The Shattered City Hannah N Hurry up, Heather! I snatched my schoolbag on the way out the door to see Ian waving impatiently from the yard. Little brothers. Be careful, my mother chided, ushering me out the door like she does everyday. I try to remember what her face had looked like. The December air fogged my breath, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. I chased Ian the way to school, like I always do---past the rows of shops and offices and businessmen. We arrived just as the bell rung. We were in the middle of English when Austin, one of the older students bursted into the classroom. Mr. Gould, it s classtime, Miss Steward frowned at him as we stifled our laughs. They crashed, Miss Steward---the two boats, He shouted excitedly. You have to see it, come on! Everyone s down at the harbour. She opened her mouth and closed it again, shaking her head with a smile. I suppose we could always finish this another day. The class piled outside eagerly, following Austin. I lingered behind. Though Halifax was by the sea, I was never was a sea person. My brother, however, would go out to the harbour, watching the ships come and go for hours as they carried supplies for the war.
The harbour was already crowded, and I tip-toed for a better view. I could make out the outlines of two ships blocking eachother. I held my breath, waiting. One of them pulled away, and the crowd watched in awe as a cascade of sparks flew between them. Smoke billowed out from one of the ships, and I knew something was wrong. Mont-Blanc, Ian said suddenly. It s an ammunition boat. Ammunition? I bit my lip. Will it explode? I don t think so, He watched with a fascinated expression on his face. Columns of fire engulfed Mont-Blanc as it burned furiously in a cloud of thick black smoke. A cluster of lifeboats rowed to shore as the ship steered
closer as more onlookers gathered. Mont-Blanc pushed slowly out of sight, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. Ian and a couple others ran through the streets to get a good look at it. Undistinguishable shouts came from the lifeboats, paddling to land. Sailors got out, pushing through the crowd and shouting something. They were French, but the urgency in their tone worried me. Get out! Get out---it s not safe! I scream at the murmuring spectators, but my voice drowns in the frenzy surrounding me. I pushed through the crowd in the direction Ian went, my lungs burning from the smoke building up. There was a moment where everything stood still, as firetrucks raced past me and fire bells blared through the bursting flames, explosions and smoke. Ian! I stumbled back. A deafening roar sounded, and then there was just darkness as smoke filled the air. And then? And then I ran.
I awake to the sound of a woman crying. My neck aches as I turn to see Mrs. Mercer, weeping over the lifeless form she held to her chest. My stomach tightened when I realized it was Jamie---the lively four-year-old I babysat. I crawl out from underneath remains of what used to be a wooden porch, sinking in the middle and quite battered. I know this street well---it was the route my friends and I took the way home, and I remember the candy shop that stood just by the corner. It is almost completely demolished now, as a couple of men batted at the flames that scorched at the shop s walls. The streets are cluttered with debris, and people--- crying for help, huddling in fear. The Germans are here. The Germans are here. They say, their eyes wide. It was a stupid ammunition ship, I want to yell at them, hit something. But I didn t have the voice or heart to yell anymore. I feel hollow. My home is gone.
I look out at the smoke clouding the sky. Though I ve only had minor injuries, the firemen insisted that I check in with a hospital anyways. Nice of them. The hospital, or what was left of it, was a mess when I walked in, doctors hurrying everywhere, the survivors piling in. I stayed, volunteering to help. We ve seen too much death the past few days, me and the other lucky ones. Cuts, scrapes, gruesome burns and fractures. A boy had come with his head stuck in a broken bed headboard. It would almost have been funny, if not for his father s worried expression. A nurse walks past me, a baby wailing in her arms, its family long gone. We weren t prepared for this, and we soon ran out of cots. I feel sick as I walk away from the hospital. Halifax looks like a battleground, a ghost town. The houses were reduced to rubble, entire walls torn of and windows shattered. I kick an abandoned doll to the side of the road, tattered and worn, its handsewn mouth smiling up at me. They re all dead. I don t bother to check---there are no miracles. Mother, Father, Ian---Ian. They say the explosion caused a huge tsunami off the shore, washing a bunch of people away into the water. No doubt my brother was one of them. All dead. Yet I was left untouched. They say that Dartmouth, from across the harbour, is a disaster zone, too, but we don t tell the patients. We cannot afford to lose hope, too. We were told to evacuate the building last night, a precaution in case of second explosion. It was horrible, all the wounded, shivering and trying to keep moving. It is 5:45 when I arrive back at the hospital. More survivors have been found, and are settling down in the lobby. I turn, sickened by the sight of blood. A little girl joins me as I sit by the hospital entrance. Last time I saw her she was buried up to her chest in debris, a bloody gash across her forehead. What s your name? She hugs her knees tightly. Heather. Daisy. She paused. Have you seen my mommy? Her voice was barely a
whisper. I don t know, I sighed. They re gone---all gone. I peer back into the building at the people who are left. But instead of the death I saw earlier, I see a spark of something I hadn t noticed before. A brother and sister in a bittersweet reunion, a group of tired-looking men sharing a laugh together, women singing lullabies to children who aren t their own. Strangers helping strangers everywhere, giving eachother comfort, lifting eachother up. The disaster had brought out a hidden strength and beauty inside us. I watch as Daisy plucked absentmindedly at a dandelion, peeking out boldly from the ashes. The smoke s somewhat subsided, revealing the golden rays of sunset, giving us hope. The explosion was fierce. But it will not be our downfall. We ll fix it, won t we? Daisy stared at me with her blue-grey eyes. I smile for what seems to be the first time in a long time, nodding. We ll rebuild Halifax. All of us, together.