Grand Central station
It was one of those places where you can feel the timelessness, the context of eternity floating in the air, sense the great many moments that happened in that place, each of them leaving inside a small quantum of their energy while passing by, building up to that timeless flux of energy, the energy formed by moments that changed people's lives, moments never to be forgot. It was one of those places where time and space would occasionally meet for a cup of coffee, just to return to their own boring duties afterwards. And to host them both, there was it - the Grand Central station.The constant, the monument, the witness.
Make no mistake. All great things come with a price.
April 1895.
Derek was an engineer leading the construction works of the station and the railroad. He just loved the way people looked at him. He was the one bringing this wonder of modern technology to their doorstep. He was the one bringing the future into their lives, he was the one that drew the first nail into the base of the construction site and he will be the first to ride the iron beast down the railroad when the time comes.At least he thought so.
He was so taken by his work that if there was ever a definition of a man married to his job, it was Derek. Although, that was not entirely true: he was married to Elena, who was working as a teacher back home thousands of miles away, and whom he has not seen for a while now.
So, the Grand Central station grew, bigger and brighter. Derek, as well as all the others, knew that what they are building is going to be great, bordering with magical. They knew it is beyond all of them, and when they would go back to their families after work, they would tell stories about their day, talking about how their lives would change. Derek was living in one of the cabins at the construction site, and after work he liked to walk between the growing walls of the station, looking at his greatest achievement. Sometimes he would miss Elena, but he was always convinced that she would understand why they were apart for so long.
Except, she didn't.
In March 1898, just 3 months before the station's grand opening, Derek received a letter from Elena, telling him that she is leaving him. Derek, having no way to contact her back, had to decide: he either goes back home to try and convince her to stay (and abandon the project) or stays and finishes what he was building for the past 3 years. And the following 3 months, everything went sideways. Derek decided to stay, and he became more and more distant, finding it hard to focus on his work. Torn by his inner war between love and lust for glory, Derek started visiting a nearby pub, more and more often. In many occasions, the pub's owner would be the one waking him up in the morning, until that one night, just several days before the grand opening, Derek came back to the Grand Central's halls. The pain in his chest was becoming unbearable, and he started yelling:
- "You did this to me. YOU!!! I was the one that created you, how could you do this??"
His voice and his pain echoed through the halls, and the station replied with cold and heavy silence, just as if it knew that Derek did not come that night to seek answers.He came for one last dance before he leaves.
He turned towards the big station clock which was thumping in a constant thud, counting each passing second of our world, and at the same time each passing second of Derek's life. Derek pulled out a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it towards his head.Several seconds, he held his breath, the clock was ticking with no remorse.Then a single, barely audible, "I'm sorry" passed Derek's lips, before he blew his brains out onto the shining marble floor of the station.
Time did not stop, just the same as the station's clock continued to tick, same as Derek's blood continued to flow between the cracks of the marble floor tiles. The progress did not stop neither.Three days later, the station opened, people heard about a story of some worker that killed himself a couple of days back, felt sorry for him for about three seconds, and then they continued celebrating the day that the future came into their town. The Grand Central station was opened, the price was paid, and the first pages of a long history of events were written.
A written word can take you anywhere. Choose your destination and do not be afraid.
March 1943.
It was a hell of a tough time to be alive. The world has gone crazy, and there was no place anyone could run to. Especially if you're a 12-year-old Jewish girl. The war was blazing fires all around the country, and Alina was in the middle of it all. She was looking through the cracks in the wooden wall as the train rushed down the train tracks, feeling a bit hypnotized by the line of trees swooping in front of her eyes. She could barely move as she was squished next to the wall by the people around her. One could imagine that the nazi trains riding to the concentration camps were not designed for comfort. She had a book in her hands, and a backpack full of books, as she was apprehended by nazi soldiers just when she was trying to save some of the books from the burning house of Tal Dozer, her grandmother.
Now, Alina Dozer was quite a bookworm. Books were her time machine, her door to the world. She would imagine all the places she has never been to, and replay in her head all the dialogs she never heard.Right now she was reading a book about the pan-European railways, as she overheard one of the German soldiers speaking about where the train would be headed. They will make a stop at the Grand Central station to take another group of local Jews on board, before they head straight to the camp, and the book had a special chapter about the station.
