Ground Zero(9)

THWACK!

Brandon leaned in close to look. All the kick had done was leave a footprint.

Mike waved everybody back, lowered his shoulder, and ran full tilt at the wall.

THUNK.

Nothing happened to the wall, but the elevator shuddered and jerked down another half a foot. Brandon thought he was going to have a heart attack.

“Let’s not do that again!” Stephen said.

“Well, excuse me for trying to save our lives!” Mike snapped.

Everybody started yelling at each other, and Stephen started coughing again and couldn’t stop. The smoke was getting worse, and now the elevator felt like a sauna.

Brandon plucked a butter knife out of the wreckage from the serving cart and held it up triumphantly. “What about this?” he cried.

Everybody stopped arguing and stared.

“Yeah, that’s good. That could work!” Mike said, and Brandon felt a small flush of pride. Mike took the knife and hacked at the Sheetrock. A tiny bit of drywall crumbled into dust and rained down on the carpet, leaving a divot in the wall.

“There we go!” Mike said. He pulled off his blazer and loosened his tie, and went back to hacking on the wall. Shavinder grabbed a spatula-like serving utensil from the floor, and he used that on the hole too, taking turns with Mike. When they got tired, Marni and Brandon took turns. It was exhausting work. They didn’t ask Stephen to help though, and he didn’t offer. He was having enough trouble breathing already.

Smoke streamed in through every crack and every seam now, and something up above them popped and groaned.

Stephen tried the elevator phone again, but there was no answer.

What was going on? Where was everybody?

“We’re all going to die here,” Stephen wheezed.

“We’re not going to die,” Marni said, but it didn’t sound like she believed it.

Brandon’s arms shook, and he could barely aim straight when he whacked at the hole. How could he be trapped without his dad? Just this morning they had been together in another elevator. Why hadn’t this happened then, when they could have helped each other?

Mike and Shavinder took over again, steadily chipping away at the wall. There wasn’t one layer of drywall, they discovered, there were three. But working together, the elevator passengers managed to carve, yank, and kick a pizza-sized hole in the wall.

None of them could fit through it though—except for Brandon.

“Go, young man, go!” Shavinder told him.

“But we don’t even know where it leads!” said Brandon. The space beyond the hole was dark and empty.

“Who cares, as long as it’s not in here?” said Marni.

Brandon couldn’t argue with that. He took a deep breath of wet, smoky air, and with Mike and Shavinder’s help, he climbed up and out, into the unknown.





Reshmina stared at her brother in horror. He knew the Taliban planned to attack? Did other people in the village know?

“Pasoon, the ANA are Afghans! Our own people! And I have no more love for the Americans than you do,” she went on before her brother could speak, “but this betrayal will only make things worse for our village. The Americans will blame us for the attack.”

“The Afghan soldiers made their choice when they agreed to do the Americans’ dirty work for them,” Pasoon said. “Besides, it’s not like we’re the ones carrying out the attack.”

“No, we’re just the ones not telling anyone about it,” Reshmina said. “And if you won’t, I will!”

“No! You can’t!” Pasoon said. He grabbed for her again, but Reshmina was too quick. She broke free and ran up the steps, Pasoon close on her heels.

Pop-pop! Pakoom. Pakoom.

The familiar sounds of gunfire and explosions made Reshmina duck and pull up short, her heart racing.

“It’s started already!” Pasoon cried. Reshmina heard shouting and saw ANA soldiers scrambling down the steps for cover.

Pasoon grabbed Reshmina’s hand and pulled her back toward their house. “Run, Reshmina!”

Reshmina raced back down the stairs and into their home, where her family was gathering in the front room. Baba wasn’t there, and Reshmina realized Pasoon hadn’t come inside with her.

THOOM. The ground rocked from a nearby explosion, and dirt rained down from the ceiling.

“It’s safer in the back,” Anaa said, leading them into the women’s room. Mor disappeared into the kitchen.

PAK! PAK! PAK!

Gunfire erupted close enough nearby to rattle the dishes, and Reshmina and Marzia huddled together against the wall. Anaa pulled Zahir into her lap to sing to him, but the shooting and explosions didn’t seem to bother the baby. He was already used to it. Reshmina didn’t know if she would ever stop flinching at the sounds.

The earth shook again, and Marzia squeezed Reshmina’s arm.

Dear God, please keep Baba and Pasoon safe out there, Reshmina prayed. And Mariam, she added, remembering the translator.

Even as the fighting continued outside, Reshmina found herself wondering what it would be like to go to Kabul someday and study to become a translator. She might be able to work for the Americans, like Mariam did. That had to pay well and would be worth more to her parents than bartering her off as a bride. Reshmina could put her English skills to work and support her entire family. It was an almost-impossible dream, but if Mariam could do it, so could Reshmina.