By Stoney M. Setzer
“We must evacuate!” Ojiichan warned. “Evacuate or die!”
For just a moment, there was no reaction. I trembled, not knowing what to expect. I silently implored them to listen to my grandfather.
Instead, they laughed. Not as if he had told a joke, but as if he was the joke. Worse still, this was not a random group of locals. This was the city council, guffawing at my grandfather as if he was an idiot. The only exception was Kenshin, Ojiichan’s friend—or so I had thought. He wasn’t laughing, but he wasn’t stopping the others, either. Instead, he looked as if he wanted to hide.
One man, Saito, finally caught his breath enough to speak. “You old fool! Don’t tell us that you believe all the leaflets forecasting doom and destruction!”
“It’s more than that!” Ojiichan protested. “For weeks, I have had nightmares about our city being consumed by fire!”
The airdropped warnings had given me nightmares too, but Ojiichan’s started before they fell from the sky. That was why Obaachan and I believed him.
“From delivery-truck driver to doomsday prophet!” another grumbled. “What a transformation!”
Kenshin said nothing.
Ojiichan pleaded. “So many lives in your hands, and you don’t think it’s worth taking seriously?”
“Those leaflets are scare tactics to prey on weak-willed old women who worry about every shift of the wind!” Saito narrowed his eyes to a hateful squint. “Is that what you are?”
Fury burned within me. I wanted to speak up in Ojiichan’s defense, to lash out at those who ridiculed him. He must have sensed it, because his fingers dug into my shoulder. Hard.
“If we don’t take them seriously, then are we not condemning our entire city to death?” As he spoke, I could feel the tremor in his hands. “Our friends, our neighbors—our families? Do you really want that upon your conscience?”
“And what if we cause a panic for absolutely nothing?” Saito countered. “Suppose we take you seriously and evacuate the city, and then nothing comes of it? People don’t take kindly to false alarms, Ishiro. You’ll make laughingstocks out of us all!”
“So, you’re more concerned about your reputation than your people’s lives. Death before dishonor, is that it?”
“You have yet to convince us that life is truly in the balance.”
For what felt like an eternity, Ojiichan said nothing. Finally, he gave my shoulder one last squeeze. “Very well, then. I have warned you, and that is all that I am truly obligated to do. What you do with the warning is at your discretion and on your own souls. As for me and my house, we will flee.”
Saito raised his eyebrows. “You and your house can do whatever you see fit, if you do so quietly. Incite a panic, and I guarantee that you will be behind bars. Then even you yourself will not be able to leave.” A grudging murmur of agreement rumbled from the others, save for the silent Kenshin.
Ojiichan tapped my shoulder. “Come along, Takeshi.” Without another word, we left. Tears welled in my grandfather’s eyes.
***
“They wouldn’t listen,” he told Obaachan as soon as we got home.
Her jaw dropped. “Not even Kenshin?”
“He might have listened one on one. But with the rest of the council there…” He shook his head slowly. Ojiichan recapped the entire meeting, including the threat to arrest him.
“What do we do now?” my grandmother asked, wiping away tears.
“We must still save ourselves… for Takeshi’s sake.”
Quickly we loaded necessities into the back of our delivery truck, as if we were packing for a camping trip. The only difference was that, if Grandfather was right, there would be nothing to return to.
Just as we had finished loading up, a knock sounded at the door. We all froze.
“Ishiro, it’s me, Kenshin. Please, let us in.”
Us. The council? The police? Obaachan shook her head, but Ojiichan walked to the door. Behind it stood Kenshin, his wife, and their two children. He stammered, “Please forgive me—back at the meeting, I—”
“Think nothing of it, Kenshin. You were in a most difficult position indeed. My apologies for putting you in it.”
Kenshin looked at our delivery truck. “You truly believe this, then? That our enemies can—”
“Yes. The nightmare has been the same for almost a week now. I believe that disaster is coming soon, perhaps even tomorrow.”
“And your truck?”
Ojiichan nodded. “Yes. Our supplies are in the back, but we left enough space for us to sleep there if we need shelter at night.”
The other man gulped. “Do you… Is there room for us to join you?”
“Ojiichan, no!” I shouted. “He was silent when the other councilmen made fun of you! Let them…”
My protest died under my grandfather’s stern gaze. Those disapproving eyes pained me more than any rebuke or punishment ever could. His voice was calm but firm. “I went to the council in hopes of saving lives. If we can save their lives, then my humiliation was not in vain.”
I bowed my head and didn’t say another word.
Soon, we were ready. With a little rearranging, we were able to carve out enough space for Kenshin and his family. Ojiichan got behind the wheel with Obaachan at his side, and the rest of us huddled in the back.
The truck cranked with a loud rumble and a puff of smoke, and we drove out into the August evening. I was positioned so that I could look behind us as we left. Everything familiar fell away—the smells of families cooking suppers, the sounds of my peers playing outside, the sunset that I had barely noticed before. I knew I was taking it in for the last time, but I couldn’t imagine what was to come. With a heavy heart, I waved goodbye.
Goodbye to my hometown, to the only home that I had ever known.
Goodbye, Hiroshima.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wow! What a powerful read, Stoney!
Thank you! I’m glad you liked it!
i had chills reading this…
Thank you!
Wow… that ending gave me chills.
Thank you!
I saw where this was going when they mentioned the pamphlets, but it’s still so sad… Very sympathetically written!
That’s what I was going for. Thank you!
Everyone was quiet as the car rumbled out of the city. But the green trees and the bright August sky slowly washed away the gloom. “Where are you taking us, Ishiro?” my family asked, their question colored with hope. “A place where we can start a new life…” I answered, “Nagasaki.”
Oh wow…that would have really been a twist! Thank you!
I’m just goofing off. Your story was already perfect without a twist.
Thanks!
Well-told story! A little element of Noah there, at least to me, which adds even more tragedy.
A worthy comparison!
I can see that comparison, definitely. Thank you!
Very beautiful story, with a lyrical voice and great characters. Yeah, I could see where this was going, too – or — where it might go — thank goodness they got away!
Thank you, I’m glad you liked it!
Fantastic story!
Thank you!
This was very well-written, very moving. Very sad.
Thank you…exactly what I was going for.