A man behind her started shouting:
-"What happened to you people?? How can you be so quiet?? Are you aware of what is the place that they are taking us to??"
-"Be quiet Jonah, they might hear you", a woman added with a lowered, frightened voice."They will kill you if they do".
-"I am ALREADY DEAD, DON'T YOU SEE?? WE ARE ALL ALREADY DEAD", Jonah yelled back, and his panic spread to other people like wildfire.
Alina pushed back towards the corner of the wagon and pulled up her book as if to shield herself from the madness the world has gotten in to. She started reading the chapter about the Grand Central station, and how it was a miracle of science and progress that brought prosperity to its hometown, and under the text there was an illustration of the stations atrium, with its large clock in the middle. It seemed so lovely, and it felt so great that she will get to see it before they reach their final destination. It felt great because, for her, that station was still a symbol of human hope, a reminder that once, people believed in miracles, and that they were free to make one if they chose to.
She also read about many workers that built the station and that the main engineer was found dead a couple of nights before the opening. There was an illustration of him as well, with a name underneath reading "Derek Dillinger". A stern man, worthy of making a miracle.
And just as she started to phase back to reality, and the noises of men and women shouting started to hurt her ears again, out of the blue, the train started going into a halt. The wagon leaned forward, all the people inside hurled to the front of the wagon, and the screams of the train tracks became louder and louder, as if they were screaming because they knew what will happen next. The train came to full stop, with a loud thud, and the sliding door of the cattle wagon where the people were kept, opened, revealing, for Alina, a magnificent sight: a broad and large wall, standing proud behind a mesmerizing line of roman-style columns with a large triangular piece of concrete at it's top, showing a relief of fighters in an arena. And above it, a large station clock, visible from both in and out of the station, even more amazing than how she imagined it.Just then she saw the line of Nazi soldiers standing in front of the wagon, arms in their hands.For one brief moment, an utter and complete silence ruled the air, and then a shot was fired. Then another one. And then silence was no more, just a rumbling thunder of the Nazi automated weapon. People started moving back, trying to run, blood was everywhere, and even before she was able to understand what was going on, she felt a sharp pain in her leg, and fell down, holding her book tight.Just before she hit the ground she felt two more hits, one hitting the book she was holding and a second one lodging into her shoulder. Red rivers of blood started gushing down her hand, and the world around her went dark.
The Nazi soldiers, after they checked that none of the men, women and children were moving, threw them into piles in a horse wagon near the tracks. Alina was there somewhere underneath the pile of flesh, still clutching her book, now with pages red with blood, and heavy with memories.
In the moments when love is torn apart, only a single "goodbye" is complete.
December 2013.
There is always something special in arrivals and departures. Leaving is never easy, coming back may be even worse. However, it is not the departure of the train the one that keeps people separated. The separation usually begins much earlier. The train is just the executor, and the train station is just a mere witness.
Robb and Lori were sitting on a bench in front of the station, right under the great "Wall of remembrance" where all the names of the people killed in the "Grand Central massacre" where etched, a silent monument carved in stone. Robb Lancaster remembered a story of a little girl by the name of Alina Dozer - the only one that survived the massacre. He remembered reading that the Nazi soldiers thought that she was dead, and threw her into a pile of dead bodies. However she survived, her life being saved by a book she was holding - later on, the people that found and later adopted her, found a bullet lodged deeply in the book. A bullet going for her heart.
Though both Robb and Lori were sitting next to each other, it seemed as there was a wall between them. Heavy silence, ugly smell of betrayal and guilt, and that cold, cold, coldhearted attitude Lori had towards Robb, colder than that early December, colder than the snow falling on the train tracks. You could almost feel the pain in Robb, something like what you could feel in a presence of a hurt animal.
He gave her everything. She cared only about what she wanted, and his everything was not enough for her.
He had the most rational mind you have ever seen, and a heart of a poet.Which means that he could kill you with a word, if he would find that logical and necessary.He could, but he won't, as a poet's heart has compassion as much as a world might have.
She was impulsive, shining when smiling, when she would laugh the whole world laughed with her.She was pretty, easy on the eyes, and very good when it comes to lying. The fact is that she never cared about anyone else except herself.
