Die a Hero or Perish a Coward.

The teddy bear’s face is what caught my eye, the corrupt smile illuminating the night. I loose sight of the little girl who clutches the teddy in one hand and the other in her mouth is lost, swallowed in the destruction and chaos of the street.
Could it be that innocence was dead?

The crash was a ear piercing sound the shattering of glass, the scratching of metal, the screams, I heard that before the great flames arose from Hell enveloping the Empire State Building. I turned to see the horrifying site, it was just a dream. A dream.

I have read in Scientist Today that Hollywood’s movies plants conspiracies in our head, and in the dormant spaces of our mind we form thoughts that may be expressed through dreams. All of New York City is fine, I am fine, but I probably shouldn’t be drinking anymore before bed. Maybe it was the new sleeping medicine I took, whatever it is, I turn my head back to the burning Hell, it wasn’t this.

I push back into the crowd of people rushing away from the light and the heat, where we are headed I do not know. Dreams can lead anywhere. I look down at my suit and tie; filthy. Those will need to be dry cleaned before Monday. The lights flickered in the buildings around us. Flicker once, twice, the third time the lights blackened, for a very brief second the only light in the whole city was the burning Empire State Building. The generators kicked on with a roar and a few stores had light once more.

I travel alone but most people were in groups; in families. The mothers hold the
children tightly against their breasts. The fathers, the men, carry various types of weapons, some with rifles, with shot guns and sons carry baseball bats, and others trail at the heel of father. The dirt reflects on the face of a young mother, her eyes filled with wild fear.

“What is going on?” I hear my own voice crackling with fear, but why, this dream, it isn’t real. She shakes and hold her little boy close to her,

“It’s only a matter of time before they take Manhattan.”I could barely hear her whisper.

“Who are they?”I spit at the last word. She doesn’t answer and hurries off into the crowd. I stand my ground and people continue to move flowing around me like a stone in a river.

Doubt clouds her words, there is no man, no, there is no army could invade New York not again. Quite, there was no real fear at all, imagination. Nodding to myself placing my hands in my pockets I strolled down 53rd whistling. I had a number of things to do tomorrow, if I could get home and get the bills mailed out, drop off dry cleaning, call my mother back.

Pulling out my Blackberry I look for the time, but there was no time, there was no internet, no text messaging, no service. I shook the phone, nothing, walk around holding the phone in the area, and still no service.

Maybe this is a philosophical dream, one that holds an in-depth meaning. I must inhabit some fear in my subconscious. I assure myself, suppressing the screams and the cries of children.

As I walk into Times Square and the sinking feeling, dread skitters through my veins. Normally Times Square is full of life and lights, and here there is nothing, an empty abyss. The only forms of life in the darkness police patrolling the area, TV crews and empty taxis with the headlights left on illuminating the street towards the Manhattan bridge. The low sounds of ambulances and police grunts rare carried in the small breeze.

“Sir, please evacuate to the bridge,” A young officer informed me, lifting his finger to the lightened path.

“No, there is no need, there is no danger here.”I shrug. “You see you aren’t real, you’re a person my mind created.” What does it matter if I speak to a uniformed officer like this? The young face turned very stern.

“Sir, there has been another terrorist attack, it is in your best interest to proceed to a safe zone.”

“A terrorist attack? Right, well it is about time we end this war with those sons-of-a-bitches once and for all.”I straightened my tie turning back around to the path. “But you would think they would try something more original, not this nine-eleven junk again.”

The officer muttered something inaudible to my ears.

The path to the bridge is filled with trash just like every other New York, but soon the trash was shadowed by the feet of people. In the great line to the bridge I stood up against a wall listening to pieces of people’s conversations. The bakery next to me was filled with people buying coffee and doughnuts without a care in the world. Two police officers walked out holding a coffee and muffin in their hands, speaking in low whispers.

“The air force can’t hold them back? Are you sure?”

“That is what was heard on the chief’s radio, the planes are headed right to Manhattan.”

