Author's Note- Hello everyone, I got so many requests for this story that I simply couldn't refuse. I will admit this will be a difficult story to tell. The memory is still fresh in many of our minds. The pain of that day and the confusion of the week that followed are particularly vivid in my memory because I had friends running the Boston Marathon. I had to wait, heartsick for hours waiting to hear about the state of my friends only to find out one of them had been injured in the second explosion. I had to comfort my little brother when he found his girlfriend was trapped in Watertown during the manhunt. This has been a painful story to write, but it is worth telling because in the wake of disaster we discover what it is to be an American.
Also, thank you so much to Pruhana for betaing this piece and making it a ton better.
Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia, nor have I run the Boston Marathon…but as a runner I would love to run it someday.
Dedication- To those who run towards the sound of an explosion, instead of running away.
City Under Siege
Chapter 1- Shattered
April 15th, 2013
Legend said that in the fall of 490 BC, the Persians attacked the Greek city-state of Athens at the Battle of Marathon. Against all odds, the Greeks defeated the much stronger enemy. At the conclusion of the battle, a soldier named Pheidippides was sent give the message of good news to the people of Athens. He sprinted the entire distance only stopping once he had reached the town assembly he shouted the word 'Nike!' and keeled over in exhaustion and died on the spot.
While most scholars agree that the story about the first marathon is historical dubious at best, it hasn't stopped the concept of the marathon from being romanticized in literature. But it was not until 1896 when Michel Breal came up with the idea of having people run a marathon during the first modern Olympic Games. The following year, a group of Bostonian's decided to copy the Olympics by hosting their own marathon race for the annual Patriots' Day celebration. A hundred and sixteen years later it was the world's oldest annual marathon race.
The history was one of the reasons that a lot of the people chose to participate in the today's Boston Marathon, but almost no one realized that a little piece of history was currently running the race. In the middle of the third wave of runners, two young, unassuming men were pushing themselves towards the finish line. These two were personifications of Massachusetts and New York, and together they had run nearly every Boston Marathon since the competition's birth.
"It looks like someone should layoff the Coney dogs," Massachusetts taunted. "We haven't even made it up Heartbreak hill yet."
"We both know that my diet has nothing to do it." New York glared at his fellow state, but couldn't hide the faint wheeze in his voice.
"I know, I know." The New Englander said a mischievous smile, waving his hand in a mock twirl. "You're still blaming your ill health on last year's super storm."
"Why you!" The empire state tried to slug his brother in the arm but Massachusetts side stepped with a chuckle.
"That the ticket. If you keep that energy up we might actually reach the finish line in less than four hours."
In the United States, April 15th was the day that thousands of Americans lined up at the post office to turn in their tax forms. While some of the filers would be sending checks to the government and others would be getting rebate checks, almost all of involved were not thrilled with completing the task. The concept of e-filing had helped reduce stress on the nation's mailmen, but unfortunately did not make the chore go away all together…which was why the personification of America was currently trying to sneak out of the house.
"I will take your X-box away for a month if you don't get your butt back in front of your computer and file your taxes!" The state of Virginia didn't even bother looking up from her novel as America tried to slip past her.
"But…" The nation started to whine but he was cut off.
"No 'buts' about it. Taxes now, World of Warcraft later." The state glared at her country. "For goodness sakes Alfred, tax day has been on the same day since the mid-50's. Would it kill you to remember that for once?"
"I didn't forget, I was just really busy…"
"Which is why you managed to beat your Tetris record last week?"
"Hey, that was important." America said indignantly. "Japan challenged me to a competition and I couldn't turn him down."
"Get your butt back into that office and back on the computer."
Grumpily America turned back towards the home office and shuffled inside. Once he had disappeared through the door, Virginia smirked. If the America would only hold still long enough to fill out the digital form he probably would have finished filing his taxes two hours ago.
New York gave out at a few steps past mile marker 22. He just walked over to the edge of the course and sat down. With one look Massachusetts knew his fellow state had 'hit the wall'. The last of the Newton hills had left his brother pale and shaking, which meant that the race was over for him.
