When The War Came To Us

After the election in 2008, rumors spread about a terror group forming in Mexico. Fighters were said to be drawn by the promise of justice and vengeance against a corrupt government. It was said they had a partnership with the cartels, that drug money was changing hands, and that border agents were being paid off. The government first ignored the rumors, then denied them. But on 15 March, while the country was still waking up, an army marched across the border at Tijuana and Nogales.

They called themselves Urimel. Television stations and internet news sites were hacked to show their broadcasts. They spoke about bringing light and peace back to a degenerate nation, of restoring rightful rule to the people. “Ohr Mi’Khohshek, Light from Darkness,” was their motto. Their light came like a lightning storm, guns blazing, trucks rumbling.

Two factions of their army struck Tucson and San Diego before anyone realized what was happening. Los Angeles and Phoenix were invaded a few hours later. When a blurry video of Staples Center’s windows being blown out was aired alongside stills of dead police officers in the Phoenix streets, the country panicked.

Clark was enjoying lunch at home when his phone went off. The tone was unfamiliar, so he checked it quickly. What he read immobilized him. Pasta dropped from the fork halfway to his mouth onto his pants. A newsfeed began to play. The anchor in New York stated the President was gathering the armed forces as fast as possible. A red news ribbon along the bottom of the screen declared a national state of emergency.

“In what is the most horrific and powerful offensive against The United States ever, a hostile terrorist organization named Urimel has taken four major U.S. cities, including, as you can see here, Los Angeles. Be aware, reports say they are armed and are committing acts of extreme violence to anyone who resists.”

           “Jeanine!” Clark screamed. His fork clattered to the table. “Jeanine!” He raced upstairs. Jeanine met him at the bedroom door with her eyebrows raised. She had a book in one hand with a finger marking her place.

“What’s the matter, Clark?

“Terrorists! In Los Angeles and Phoenix and they’re coming here!”

 Jeanine's mouth dropped open and she stared at him.

“What?”

“Look at this!” Clark thrust his phone at her. The news anchor was still talking.

“Reports are already coming in of sightings along the California-Nevada border. Evacuation measures are being put in order and the National Guard is being sent in. If you are listening, get to a safe place immediately. Go north or east. These people are deadly, and it is advised you remain calm, follow procedures, and seek a safe place.”

Jeanine paled. She looked at Clark, her mouth attempting to form words. 

“W-what do we do Clark? What do we do?” Her voice rose in volume with a hint of hysteria. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Clark stood still and stared at the carpet. Jeanine began to sob. “Clark, is this happening?” She lurched forward and shook Clark by the shoulders. 

“I don’t know! I— Ethan’s at school!” 

Jeanine rushed for the door. Clark caught her arm.

“No! I’ll go and get him,” he said, “you pack a bag and get some food and water!”

“Where are we going to go?”

Clark stopped in the doorway.

“Matt’s house, in Salt Lake. Yeah, we’ll start there.”

Tears rolled down Jeanine’s cheeks.

“Okay,” she said, “go! Go get Ethan!”

Clark returned thirty minutes later. The second he pulled into the driveway Jeanine ran out with bags full of clothes, food, and water. She threw them into the back seat next to Ethan and got in the car. Her hands shook as she buckled herself in.

“Hi, Mom! Dad was talking to Uncle Matt. Are we going to see him?”

Jeanine swiveled to look at Ethan as Clark backed down the driveway.

“Yes, we are going to see him, sweetie.”

“Cool!” He looked at Jeanine and frowned. “Are you okay Mom? You look all shaky.”

“I’m fine, sweetie, I’m fine.” Ethan didn’t seem convinced as he looked back and forth between his parents. Clark caught his worried look in the rear-view mirror.

           “It’ll be all right Ethan, there have just been some… problems close to here and we need to go to Salt Lake. Why don’t you tell Mom what you were working on before I picked you up?”

Ethan's attention shifted to his art project and Clark was glad for the distraction. As Ethan fished in his backpack for the drawing, Clark leaned over and whispered to Jeanine.

“Matt said he’ll wait for us. Maddie is with Lauren in Texas, so it will only be us four. He’ll get some stuff together and we’ll go east.” Jeanine nodded.

Clark caught himself holding his breath as he pulled out of their neighborhood. He looked left, right, then turned onto South Eastern Avenue. Hundreds of cars packed the streets, heading for the freeway. Smith’s parking lot was full. People dashed in and out of the store, their hands and carts loaded with food and water. As he pulled onto I-215, Jeanine switched on the radio and found the local news station. Staticky voices filled the car.

“—advised to do what, Ann?”

“The word from Washington is that this group is Urimel, a faction of disaffected U.S. extremists. Numbers are uncertain, but they have enough manpower to have taken over Phoenix and Los Angeles and they are still spreading. They have not made any declaration of their purposes other than the promotional videos already published. Reports say they have shut off the power and water in the cities they have captured. All flights have been grounded around the country, but citizens are encouraged to move east immediately. State governments in Idaho, Wyoming, and Utah have ordered public transportation companies to move those who do not have access to vehicles.”