“We need to evacuate quickly. How much time?” The second officer hesitated for a moment.

“Less than an hour. It’s going to be man-slaughter.”
He stopped and took a bite of his muffin. Sixty minutes before all these innocent Americans, these innocent people would die. Impossible. The bricks felt cold underneath my shirt. Nothing can happen it’s a dream. Just a dream.

The sounds of machine gun fire echo from the distance, and for that second all of humanity stood silent, frozen. The shots were heard again, and pandemonium erupted through out the crowd of people like a wave crashing upon a shore. The source of light above us begun to flicker, looking up to the Empire State Building the stability was failing.

“It’s gonna fall!” A woman screamed. Men went to cover their wives and children, as others ran into stores, under taxis, ad the great Hell above us all, fell to the Earth. The great tumble of fire was rushing down the streets on New York gaining speed and dust. I stand my ground waiting.

“Sir! Please come inside.” A red headed woman yelled to me from the door. I made no movement. Through the glass the people urged me looking hopefully at the door then back to me.

As I move to the door the seconds seem much more like minutes to me. The silence I could felt my heart beat as I walked to the door. As I enter in the café I notice all the tables are turned over every inch of space was taken by a body. I saw a woman clenching a rosary in her hand praying aloud, her eyes sewed shit by the impulses of terror.

The rush of the black snapped everyone out of the trance. The cold hair hit my skin, sending shivers up my spine. I watched the black splattered on the windows as if someone has thrown black paint against the windows. The fear, how could it seem so real? Eat away at my soul. That is what dreams do a small voice echoed from inside my head. The fear was present in the room as if it was a person hiding from the world like we were now.

Machine gun fire echoed from the sky above. The silence sent the blood thumping to my ears, a sign of waiting. The painful noise of crashing metal sent everyone for cover. In the cover of darkness they had come. The black was not clearing from the windows. Without warning the glass shattered, the reverberating sound of a gun shot stung my ear. I fell into the ground, grasping my arm from the glass, warm blood covering my fingers.
Pain should not be associated with dreams, no pain this strong. I clenched my eyes. The black smog perpetrated the café and three men were standing at the frame of the windows.

They spoke in a strange language to each other. Then the last words I could hear before the sounds of guns shots silenced my ears.

“Dirty Americans.”
I inched across the floor, across the broken glass cutting into my hands. The seconds it takes for me to barely escape the condemned. I could not hear the gun shots but the vibration of the bodies dropping to the floor one by one. I begin to run; the revolting hollow sound of the bodies refuses to leave my memory. Why can I not awake from this horrible nightmare? The roads before me are empty, that was before I heard the reverberation of the bone-crushing boots. They had seen me. I dare not look back, I race towards the bridge, the safety-net.

The sight of the bridge filled me with a light joy just before I saw it was void of human life. The safety planes, boats, whatever the safety zone had been, left. I was too late. No, this dream, there is no “too late”. I will awaken and all shall be as normal, the rush of early morning traffic, and the aroma of coffee floating up to my room on the fourth floor. I turn my head for just a moment, and there they were flying after me, the black demons of the night, armed with modern weapons of the age.

I scamper to the middle of the bridge, they didn’t stop. Frantically I search for a safety-net anything to save me from this terrible fate. I look over the bridge to the dark waters below. I can either die a hero or die a coward. I put my foot on top of the railing. Why should it matter if I die a hero or a coward? Tomorrow it will be just a reminiscence of a nightmare. I put both feet on the railing. I take another glance back at the demons with their armaments raised the warning that death be upon all. The black waters below call my name, perhaps the cold will finally awake me.

I take a deep breath, and allow my feet to leave the comforting surface of the rail. The cold breeze rushes towards my face as I plummet downward. I hit the water and along with it, a crunching sound and the most raw form of pain scattered through out my body, filling my lungs, clouding my head and then nothing. I awaited the dawn but there was nothing but the unbroken darkness.