While hitting the 'wall' wasn't a particularly dangerous phenomenon to a human, it wasn't wise for a state to push too far past it. While in a human the term just indicated that the body's glycogen stores were depleted, in a nation personification it represented the tipping point were their bodies stopped pulling from its personal reserves and started to pull from the land itself. At times of war, no nation would think twice about crossing that invisible line, but at times of peace it seemed silly to cause an unusual cold snap or slight reduction in crop yields simply to finish a race.
"Do you think you can stand?" Massachusetts asked. In response his brother looked up at him with a glare that said 'what do you think, dummy?' He rolled his eyes. "Do you think can stand, safely?"
This time New York struggled to his feet and Massachusetts walked him to the closest aid station.
"Alfred if you don't stop playing on the internet and start working on your tax forms, I will have to delay your afternoon conference call with Mathew." The State of Virginia hollered from her place at the kitchen table. "You know how touchy he gets when you miss your weekly counterterrorism meeting."
"It is not like we have anything new to talk about." The nation grumbled from the neighboring room, as his fingers tapped on the keys.
"Well, if I remember correctly, Mathew wanted to talk to about the train bombing threat. I think his government wants our help to pick up the perps sometime this week. It will be a really good opportunity to make the world a safer place."
"But that attack wasn't even planned for American soil."
"No matter what side of the border an attack occurs, both our citizens and his will be affected." Virginia commented as she turned a page of her book. "How can we expect other nations to help us with international counterterrorism exercises if we can't bother to help them with their own investigations?"
As much as Massachusetts enjoyed running with his brother, it really did feel good to run those last few miles alone. For that last half hour he didn't have to think about his economy, he didn't have to think about his citizens, he didn't have to think about the responsibilities of being a state. All he had to do was run.
His feet hit the pavement at a constant tempo, his breath in a steady rhythm. The air temperature was perfect. He was covered in just enough sweat to feel like he was doing something, but not enough to be a distraction. It was like he was a well-oiled machine, an animal built for speed.
Massachusetts knew that he was coming towards the end of the race. The crowds around him were getting thicker. Their chants encouraged the runners to make one last push for the finish line. His fellow competitors listened to their spectators, pulling from hidden reservoirs of strength so they could run just a little bit faster. The energy was intoxicating.
Massachusetts pushed his body just a little bit harder up Boylston Street. With every step, the pavement of the urban thoroughfare steadied him. The burn of his tired lungs reminded him that his body, weighed by the age of countless decades, was still alive. This feeling was the reason he returned every year to run.
Something was different this year. Massachusetts couldn't put his finger on it. All he knew was there was a tickle of impending doom sitting at the back of his brain. Normally he would only experience this feeling when there was a hurricane off his coast or a strong nor'easter was about to slam into his state. It was an odd sensation to feel on such a beautiful, clear day.
He quickened his pace. He was less than 300 yards from the finish line. Once he crossed it, he could figure out the cause for his unease. Perhaps the local authorities might help him…
Exactly at 2:49 pm, an ear shattering noise cracked through the streets like a clap of thunder. Ahead of him, towards the finish line, cry of panic crescendoed. A cloud of white smoke was erupted into the sky.
Massachusetts could instantly feel the fear and pain of the people at the race's finishing line. The overwhelming wall of emotion threatened to drive the state to his knees, but somehow he managed to keep to his feet. After a few seconds trying to re-orientate himself to the people's raw fear, he began to run again, but now instead of being driven by the desire to complete the race he was driven by the need to help the victims of whatever just happened.
It was barely ten seconds later that another detonation went off only fifteen feet to his left. Knocked to the ground by the loud, forceful shockwave of the second explosion, the Bay State helplessly watched as others around him screamed and scrambled with nothing but fear and panic in their eyes before his vision faded to black.
