~✽~
-Kenway Fletcher-
Upon reaching the station, we took the time to breathe in our surroundings, as we had a little while before we stepped into the train that would take us to Poland. It was hectic, packed with people everywhere, all in a rush to get where they needed to go, screaming over each other in an attempt to communicate over the loud trains that seemed to just drown out their voices. A stationmaster in a neat dark blue uniform stood stiffly, directing people to and from the trains, which stood ready on the old, aging railway tracks. I suppose they should be doing some repairs on those rails soon, or there might be a very unpleasant accident coming up ahead. The trains themselves, were huge, and old, puffing out clouds of thick, dark, putrid-smelling smoke every now and then. They would chug off into the distance after a loud, blaring honk, spewing the ugly smog everywhere.
I frantically instructed Diana to hold on to Nico's hand and stay close, in case we get separated in the unnerving crowd. Ushering them onwards, I directed our group of three to our boarding platform. It was an open area, with column-like structures supporting the overhead roof, designed to ward off the perils of the weather. The architecture was bricked themed; masonry, a tanned brown colour. You could notice the hurried, haphazard work of those who built it, considering the occasional blob of freeze-dried cement, here and there.
All the countries caught up in the war were trying to make a fast recovery, so I suppose nobody would have time to worry about a dank, clammy, little station on the border. There was a tiny shack on the side, selling some of the usual German street food; Bratwurst, Kartoffelpuffer, Berliner, and so forth.
(Basically, hotdogs, potato fritters, and pretzels.)
I looked over at the kids, and could see the hunger in Nico's eyes that washed away all thoughts of this morning's cereal, and Diana was already drooling. So, we all went over to get ourselves a little snack. The area around the shack was the most packed, considering the string of German words thrown about by the whole hoard of hungry countrymen waiting in line.
We waited about half an agonizing hour, before we got our food, although it seemed like a prolonged eternity. I watched as the kids practically inhaled their snacks, and we sat together on a bench, waiting for our train. As I surveyed the empty, cold sky, with not a single bird or star in sight, my thoughts began to wander...
10 years ago I was stationed at the relief camp in Warsaw after I took a serious injury, caused by the roof of a building caving in, due to an explosion. We were taking cover, and trying to aim at the opposing soldiers. There I was, gun in my hand, blood and sweat pouring down the sides of my face, and my hearting beating at a speed of a million miles per hour. We were running out of ammo. I slumped my back against the hard concrete of the already damaged, volatile building. I peered through a crack in the stone and my chest ached, partly because of my deep scabs and wounds, and partly because of the aching terror I felt in my heart, as I lifted my eyes to behold the scene of a bloodbath.
As the stench of death, hung in the air, the feeling of fear arose in my body. Not for myself, but for my family. My wife and two beautiful children. I could already tell something horrifying had happened. All these innocent people had to suffer thanks to this catastrophic armageddon. At the point when we were the most vulnerable, the sudden onslaught of assaults had ceased. We remained motionlessly still, filled with caution. I pressed my back hard against the wall, and I could feel the tension in the air escalate rapidly. The eerie silence lingered in the air for about 45 frightening seconds, and was then followed by a bloodcurdling scream, and the firing of explosives.
The last thing I recall was the stench of smoke, and the horror on my comrades faces, as the building caved in, and we plunged into the blackness. When I awoke, there I was, in the Warsaw War Relief Centre, bandaged up. But there was a pang of grief in my heart that couldn't be patched together, by anything. My senses felt numb, but the pain from the injuries I sustained began to hit me in sudden waves.
I stared at the pale, blank ceiling, in an attempt to dull the ache in my head, but it was to no avail. I was drowning in my own, searing, pain. Slowly, I began to recall the previous events.
Fear.
The building collapsing.
Soldiers plummeting to their death.
The hazy chants of victory in the distance.
I let out a sorrowful groan, catching the attention of a nearby doctor, who was having a conversation with a military informant. He talked hurriedly, and his facial expressions showed worry and concern. The other man remained blank and expressionless, exactly as how he was trained to. Whenever an informant was around, it would mean a bad omen, for he always brought along depressing news.
Well, here he was. The doctor was most probably trying to persuade him to deliver the news later on, but he wasn't going to budge. "Mr. Fletcher-" he began, only to be cut off by the doctor's rumbling. After sullenly scaring the old, chubby man into silence, with a stern look, he continued. "As much as it pains me to say this, your family has become a part of the casualties in the ongoing war. An informant was sent to your house to tell them about your situation, but the area was involved in a mass bombing, and most of the people in the area had lost their lives. After a search was conducted we managed to recover several charred bodies, including your family's. The government sends you their deepest condolences. Your work as a soldier has been a fine and profitable service to our nation and..." the man went on, in a monotonous voice, not even a sign of the least bit of sympathy on his face or tone, which was highly contradictory to his words.
I had subconsciously blocked his voice out. The war seemed like a field of daisies compared to what I was feeling now.
I lost it all.
I lost everything.
This cruel world took it all from me.
My family. I miss them so much. I wanted more than anything to see them, but that could no longer be done. But in my heart I knew, they would no longer have to suffer, witnessing the horrors and atrocities of war. That was the day I had lost all my will to live. I should've died too, alongside my comrades, my brothers in the war, and my family, who's love was always with me, even to the end. I was the only one who survived that fall when the building collapsed. It didn't seem fair, that only I, was allowed to escape death. After spending about a month or so in recovery, I was able to stand up, with the help of a crutch. A second month had passed, after which I was beginning to walk properly, still needing support, although the doctor said I would always have a bad right leg, as it got crushed under a heavy piece of the building.
I was dispatched from the military, and I was free to go once I had completely recovered from my injuries. Freedom at last, right? But I had nowhere to go.
It was December, when we heard that the people in a portion of the town were going to be evacuated. I went outside for a while, for some "fresh" air, and that was when I met their mother. Scrambled locks of hair that was probably a light gold underneath the grime and soot, beautifully dull blue eyes, that seemed to have lost it's glimmer once long ago. Despite what the war had done to that woman, I could tell she was a beautiful person.
I told her about the news, and she went, immediately to get her family. It was as if the news had ignited that small, snuffed out sliver of hope in her. But soon enough, scores of people came and the trains were full. She had come with her two, tiny, children, but there was no way for her to get on. I approached her, and she begged me to take her children with me and escape.
I saw the pain in her eyes, and as I stared down at the innocent faces of the two kids, I was reminded of my own. I knew I could never leave them there. I wasn't able to save them before. Perhaps this would atone for my sins? I also knew they would need their mother as much as she needed them, and I vowed that I would come back for her.
But I never did...until now.
"DAD! Dad our train's here! Let's get a move on!" said Diana, screaming right in my ear, which made me snap out of my bitter thoughts with a start. I looked towards the rail and sure enough, there was a giant, black train, spewing that same smog in all directions, with the stationmaster calling people on board, I grabbed Nico and Diana, and stepped onto the train, moving onwards, with a newfound zeal, to keep my word.
This time, we'll all be on that train. Together.
.
.
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