Day of Attack
The gentle breeze pushed the tall grass around my waist, brushing against my hands and making them itch. Callum stood only a few feet away from me, the grass only to his knees, staring off in the same direction as I was. Dust billowed behind huge, green machines. Other smaller vehicles trailed behind them. In them were men with huge weapons. There were so many of them...They covered the distant horizon like a sea. I'd never seen so many people so near our little town. Fear gripped my stomach like an ice cold fist.
"They're tanks. It's an army." Callum breathed, fists clenched. "They're headed for town. We have to warn them. Come on, Minerva." He held his hand out and I readily took it. I wanted my brother's protective touch more now than ever before.
We stumbled, well I stumbled mostly, down the hillside toward the small cluster of homes and buildings. The baker saw us coming and hefted a sack of flour over his shoulder. "What's wrong, kids?" He asked, wiping the sweat from his face. The touch left a smear of flour like a mustache. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"There are tanks, Mr. Gorby. Lots of 'em." I pointed behind us, my eyes wide. "We have to warn everyone!" A few people that had been wandering by froze in their places. My brother tugged at my hand, trying to get me moving so we could warn the rest of town. "Spread the word, Mr. Gorby!" I called to the baker as I was pulled away. He'd already dropped the sack and was waving his hat in the air, yelling the news to anyone who was in ear shot.
"Come on, Minnie." Callum said to me, leading me around the post office toward one of the back buildings that our Aunt and Uncle owned. They had let our family live there too. It was pretty crowded though with Uncle Leo and Aunt Fiona and then my own mother and father who had five children, counting Callum and I. We were the youngest. Callum was fourteen and I was only nine. Then there were the twins, Willa and Millie, who were sixteen. The oldest was Wesley, who was 17.
Come to think of it, crowded was an understatement in the three bedroom building.
Callum pushed the screen door open, bumping it against a bureau. "Ma! Pa!" He yelled, letting the door fall shut behind us. "Where are you? We need to hurry!"
"What's all the yelling, boy?" Uncle Leo grumbled, pushing through a pile of blankets that barricaded the family room's doorway. "Your parents are in the fields trying to work on getting a decent crop this year. The money I make at the post isn't half enough to cover our bills AND feed us all. I tell you, boy, I-"
"Uncle Leo there are tanks coming!" I interrupted him, bouncing on my heels. "An army!"
"We've raised you kids better than to lie." Uncle Leo warned me, his voice a low growl. He glared at me from under his bushy eyebrows, his hands on his hips. I hid behind Callum.
Callum shook his head beside me. "It's no lie, Uncle Leo. We saw them. They covered the hillsides. It can't be much longer until they reach us. Or at least start their attack." He spoke quickly, trying to get our Uncle to understand and get moving. "Where's Aunt Fiona? We really, really need to get the others to the shelters."
"She's out back. Cal, go get your Aunt. Minerva, your brother and sisters are upstairs, go get them." He weaved through the mess of chairs and piles of clothes to the screen door, pushing us out of the way. "I'll meet you at the west shelter. I need to make sure the rest of town knows what's coming. Hurry now!" He went out and let the door slam behind him.
Callum took off in the direction of the kitchen where the back door that led out to Aunt Fiona's garden was. Once he was out of sight, I felt eerily alone. More alone than I'd felt in years. In a house with nine people, being the only one in one room was a rare event. You were lucky if you even got to go to the bathroom alone.