At the moment the explosions rocked Boston the personification of the United States of America was busily hacking England's Facebook page. Honestly if Iggy had really not wanted people to change his profile picture to the blackmail pics that Japan had snapped at last year's New Year's party then he shouldn't have used a combination of his current address and his cat's name that was just a little varied from his previous password. He had nearly finished uploading the photo that he wanted to use when he felt a sharp, piercing pain shot across his scalp.
Closing his eyes, Alfred tried to determine the source of the pain, but the overwhelming feeling that his nation was under attack prevented him from focusing. After a few fruitless moments he headed towards the nearest TV; the one mounted in the kitchen.
"Virginia, turn on CNN right now."
"Alfred, you need to get your taxes done…" The state frowned in annoyance as she looked up from her book.
"I got those filed over the internet hours ago." The nation admitted slightly sheepishly.
"You did what?" Virginia's eyes narrowed.
"I finished my taxes almost three hours ago…"
"You mean that you made me ditch work for nothing? Alfred, you do realize how difficult it is to keep track of all of the United States' intelligence agencies?"
The state was clearly working up steam for one of her epic rants, but America really didn't have time to listen to a lecture. He made the slightly hazardous decision to interrupt her.
"Virginia, CNN now. Something is very, very wrong out there and I really need to know what it is so I can go fix it!"
His elder state glared at him but reached for the remote and turned on the TV. It was set to the Food Channel, but didn't take long to switch it to CNN. She was about to open her month to tell America that there wasn't anything for him to be worried about when one look at the screen had shutting her mouth again.
It was clear why America had the feeling of being attacked. The images of a massive explosion near the finish line of the Boston Marathon flickered across the TV screen. The reporter was speaking in a rushed tone saying that it was footage of a second explosion at the marathon seconds aft the first. While one explosion might be an accident, two happening almost simultaneously meant it was not an accident. Someone had planted a bomb to try to kill and maim people. Whatever they wanted, the question was, 'did they succeed?'
"That wasn't a gas leak." Virginia said quietly.
"Understatement of the year," America muttered darkly. "Those were defiantly bombs. If we were in Korea or even Berlin, it could have been leftover relics from the wars. Boston was never involved in those type of war. There shouldn't be any old shells lying around, which means someone planted it."
"Al-Qaeda?"
"Don't know. We probably won't have any idea until someone goes down there to investigate. I am going to check in with the president and then I am going to give Massachusetts a call. In fact I am going to give all of the states in New England a call. They are probably pretty shaken up right now. Would you mind calling Arizona? I want her to be on the investigation team that will be analyzing the bombs…"
"This is Arizona's vacation week." Virginia pointed out flatly.
"Crap…" America chewed on his bottom lip. It was an unspoken rule that state were to be left alone when they were on their annual week of vacation unless there was a major national crisis. He let his eyes scan the images of broken people on the TV screen and made up his mind. "I still need her on this. How long do you think it will take you to get a hold of her?"
"I have no idea. I don't even know where she was planning on taking her trip."
In the aftermath of the two explosions, most of the race officials really knew what to do next. Obviously, the rest of the race was off. In the wake of the disaster, the group of volunteers helping to run the event suddenly had a new mission. Evacuate all of the race participants to a safe location. This was particularly true for the individuals currently receiving medical treatment.
"What's going on? What happened?" A slight, fair-haired racer asked as a police officer came into the medical tent and started to usher people out.
"We don't know. There was an explosion near the finish line of the race. All runners are being diverted away to safer locations."
"My brother should be at the finishing line by now!" New York exclaimed in shock.
"I'm sorry but there really isn't anything we can do about that right now." One of the nurses said rather roughly, but at the look of panic on New York's face her face softened. "I am sure that when we finally get you to a safe location, someone will help you track down your sibling. Until then, please be patient."
As he was led away to a waiting van, New York couldn't stop glancing behind him, down the path Massachusetts had run off on with the other runners. Patience, he admitted to himself, was never one of his strongest virtues.
The invention of the cell phone had definitely made getting a hold of all his states significantly easier, but in the wake of major disasters America found himself wishing communication was faster. He wanted to know the statuses of all of his states, and he wanted to know it now.
