Gone (Gone 1)

Mary had said the words “Don’t worry, it’s going to be all right” a million times. She had hugged every kid again and again, so that it seemed like she was on a factory assembly line handing out hugs.

Still, the kids cried for their mothers. Still, they asked, “When is my mommy coming? Why isn’t she here? Where is she?” They demanded in petulant, scared voices, “I want my mom. I want to go home. Now.”

Mary was shaking with exhaustion.

She fell into the rocking chair and just stared at the room. Cribs. Mats on the floor. Tiny bodies curled this way and that. Most asleep. Except for the two-year-old girl who would not stop crying. And the baby who wandered in and out of wailing fits.

Her brother, John, was fighting sleep, his curls bouncing as he jerked his head up only to have it drift lower…lower. He was slumped in a chair across the room, rocking a makeshift bassinet that was really just a long plastic planter liberated from the hardware store. She caught his eye and said, “I am so proud of you, John.”

He smiled his sweet smile, and Mary almost fell apart. Her lip quivered. Tears welled in her eyes. There was a lump in her throat and a pain in her chest.

“I have to go pee,” a voice called.

Mary located the source. “Come on, Cassie, let’s go,” she said. The bathroom was just outside the main room. She led the way, then she waited, leaning against the wall. Afterward, she wiped the little girl’s bottom.

“My mommy always does that,” Cassie said.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“My mommy always calls me that.”

“Sweetheart? Oh. Would you like me to call you something else?”

“No. But I just want to know when my mommy is coming. I miss her. I always hug her and she kisses me.”

“I know. But until she comes back, can I give you a kiss?”

“No. Only my mommy.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed.”

Back in the main room Mary went to John. “Hey, brother.” She ruffled his red curls. “We’re running out of stuff. We’ll have a problem in the morning. I have to go see what I can round up. Can you hang in here for a while?”

“Yeah. I can wipe butts.”

Mary went out into the night onto the mostly quiet plaza. Some kids were sleeping on benches. Some huddled in little groups around flashlights. She spotted Howard walking along with a Mountain Dew in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

“Have you seen Sam?” Mary asked.

“What do you want with Sam?”

“I can’t take care of all those littles with just John to help me.”

Howard shrugged. “Who asked you to?”

That was too much. Mary was tall and strong. Howard, though a boy, was smaller. Mary took two steps toward him, pushing her face right into his. “Listen, you little worm. If I don’t take care of those kids, they’ll die. Do you understand that? There are babies in there who need to be fed and need to be changed, and I seem to be the only one who realizes it. And there are probably more little kids still in their homes, all alone, not knowing what’s happening, not knowing how to feed themselves, scared to death.”

Howard took a step back, tentatively lifted the bat, then let it fall. “What am I supposed to do?” he whined.

“You? Nothing. Where’s Sam?”

/> “He took off.”

“What do you mean, he took off?”

“I mean him and Quinn and Astrid took off.”

Mary blinked, feeling stupid and slow. “Who’s in charge?”