“Are there any reports of casualties?”

“No concrete numbers, though incident reports are rising as these people are known to be armed and highly dangerous.”

“Thanks, Ann. Now, in a video gone viral in the last hour, Staples Center—”

Clark couldn’t believe this was happening. The civil unrest had been growing since the last election and the riots in Dallas and St. Louis had been borderline violent, but extremists? In The United States? It couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.

Yet there he was, joining the growing sea of fleeing vehicles merging onto I-15. He gripped the wheel tightly as they drove past the palms of the Las Vegas Strip, Nellis Air Force Base, and Las Vegas Motor Speedway. Military vehicles and tanks rumbled along the southbound lanes.

Every gas station along the way had lines stretching nearly a quarter-mile. Clark checked the gas gauge; almost full. That would get them far enough for now. Ethan leaned forward and put his hand on his mother’s arm. She flinched.

“What’s going on mom?” asked Ethan. She quickly turned off the radio.

“Something not good, Ethan. But it’ll be ok.”

“Oh. Did you bring my DS?”

“I’m sorry Ethan, I forgot to grab it.”

“Mom! I’m going to get bored!”

“Here, have a snack.”

Ethan took the crackers and ate them loudly, eyeing his mother.

Clark kept his eyes trained on the cars ahead and gripped the wheel with white knuckles, his anxiety rising as they slowed, his relief evident when they sped up. The train of cars wound out through the Nevada desert and across the corner of Arizona. His grip loosened a fraction as they passed the Utah state sign. Jeanine stared out the window and listened to the radio, ears straining for any news, but nothing new came through. No one seemed to be able to paint a clear picture of what was happening.

The lines for gas were just as long in St. George so Clark kept driving. Ethan, long since finished with a wide array of snacks, let his head drop and fell asleep. The miles ticked by, one hundred, two hundred, two-fifty. The number of cars thinned as other drivers pulled onto I-70 to go east. A few minutes after the gaslight came on, Clark spotted a nearly empty gas station off the exit at Fillmore. He pulled in and a man in oily jeans and a ballcap ran out to him.

“I’ve got to fill it up for you. You know, rationing and all that.”

 Clark put the pump back and let the man fill up his car. He paid in cash.

“Thanks. You’re not leaving?”

The man smiled.

“Oh, I am. Not yet though. There’s nothing like a crisis to make a few extra bucks, you know?”

Clark shook his head and got in the car. Jeanine squeezed his arm and looked back at Ethan. His mouth hung open as he slept.

“It’ll be okay,” said Clark.

The last leg of the drive passed quietly. The Wasatch mountains rose steadily beside them and led them along to Salt Lake City. They got off at exit 306 and rolled through downtown as the sun was beginning to set. The TRAX trains weren’t running, and there were hardly any other cars. They wound through the city, past the university, the hospital, and into a quiet neighborhood.

Most of the houses sat dark and quiet. Clark glanced at his phone to check the house number again. When he pulled into the driveway Matt was waiting on the front steps. As the headlights washed over him, Clark heaved out a pent-up breath.

“I’m so relieved you made it!” Matt said as Clark and Jeanine got out of the car. He hugged Jeanine and peeked in the car. “Hey, Ethan!”

“Hi, Matt!”

The evening air was cool. Matt nudged a shivering Jeanine towards the house.

“Go inside, I’ll grab the bags.” He took a bag of clothes and walked inside with Ethan. Jeanine made them dinner while Clark and Matt talked.

“Where are we going to go?” asked Clark.

Matt put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes.

“East, somewhere. I can’t get a hold of Lauren. She’ll be heading east with Maddie, but I don’t know where she’ll go.”

“We can head towards Texas first. Keep trying to call Lauren.”

“Okay. You should get some sleep, you look exhausted. The guest room is open, and Ethan can sleep in Maddie’s old room. I’ll stock your car with what I can.”

Clark ate some warmed-up soup and climbed the stairs to the guest room. Jeanine tucked Ethan in, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed with Clark. They both fell asleep, exhausted from the drive and the fear. Matt gathered canned food into bags put them in the car. After putting in a case of water bottles, he checked the news. The reserves from Nellis were preparing with local law enforcement to meet the terrorists. The news anchor was confident it would slow the advance. Matt set an alarm and went to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, the news reported firefights in Las Vegas.

 Jeanine woke up. Something was popping, a distant snick, sharp and quick. Still half asleep, she thought they were fireworks. She glanced at the clock. Fireworks at two in the morning? Her memory came awake. The news, the drive, last night with Matt. Her blood ran cold.

“Clark!” She shook him. He jumped, twisting in the sheets.

W-what? What?”

“Listen!” He was still for a moment, then threw the covers aside and leaped up to listen at the window.

“We’ve got to go! Now!”

He pulled on his pants and shirt and dashed down the hall to get Ethan. Jeanine dressed quickly and followed. Matt was already awake and waiting for them in the living room with a shotgun leaning against his leg. He finished buttoning his shirt and put his finger to his lips. Creeping to the front door, he cracked it and peered out.

