Chapter 2 - Everything Changed
The war seemed to unfold in the blink of an eye. I don't remember exactly when the forces from 'the West' occupied my town. I was to busy scanning the skies day after day, waiting for Yellow Thirteen to reappear.
Before I knew it everything changed. The language they taught us at school, our friendly local sheriff disappeared and was replaced by foreign MPs. In the beginning some people tuned in to secretly broadcast from north point on their parabolic antennas, but as time passed the broadcast no longer came in. maybe the satellites were destroyed.
All non-military computer networks were shut down. Gasoline was rationed to civilians. Though, we lived in the twenty-first century we were reduced to using crystal radios and horse-drawing carts.
I moved in with my uncle in town who used to be a taxi driver. Out of gasoline and out of work, my uncle did nothing but to drown his self in drink. I earned my keep by playing the harmonica at the town bar. The one thing I was good at. I played for soldiers in exchange for their charity and spare change and used the money to support my uncle and myself.
My uncle trash talked to the barkeep that catered to the enemy soldiers. But he never refused the money I brought home. As for myself I had a crush on the barkeep's only daughter who was a little older than me.
Another day passed, yet still no sign of fighter plane Yellow Thirteen in the skies above our town.
It was Saturday morning. I was sitting on the hill by the cape were I used to live. The sun was shining hard when I heard the powerful engine of fighter jets behind me. I turned around. Finally after searching all day. There were four of them flying across the skies above the town. I took peered and squinted, but could not tell whether Yellow Thirteen was among the plans or not.
I ran to the center of town. By the time I got there they were already gone. It seemed like I was never going to find Yellow Thirteen.
Later that day I went to the bar to play. I didn't get much money. I guessed it was because the soldiers were off fighting. On my way home someone grabbed my shoulder. I turned around and someone hit my right in the cheek. I stumbled backward and the man ran off. I couldn't see him because it was too dark. I checked my pocket. My money was gone. In all though I didn't really mind since most people weren't doing as well as my uncle and I were.
I walked into the crammed, stuffy house we lived in. My uncle yelled, "Were the hell's that money, boy?" I told him the story, but he didn't believe me. He slapped me and said I spent it on drugs. Then he went back to drinking. I went to my room, which was actually just half of a mattress behind a curtain in the kitchen.
Thinking about the war was all I did now a day. I didn't have anything to do. I didn't have any possessions except clothes and silver watch my dad gave me. We couldn't afford television or even electricity. Simply put: Life wasn't easy.
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