At that point, the only difference between her and the cold marble of the Grand Central station, was that the smooth piece of marble did not posses any feelings for itself. And the train was as merciless, steadfast in it's duty, waiting for the passengers to board.
- "So this is it,huh? All of these years, this did not mean anything to you?", Robb asked.
- "I really don't know what to say"
- "You don't.........ok.....well I do. What you're doing right now, is not what you want. And you know why? Because you are selfish. If you would know that you are pushing away the only man that was ever there for you, you would not do this, exactly because you're selfish. The reason why you ARE doing this is because you're selfish AND blind."
- "I'm doing what I want, Robb. That is none of your business."
Then the silence became even heavier. Robb understood that the love he had for her was useless, as a love for a person can only have sense if that love is returned, and he never got back any of it. All he ever got was an illusion of love, a lie to feed his soul. He understood that they came undone a long time ago, he just did not see it then.
- "None of my business. I see. Then I will leave now", and so he got up and started walking. Several steps further, he stopped and turned back, with a mild smile on his face. "I'm not even mad. I pity you actually."
She looked back at him, obviously offended, but did not say anything.
"I pity you because as soon as you board that train you will know how alone you are without me. When you reach your destination, you will close your heart, and open your bottle. Broken, but with a smile on your face, you will be celebrating, with your eyes closed, hoping that like that you will never see what you have lost. I would have urged you to open your eyes, and wake up, but now it's too late."
He could see a splash of fear passing her face, but it was just that fear she had for herself. "Selfish", he thought and added, "Goodbye, Lori". That was the last time she heard his voice.
Many years later, she came back to that same town, and as the destinies usually play out, she saw him with his family in the central park. She was not glad, but she would never admit that to him. She would never admit that he was right about everything he said that day at the station either. A few days later she packed her stuff and went back to the Grand Central station, waiting for the same train she waited many years back. She felt as if his voice saying goodbye was still echoing through the halls, but this time it was just her at that platform. Her and the station, both cold, and heartless.
Endings are new beginnings. Before each beginning we have only hope. And only hope is what we are left with after each ending.
July 2115.
Day 3541 without sun. That night, same as the night before and same as the one before it, the rain was singing it's lullaby, without error, without hesitation, without mercy. We (what was left from my "Pacifier" squad and I) were running from an outrageous attack of the NewWorld military, the same men and women we used to call our brothers and sisters. The chancellor tagged us for destruction. Good thing we were the best in our class. Good thing that our bones are easier to brake then our will. Our headquarter on the corner of 5th and Elm street was attacked, and nobody knows how they found us, but there is no time for that. First we keep safe, then we patch up our bleeding wounds.
I always liked the nights. It was better not to see anything then squinting into the grey mass that was surrounding us during the day. The nights were always like this, dark, and sometimes as cold and rainy. It made me feel as if...as if at least the sky is clear again.
I looked to my left and saw Little Don a big lug of a man with even bigger heart and Larry Bronco, a skinny, tall, but fast and wicked smart logistics officer, running behind me. To my right I had Francois Cousteau, a gun for hire that found his call in joining our cause, MD James Hyde, the unit's doctor in his mid 50's and then there was Terry, "the deadly redhead" as the NewWorld maggots called her - Teresa Solverson, a master of aikido, specialised in Japanese arms and crafts of war. My infatuation with Japanese katanas - a debt I owe to her.
We ran in formation towards the Grand Central station. We decided to regroup there and think about what to do next.
I remembered coming to the station as a kid with my grandfather, Robb Lancaster. I liked to watch the old trains, coming in and out of the station, it seemed like traveling back to the past, although the world has moved on a long time ago. Grandfather didn't seem to like the place much. He used to say that there are many memories dwelling around those corridors and that it reminds him of painful things. He told me about the Grand Central's history, the blood and sweat spilled on it's marble floor. That night, I hoped no more blood would be spilled. I was wrong.
We ran into the back of the station, through the departures door. I was heading front, Francois last to guard our six. As we entered the main hall, I think that we all stopped for a second as soon as we felt the smell of old wood, the vibrating silence of the ether, the metronomical ticking of the Grand Central's clock.It was still working, steady as ever, counting our lives out, tick by tick.
- "Do we stay here Adrian?", Terry asked.
