Mary stood at the counter with a warm cup of tea clutched in her hands, surrounded by the smell of baking bread, and watched as the water raced down the window.
Her boys, Tommy and James, were bickering at the other end of the room over who would get to be the general in the latest round of their war game.
‘I’m older, so it should be me,’ Tommy said with all the authority a ten-year-old could muster.
‘But you were it last time,’ followed James’s high-pitched whine, ‘it’s my turn.’
Mary turned to look at the boys, smiling at the familiar argument. They were surrounded by numerous toy soldiers and planes, but they both clutched at the toy soldier they had dubbed the leader.
‘How ‘bout we both be the general?’ Tommy said. ‘I’ll be the general for the English soldiers, and you for the Nazi’s.’
‘Why do I have to be the Nazi’s? I want to be the English,’ James said, pulling at the toy.
‘That’s enough, Tommy. You know it’s James’s turn,’ Mary cut in.
‘Okay, Mum,’ said Tommy, the mischievous smile falling from his face.
The boys then gathered their toys into sections and started playing war. They had planes fly overhead and bomb the soldiers, while others were shot and tossed aside.
As they were getting into the thick of their game, there was a loud, glass-rattling rumble, followed by a flash of light.
‘Mum!’ The boys immediately dropped their toys and ran to Mary, clutching at her legs.
Mary laughed, hugging the boys closer to her. ‘Did the thunder scare you?’
Her question was immediately followed by another loud bang and a flash. A bang that was much closer.
Mary, startled by the unexpectedly close sound, looked out the rain-covered window and saw them–the metal bellies of the dozens of planes hanging just below the clouds.
‘They’re here!’
She watched, frozen, as hell rained down. Mary’s hands tightened their grip on Tommy and James, pulling them even firmer against her.
‘Mum!’ Tommy screamed. ‘What’s going on? You’re hurting me!’
James clutched at Mary’s leg and looked up at her with wet cheeks. ‘Mummy… what’s happening?’
Mary was deaf to their cries, unable to comfort them, her shock was overwhelming.
All she could hear was the whistling of the bombs falling through the air, and the explosions that inevitably followed–each boom getting steadily closer.
‘Mum!’ Tommy roughly pulled at Mary’s arm, his fingers clawing her in desperation to get her attention, ‘Mum!’
Tommy had succeeded in drawing his mother’s attention away from the orange glow they could see outside. Mary’s surprise at the sight of Tommy’s face wet with tears, finally broke her out of her stupor.
‘We need to get to the basement.’ Her voice was soft, still confused about the reality that was outside her window, but her actions were steadfast and sure.
She crouched in front of Tommy, and urged him to get on her back, while she grabbed James’s arm and pulled him to her chest.
The loud reverberations of the explosions shook the house, causing Mary to stumble and slam into the walls of the hallway. Her progress was slow.
‘It’s okay. If we just get to the basement, we’ll be fine,’ Mary whispered.
James was screaming, tears running down his face as Mary ran, while Tommy held onto Mary with all his worth. He trusted what she was saying, so he kept quiet in the chaos around them.
BOOM!
Glass shattered and sprayed, walls were torn apart, the ceiling caved in, and Mary was thrown forward from the force of the explosion. James flew out of her arms while Tommy let out a scream as he fell from her back.
Mary’s head slammed against the floor and her vision darkened. The last things she heard before she fell unconscious were the screams of her sons.
‘Mummy! Tommy!’ James, mostly unscathed–save for cuts and bruises–called out for his mother and brother. He couldn’t see them among the debris that had filled their hallway, so he shuffled back the way he came from.
‘Tommy! James!’ Mary shouted, ‘boys!’
Tommy laid prone, mere feet from where Mary was. She crawled toward him–arms pulling her forward and nails scratching at the floor. ‘Tommy!’
Mary gathered him in her arms as she reached him. She placed her head on his chest, listening anxiously for his breath, and when she didn’t hear it, she started rocking him.
‘Wake up, Tommy! We need to move!’
She grabbed his face, wiping away the grime and tears. His eyes were wide open, unseeing, but the fear in his last moment was clear. Mary did not want to believe what was happening. He was still warm; he couldn’t be gone. Not her son. Not in their home.
‘T-T-Tommy, wake up,’ Mary stuttered, clutching him tight to her chest. ‘You need to wake up!’
She couldn’t let him go, even as the overhead planes continued to release their hell rain. She pushed his hair back from his face, closed his eyes, and began to hum his favourite song.
‘Mummy! Tommy!’
Mary jolted at James’s call, but she could not leave Tommy. He was just a boy; he needed his mother.
‘Mummy!’
But James needed her too. He was her baby.
She could hear James’s slow shuffling steps approaching. She couldn’t move, but she wanted to protect him from the scene he was about to walk into.
Mary fought to unclench her fingers from around Tommy, and slowly lowered him to the floor.
‘Tommy!’ James’s voice was almost on top of them.
‘Stop, James!’ Mary’s voice was hoarse, her throat tight, ‘Mummy will be right there.’
She heard his footsteps stop. Mary bent down to give Tommy a final kiss goodnight, his skin cooling against her lips, a stark contrast to the hot tears streaming down her face. ‘Sweet dreams, my Tommy.’
Mary squeezed her eyes closed before she stumbled to her feet and started hobbling her way to James.
And there he was.
His dirty face was streaked with lines, as he sat where she had told him to stop, his arms wrapped around his knees.
‘James.’
‘Mummy!’ James jumped to his feet and ran to Mary, slamming into her and forcing her to step back to brace herself.
‘I’m here.’ Mary dropped to her knees and gathered James into her arms. He threw his arms around her neck and held on so tight he almost strangled her.
He’s safe.
After a long moment, James pulled back and stared up at his mother’s face. ‘Where’s Tommy?’
Mary felt her eyes well and held back a sob that was desperate to be released. ‘Tommy’s gone, baby.’
‘If he’s gone, let’s go find him. I want to finish my turn as general.’ James’s eyes were bright as he looked at her, as if the violence of what had happened no longer mattered.
‘No, sweetheart. Tommy’s gone somewhere we can’t follow. The real general sent his planes and took him away.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mummy. That’s just a game. Tommy will come back and play with me.’
‘This isn’t a game, James. This is war. And Tommy can’t come back.’
Mary pulled James’s head to her shoulder as he let out a wail, screaming, ‘Tommy, come back!’
Silent tears streamed down Mary’s face.
The cost of this game was too high.
