just colds, but consistent ones that last over a month. That is not typical. Now, it is extremely difficult to get a doctor that is willing to travel. It's hard to find anyone that is willing to travel. First, because its hard to travel. Very few people have cars. And second, no one wants to go out farther then the well. Mom and me have been sending out letters to anyone that has ever even studied medicine to try and find an answer to whatever is wrong. We have pondered many ideas, but none seem realistic. Mom has thought about taking Jess to a doctor, but there is always the fear of running into a town with flying weapons. We couldn't risk that. Still stuck, the three on us must find another way to get help, and though no one wants to admit it, before it gets too late.

Now, more and more bombs fall down on what used to be the United States of America and we are scared to go out at night. We also know that here lies what used to be a city. Now it is where we hide in terror.

I sigh at the state we are in. All of us. Living in panic about what is to come, and not sure how much longer we will make it.

"Amena!" my mom yells wanting me to go to her.

"One second mom!" I yell back, bringing the steaming tea to the bedroom where my sister sleeps.

As I kick the door open with my foot, I see my sister on the bed lying down. My mother is next to her sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Here is your tea," I say.

"Thank you," Jessica says back. My mom smiles and nods to me.

"What do you need?" I ask, remembering that she called me.

"Did you do your studying?" she says, knowing that I didn't.

Here is the thing. Even though our country is at war and being bombed, even though tons of learning material got destroyed when the bomb hit our house, even though we are living in a underground, sheltered living space, my mom is determined to get the most out of what we have.

I walk out of the room to get my near broken textbooks and memorize formulas for math.

         When the first bomb hit in the United States, I was ten. The second bomb hit the town over from ours and it killed my best friend. After that, the president made it his goal to get everyone to safety. The memory of our worst times is constantly played in the back of my mind. When we ran out of food, we went by hospitals overflowing with patients that were in close proximity to the monstrous explosive. My mom volunteered to do all she could. The militarily built groups of underground homes that we were sent to. Many kids were sent on trains to go to other countries. My mom thought it would be better to keep Jessica with us. Now, I am fifteen. And I have been living here ever since. It isn't that bad, since we get water from the well and food from the indoor garden including meat from the weekly drop off. Every week we get a supply of meat from the government. No one knows where they get it, but we are grateful to have it.

I get up from studying and walk to the kitchen to get water. When I open the refrigerator, the water container is empty. I had forgotten about the tea. I debated going out at this time of night, and decided to go for it.

"I'm going out to get water!" I yell to my mom. My voice echoed through the walls until hers echoed back.

"Just be careful!" she yells back.

         At that, I grab my torn shoes and the bucket to go out. I grasp the handle of the latter an heave myself up with the empty bucket. At the top, I unlock the latch and push open the shaft-like door. The smell of fresh air overwhelms me. It is early spring and grasses are just starting to grow out. It's about seven at night and the sun is on the horizon in the sky with the glow of life.

         I walk to the near well and hang my bucket on the hook. Lowering the container, and making sure I feel the water being given sucked into the empty container. Pulling the water out, a noise startles me. I'm not sure what it is. Then in comes again. Clearer every time. I hear a scream. Someone is yelling out.  In order, people start coming out of their houses and yelling too. Some look up to the sky and others keep yelling.  When I look up, I don't see anything. More people come out from underground and start yelling, too. So much yelling, it's hard to hear what they say. I carefully take the bucket full of water and hurry back. As I grab my shoes, the message becomes clear. All the commotion makes sense. But how could it be? I almost drop the bucket in shock. Now I can really hear it. All those shouts telling one dismaying message. At first I don't believe it, begging for it to be the wrong information. But it isn't. I look up, and all my fears rush at me.

Bombs, they say. The bombs are coming.