- "......no. We move on. I feel something is wrong", I replied and right that instant we heard the noise of NewWorld's hover choppers coming down on the station from the rear.
The lights pierced the main hall through the clock's window, and all that I managed to do is to yell "EVERYBODY, FALL BACK TO THE MAIN ENTRANCE", but for Francois, it was too late.One of the choppers fired a missile onto the train tracks, and Francoa's burned body flew into the main hall of the station. Everybody ran towards the exit, and this time, I was the last man in the line. And just as I was going through the door, I turned and looked towards the hall once again. A single missile flew right through the station's clock, and reached the marble with a bang.
That was the last thing I saw, the shokwave pushed me through the door, and there was nothing, no station, no rain, no redheaded Terry to teach me how to hold a sword. Just darkness.
I woke up a while later, with a steady buzz in my ears. First couple of seconds I did not know who I am or where am I, but as soon as I tried to move, a harsh pain in my right leg brought everything back. We were nearby on the Old Hill, in a place I used to take girls back when I was young. A place with a perfect view towards the city.
Dr. Hyde ran towards me:
- "Steady Adrian, you were wounded. Nothing serious, I tended to the wound but you were lucky"
...and then it hit me.
- "Francois?"
- "He... didn't make it", the doctor replied. "No one could have survived the bombing."
- "Are you sure doctor?"
-"...yes, I am. The chancellorites kept bombing the station until there was nothing left, they thought we were all inside. See for yourself, Adrian"
So I got up, and in the place where the Grand Central station was standing, now there was only rubble. We lost Francois, a part of our family, a brother in arms, a good man, trying to fight a good cause. The NewWorld headquarters will be pleased I presume, thinking that the last of the "Pacifiers" were dead. But for long as I am alive, I will never give up hope. They will remember Adrian, and they will learn that no virus can bend, no drone army can break, and no amount of money can buy our souls. We will strike back, and we will not stop until we see the sun again.
After all these years, the town's eternal witness, a constant in time, our reminder that we should never stop, but move on, forward and beyond, toward a better future, is gone. It might have been an overkill, but it also might have been another tactical blow of the NewWorld scum to everything that is sacred to us. The station might have not been alive, but it was a part of our lives. It was the inkeeper of memories for generations of my fellow citizens, my family's memories, and my own memories.
It was a monument to prosperity, an offspring of humanity's eternal desire to go beyond the horizons.
Make no mistake. All great things come with a price.
April 1895.
Derek was an engineer leading the construction works of the station and the railroad. He just loved the way people looked at him. He was the one bringing this wonder of modern technology to their doorstep. He was the one bringing the future into their lives, he was the one that drew the first nail into the base of the construction site and he will be the first to ride the iron beast down the railroad when the time comes.At least he thought so.
He was so taken by his work that if there was ever a definition of a man married to his job, it was Derek. Although, that was not entirely true: he was married to Elena, who was working as a teacher back home thousands of miles away, and whom he has not seen for a while now.
So, the Grand Central station grew, bigger and brighter. Derek, as well as all the others, knew that what they are building is going to be great, bordering with magical. They knew it is beyond all of them, and when they would go back to their families after work, they would tell stories about their day, talking about how their lives would change. Derek was living in one of the cabins at the construction site, and after work he liked to walk between the growing walls of the station, looking at his greatest achievement. Sometimes he would miss Elena, but he was always convinced that she would understand why they were apart for so long.
Except, she didn't.
In March 1898, just 3 months before the station's grand opening, Derek received a letter from Elena, telling him that she is leaving him. Derek, having no way to contact her back, had to decide: he either goes back home to try and convince her to stay (and abandon the project) or stays and finishes what he was building for the past 3 years. And the following 3 months, everything went sideways. Derek decided to stay, and he became more and more distant, finding it hard to focus on his work. Torn by his inner war between love and lust for glory, Derek started visiting a nearby pub, more and more often. In many occasions, the pub's owner would be the one waking him up in the morning, until that one night, just several days before the grand opening, Derek came back to the Grand Central's halls. The pain in his chest was becoming unbearable, and he started yelling:
- "You did this to me. YOU!!! I was the one that created you, how could you do this??"
His voice and his pain echoed through the halls, and the station replied with cold and heavy silence, just as if it knew that Derek did not come that night to seek answers.He came for one last dance before he leaves.
