Perpetuum: Within Their Hearts

chapter one- The End

"Zahava," she said, hugging the small form of her granddaughter tight to a withered body. "Promise me you'll be good."

Zahava said nothing, hung limply in her grandmother's arms. Her pale ginger hair was gathered in a ponytail, tangled with the fragile bones of her only relative.

"Gran," she said, shaking her head. "It'll be fine."

But she knew it wouldn't be. It was the whole reason why the airport was crowded with children: the world was ending, and it was starting with the Americas.

Even as she spoke, a clock was ticking: only three days, and New York City would be the first empire to fall into the sea, followed by the rest of the distraught nation. It was all so sudden, only discovered in time for the United Nations to pull up a list of countries, mostly in Europe, that would take refugees. It was a highly unorganized effort, on a first come, first served basis. Only three thousand children could be evacuated free of cost, and after that, you'd have to pay an abnormally high price to leave for safety.

This particular plane could carry a hundred passengers, and was due to leave any minute. The children could be divided into two clean-cut groups: children from the Vancouver Academy, in their purple and grey plaid skirts, and children from America, in jeans, in sweats, snapping their gum and lounging.

"Four minutes till' board," said a woman over a loudspeaker, cueing an onslaught of tearful hugs and goodbyes. Zahava pulled away from her grandmother's embrace, straightening her black blazer and fiddling with the silver Star of David around her neck.

"Well," she said awkwardly, a five foot three fourteen year old growing up in split seconds. "I guess… goodbye, Gran."

She turned, didn't look back as she gathered the smaller Vancouver students under her wing, and ushered them on board. She didn't look at the airport's windows as the plane left, because she knew that if she thought about all she was leaving behind, she just might find she forgot herself, too.

---

She looked out the window, back at her brother, out the window, in the rearview mirror. Back out the window. Everything was flying so fast, like the hands of time. One minute, they were living happily at her aunt's house. The next, in the car. No one had told either child anything, but children are smarter than we give them credit for: Hollis and Oliver Hatfeld had noticed. Something was happening; they weren't sure what, but they knew that whatever it was, it was enough for their aunt to leave them.

Like so many others. Their mother had left, when the twins were diagnosed with Autism four years ago. Their father had left, taking a few too many pills one night, unable to cope with the cross he was made to bear. And now, Aunt, leaving the twins in a tragedy apparently too massive to pull the kids through.

At the airport, Aunt slowed her driving, careful through the slush and snow that hit the windshield like marshmallows. As she dropped off her six year old niece and nephew, left them to pull their luggage with the assistance of an airport official, as a sticker with the stamp "REFUGEE" and a number taped to their jackets as though they were death row inmates, she softly hit her head against the steering wheel, a timid honk, honk, honk lost amid the shuffling mass of panic that sifted around her like an ocean.

Honk, honk, honk.

---

"But Dad," she whined, sobbing into the coarse camo, feeling his strong arms around her. She was so used to him leaving, to her being left behind. Why was this so hard? How was he able to do this all the time? It was heartbreaking, and the worst of it was that this might be her last hug.

"Don't but Dad me," he said in a tough tone, but his eyes were soft.

Her mother stood nearby, lips pursed tight. She didn't approve of wishy-washy teary nonsense, and awkwardly leaned towards her daughter.

"Be good to your grandmother," she said, patting Katie's shoulder.

That was all? The family, like those around them, was being broken apart by this catastrophe, and all Mrs. Courtney Ann Marie Kusick could say was be good to your grandmother? Maybe growing up military made your heart immune to disaster, or maybe her mother was simply a robot. Either explanation would suffice.

"Last call," called a flight attendant, shooing children away from their parents and onto the boarding ramp.

"Daddy," Katie whispered as she waved sadly, eyes glazed. As much as she loved her father, she was furious: she would rather die in the distant chaos with her father than live in new world without him.

But as she sat and looked out the window, watching the airport- and her life- disappear, it became apparent that, quite frankly, she had no choice.

---

"Colby," he said, looking at his little brother over the seat of a taxi.

"Jonathan," Colby retorted.

"C'mon," Jonathan said, opening the door without stepping out. "We'll miss the plane."

In his hand were two stickers they got when the taxi entered the parking lanes: Refugee numbers 1574 and 1575, they were.

"Colby," Jonathan said impatiently, peeling the back off a sticker and pressing it to Colby's jacket.

Colby sulkily stepped out of the car. Immediately he wished he hadn't. This was depressing- all around him, children were hugged by regretful parents, mourning family, and Colbert and Jonathan Lamis had been pecked on the cheek by their mother as she put them in the cab.

It was so…. casual. She might have been sending them to camp, to their grandparent's house, to their father's. Like she was going to see them again. Like they had all the time in the world.

But all three of them knew all the time in the world wasn't going to fix these wounds. Simply no band aid is big enough.

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Hey guys… it's Galli. Enjoying the story?

Perpetuum is hopefully going to become a three part series, and this is only chapter one. Keep watching… it gets better.

Read and review, please. Advanced critique is encouraged.

Gratias tibi ago!