《In the Grasslands Away》


 Prologue

    ¡°...This is all your fault.¡±


    The boy woke up and jolted his body forwards still in a dreamy daze. The boy felt as though a ghost had just taken over, and he instinctively raised his blanket up; he checked for anything strange that might have been on his body and touched himself everywhere for extra measure. Strangely, he felt tears run down his face, yet he didn¡¯t know why. He blubbered and cried loudly.


    His bedroom was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight that pierced through the cotton curtains. The moonlight softly touched the boy¡¯s face, revealing a pale and lonely face obscured by the darkness that surrounded him ¡ª of which ran too deep for such a young mind, just like the moon at night. He lied down on his bed and continued to cry.


    Then, the door suddenly opened. A girl stood there in yellow pajamas, ¡°Are you okay?¡± Her voice asked. ¡°Why are you crying? I heard you through the wall.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not crying! I¡¯m okay, I''m a big boy remember!¡±


    ¡°Did you see something again?¡± She said walking towards the frightened little boy.


    ¡°No, no I did not.¡±


    ¡°Mhm, then tell me. Did you have another nightmare?¡±


    The boy stumbled to talk, and when he looked up to see that worried look on her face, he couldn¡¯t bear to try and talk anymore. He promptly hid beneath the confines of his blanket and laid down. Of course, the little girl wanted to know what exactly was troubling her brother. She sat down on his bed and embraced him.


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    A silence was observed, which lasted for a few even minutes, and only the crickets of the front yards dared to break it.


    ¡°I saw something scary.¡± The boy answered. ¡°I saw a man crying all alone, and there was a weird thing growing on his back.¡± He slowly began to remove the blanket off of himself. His sister then patted his short, pale, ruffled brown hair.


    ¡°You¡¯re okay?¡±


    The boy nodded.


    ¡°Okay, then goodnight.¡±


    The little girl quickly hopped off the bed and left. Now, it was a dark loneliness. The one that had gripped the room tightly hours ago when night fell. The young boy decided to close his eyes and get back to bed. The memory of that dream had long since faded, and only a lingering feeling of guilt remained.


    Unfortunately, the boy couldn¡¯t sleep.


    So he just counted sheep.


    One sheep.


    Two sheep.


    Three sheep.


    ¡­


    Forty-one sheep.


    ¡­No good. It didn¡¯t work. The boy jumped off his bed and scurried over to his desk. He snatched a headset and a walkman and went back to his bed. He quickly put it on his head and pressed play, waiting for the cassette to start.


    Then, it began playing, at a low volume of course. The boy loved listening to music, and this cassette had his favorite rock lullaby. Within a few minutes, he was back to bed.

 Chapter 1

    It was a bright dawn, marred by the cold winds that blew west against town. There was that seasonal change bringing about an end to the summer months, and well it makes sense to enjoy these times. I would¡¯ve gone out there, and done something like raking away the leaves for neighbors, making a few bucks and spending it on whatever I could think of.


    Yet, it felt like nothing was happening. It was just so boring and it drained the mood out. I felt as though a ghost had just taken over, and apprehended to the confines of my bedroom. I tried reaching for my special magazine, which was on my right (I intended on reading). But, my flailing arms made it slide down and onto the floor.


    Then, a knock on the door happened. It was by far the most interesting thing to happen. It opened and my aunt walked in. She was not a bad woman, I swear, but the face she¡¯s putting really makes me question myself. It felt like she wanted something from me. I helplessly just remained lying on my bed, holding the shit in.


    ¡°Neil.¡± Her voice nastily screeched against my ear. ¡°What are you doing just lying down here? You¡¯ve not been keeping up with the quota, you lazy boy.¡±


    I kept silent, throwing a fake snore.


    ¡°...I know you¡¯re awake.¡±


    I had one of my eyes peek once or twice, and a shudder of fear wracked my body at that moment. She bent over, and had my magazine in her hands. Oh dear, oh dear¡­ I wanted to jump out, and snatch it from those fingers, but she lingered about staring at me for what felt like the saddest years of my life, rearing a few smug laughs at me, before she went back down to do her pedicures. I hope she doesn¡¯t ask me to pick her nails up, they¡¯re nasty.