He turned towards the big station clock which was thumping in a constant thud, counting each passing second of our world, and at the same time each passing second of Derek's life. Derek pulled out a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it towards his head.Several seconds, he held his breath, the clock was ticking with no remorse.Then a single, barely audible, "I'm sorry" passed Derek's lips, before he blew his brains out onto the shining marble floor of the station.
Time did not stop, just the same as the station's clock continued to tick, same as Derek's blood continued to flow between the cracks of the marble floor tiles. The progress did not stop neither.Three days later, the station opened, people heard about a story of some worker that killed himself a couple of days back, felt sorry for him for about three seconds, and then they continued celebrating the day that the future came into their town. The Grand Central station was opened, the price was paid, and the first pages of a long history of events were written.
A written word can take you anywhere. Choose your destination and do not be afraid.
March 1943.
It was a hell of a tough time to be alive. The world has gone crazy, and there was no place anyone could run to. Especially if you're a 12-year-old Jewish girl. The war was blazing fires all around the country, and Alina was in the middle of it all. She was looking through the cracks in the wooden wall as the train rushed down the train tracks, feeling a bit hypnotized by the line of trees swooping in front of her eyes. She could barely move as she was squished next to the wall by the people around her. One could imagine that the nazi trains riding to the concentration camps were not designed for comfort. She had a book in her hands, and a backpack full of books, as she was apprehended by nazi soldiers just when she was trying to save some of the books from the burning house of Tal Dozer, her grandmother.
Now, Alina Dozer was quite a bookworm. Books were her time machine, her door to the world. She would imagine all the places she has never been to, and replay in her head all the dialogs she never heard.Right now she was reading a book about the pan-European railways, as she overheard one of the German soldiers speaking about where the train would be headed. They will make a stop at the Grand Central station to take another group of local Jews on board, before they head straight to the camp, and the book had a special chapter about the station.
A man behind her started shouting:
-"What happened to you people?? How can you be so quiet?? Are you aware of what is the place that they are taking us to??"
-"Be quiet Jonah, they might hear you", a woman added with a lowered, frightened voice."They will kill you if they do".
-"I am ALREADY DEAD, DON'T YOU SEE?? WE ARE ALL ALREADY DEAD", Jonah yelled back, and his panic spread to other people like wildfire.
Alina pushed back towards the corner of the wagon and pulled up her book as if to shield herself from the madness the world has gotten in to. She started reading the chapter about the Grand Central station, and how it was a miracle of science and progress that brought prosperity to its hometown, and under the text there was an illustration of the stations atrium, with its large clock in the middle. It seemed so lovely, and it felt so great that she will get to see it before they reach their final destination. It felt great because, for her, that station was still a symbol of human hope, a reminder that once, people believed in miracles, and that they were free to make one if they chose to.
She also read about many workers that built the station and that the main engineer was found dead a couple of nights before the opening. There was an illustration of him as well, with a name underneath reading "Derek Dillinger". A stern man, worthy of making a miracle.
And just as she started to phase back to reality, and the noises of men and women shouting started to hurt her ears again, out of the blue, the train started going into a halt. The wagon leaned forward, all the people inside hurled to the front of the wagon, and the screams of the train tracks became louder and louder, as if they were screaming because they knew what will happen next. The train came to full stop, with a loud thud, and the sliding door of the cattle wagon where the people were kept, opened, revealing, for Alina, a magnificent sight: a broad and large wall, standing proud behind a mesmerizing line of roman-style columns with a large triangular piece of concrete at it's top, showing a relief of fighters in an arena. And above it, a large station clock, visible from both in and out of the station, even more amazing than how she imagined it.Just then she saw the line of Nazi soldiers standing in front of the wagon, arms in their hands.For one brief moment, an utter and complete silence ruled the air, and then a shot was fired. Then another one. And then silence was no more, just a rumbling thunder of the Nazi automated weapon. People started moving back, trying to run, blood was everywhere, and even before she was able to understand what was going on, she felt a sharp pain in her leg, and fell down, holding her book tight.Just before she hit the ground she felt two more hits, one hitting the book she was holding and a second one lodging into her shoulder. Red rivers of blood started gushing down her hand, and the world around her went dark.