“Coast is clear.”

They ran out to the car as the sound of gunfire echoed off the mountains, reverberating all around and making it sound as though the shots were coming from all directions. Clark took the driver’s seat, Jeanine the passenger’s side, and Matt sat in the back with Ethan.

“Can I see your phone, Clark?” Matt asked.

Clark tossed it back. Matt opened the navigation app, typed in directions, and handed it back to Clark.

“Follow those directions, they’ll take us to the canyon road.”

Jeanine leaned around her seat to look at Matt.

“What if they’re already there?”

Matt leaned the shotgun against the door and rolled down the window.

“Then we’ll try north.”

Clark backed out and they sped down the street. A few other people were also in their driveways, frantically packing their cars and buckling in kids. Other houses sat quiet and dark, apparently already abandoned.

“How are they moving so fast?” asked Clark, “the last report said they were by Las Vegas!”

“I don’t know,” said Matt, keeping his eyes glued to the road. “Some of the army reserves were supposed to meet them in Las Vegas. Jeanine, let’s check the news, see if there is any more information.”

“Which station?”

“Try 102.7.”

The radio buzzed to life.

“—coming in with the midnight report. Insurgents, violent sympathizers with Urimel, have been reported working in cities throughout the west. They are attempting to stop people from fleeing.” Jeanine looked at Clark with horror.

“You don’ think…?”

“I don’t know.”

Clark pulled the car onto Foothill Drive and drove as fast as possible. The streets were dark and empty. The store windows along the road reflected the sickly yellow streetlamp light. Clark slowed the car at a red light, then sped through it.

A half-mile ahead was the on-ramp. As they sped past the Walmart, Clark only had a second to glimpse a big black truck in the side mirror before a blast rang out and the rear windshield exploded.

Jeanine screamed. Matt grabbed Ethan and ducked as glass showered them both. The car bucked as Clark wrenched the wheel and pressed the accelerator to the floor. Another shot roared from the truck but missed. Matt grabbed the shotgun and aimed it over the seat. Another shot from the truck and the car jolted as the left-rear taillight blew out. Matt aimed again and fired.

“Clark your arm!” Jeanine said. He gritted his teeth.

“I’m fine!”  

But his left arm hung limply while his right arm clung to the steering wheel. Matt swung the shotgun over the seat and fired out the back, peppering the grill of the black truck. It accelerated and rammed their car. Matt fired again.

The black truck lost ground as smoke began to billow from under its hood. Clark grimaced and kept his foot firmly on the gas. A warm trickle of blood flowed across his chest and back. They raced onto the on-ramp and into the dark canyon.

Nine months later, Farid Taheri looked down at the memo on his desk.

“Clark, Jeanine, and Ethan Wallace. Family of three. Interred in Camp Reynolds in Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.A. Brother died of TB in Atlanta. Psych evaluation recommended. Denied entry to Egypt and Syria. Interred in the Plein Coeur refugee camp in Casablanca. Transfer from Morocco two months ago to Aleppo. Transfer to Damascus yesterday. Clark and Ethan speak rudimentary Arabic. Jeanine speaks only English. Additional information required.”

He shuffled around his desk and opened the door.

The family was already there, huddled together on the couch across the hall. The parents sat on either side of the young boy, their arms draped around him. Their clothing was the drab, refugee camp style of faded T-shirts and old jeans. The father’s long legs sprawled out in front of him, his body athletic and lean. Almost too lean. Farid noticed his left arm hung in a sling. The mother was pretty and blond, though she had the look of someone who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. The boy clenched his hands in his lap and kept his eyes down under his long, straw-colored hair.

Farid gave them a half-smile and looked over their heads through the window. The sky over Damascus was cloudy and streaked with reds and violets as the sun set. He listened as they told their story.

 “I’m sorry.” The silence was awkward and heavy for a moment. “I’m truly sorry,” said Farid. He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re here now, and you’re safe. That’s all the information we will need for today. You’ve already been assigned a place to stay, correct? Good. You can go now.” The chairs creaked as the family stood up. Clark stuck out his hand.

“Thank you, Mister—” he glanced down at the nameplate, “—Taheri.” Farid stood up and took the hand.

“My pleasure, Mr. Wallace. I am truly sorry for your loss. We and our government will do our best to help you. We know these are hard times, and we would like to think you would do the same for us.”

Clark nodded.  “I’d like to think so too.”

Clark, Jeanine, and Ethan left the office. Farid watched them cross the hall and drape their thin jackets over their shoulders. Ethan turned and Farid caught his eye.

“Thank you,” Ethan called in Arabic. Farid nodded and smiled at him. He and watched as they disappeared down the hall. On his way out the secretary smiled at him sadly. 

“Can you imagine? Every time one of these poor little families walks into this building all I can think about is how it could have been us.”

It was dark in the parking lot. Farid stopped for a moment to look at the sky. A few stars, the only ones that could be seen from the city, were already out. He watched them for a moment, counted them.

“I can’t imagine.”

Then he got in his car and drove home to eat dinner.