The second chapter of a flash novel I am writing to fill the void of working on further drafts of NaNoWriMo novels. Here we find a six-year-old Annaliese, of Greenland, witnessing the massive destruction of her world.
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Days later Annaliese sat in the large window between the kitchen and the living room. It overlooked Nuuk, the city stretching out in neat lines below. Father had left before she was up.
It is not a school day. She told herself it over and over again, so she would not become anxious that they would be late. She instead thought of cornering the cat.
I am going to comb her and make her especially pretty. “
Meget! Come here!” This time of morning, Meget was especially friendly and wanting a comb. The cat peered from the kitchen and then ran to some other room.
Later.
She dumped out her blocks on the bench of the window. There were 277 in all. Her mind turned over the numbers and played with them in different ways. She stacked the blocks evenly.
But, I will not have the same blocks if I cut them in half, no matter what. When she learned of odd numbers at pre-school, she also learned to hate them. They are a problem. She looked over at her mother, who’s back was turned. Annaliese flicked one block under the couch.
Even.
Minutes later, as she had the blocks in straight and even rows, the window started to vibrate. It was small, but sustained. Annaliese put her cheek against the frame and felt it. Like a truck passing. A long truck. Her mother came to the living room, “What is that?” She pulled back the curtains and looked down at the street. She thought the same thing. They both put their hands to the window frame. It was starting to pulse. Annaliese sat up.
“Earthquake!” Her mother pulled her up and ran to the hallway. The vibrating was exacting and steady, not undulating.
Minutes stretched. Then, as the vibrating lessened, shadows fell across the floor. They were not birds. Her mother rose and walked back to the living room. “Stay here.” Annaliese rose but stood in the hallway. She could see Meget staring out from under the bed. The cat pulled back even further into the shadows.
I have never seen her so scared.
Her mother screamed, which started Annaliese. Her mother had never done that before. Rumbling. Like a sack of potatoes had spilled upon a wooden floor. She came from the hallway to hold her mother’s hand.
Against the blue of the sky, black things. They were flat disks, like plates, and moved around easily. They had a red dot of light in them. And there, in the city, where there should have been buildings were blackened boxes. Sections of city block glowed red, then into steam, then into flat black. Anything in it that square, or a rectangle, was gone.
Nice straight rows. There were dozens of these.
Are we next?
“The police.” Her mother called but could not get through. She then called father. Annaliese stayed near. She did not want to look out again. The rumblings seem to go on forever. Then she heard the sound of jets in the distance.
Shooters! But the sound of the jets stopped by the time she got to the window. There were only balls of smoke in the distance. Six altogether.
Perhaps more will come. Nothing can stop the plane shooters. They go hundreds of miles an hour. The gadgets and robots of the house trilled. They were losing their connection to power or their connection to the internet.
“Get away from the window, Anna!” Her mother pulled her back to the hallway. Annaliese could hear the busy tone of the phone. No one would be able to call. “The news!” Her mother disappeared to put on the television. It was in black.
Her mother returned to the hallway. If it were possible, her face was shadowed, as if Annaliese couldn’t see any detail there.
Am I dreaming? She looked around for a sign if she were, but didn’t know what to look for. Everything in the house felt the same.
After some time, as the rumbling sip sided, the screaming began. Her mother slowly closed the door to the hallway and they stayed there. “Perhaps your father will be home soon,” her mother said it as if she were speaking to a shadow, to someone far away.
Her mother got an idea and disappeared for a moment, to return with a small black canister from the kitchen, “Maura?” There was a trill and Annaliese saw the familiar blue light. “Yes?” Maura spoke.
Mother collected herself, “Can you tell us the current news?” It trilled again.
It took some time for it to return an answer, “There is no internet. I can provide what I understood up to where the internet went down. The government reports an attack, all government agencies are closed until further notice. Power is lost in the majority of Nuuk. Everyone is asked to shelter in place and not leave until further notice.” There was a pause in Maura, “This information is found on a low latency frequency for emergencies.”
In her heart, Annaliese knew her father would not return.