He bit out in agitation when the calls to his states' personal phone lines went unanswered. "Do we have any word on Arizona?"
"Not yet." Virginia admitted tiredly. "I am going to do my best to track her down, but I am putting in a call to the Pentagon just in case. Hopefully they can put us in contact with Hawaii, Alaska, or Wyoming. Their recent deployments to the Middle East puts them behind Arizona in terms of experience with dealing with aftermath of bombings."
"Massachusetts?"
"No, but the FBI is trying to identify those present with facial recognition software with the footage that they got from the finish line. They haven't had time to make a complete match, but some of the higher ups think Mass was one of the casualties."
America began to pace, his eyes flashing as he tried to come up with conclusions. "Which group did it?"
"Technically, we don't even know that it was a terrorist attack."
"Semitics," America spat. "The spy agencies know this was a coordinated attack."
"And there are reasons why they are tight lipped. We don't want the public to panic needlessly."
"That might be a little too late, don't you think?" America said as his lips tightened into a grimace and glared at the TV screen. "The talking heads are doing a very good job of encouraging the American public to panic."
It was a member of the Red Cross who finally found Massachusetts for New York. The volunteer had cross-checked hospital patient lists with people listed as missing on Google Person Finder and the Red Cross Safe & Well websites. The list indicated that he had been injured in the second explosion, but in fair condition. He had been transferred to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center.
New York instantly wanted to go to his brother. Unfortunately, the police lockdown along the marathon route made it extremely complicated to travel the two miles to the hospital. They expected a large group of marathon runners to remain in a nondescript hotel ballroom for now, at least until the bomb squad could make sure the coast was clear.
The state didn't know if he could stand waiting that long to check on his sibling. When New York finally decided he could no longer sit still, he decided to leave the shelter of the ballroom behind and face the streets on his own. He made it as far as the hotel lobby before he was stopped.
"Sir, this area is still under lockdown." A tense police officer said as he blocked the door to the street.
"Officer, this man's brother was also a runner in the marathon." A middle-aged, female Red Cross volunteer came to his defense. "We just got word that he was taken to a hospital with injuries."
"Please," he begged, "I need to get to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center! My brother was in one of the blasts and he was listed as injured. We share an extremely rare blood type so I am the only donor available in the city if he needs a transfusion!"
"Let me see what I can do." The policeman's face softened in sympathy. The officer then walked a few paces away and began a rapid-fire conversation on his radio. After a moment he turned back to the state and the Red Cross volunteer with a smile on his face. "Sir, can you walk?"
"Yes," New York replied without hesitation.
"We got clearance to allow you to exit the lockdown area. We have a national guardsmen who will be picking you up…" He trailed off as a soldier approached them.
"Is this the one?" The police officer nodded and the young solider motioned for the state to walk out the door. "Follow me."
New York gave a grateful nod to the officer and the Red Cross volunteer before following the man. The soldier led the state through the maze of security and medical personal to the edge of the locked down area. He then explained to the police officer manning the corner in front of the Arlington Street Church that the exhausted runner behind him needed to catch a taxi to one of the medical center because his brother was currently being treated for injuries there.
The wait for the taxi short, but it was also painful. The cop tried to make small talk, but New York just wasn't in the mood. All he could think about was the state that Massachusetts was in, and devastation that these terrorist attacks had brought.
The hospital was something out of a war zone. There were policemen outside, on every corner and military personnel carrying submachine guns patrolling the streets. The heightened level of security continued inside the hospital. There were officers everywhere standing guard of the broken, terrified people filling the hospital waiting rooms.
It didn't take much to know that these people were the walking wounded. Several of them were streaked with dirt…far too many of them were splattered by dry blood. New York took the time to scan each and every face. He finally was able to wave over a nurse, she directed him over to a curtained off area. When she motioned him inside, New York saw his brother sitting on the edge of the examination table, grimly staring at the floor in front of him.
"Hey Adam…"
Massachusetts looked up at him with a blank face, but the state's eyes held pain. It was easy to see haunted questions running through his mind… 'What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? How could I have prevented this? How many are dead?'
