It was my first day back; to a new school. I walked to the front of my class to mark my name off of a list so that I was checked in. I was getting the vibe that I was in the wrong class. I felt like a foreigner.
I went to the bathroom and found myself staring into a mirror until a loudspeaker came on. The principal demanded that all students and staff report to the courtyard for a face-to-face announcement.
Standing in the courtyard, we were briefed that the country had been invaded by terrorists and we were all going to war. A row of buses waited in the parking lot for us to fill where we would be fitted for equipment along our route to the front lines.
As we were carried down the road to the newly formed battlefield, I couldn’t help but keep thinking about all the people I needed to call. There was a man walking up and down the aisle, passing out equipment. He stopped at my seat and strapped a box around my neck that was inside of a plastic harness. It was beyond uncomfortable and felt awkward to remain so I pulled on the straps. The plastic stretched so far until it could no longer and it snapped. There was a man sitting in a seat across from me, opening his box. It appeared to be an ammo can, but his was empty. I immediately realized that by breaking the straps, I had no way to carry my ammo into the fight. I opened my can and began loading my magazines.
At some point, the bus driver turned around because one of the passengers forgot something. I found a bottle of Rum in the crack of my seat. I opened it up and took a few long sips before sharing it with a woman behind me that appeared to be having a panic attack.
And then I woke up…