It's time to get off the bus." the older lady had said.The sudden fluttering of her heart took Laylah a little by surprise as she quickly got out of her seat and proceeded to retrieve her things from behind the stretch rubber band-like overhead compartment. The impeding moistness of her nervous hands made it just a second difficult to retrieve her bag, but she managed.Laylah took survey of her surroundings as she stepped off the bus. As she inhaled, she was reminded of the time she had taken the bus to Chicago, similar bus-y type smells, yet the breeze seemed a little cleaner. Yes, the air was how it had always seemed to her, for some reason Canadian air just smelled different.The oddly comforting hustle of a bus terminal greeted Laylah as she opened the door. Stepping into the main terminal, she quickly looked around to see if she saw David. She was satisfied when her eyes made connection with the large clock above the ticket counter. The bus had arrived early, and David was not. That night something happened upstairs. I later learned that one of the solders had touched my eleven year old sister in a way he should not have, and my Father took issue with it. There was a lot of scuffling and shouting and the sounds of things breaking, and then a gunshot. My father was not hurt, another soldier had grabbed the man's arm and changed the aim. The soldier was moved to another house and things got quiet again.But we did not know what was happening. My sister and I were sure the Nazis were murdering our family. We knew they would do it just for the sport of it. I know that sounds horrible, but it was almost true.In war, men do terrible things, things they would never do in peacetime.When the scuffling started, my sister rose to her feet, staring at the ceiling as if somehow she could see through it and know everything would be all right. When the gunshot went off she squealed. Loudly.Too loudly. Bill, who was standing beside her, hugged her tight as she trembled in.
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