    I hopped off the bed stretching and yawning. I wiped the tears off his face, and went straight to the bathroom. I grabbed the doorknob, and tried pushing it open. It was locked. I bet that she¡¯s in there. My older cousin, Stella. She¡¯d often spend most her time wading away in the bath, and while she may be off many¡¯s game, she¡¯s stuck in the shed and is a big ass tool.


    I pounded on the door.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± A voice echoed through the door.


    ¡°Open up¡­¡± He yawned. ¡°Stella? Are you in there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, now go somewhere else you perv. I¡¯m taking a bath here!¡±


    ¡°...Sigh, fine Stella.¡±


    I then promptly went downstairs, still in a dreamy but now cynical daze. It was hardly in my best case to continue waiting in that bathroom. If anything, I would¡¯ve walked down the stairs immediately, but here¡¯s the thing. I wanted to take a bath too. I took out a pizza that was hanging around in the fridge, and took a slice or two. My aunt loved pizzas, especially those from Motown, and she¡¯d often stop by a pizzeria there while working. Although, if Gramps and Grammy see this food in their fridge, they¡¯d probably rile up and tell us to eat something more healthy like corn soup.


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    Speaking of which, they¡¯ve not yet returned from their trip in Europe.


    Then, the doorbell rang.


    ¡°Morning, Neil.¡± Roger waved, nuzzling on his scarf. Right on my face.


    ¡°Morning, Roger.¡± I smiled.


    Roger was my next door neighbor, and lives right across the street. He had that hairstyle every boy had since the mania went in full swing and was a tall boy for his age, and quite athletic, although fall would fatten him up. Today, he was hardly acting normal. He had this¡­ this happy-go lucky face on him. It was unnerving.


    ¡°Did you hear?¡± He continued, ¡°They¡¯ve released another album!¡±


    ¡°Really, Roger? Who¡¯s they?¡±


    ¡°You know who¡¯s they!¡±


    He was unusually ecstatic, which could only be his favorite band, and the chill from the outside was getting to me. I invited him in, and he would get more hyper. I noticed a blue spot on his face, but before I could ask him anything about it he continued his Beatle small talk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard from Keith and Georges that the album¡¯s available at the record store a few miles away from town, but they¡¯re being sold out. Neil, do you have some cash on you? I really wanna listen to that album.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not a lot of money.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Isn¡¯t your dad a rich banker?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He looked at me confused.


    ¡°Forget about it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, well I¡¯ve got nothing to do. What do you think we should do?¡±


    ¡°Maybe¡­ We could play in the basement.¡±


    ¡°You and me alone? But we sound terrible together!¡±


    ¡°Well you know Georges can¡¯t play at the moment. You know what, follow me. We gotta get the instruments.¡±


    I stood up from the couch, and went to the staircase. Behind it, was another set of staircases. I flicked the switch and tumbled my way downstairs. The basement was furnished well with antiques that Gramps owned. He¡¯d tell me not to touch them, but the basement was simply full of the furniture, and therefore impossible to avoid. I did my best to avoid them, and went to the empty space that lurked behind most of it. A shiny brass saxophone, an disconnected amp, an electric bass and two guitars, one electric, sat on the rug.


    ¡°Neil,¡± Roger piped up, asking a question. ¡°Why do you keep the instruments here? Why don¡¯t you just keep them upstairs in your room?¡±


    ¡°Stella hates the sound, she¡¯s intimate with her baths.¡± I replied. ¡°Well Roger, pick one instrument. I¡¯m gonna take the saxophone.¡±


    ¡°The sax?!¡± He said surprisingly. ¡°...Fine, I¡¯ll get the Les Paul. I hope the sound doesn¡¯t get drowned out by the furniture.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll ask Gramps if I can reorganize the antiques and turn this into a cozy set. We can do gigs for our pals, and if I save up enough, maybe I can buy that album you wanted!¡±


    ¡°Really? I¡¯ll help you with it then.¡±


    Roger plugged in the guitar to the amp, and I began cleaning my sax reed. Then, we began playing imitations of old jazz songs from the 20s or some blues songs. We both agreed on the following.


    We weren¡¯t that good, but we were decent. It¡¯s like a divine comedy. Roger looked like he enjoyed it, but I always glimpsed at that bruise on his face. It brought me some questions that may or may not be answered, and traveling on three lanes that Roger may or may not be being beaten.


    But whatever the case, Stella came rushing downstairs and told us to play music and not shit. She looked like a rather wet dog in those bathrobes. Roger looked disheartened when she said it, but I just told her to buzz off. We continued to play until lunch, and Roger had to leave by then.