It broke New York's heart to watch doubt flicker across his brother's face, but he doesn't know the words to comfort him. So instead, he knelt down in front of the frightened, damaged state and held him as the tears began to flow.
"Shhh, everything is going to be okay. Shhh, we are not going to let anyone else to hurt you."
America couldn't keep himself from pacing up and down the length of the study located in his secure bunker. If he had had a choice, he wouldn't have been down here in the sub-sub-basement of his house but rather on the first plane to Boston, but the President's orders had been pretty direct. The personification of the United States of America was going to head down to his personal Cold War era bunker, and stay there until they knew it was safe above ground.
The President was the commander and chief for a reason. He was the boss and as a U.S. marine, America wasn't going to ignore a direct order unless he had a really good reason. Unfortunately, his strong sense of duty did not relieve his overwhelming sense guilt and restlessness that he wasn't there rescue his people from this disaster. He could only imagine how much pain Massachusetts must be going through at the moment…
"Alfred, the phone is for you." Virginia stuck her head in the door.
"Good news?" America asked as he reached towards the phone sitting on his desk.
"Kind of." The state replied.
"Alfred F. Jones, who I am speaking to?"
"Thank goodness I got finally got a hold of you!"
"New York?"
"This isn't a secure line."
"Michel, you can't believe how relieved I am to hear your voice! We have been trying to get a hold of you for the last four hours!" America realized that he was rambling, and finally burred out the question that had been driving him nuts for the past few hours. "Do you have any clue where Adam is?"
"Actually, he is right beside me."
"What? Why didn't he try to get a hold of us earlier?"
"Tied up with the medical system. The number of casualties here overwhelmed the hospitals. It took a while to get in contact with their next of kin."
"Then how did you track him down?" America asked with rapt attention. "I mean clearly you got separate during the marathon because we didn't see you in any of the videos from the finish line."
"Well you know about our unique blood type?"
"Yes…?" Every nation personification knew about how their blood reacted to standard blood tests. It drove them crazy.
"I told one of the nice aid workers for the Red Cross that we shared a rare blood type and that he might need a transfusion. They tracked him down and sent me to the hospital he had been brought to."
"Was it needed?" America asked, worry in his voice.
"No. Most of Adam's injuries turned out to be superficial. The doctors have gotten him patched up enough to be sent home."
"Are you planning on taking him with you to New York then?"
"No, of course not. Adam will heal a lot fast if he is here in Boston."
"Are going to stay with him?"
"I wouldn't dream about leaving him alone."
"Thank you, hopefully I will be cleared to go their soon but until then, take care of him."
"Will do, sir."
America hung up the phone and allowed himself to close his eyes for a few moments. He could already feel the relief that the short conversation with New York had brought him as tension flowed from his shoulders. The reduction of adrenaline in his system was so strong he almost felt like taking a nap.
"So we have found your wayward sons. That must be a relief."
The nation almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice behind him. He whirled around to see Virginia sitting on the sofa looking up at him with false innocence.
"Don't startle me with like that."
"You do know I had to get you back for the pill you have been all day." The state said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, we just got permission to exit the premises to run necessary errands as long as we travel by car and stay out of the city center."
"How did you manage that?" He glanced at her in mild shock. He thought he'd he here for at least another day, if not for the rest of the week.
"I told our current government minder that we were out of milk."
"But I just bought four gallons yesterday. We should have enough to last at least three days…" America tried to follow what Virginia was saying. "Wait what did you do to the milk?"
"I dumped it down the sink."
"Virginia!" The nation blurted out in shock.
"So my regular grocery store is located in downtown D.C. so I looked up a few alternatives. The Kroger's in Watertown, Massachusetts is holding a particularly good sale on milk and we can pick up a lobster while we are there. Oh, and while we are in the neighborhood we should probably stop by Massachusetts's house."
"You know that minder is probably going to get fired over this."
"It was Joe Biden." She shrugged a smile dancing on her lips.
"You lied to the Vice President?" America choked.
