I remember hearing about the war in bosnia back in, oh, about 1992 I guess it was. it wasn’t that they taught it in school or that I was particularly new savvy, the reason it caught my attention was that I was daring a Croatian boy at the time and I fancied myself in love with him.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I had paid more attention back then.
The thing that got me interested in the subject this was was the news of Karadzic’s recent capture. I was so excited to hear that they caught a war criminal who had succeeded in hiding out for over 13 years and I had to learn more about him and what he was accused of doing. I didn’t realize it would change my life.
Turns out that this was one of those subjects that I lost myself in. Obsessive on a good day, I buried myself in stories from the Bosnian war, the players involved and even the politics surrounding it. It was shocking to me that I didn’t hear more about these stories back in the day, the horror was so huge and so real, I still find it amazing that it’s not more well known. How is it that Radovan Karadzic, Ratko Mladic and Naser Oric didn’t become a household name?
The very first thing I looked up was Srebrenica and the massacre that took place there in July of 1995. It was shocking, not surprising per se, I have read a LOT of stories of the evils we can perpetrate against each other, but even with all of that ugly knowledge this managed to all me in brand new ways.
Of course most, if not all of the things I learned that first day centered around the slaughter of Bosniaks at the hands of the brutal and blood thirsty Serbs, or as they call them, Chetniks.
The pictures that accompanied the various articles were enough to make the bile rise up in my throat and again, keep in mind I have seen violence, I have watched videos of innocent captives beheaded by Al Qaeda, but still these images were sickening.
(I feel I need to interject something in my defence here. The reason I watched the terrorist videos was because I figured that if others can experience these painful, horrific events the least I can do is watch them and try to understand as much as possible the hand they were dealt.)
As soon as I began reading up on the plight of the Bosniaks in Srebrenica, I knew I had to write about it. I didn’t want to write a non-fiction book, that has been done to death, no, I wanted to educate people who wouldn’t even deign to open the flap of a non-fiction book. Making the decision to make it a fictional account of these true events was an easy one for me, actually narrowing down the plot was not going to be so easy.
The first incarnation I came up with was born from the stories of the “column.” Reading the stories of survivors brought tears to my eyes and more than one lump to my throat. I couldn’t wrap my head around the cruelty of the Serbs, how they would trick the men into calling to their families hiding in the hills. They convinced them that if they called their sons and fathers, wives and daughters down, and they surrendered they would make sure no harm came to them. Unfortunately, this was an empty promise that they never intended to honor.
As soon as the families showed their faces they were all whisked away to be tortured and executed.
Two Minutes Twenty Seven Seconds
(rough first draft)
Mirella Juarez didn’t particularly like rain. She never bought into the whole washing things clean concept. All she ever saw once it passed was the mud and how could anyone call that clean?
It was particularly rainy and cold tonight, even for mid September. The wind was strong and carries a scent, a taste that she didn’t recall ever noticing before. She kept thinking about getting home to her babies and how before she went to work she tucked them in their warm cozy beds and left with a kiss on the forehead. She would love to be snuggled into her own bed too for that matter.
Working the night shift was hard. You wouldn’t think that a big warehouse chain would close their doors so late in the night only to open them again so early in the morning. She had always thought it was strange that people do their shopping in the middle of the night, but it paid the bills and her coworkers had become like family over the last 10 years.
The best part of working graveyard was that she got to spend more time with her family each day. By the time the kids came home from school she had slept and always felt ready to make dinner and play with them. Mirella went to work when her boy, her girl and her husband went to sleep so for them, she was always there when they were awake. It was pretty great and while she was generally the last to complain about, well, about anything, tonight she wished she could have gone home earlier.
On the other side of town Riki Ray was thinking pretty much the same thing. It had been a hellish night for emergencies. She just thanked her lucky stars she was only a 911 operator, not a medic. At least she got to stay in where it was warm warm and dry.