    Not bad for a day that seemed to bore me.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°All in a day¡¯s work it appears, I¡¯ve got to say, Mr. Rosenberg. The Luftwaffe enjoyed their stay in London.¡± Mr. Ebbings said dryly. ¡°Germans did a number on most of the factories. I hope that it doesn¡¯t affect the workforce. Seems like they want us to continue producing more and more equipment for the army.¡±


    ¡°It would be lucky to think like that, Mr. Ebbings. However, we haven¡¯t gone to the factory yet, so we cannot accurately assess the damages to the factory. Mr. Rockbell might help in the process, but I fear that injury may keep him bedridden a little longer.¡±


    ¡°Daniel Rockbell? Are you sure that the man is as good as you say? You say that he is a very talented engineer and mechanic, and yet that man had gotten into an accident that lost him an arm. What are you trying to say, hire a cripple to help in the industry? That¡¯s an outrage.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Ebbings, I assure you he is as good as I say he is. I¡¯ve known him for a while, and Ford considers that man a valuable engineer in their automobile industry. Why focus on the negatives, Mr. Ebbings?¡±


    Mr. Ebbings turned his face towards Rosenberg. His fat little chubby face reminded him of that spoiled child. This man was an industrialist through and through, and still was as sharp as he was when he wasn¡¯t held down by the weight he put on. He put on a smile and said snarkily.


    ¡°So be it. That man has been nothing short of a nuisance, let¡¯s focus on the positives now, then!¡± That snarky laugh he let out, resembled Porky Pig''s.


    Then, the two men stopped cold dead at their tracks. Room 38, this was where Mr. Rockbell stayed. The room was in a dimly lit corner of the hallway, and it felt off. Rosenberg knocked on the door, and called for Daniel. However, there was no answer.


    ¡°No answer?¡±


    ¡°...Is something going on?¡±


    Rosenberg twisted the doorknob, and opened the door.


    ¡°Good morning, Mr. Rockbell.¡± Rosenberg happily greeted. ¡°Looks like we were lucky tonight. Come, let''s get breakfast at the bistro..."


    Rosenberg peered over towards Daniel. The poor man was already up, sitting as straight as an arrow on his bed. He was silent, perhaps a rather ominous clue on what would happen if they succeeded in the storm. The man sat down on a nearby seat and took off his shoes. Daniel looked way more nauseous than he¡¯d usually be, and he had a rather ominous stare. He experienced more pain from his lost arm.


    "Daniel?¡±


    It was a matter of concern. He had the tools needed to get the information out of that traumatized man. Rosenberg took in a deep and concentrated breath. He calmly let out any stress he had, and looked at Ebbings with a look of hands-off. Ebbings understood and went out the door.


    ¡°Daniel.¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°Daniel, are you alright? You look rather pale.¡± He questioned calmly. ¡°Come, let¡¯s get breakfast at the bistro. Mr. Ebbings is here and is interested in your service.¡±


    ¡°Doc?¡± Daniel said, confused. ¡°Doc? I still feel sick.¡±


    ¡°Why Daniel? Did you catch the flu?¡±


    ¡°No, I went out.¡±


    ¡°You went out?¡±


    ¡°I went out, and I saw things that I wasn''t supposed to see.¡±


    Rosenberg was a bit surprised. Daniel would usually follow orders. Why would he¡­


    ***


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    Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night. The storm reigned over the skies, however it couldn¡¯t be seen. It sent a harrowing destruction across the houses all over the cities. It was as if that silly fascist dictator wanted this flame extinguished. Men and women hid in bomb shelters, the Tube, their homes if the storm dared to spare them. Daniel saw some posters plastered hastily on the walls of some brick-laden homes. It was dimly lit, but he could definitely see them. Keep calm and carry on. It felt like a hypocritical spit on the face from Parliament, but what else could they do but maintain the stiff upper lip. There¡¯s war across the channel.


    He had disobeyed some clear instructions to not go around walking whilst he was still injured. But the pain had subsided mostly, and he was itching to go out and walk around the city. He did not care, perhaps that person might have survived. Either way, there¡¯s no foul play nor regret in that. Certainly.


