Jacqueline Druga - Protocol One

It was a plan that wasn’t thought out over a long period of time. We moved on an act of faith and acted on gut instinct and passion.

It could have gone terribly wrong. Thankfully, it didn’t.

Peter raced into the room, jumping with a victorious “Yes!”. He bounced up and down in enthusiasm, seemingly forgetting all the death that had occurred.

I raced over to Tony and using the bloody pocket knife, I cut the ropes from his wrist. He immediately grabbed on to Joie and me and brought us into him.

“Oh my God.” He kissed her then me. Back and forth, over and over. “I was so scared for you two. So scared.”

Tony was rattled, I couldn’t imagine what he felt.

“We’re fine” I told him.

“Lenny. Did he hurt you?” Tony asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Thanks to your daughter, he didn’t have a chance.”

Tony looked curiously at Joie but then embraced her again in gratefulness.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” I told him.

It was as if Tony didn’t want to let either of us go, but he had to. Despite his tough exterior, Tony was injured.

He said something to the effect that it was over.

In a way he was right, it was over. The situation had ended.

I looked around at the carnage in the dining room, and at the mess that had become of our perfect, tidy, preplanned world.

Yes, the danger was over, but emotionally and physically, I knew the situation was far from over.

The blood on the floors, the bodies, the water that soaked the kitchen, they are part of the clean up process, but so was something else.

The two children, Angel and Luke along with the eighteen month old girl were among remaining fire hall people.

The only adult survivor was Luke’s mother.

“Get rid of them all,” said Nelly.

“Nelly, come on,” Spencer said. “They’re kids.”

“I don’t care. Well, the baby can stay. The six year old boy and five year old girl danced around without a care in the world.” Nelly stated. “Our people were tied up, guns pointed at them, and they didn’t blink. Something is wrong with them. If they don’t turn now, they will later. They’ll be trouble.”

Spencer laughed in disbelief. “They are children. They stay.” He looked at me. “They stay.”

I glanced over to Peter. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to think about who is going to take care of them. Because obviously, the mother has to go. We can’t let her stay. Honestly, I’m on the fence about the kids.”

I found it hard to believe that rational people like Peter and Nelly were speaking like they were. We four were making the decisions, while Craig treated the wounds of our people. The decision of the children, not the mother. That was unanimously voted on.

But the kids….

I did see Nelly’s point. Prior to knowing Joie, I would have argued that there was no way the kids could have known what was happening. I thought back to how aloof Jackson was at that age. But Joie had been an intricate part of the rescue. She knew what had to be done and said.

If she understood. So did those kids.

But they were kids, and ignoring the ‘You’ll be sorry’ from Peter, I made up my mind that they would stay. Angel was dealing with seeing the father killed and Luke would lose his mother as well.

They were still young enough to be influenced with love and kindness.

Before the remaining clean up could occur, we had to toss out the trash.

The remaining guilty.

Clarisse.

That was her name.

All the drama had happened before it was lunch, and it would be almost dinner time, if we all worked together, before we got the bunker back to normal.

“If you want to give her a fighting chance,” Peter says. “She has to go now. In a few more hours she won’t last fifteen minutes.”

A fighting chance.

Did I want to give her a fighting chance? Did they give Abe a chance?

My answer was that I would.

For a moment that morning, I lost who I was. Whether or not they were deadly, I took two human lives and was facing that guilt. Her death would not be at my hands, and I could mentally deal with setting her out into the wilderness if I gave her a fighting chance.

I packed a backpack with rations and water. In that bag was a Mylar blanket, matches, and hand warmers.

We had six arctic suits and I gave her one along with a good strong hand held spot light.

“Are we putting on the perimeter lights?” Peter asked.

“No. I don’t want to light up the world for everyone to see. She has the spotlight, she can make it,” I said. I believed that.

Tony and I didn’t don full arctic gear, but we wore the coats as we escorted her up to the bay.

Luke came with us and we covered him in a thermal blanket

We debated on letting him see his mother leave. But Clarisse wanted to have a last goodbye with her son before she walked out the door into the black cold abyss.

The mother in me could not deny that.

Did I feel guilty? Yes. I struggled with the decision. I actually did.

“This is insane,” Tony whispered to me. “You saw what they did. I would have just taken her out as is.”

“Wasn’t there enough death today?”

Clarisse was calm and knew she had to leave. She didn’t fight it and she showed no fear.

“If I survive this,” she said. “I want to come back for my son. I’ll stand at the gate until you see me.”

I didn’t answer her, but I was certain my eyes conveyed that I understood.

The door was still closed, she had all she needed and before covering her face, she kneeled down to be at her son’s level.

Luke grabbed on to her. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” She said. “Mommy did something bad.”

“Please. Please. Don’t leave.” He cried.

“I have to. I’ll be back. I will. I love you. I love you so much. Everything I did, I did so you will live. This… is so you’ll live.”

He shook his head, clutching to her.

“Baby, let go.” She removed his arms. “Mommy has to leave.”

Clarisse had to pry his arms from her and she didn’t make eye contact with me during her goodbye. I suppose she didn’t want me to think she was trying to change our minds.

She had accepted her fate.

I truly felt bad for the boy.

“Cover your face and lower the goggles.” Tony told her. “The cold will burn your eyes, they’ll water and the tears will freeze.”

She did as instructed.

Luke sobbed loudly once more.

Tony reached for the door. “Anna, hold your breath, cover the boy and move him back.”

I wrapped Luke tighter in the blanket and inched him back from the blast of cold air that I knew would come in.

Tony undid the locks.

He looked at me and opened the door.

I was holding my breath, but even in the coat I could feel the cold air.

Clarisse looked over her shoulder at Luke, and after adjusting the bag over her shoulder she turned on the spotlight and stepped into the darkness.

It consumed her and the light almost immediately.

Tony pushed on the door, but before it latched and closed, Luke cried out a screaming, “Mommy”” and took off out the door after her.

He left the blanket behind and a state of panic hit me.

He was a child, a small child.

He vanished into the blackness. How scared would he be? Driven by the bravery to be with his mother, the child ran out without thinking.

He would drown in that sea of dark, frigid air.

“Oh my God.” I grabbed the radio. “Pete hit the perimeter lights now!”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked.

I started to hyperventilate, and within seconds the huge spotlights outside lit up and brightened a wide area.