Outsider

Three

I was dreaming of my mother.  I've only seen her in pictures in Papa's photo album, she was a beautiful woman with dark, wavy hair and blue-grey eyes like mine.  Papa, my mother, and I all shared the same trait of our blue-grey eyes.  I was dreaming that she was dropping me off at school, like what all the other kids and their mothers do at the nearest town Papa travels to when he goes for supplies.  I would say to her, "Bye, Mama, ich liebe dich."

"I love you too!" Mama would say, with a voice like an angel.  But, just as she was disappearing into the crowd my dream was interrupted by a stern voice ordering, "Elissa, wake up."

My eyes opened to see Papa looming over my bed.  I sat up in bed, and watched as he began throwing clothes into a backpack.  I heard a faint humming noise in the distance, but it was gradually coming closer.  "What's happening?" I asked worriedly as Papa tossed a sweatshirt, pants, and sneakers onto my bed.  

"Get dressed." Papa commanded, barely looking at me.  I threw on the clothes over my pyjamas and followed him to the fireplace, where I noticed him getting his shotgun from its spot hanging on the wall.  He looked anxiously out the window, and that's when I noticed shining lights coming from outside.  "Papa, what are you doing?  What's going on?" I asked, voice like a whisper.  Papa never told me to be quiet, but for some reason I thought it was necessary.  My father quickly shut the curtains and pulled me towards the side of the house opposite to the door.  Finally, he said gravely, "They've come for us,"

"Who?"

"Hydra."

"Hydra?" I repeated, moving to the window.  I peeked out and sure enough there were helicopters in the sky and soldiers over one hundred feet away marching towards us.  But, I could still hear their synchronized marching:  One two, one two, one two...  They were not a beat out of place.  

"Elissa!  Get away from the window!" Papa said sharply.  I pulled the curtains shut again and rushed over to him.  Papa was hunched over the ground and was tugging at the floorboards.  Sure enough, two came off to reveal a hole in the ground.  But, when I kneeled down I noticed that it wasn't just a hole-

It was a tunnel.

Papa knelt down beside me and grasped my shoulders.  Looking around nervously, he said, "We don't have much time, liebling, so you have to listen to me.  Go through this tunnel, it will lead you to the woods.  Once you're there, find cover.  Stay safe, and don't come back to this house until a day has passed."

"What about you?" I asked, my voice even quieter than the last time.  

Papa swallowed and said in a raspy voice so unlike his, "I'm going to try and hold them off,"

Hold them off?   Although I was only nine years old, I understood completely what my father was going to do:  Sacrifice himself so I could escape.  I choked, "-Papa?  Papa?"  It was as if I knew no other words, but I was speechless with sheer terror.  If I lost Papa I would have no one.  And I wasn't ready to be alone.  

My father stroked my cheek with his gentle hand and said with a sad smile, "It's okay, Elissa."

Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded, "No, Papa.  Come with me, come with me please!"  I touched his face, felt the blonde hairs on his chin, and stared into his blue-grey eyes which were glassy and brimming with tears.  "I need you," I cried.

"I love you, mein kind!" Papa said in a rush.  I could tell if he had said anymore he would burst into tears himself.  He embraced me quickly and kissed me on the head.  I clung onto him tightly, trying to remember his voice and his warm touch.  Papa pulled away, and in my outstretched arms he placed the backpack.  Before I could object, I was lifted up in the air and directed towards the tunnel.  My feet were placed in first, and I was placed down in a kneeling position.  I tried in vain to look up at my father, but when I turned my head all I saw was two strong hands securing the floorboards over top of me.  In the dark I breathed heavily, unsure of my next move.  I had nowhere to go, no one to see, no plan set if Papa didn't make it.  Don't think that way, I told myself, Papa will make it.  But when I thought back to his almost tear-stricken face before we hugged, I knew he was expecting the worst.