    Daniel could hear echoes of shouting in the distance, and when he turned to see who it was, a numbing silence echoed in the wide boulevard. A rising plume of gray began to contrast with the dark blue night sky. He began running cumbersomely towards those in need. He came across Ground Zero¡ª a burning residential abode, and was surrounded by some locals who were trying to free the people from a flaming building. The size of the flames was a sight to behold, for it was engulfing other buildings.


    It reminded the young man of what had happened a few years ago.


    ¡°Look at the size of the fire, good lord!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the damn fire brigade?!¡±


    ¡°Come and help me and my children! We¡¯re dying from the smoke!¡±


    ¡°Get a fucking ladder!¡±


    The babbling of the locals was just a bit shocking to Daniel, but he simply continued to watch. Then, the sirens attracted more people. The fire brigade arrived, heckled by those concerned, and began to spray a line of water against the flame monster that he set free.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, sir.¡± The firefighter said. When Daniel held out his arm to help the firefighter up, the firefighter simply shook her head and got up herself.


    ¡°No thanks. I can handle myself.¡±


    Then, they made eye contact. Daniel was shocked. It was that person.


    ¡°You should get to safety. With that one arm of yours, it could get dangerous.¡± She said, with that look that all the posters had.


    ¡°But how could that be?¡± He whispered to himself. It was something he¡¯d never seen before. But the look on that woman¡¯s face was as brave as the men fighting in the frontlines. He was shocked. But, he shook his head, and continued to stare at the house.


    As the fire intensified, the brigade began to roll the ladder up against the windows, and some of the residents began to climb on. They were covered in a dark soot and ash, but the shouting couldn¡¯t stop. Suddenly, another siren began to blare. This time, it wasn¡¯t a fire truck. It was a squadron of Stuka dive bombers terrorised with the horns of Jericho blasting against all that was in their way.


    The crowds began to disperse while the fire began to intensify once more. The fire fighters however, were unfazed and continued to fight against the danger. A group of soldiers then appeared. At that moment, order was somehow regained in the boulevard. Daniel was dumbfounded, and wondered if this war was to reach the other side of the pond.


    ¡°Look!¡± A member of the crowd screamed. Apparently, a mother and her baby began to stand on the edge of the window sill, one hand the baby, the other on the window. It looked rather precarious, and many were shocked at the woman¡¯s tenacity (or stupidity) to stand there.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it!¡± Daniel screamed. He didn¡¯t want blood in his memory again. Then, the ghost gripped against his arm again. The firefighters on the ladder demanded the ladder go higher, but it was still too low for the woman and the baby in her hands. As she teetered over collapsing against the sill, some people showed up with a cloth and began unfurling it.


    "Hey, you! The one with a single arm!" A voice rang. It was a soldier. The light from the flames illuminated against his stoic face, and it made him look like an intimidating drunkard. However, Daniel himself was at the same height as the soldier, so it didn¡¯t look as intimidating.


    "Me?" Daniel replied.


    "Yes you. Come here, you should stay back since you''re a man with an injury."


    "Can I at least stand behind the crowd?" Daniel said, somewhat annoyed.


    ¡°Sure you can. But I¡¯m warning you. Don¡¯t come close to the building. Might get another injury, laddie. All the hospitals are full of people coming in with diseases, injuries, disabilities, and shelter. Germans won¡¯t care.¡±


    Daniel stood there pondering, then turned back to the crowd. There was a harrowing shriek as the woman decided to jump. The men with the cloth managed to catch the baby but the woman fell on the sidewalk and a harrowing shriek filled the night. Scarlet red blood leaked from the woman.


    The horns of Jericho couldn''t compare to the helpless cries the baby let out. Everyone felt guilty. As the baby continued to let out a cry of sadness and the ambulances rolled in, Daniel spotted that firefighter looking speechless¡­ Everyone was as silent as the aftermath of what had happened above the sky. He has deserted us in our time of need, they thought, and that set off a spark that lit a powder keg.


    Suddenly, all those posters made sense.


    ¡°I wish I were back in the States.¡± Daniel wistfully said, before throwing up.

 Chapter 3

    A shuddering frigid touch coursed through my body in jolts of fright. It was difficult to catch any heat from a measly quilt, much less one that was knitted by Grammy herself. I cannot stand the weather, and Stella just looked towards me with a belligerent smug look on her face. She was dressed cozily and was as warm as the hood of the car. I was cozily dressed, yet I couldn¡¯t understand why I was still cold.


