8:25 am
I
woke up at six and couldn’t take the sound of people screaming in the streets,
so I packed up my bag with granola bars, two bottles of water, my wallet, a
change of clothes, and my stuffed animal, and rode my bike to the university.
When
I held my teddy bear, I couldn’t help but recall every single memory I could
remember with him, Mr. Fluff. I couldn’t leave him behind. He was all the
family I had left.
The
streets were slowly starting to fill with looters and people dancing in the
streets, waiting for their doom.
One man was on his knees shouting for God to take him away before the
bomb exploded. I stopped my bike and stared, looking up at the clear skies as
well, waiting to see if anything came down to get him, to save him from the
inevitable, but nothing showed up. I hung my head for a moment before pedaling
away. I can still hear that man’s screams, begging to be removed from this
world; begging to join his deceased wife. I don’t know what happened to him. I
never went down that street again.
When
I arrived at the university, campus police had the area blocked off. I had to
show my school id to be allowed on campus. There was no way I was leaving my
bike outside, so I rolled it into the building and down the halls. Some
professors continued to have class and they lectured to a room full of empty
chairs and the occasional student. I wondered if they knew what was happening
and they either refused to budge, or if they were like me, hopeless and unable
to leave the city.
Further
down the hall, where the offices were located, I noticed several doors were
wide open. Two of them were abandoned, books and papers strewn all across the
room. The third one had the door slightly ajar and when I peeked in, I saw him,
Dr. Tanamera, my political science professor.
It
had been a year since I had last seen him and I remembered him as energetic and
always willing to play devil’s advocate with his students to arouse a
discussion about politics. However, today, he was still and somber, the shadow
of an outspoken man. He was watching the grainy news report on a small
television set while he leaned back in his leather chair. I knocked on his door
and he turned, giving me a faint smile. “What are you still doing here, Rachel?
Why haven’t you left yet?”
“I
don’t have a car. Why are you still here, Dr. Tanamera?”
He
chuckled softly and tapped his fingers on his desk a few times. “All that time
I was trying to go green. Say no to cars, you know?” He sighed and looked back
at the television. I placed my bike against the doorframe and sat on a chair in
front of his desk.
“I do have a bike
if you want to try and get out of here,” I offered.
He shook his head
and waved his hand at me. We sat and watched the news in silence, with static
numbing any thoughts we could possibly be having at that moment.
“Do
you think they’ll really blow this place up?” I asked. It wasn’t a formal
question, but now was not the time for formalities.
His
eyes stared at the screen that had a map of the United States and the previous
three target areas. He nodded and with another sigh, he exhaled “Yes.”
“But
why?”
“Because
they can, Rachel.” We watched the television in silence for a few minutes more before I heard his soft voice ask, “Rachel, do you believe in God?”
I
did once. I believed in Jesus and in salvation through him, but I lost my faith
when I started college. I just didn’t have time or the desire to submit to a
religion. I felt somewhat embarrassed with my response, so I hid my face with
my brown hair that draped over my shoulders. “No.”
Dr.
Tanamera nodded and took a deep breath, turning to face me. “Me neither. Now
would be a good time for a sign of some sort, huh?” He smiled at me, his dark
eyes closing for a bit before he turned back to the news report. “Now would be
a good time to believe in something.”
I
had never heard him speak like this and it hurt me, because I was hoping he
would be the strong one for both of us, but instead, I was. I didn’t say a
word. What could I say? I was just as scared as he was.
Just
then, the silence was broken when his office phone rang. His eyes widened and
he stared at the black phone, hoping and waiting for the next ring. When it
rang, he quickly answered. “H-hello?” His eyes began to tear up and he spoke
rapidly in a different language. Although I couldn’t understand a single word,
I could see his face and the pseudo-smile his lips created.
I
knew that was my cue to leave. I had seen a man I respected, but I think I was
better off remembering him as the energetic political science professor instead
of the man I had seen today; A man who was ready to give up. As I pulled my
bike into the hallway, I closed his office door to the way it was when I
arrived. I heard him say, with a faint chuckle, “Yes, yes, I will leave as soon
as possible. You will see me again, don’t worry.” I don’t know if the person he
was speaking to noticed it, but I heard his voice crack toward the end of his sentence and so I left.
I
looked back at the university once more and wondered if I would ever see it
again. Would it survive the attack? Would I?
I
pedaled away and realized that I never found out where Dr. Tanamera’s family
came from. Was he Chinese? Korean? Japanese? I realized that it didn’t matter
anymore. Dr. Tanamera was a human. Just like the people screaming outside the
White House fence. Just like the people whose lifeless bodies littered the
ground. Just like the children who wandered the streets looking for shelter.
Just like me.
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