Annabelles Locket

Annabelle startled as another shell exploded somewhere over her head. The concussions were becoming less and less frequent. The salvo was almost over. Soon she would be moving again. The turmoil between the STMs or the MCVs (or whatever they were calling themselves this time) and the New World governments had been building for weeks. The few people left in the remnants of her once proud city took up arms for the final stand. What started as scare tactics had become routine and retaliation always followed. She knew as long as she stayed low, only entered the lower levels of the buildings, and ran through the center of the streets, she would be okay. But the thundering sounds were still frightening and becoming harder to predict.

The attacks always followed the same pattern; first the sirens, then the bombs. People fled their homes but where were they to go? Every city across New Franklin was the same. Nowhere was safe. In the cities you had bombs, in the country you had bandits. Either one could kill you. After the bombs came the looters. And after the looters, the soldiers. She didn’t know which group was worse. She just had to make it home. She pulled her coat tighter around her body and noticed she was missing a button. She shrugged, everything in her life seemed to be falling apart. The storeroom where she lived was in shambles, a clever disguise from the hunters. The windows had been blown out and the shelves raided in the last uprising, but she didn’t mind. Its distorted interior and exterior made it safe from those passing by, wishing her harm. Besides, there was nothing left to take. She hid a bedroll under the old counter and as long as she waited until nightfall to return, she doubted anyone would know she was there. That was before everything changed. Now the city was burning. The food stores she’d discovered had run out days ago. It was time to move on. Bank! Another explosion. She bolted from her hiding place in the alley and made it two more doors before the bricks from the top floors hit the street. They bounced this way and that. During the last bombardment she had been reckless and stayed too close to a doorway. Bouncing masonry had ricocheted off the pavement and collided with her legs and torso. A step closer she would have been killed. A step back she wouldn’t have noticed. The impact had left her with a limp and terrible scaring for weeks. A painful and unnecessary injury, and a mistake she would not make again.

She was almost there. She noted the sirens had gone silent. There would be no more warnings. Anyone left would have to fend for themselves. “Rather here than out there” she thought but time was running out. Darkness had taken over the city. The only light was from the fires of the burning buildings. Orange dancers parading on rooftops. She could see her doorway through the haze. Ash rained down like snow. If she wasn’t careful she would start to leave tracks. Still she waited. There could be no mistakes. Too much relied on making it back. In the silence, she heard a rustling behind her. Too small to be a person. Probably a rat. Anything larger had been killed and eaten by now. No, she was alone. Another look down the street. Coast clear.

With her resolve set once more she took off again, past the trolly cars and their empty ticket booths, long ago abandoned and forgotten. She ran past the book store she would frequent on Saturdays in her youth, past the bakery her father once worked. Shadows of memories haunted what was left of this town. A life once lived here, a good life, all but forgotten and only accessible in her mind. But there was no time for that now. Her legs churned as she sprinted with all her energy to make it to the safety of her store.

Then she saw it. How? Why? Where did it come from? Impossible. There, laying on the sidewalk in front of her store was the locket. Its heart-shaped surface shining like a beacon. The same one her mother had given her the day she left for Rhodes. It was the one possession she still cared for, the only treasure remaining in her life. It was the reason she was returning to the store in the first place, the reason she ran through the streets and the reason she was caught up in all this chaos. Her mind raced. When she last saw the necklace it was tucked safely behind her makeshift bed and wrapped in a piece of chiffon cloth, the little bit she had left after wrapping her wounds. They must have found it… Found her. What was she to do now? She couldn’t enter. They were waiting for her. The neckless was obviously a warning, but from who and why? She rushed past her store and rounded a corner. Her heart pounding louder than the bombs. Her chest ached. Her breathing came in gulps. A door on her right was cracked open and she ducked inside shutting it behind her. She collapsed on the floor dizzy and sick.

As a kid she suffered from panic attacks and she could feel one coming now. What was she going to do? She was in danger, more now than ever before. With her head between her knees, she tried to control her breath. She could hear her mothers voice, “Count them Annabell, count the seconds and count the breaths, 3 seconds in, 3 seconds out.” She did, just as she had been shown to do. Slowly, steadily her breathing returned to normal. She thought about her situation. She knew this day would come but not yet, not so soon. There was always supposed to be more time. “Was this the moment then?” she thought. “Was this her destiny?”

Everyone else she knew had made their stand. Her father followed by her brother. Neither had returned. When her mother left, Annabelle knew it would be up to her to carry out the task ahead. She just didn’t expect it all to happen so fast. She thought she could prepare. She thought she could train. She thought the ruins of the city would buy her time. She thought she’d be safe. She was wrong. Safety had eluded her. Fear had brought her here and fear had let her fail. It all came down to this. A new feeling was building inside her. Anger? Rage? But at what exactly? Anger at her situation. Anger at her mistakes. Anger at her oppressors. Could she trust this anger or was this another form of the fear she had come to know so well? How does one stay rational in the face of danger, panic, fear, and anger? She didn’t know, but she decided to take a stand. The locket was hers. She had to get it back or she would die trying. Her mind made up, she stood and pulled the knife from her boot. She gripped the handle tight with the blade facing the floor. “Better for slashing” she thought. She stood at the doorway, ready. She closed her eyes. Another beat, another breath. She was anxious, yet calm. Scared, yet willing. She opened her eyes, opened the door and stepped out into the street.

Her surroundings had faded. She could feel her heart beating in her temples as she walked to the corner she had rounded only moments before. Everything else had cleared. The bricks, the buildings, the fires, all were gone. Only the locket and the store remained. And both were right in front of her. The storefront she called home was only five paces away. She continued her steps. 4, if this was truly the end she would face it directly, head on. 3, she would not waver. She made her approach, anticipating the worst, but remaining calm. 2, she was ready. 1, a final glance at the ground beneath her feet and she stopped. What was it? She bent to the necklace but it wasn’t there. It was something else. Something shiny and gold, even heart shaped but it wasn’t the locket. Her dagger clutched in her right hand, she reached out with her left and picked it up. What she now held confused her. Brushing off the ash with her thumb she uncovered not the heart shaped locket, but a golden round button, the same one missing from her coat. The settling ash had only made it look like a heart. She had more time after all. She stepped inside the door and went straight to the bed behind the counter. Dropping the dagger, she slid the bedroll aside and reached behind it. There, still wrapped in the chiffon paper bandage was her mothers locket. She smiled. The situation was not as bad as it had seemed.