    Grammy busied herself by the confines of the kitchen, with Gramps close to her side by side. I was a bit shocked by the silence. But, they weren¡¯t quacking at each other. Grammy then approached Stella and I, holding a tray with two cups. Steam flowed out of the cups, and a delightful chocolatey smell reached our noses.


    ¡°Enjoy, you adorable little darlings.¡± She said, motherly in tone, gravelly in voice. I appreciated Grammy, she was one of the most admirable people I¡¯ve ever gotten to know, and anyone would say so.


    I took the right cup, Stella took the left.


    ¡°Thank you, Grammy.¡± I stuttered from the cold. Grammy shone a smile, and pinched my cheek.


    ¡°You¡¯re growing up to be a fine young man, aren¡¯t you Neil. Just remember to take your time. Growing old is simply a journey, and that¡¯s what matters. Now go and drink your hot chocolate before it turns cold.¡± Grammy replied, before she returned to the kitchen.


    Stella stayed quiet, but for a moment I saw a tear flow out her eye when she drank her hot chocolate.I blew the steam off the cup, and drank the chocolate. For a moment, I felt like I had just met Jesus himself¡­


    Then, the front door opened, bringing about an even colder spell onto my back. Both of us reared our heads to see who was going in the house. It was Aunt Sophie, who was looking grim and tired. She ignored Stella¡¯s greeting, and simply went upstairs, dragging her bag along.


    ¡°Mom looks sad.¡± Stella bluntly said.


    ¡°Could be snow, it¡¯s miserably pouring out there.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which, could you close the door?¡±


    ¡°Why me? Why don''t you do it since you asked?¡±


    ¡°You sit right next to the front door, so you do it.¡±


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    I sighed, ¡°Fine¡­¡±


    While I was about to go out into the snowy lawn, the phone rang. I quickly slammed the door and raced to the


    ¡°Don¡¯t slam the door, Neil!¡± Gramps shouted from the kitchen. I immediately apologized, while a snicker echoed from Stella''s snobby mouth.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I answered. ¡°Rockbell residence, Neil speaking. Who''s calling?¡±


    ¡°Hey Neil!¡± An enthusiastic voice came out the other end, ¡°It¡¯s Colin on the phone, sorry for calling late at night. I couldn''t earn a dime to pay for this, haha.¡±


    ¡°Colin? Good morning,¡± I yawned, ¡°Why¡¯re you calling?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing per the usual. Tell me what¡¯s going on back there, Neil! Is Keith and Georgie doing fine over there?¡±


    ¡°Yep, they¡¯re doing fine. Not much has happened, but uhh, tell me what you''re doing in Louisiana."


    "I¡¯ve got to say, mothers know best." Colin eagerly began "It¡¯s just a mighty fine place, and Momma and her family cooked the best food I''ve ever tasted. My soul felt otherworldly! Nobody can beat her chicken. Neil, if you ever visit Baton Rouge, come visit my home. Dylan and I are going to fill your belly up, and send you to the moon!"


    I began salivating at the thought.


    ¡°Well, uhh¡­ Talk to you later.¡±


    "Bye, Neil!"


    ***


    ¡°You! What are you doing?!¡± Gramps heckled angrily towards two police officers. The officers were


    ¡°Don¡¯t just disassemble my snow remover! I worked way too hard to construct this beauty.¡± He then blocked the police from touching his snow remover, which was a lawn mower fitted with a shovel that rotates¡­ My gramps had a talent for stuff like this, but he¡¯d never tell me how he does it.


    ¡°Sir, that thing is a danger to the neighborhood.¡± One of the cops stoically said to Gramps,


    ¡°Danger? I¡¯m a selfish man, this snow remover is for my own use! If the neighborhood kids get hurt from this baby, fine by me! They shouldn¡¯t approach danger, see.¡±


    I shook my head as the law and my grandfather began the siege of Ann Arbor. The Germans couldn¡¯t get past my grandfather, but police batons may break him. I really hope things don¡¯t escalate further. This world has been through a lot, and a war between him and the police don¡¯t seem to be good prospects.


    ¡°Neil, what are you doing?¡± Stella¡¯s voice barked behind.


    ¡°Gramps has a problem with the cops again.¡± I bluntly said.


    ¡°What¡¯s he done this time?¡±


    ¡°A lawn mower with a shovel. Hey, wanna make snow forts?¡±


    Stella nodded and as we began to make one, the police and Gramps continued their heated stand-off.


    ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±