The Nazi soldiers, after they checked that none of the men, women and children were moving, threw them into piles in a horse wagon near the tracks. Alina was there somewhere underneath the pile of flesh, still clutching her book, now with pages red with blood, and heavy with memories.
In the moments when love is torn apart, only a single "goodbye" is complete.
December 2013.
There is always something special in arrivals and departures. Leaving is never easy, coming back may be even worse. However, it is not the departure of the train the one that keeps people separated. The separation usually begins much earlier. The train is just the executor, and the train station is just a mere witness.
Robb and Lori were sitting on a bench in front of the station, right under the great "Wall of remembrance" where all the names of the people killed in the "Grand Central massacre" where etched, a silent monument carved in stone. Robb Lancaster remembered a story of a little girl by the name of Alina Dozer - the only one that survived the massacre. He remembered reading that the Nazi soldiers thought that she was dead, and threw her into a pile of dead bodies. However she survived, her life being saved by a book she was holding - later on, the people that found and later adopted her, found a bullet lodged deeply in the book. A bullet going for her heart.
Though both Robb and Lori were sitting next to each other, it seemed as there was a wall between them. Heavy silence, ugly smell of betrayal and guilt, and that cold, cold, coldhearted attitude Lori had towards Robb, colder than that early December, colder than the snow falling on the train tracks. You could almost feel the pain in Robb, something like what you could feel in a presence of a hurt animal.
He gave her everything. She cared only about what she wanted, and his everything was not enough for her.
He had the most rational mind you have ever seen, and a heart of a poet.Which means that he could kill you with a word, if he would find that logical and necessary.He could, but he won't, as a poet's heart has compassion as much as a world might have.
She was impulsive, shining when smiling, when she would laugh the whole world laughed with her.She was pretty, easy on the eyes, and very good when it comes to lying. The fact is that she never cared about anyone else except herself.
At that point, the only difference between her and the cold marble of the Grand Central station, was that the smooth piece of marble did not posses any feelings for itself. And the train was as merciless, steadfast in it's duty, waiting for the passengers to board.
- "So this is it,huh? All of these years, this did not mean anything to you?", Robb asked.
- "I really don't know what to say"
- "You don't.........ok.....well I do. What you're doing right now, is not what you want. And you know why? Because you are selfish. If you would know that you are pushing away the only man that was ever there for you, you would not do this, exactly because you're selfish. The reason why you ARE doing this is because you're selfish AND blind."
- "I'm doing what I want, Robb. That is none of your business."
Then the silence became even heavier. Robb understood that the love he had for her was useless, as a love for a person can only have sense if that love is returned, and he never got back any of it. All he ever got was an illusion of love, a lie to feed his soul. He understood that they came undone a long time ago, he just did not see it then.
- "None of my business. I see. Then I will leave now", and so he got up and started walking. Several steps further, he stopped and turned back, with a mild smile on his face. "I'm not even mad. I pity you actually."
She looked back at him, obviously offended, but did not say anything.
"I pity you because as soon as you board that train you will know how alone you are without me. When you reach your destination, you will close your heart, and open your bottle. Broken, but with a smile on your face, you will be celebrating, with your eyes closed, hoping that like that you will never see what you have lost. I would have urged you to open your eyes, and wake up, but now it's too late."
He could see a splash of fear passing her face, but it was just that fear she had for herself. "Selfish", he thought and added, "Goodbye, Lori". That was the last time she heard his voice.
Many years later, she came back to that same town, and as the destinies usually play out, she saw him with his family in the central park. She was not glad, but she would never admit that to him. She would never admit that he was right about everything he said that day at the station either. A few days later she packed her stuff and went back to the Grand Central station, waiting for the same train she waited many years back. She felt as if his voice saying goodbye was still echoing through the halls, but this time it was just her at that platform. Her and the station, both cold, and heartless.
Endings are new beginnings. Before each beginning we have only hope. And only hope is what we are left with after each ending.
July 2115.
Day 3541 without sun. That night, same as the night before and same as the one before it, the rain was singing it's lullaby, without error, without hesitation, without mercy. We (what was left from my "Pacifier" squad and I) were running from an outrageous attack of the NewWorld military, the same men and women we used to call our brothers and sisters. The chancellor tagged us for destruction. Good thing we were the best in our class. Good thing that our bones are easier to brake then our will. Our headquarter on the corner of 5th and Elm street was attacked, and nobody knows how they found us, but there is no time for that. First we keep safe, then we patch up our bleeding wounds.
