evaporated. "I'm in high school. I'm just a cadet." He shakes his rifle. "I've never even used one of these. We train with old M1 Garands, and I never even used live ammo before..." His voice trails off. His lower lip starts to quiver for a moment, but he manages to pull himself together. "And now they've put me in charge of building this roadblock. Just me and Gary." He points to the guy in the cab of the JCB, carefully maneuvering his scoop beneath another car. "I just wanna go home. I don't wanna do this any more."
I don't really know what to say to that. "There's nobody else who could help?"
The kid laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Last I heard there was a unit from Fort Dix coming to relieve us, but that was three hours ago. Who the fuck knows what happened to them between there and here?"
"So who's in charge?"
Karl snorts. "Some Lieutenant Colonel. I don't know his name. In charge might be the wrong phrase, though. There are only a couple of dozen soldiers. Real soldiers, I mean, from the 69th. Most of the battalion was deployed months ago. There's only a couple hundred reservists left behind, and they're spread pretty thin across the city. Most of the guys here are either retired veterans or cadets, like me." He looks down at his oversized fatigues. "We got plenty of uniforms, but no soldiers to fill them."
"Jesus," I gasp, suddenly acutely aware of just how exposed we are here in the street. "I thought this was some kind of huge military operation. You know, battleships off the coast, jets flying overhead, that sort of thing. You're telling me it's just a few guys and an earthmover?"
Karl leans back against the hood of a wrecked car and rests his rifle against the tire. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm only here because I live down the street in Bensonhurst. Guy on the news said FEMA was setting up a camp in the park, but when me and my dad got here there was only the colonel and a few guys. No sign of FEMA anywhere. It's FUBAR. We're blocking up the streets as best we can, but who knows what comes next? We don't have any tents. No cots. No medical supplies. The only food we got is whatever we can find in the stores behind the roadblocks, and who knows how long that'll last?"
I get the feeling Karl is only holding onto his cool by a slender thread, and I can't blame him. I can't imagine what it must feel like for someone his age to be handed a gun and told to defend a bunch of helpless civilians. He looks like he could burst into tears at any moment. I don't want to push him, but I need to understand the situation. "How many people came to the park?"
The kid shrugs. "Too many to count. Hundreds of them. Maybe a few thousand. The man said on the news... you know, we just thought it'd all be OK if we came down. He said it'd be safe for us here." He turns away from me, embarrassed, and wipes a tear from his cheek. "And now all I can think is how safe can we be if kids like me are in charge of building the roadblocks, you know? The situation's gotta be pretty desperate, right?"
I drop my cigarette and crush it beneath my boot. "Well, you look to be doing a damned good job to me, Karl. I'm sure you'll make a fine officer. Your dad will be proud." I feel dumb saying those words. I don't have a clue if he's doing a good job, but he seems to straighten his back a little at the compliment. He rubs his moist eyes and smiles awkwardly.
"Thanks," he mumbles, embarrassed. He stands and points to the car. "OK, we better get this thing moved. You think he's had enough time?"
I nod. "Yeah, that should be enough. Thanks, Karl."
I walk to the driver's door of the car and tap on the window. Arnold's head is still resting against the steering wheel, but he seems to have stopped crying.
No response. I tap again, but still he doesn't move. I pull open the door.
"Come on, Arnold. It's time." I place my hand on his shoulder, but I can tell right away that something isn't quite
I don't really know what to say to that. "There's nobody else who could help?"
The kid laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Last I heard there was a unit from Fort Dix coming to relieve us, but that was three hours ago. Who the fuck knows what happened to them between there and here?"
"So who's in charge?"
Karl snorts. "Some Lieutenant Colonel. I don't know his name. In charge might be the wrong phrase, though. There are only a couple of dozen soldiers. Real soldiers, I mean, from the 69th. Most of the battalion was deployed months ago. There's only a couple hundred reservists left behind, and they're spread pretty thin across the city. Most of the guys here are either retired veterans or cadets, like me." He looks down at his oversized fatigues. "We got plenty of uniforms, but no soldiers to fill them."
"Jesus," I gasp, suddenly acutely aware of just how exposed we are here in the street. "I thought this was some kind of huge military operation. You know, battleships off the coast, jets flying overhead, that sort of thing. You're telling me it's just a few guys and an earthmover?"
Karl leans back against the hood of a wrecked car and rests his rifle against the tire. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm only here because I live down the street in Bensonhurst. Guy on the news said FEMA was setting up a camp in the park, but when me and my dad got here there was only the colonel and a few guys. No sign of FEMA anywhere. It's FUBAR. We're blocking up the streets as best we can, but who knows what comes next? We don't have any tents. No cots. No medical supplies. The only food we got is whatever we can find in the stores behind the roadblocks, and who knows how long that'll last?"
I get the feeling Karl is only holding onto his cool by a slender thread, and I can't blame him. I can't imagine what it must feel like for someone his age to be handed a gun and told to defend a bunch of helpless civilians. He looks like he could burst into tears at any moment. I don't want to push him, but I need to understand the situation. "How many people came to the park?"
The kid shrugs. "Too many to count. Hundreds of them. Maybe a few thousand. The man said on the news... you know, we just thought it'd all be OK if we came down. He said it'd be safe for us here." He turns away from me, embarrassed, and wipes a tear from his cheek. "And now all I can think is how safe can we be if kids like me are in charge of building the roadblocks, you know? The situation's gotta be pretty desperate, right?"
I drop my cigarette and crush it beneath my boot. "Well, you look to be doing a damned good job to me, Karl. I'm sure you'll make a fine officer. Your dad will be proud." I feel dumb saying those words. I don't have a clue if he's doing a good job, but he seems to straighten his back a little at the compliment. He rubs his moist eyes and smiles awkwardly.
"Thanks," he mumbles, embarrassed. He stands and points to the car. "OK, we better get this thing moved. You think he's had enough time?"
I nod. "Yeah, that should be enough. Thanks, Karl."
I walk to the driver's door of the car and tap on the window. Arnold's head is still resting against the steering wheel, but he seems to have stopped crying.
No response. I tap again, but still he doesn't move. I pull open the door.
"Come on, Arnold. It's time." I place my hand on his shoulder, but I can tell right away that something isn't quite
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