"No." The state smiled sweetly. "I was just a bit creative about how I convinced the VP that we needed to get out of the bunker for a bit."
The taxi ride from the hospital to Massachusetts's residence was uneventful. The Bay State spent most of the time staring blankly out the car window. New York had seen the look before and knew that his brother was not seeing the city landscape passing by them.
The taxi driver also seemed to pick up on Massachusetts's foul mood. The man didn't try to strike up a conversation, but he did keep on giving the two states concerned looks in the rearview mirror. When they finally pulled up to the seven-story apartment building, the driver refused to take New York's money. He pushed the cash back into the states hand, telling him to get some take-out and take care of his friend.
The man's accent made it clear that the driver was an immigrant and he was probably struggling to make ends meet, but once he had realized that he was transporting victims of the marathon bombings, the man had refused to take a valuable fare. The action touched the empire state's heart. As he guided Massachusetts indoors, New York made a mental note to track down the driver and find a way to repay his kindness.
It took a few moments for Massachusetts to fish the keys out of his pocket. Once he did, it didn't take long to cross the empty lobby and catch the elevator to the fourth floor. When the door opened, they found the hallway already occupied by one of the neighbors.
"Is everything alright?" The woman asked worriedly.
"Yes, Mrs. Patmore." Massachusetts said tiredly, a touch of annoyance tainting his voice.
"Are you sure? I know that you were running that big race downtown and there was a big explosion near the finish line. We were worried that you were caught up in all of the chaos…" The woman stopped talking when she finally stopped long enough to actually get a good look at Massachusetts. Her eyes grew bigger. "You were in that explosion weren't you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Patmore I was." The state replied, his shoulder sagging. "Listen. I have spent the whole afternoon in the hospital getting patched up. I am better now, but I am still really tired and in a lot of pain. Do you mind if I get into my apartment and lie down?"
"Oh, I am sorry! You must be exhausted! If you need someone to keep an eye on you, you are welcome to stay at my apartment…?"
"You don't need to worry, Mrs. Patmore. My brother is here to take care of me."
The state didn't wait for the middle-aged woman to reply. He turned on his heels and limped towards his front door, leaving New York to excuse himself from the neighbor. He merely shrugged at the woman before following his brother into the safety of his home.
Massachusetts's Watertown apartment was significantly smaller than New York's Manhattan loft, but it was comfortably furnished and the kitchen was well stocked. Not that Mass appeared to have any intention to eat. He walked straight past the eating area and into the master bedroom where he collapsed heavily onto his bed.
"Aren't you going to at least going to take off your shoes?"
"I am too sore to move." Massachusetts moaned, his eyes closed.
"Well, at least I can help with that…"
Getting Massachusetts out of his sweaty, smoky, and blood splattered running clothes turned out to be the biggest challenge that New York had faced all day. The bay state was too drained to be much help. He sat numbly on the edge of the bed barely registering that his brother was even in the room. The wounded state really needed a shower, but for now New York had to be satisfied with getting him into a clean pair of boxers and tucking him between fresh sheets. His brother didn't even make a sound as he pulled the bed's comforter up under Massachusetts's chin.
"Get some sleep." New York said softly as he stood to leave the bedroom. "Things will look better in the morning…"
Emergency Preparedness Note- In the case of a major disaster in your area regardless of whether it is manmade or natural, one of your greatest resources maybe sitting in your pocket. Your cell phone can be incredibly useful for letting your friends and relatives that you are okay. In the case of an emergency, experts suggest that you send texts instead of placing calls. This is because texts are less likely to overwhelm the cell tower system. Also, if your text to a local number can make it through the system, then try texting/calling a family member that lives out of state. When the cell lines are overwhelmed with local calls, a long distance call will often still go through because it uses different wires.
End Note- So what did you think? I really want to know. Also, what book do you think Virginia is currently reading?
Next Chapter- Without An Answer-The Morning of April 16th, 2013 dawns with still more questions. In the absence of answers fear tends to build and the uncertainty of new wars brewing in the Middle East and Korea only make tensions worse.