I always liked the nights. It was better not to see anything then squinting into the grey mass that was surrounding us during the day. The nights were always like this, dark, and sometimes as cold and rainy. It made me feel as if...as if at least the sky is clear again.
I looked to my left and saw Little Don a big lug of a man with even bigger heart and Larry Bronco, a skinny, tall, but fast and wicked smart logistics officer, running behind me. To my right I had Francois Cousteau, a gun for hire that found his call in joining our cause, MD James Hyde, the unit's doctor in his mid 50's and then there was Terry, "the deadly redhead" as the NewWorld maggots called her - Teresa Solverson, a master of aikido, specialised in Japanese arms and crafts of war. My infatuation with Japanese katanas - a debt I owe to her.
We ran in formation towards the Grand Central station. We decided to regroup there and think about what to do next.
I remembered coming to the station as a kid with my grandfather, Robb Lancaster. I liked to watch the old trains, coming in and out of the station, it seemed like traveling back to the past, although the world has moved on a long time ago. Grandfather didn't seem to like the place much. He used to say that there are many memories dwelling around those corridors and that it reminds him of painful things. He told me about the Grand Central's history, the blood and sweat spilled on it's marble floor. That night, I hoped no more blood would be spilled. I was wrong.
We ran into the back of the station, through the departures door. I was heading front, Francois last to guard our six. As we entered the main hall, I think that we all stopped for a second as soon as we felt the smell of old wood, the vibrating silence of the ether, the metronomical ticking of the Grand Central's clock.It was still working, steady as ever, counting our lives out, tick by tick.
- "Do we stay here Adrian?", Terry asked.
- "......no. We move on. I feel something is wrong", I replied and right that instant we heard the noise of NewWorld's hover choppers coming down on the station from the rear.
The lights pierced the main hall through the clock's window, and all that I managed to do is to yell "EVERYBODY, FALL BACK TO THE MAIN ENTRANCE", but for Francois, it was too late.One of the choppers fired a missile onto the train tracks, and Francoa's burned body flew into the main hall of the station. Everybody ran towards the exit, and this time, I was the last man in the line. And just as I was going through the door, I turned and looked towards the hall once again. A single missile flew right through the station's clock, and reached the marble with a bang.
That was the last thing I saw, the shokwave pushed me through the door, and there was nothing, no station, no rain, no redheaded Terry to teach me how to hold a sword. Just darkness.
I woke up a while later, with a steady buzz in my ears. First couple of seconds I did not know who I am or where am I, but as soon as I tried to move, a harsh pain in my right leg brought everything back. We were nearby on the Old Hill, in a place I used to take girls back when I was young. A place with a perfect view towards the city.
Dr. Hyde ran towards me:
- "Steady Adrian, you were wounded. Nothing serious, I tended to the wound but you were lucky"
...and then it hit me.
- "Francois?"
- "He... didn't make it", the doctor replied. "No one could have survived the bombing."
- "Are you sure doctor?"
-"...yes, I am. The chancellorites kept bombing the station until there was nothing left, they thought we were all inside. See for yourself, Adrian"
So I got up, and in the place where the Grand Central station was standing, now there was only rubble. We lost Francois, a part of our family, a brother in arms, a good man, trying to fight a good cause. The NewWorld headquarters will be pleased I presume, thinking that the last of the "Pacifiers" were dead. But for long as I am alive, I will never give up hope. They will remember Adrian, and they will learn that no virus can bend, no drone army can break, and no amount of money can buy our souls. We will strike back, and we will not stop until we see the sun again.
After all these years, the town's eternal witness, a constant in time, our reminder that we should never stop, but move on, forward and beyond, toward a better future, is gone. It might have been an overkill, but it also might have been another tactical blow of the NewWorld scum to everything that is sacred to us. The station might have not been alive, but it was a part of our lives. It was the inkeeper of memories for generations of my fellow citizens, my family's memories, and my own memories.
It was a monument to prosperity, an offspring of humanity's eternal desire to go beyond the horizons.
Comments
Post a Comment