NINE
I have no idea how we all fit inside this tank. We’re eight people jammed into cramped quarters, sitting on laps, and no one even cares. The tension is so thick it’s practically its own person, taking up a seat we don’t have to spare. I can barely think straight.
I’m trying to breathe, trying to stay calm, and I can’t.
The planes are already overhead, and I feel sick in a way I don’t know how to explain. It’s deeper than my stomach. Bigger than my heart. More overwhelming than just my mind. It’s like fear has become me; it wears my body like an old suit.
Fear is all I have left now.
I think we all feel it. Kenji is driving this tank, somehow still able to function in the face of all this, but no one else is moving. Not speaking. Not even breathing too loudly.
I feel so sick.
Oh God, oh God.
Drive faster, I want to say, but then, actually, I don’t. I don’t know if I want to hurry up or slow down. I don’t know what will hurt more. I watched my own mother die, and, somehow, it didn’t hurt as much as this.
I throw up then.
All over the floor mats.
The dead body of my ten-year-old brother.
I’m dry-heaving, wiping my mouth on my shirt.
Will it hurt when he dies? Will he feel it? Will he be killed instantly, or will he be impaled—injured, somehow—and die slowly? Will he bleed to death all alone? My ten-year-old brother?
I’m holding fast to the dashboard, trying to steady my heart, my breathing. It’s impossible. The tears are falling fast now, my shoulders shaking, my body breaking. The planes get louder as they come closer. I can hear it now. We all can.
We’re not even there yet.
We hear the bombs explode far off in the distance, and that’s when I feel it: the bones inside of me fracture, little earthquakes breaking me apart.
The tank stops.
There’s no going forward anymore. There’s no one and nothing to get to, and we all know it. The bombs keep falling and I hear the explosions echoing the sounds of my own sobs, loud and gasping in the silence. I have nothing left now.
Nothing left.
Nothing so precious as my own flesh and blood.
I’ve just dropped my head into my hands when a scream pierces the quiet.
“Kenji! Look!”
It’s Alia, shrieking from the backseat as she throws the door open and jumps out. I follow her with my eyes and only then see what she saw, and it takes just seconds before I’m out the door and bolting past her, falling to my knees in front of the one person I never thought I’d see, not ever again.