Something to Believe In, Pt 1
When Anastasia Dualla was ten years old, she found her destiny. Not many little girls could say that, but it was true.
It was a cool spring afternoon, the sky finally clear of the seasonal rains that had dragged on for slightly longer than usual that year. Upon looking out their bedroom window that Saturday, her mother had decided to take her for a walk down to the Marketplace to pick up ingredients for that night's supper–beef stew with potatoes and carrots. After practically being shut indoors for the past four months, Ana welcomed the escape from their dingy and oppressively small one-bedroom apartment, skipping almost the entire way, holding her mother's hand.
Apparently, half the city had the same idea, too. The Equinox Marketplace was bustling with activity, packed to the gills with people haggling over spices and other wares, trading gossip, and debating politics at one of many cafes at almost every corner.
While her mother was buying the potatoes and carrots for the stew, she picked out the scent of roses from the nearby flower stand. She loved red roses, so delicate...so pretty. There was nothing pretty about where she lived–it was dark, drab, and smelled like pee. She wanted that rose, badly. She almost asked her mother for a credit to buy one, but Sally Dualla was in the middle of heated bargaining, so she instead reached into her pocket for her leftover allowance. Five cents...twenty...thirty...sixty, eighty...one credit fifty! That was probably enough to get her rose.
She was about to walk over to the stand, when suddenly, the rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire rang though the air, followed by the screams of people fleeing around them. Her mother threw herself down, covering her daughter's thin body with her own. Ana couldn't see anything. She could only hear the sounds of things shattering, of people moaning in pain. She felt herself suffocating under the weight of her own protection.
"Ana, sweetie", whispered her mother, " When he turns his back, we're going to run behind that potato cart over there, okay?"
"Okay, mommy."
"Be brave for me. On the count of three. One...two...three!" Sally leapt to her feet, dragging Ana at full speed to safety. More bullets rang out, this time in their direction. Just before rounding behind the cart, her mother fell forward, a red stain blossoming on her right shoulder.
"Mommy!" Ana screamed.
Her mother, got up as best she could. "Stay right there!" She was barely able to drag herself behind the heavy cart before another spray of fire came their way.
Without even thinking, Ana tore off her thin overshirt and began ripping it to pieces, surprised at her own strength at that moment. Trying to remember the what she learned in first aid class, she bandaged her mother's shoulder as best she could, holding back her tears as she saw her mother coffee-colored features slowly turn ashen. "Hold still, Mommy. I'm going to put pressure on your shoulder to stop the bleeding." But her mother couldn't stop writhing in agony, wouldn't stay still. She didn't know what to do.
They were stuck there for what seemed like an eternity, the echoes of bullets and panic ringing around them. She tried to sneak a look at the madman, but her mother–in as much pain as she was--threatened to beat her within an inch of her life if she got killed. She would have thought it was funny, except that it was her mother dying, not her.
Suddenly, more gunfire erupted right next to them. She thought that it was the gunman coming to finish them off. She covered her mother just as she had her earlier, and shut her eyes tight. But instead of gunshots riddling them, she felt someone shaking her arm. She opened her eyes.
A Colonial Marine looked down at her. "Are you okay, little girl?"
She wanted to cry with relief. "My Mommy's been shot!"
"What's your name?"
"Ana."
"Okay, Ana, we're going to get you both out of here." He spoke into the com at his shoulder. "Slingshot! I've got two civilians, one wounded! Give me some cover fire!" He turned back to Ana. "We're going to move real quick, Ana, so stay right next to me, okay."
"Okay."
The soldier slung Sally's good arm around his shoulder, placing Ana by his left side, away from potential gunfire. "Get ready." His comrade began to return fire. "Go!" They sped as fast as they could, turning the corner to the main thoroughfare, where a team of medics were waiting.
"These people are here to take care of you and your mama, Ana. Be a good girl." He turned away and headed back towards the gunfire, the medics whisking them away before she could even thank him.
She never knew the man's name or rank. She couldn't even remember his face clearly. She only knew that he'd saved their lives at the risk of his own, and that he'd been extremely brave. As her mother was being attended to, she looked around at the other soldiers, who seemed to conduct themselves with dignity and pride. It was more than gratitude she felt at that moment. Dignity and pride were things alien to her world, but she coveted them, even more than she did that rose. As young as she was, she realized that those qualities couldn't be bought and sold like flowers...She knew what she wanted to do with her life.
She wanted to be like them.