Did Riki love her job? Not hardly, but she was good at it. She had a knack for getting people to tell her what she needed to know and she was particularly good at keeping people calm on what was often the worst day of their life. Maybe it was the warm timbre of her voice, or her unflappability. She didn’t know but while it was a depressing job, she felt good about being able to help people as much as she could.
The weather was picking up as each hour passed. The wet slapping of what looked to her like giant water balls falling from the sky and splashing their guts all over the ground was making her nervous. They were beginning to get reports of cars washed off roads, small creeks turned into raging rivers. If it didn’t stop raining soon the whole town might wash away.
For once she was almost glad she didn’t have anyone at home waiting for her. She was having a tough enough time worrying about the callers, never mind having a family to worry about.
Mirella Juarez liked her boss, he was a good, fair man, but he wasn’t going to let anyone leave early, not when there was so much work left to be done. They had inventories to take, stocking of shelves to complete before they opened again.
Finally 4.30am came around and she could punch out. As Mirella stepped out from under the canopy of the sign she was instantly hit in the face with the pelting rain, could it even be called that? It was powerful and vicious with the wind at it’s back she felt like if one of those drops got her in the eye she might lose it. She couldn’t remember being out in anything like this before and though it was a little scary, she didn’t live far away and she knew she would be home in just a few minutes. She would then change, crawl into bed and cuddle up to her husbands back and let his warmth soak into her own cold bones.
Riki Ray hung up the phone after her latest call and her friend Shelly rolled over to her. Hey, have you looked out the windows lately? You know that image of that giant gray cloud with puffed up cheeks blowing wind? The one you saw probably in, like, ten thousand children’s books? That is what it’s like out there. Jesus, I get off soon, I might stay here, the roads are terrible. Yeah Shelly I know, I’ve been taking call too you know.
It’s a good thing this is all now rather than the middle of the day. The phones are going crazy! Can you image if it was in the middle of rush hour? It’d be mayhem, how many people do you think will blame the weather for missing work tomorrow. I would if I thought I could get away with it.
Ha, I guess sleeping with the boss has its down side too, eh Shelly? Shut up, Riki. I was just kidding, I know, I forgive you.
These were the very same streets that Mirella Juarez had driven both to and from work for years, but it may as well be a different planet, everything looked different. Each neighborhood she passed looked wilted and lifeless under the unforgiving rain and wind. Like spinach that had been left out of the crisper too long. Thinking of food, thank goodness I’m almost home she thought, it had been hours since she ate anything. She was tired and couldn’t decide if she wanted to put in the effort it took to make a sandwich, maybe she’d just eat and apple or a banana.
Something changed, air pressure, sound, something. Before she had time to process or get a look at what was going on outside she felt her control of the car spin away and out of her control. She was picked up like a toy car left in the sand when the tide came in.
The brakes didn’t work, water was hitting the vehicle on all sides, sounding like it was trying to tear it apart with invisible hands. This was what white water rafting must be like but without the safety vest. Or an experienced guide for that matter.
The water rushed her through the streets she had known for over 10 years and it took her sailing past nice Mr Cundersten’s blue house and she may as well have been on a waterslide, Mirella Juarez could no nowhere but where the water took her.
Then there was nothing to see, like when driving through a car wash. Moving water was everywhere, in her face, her ears, she felt lost and suddenly cold, it was only then that she realized that the van was no longer running. Before she could finish the thought, she suddenly she came to a complete stop. She thought she might be back behind the elementary school, the one her son attended, but she couldn’t be sure.
If she hadn’t had her seatbelt on she would have been nothing but a scrambled mess of huevos rancheros. With all the whirling and rushing she was not entirely sure where she was and what little she could see out the window was nothing of any help. The van seemed to have gotten wedged into some trees. She didn’t know how far she was off the ground, all she knew was that the vehicle wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, she was stuck and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Her denim handbag had been thrown to the other side of the car. She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached over to grab it. She had to stretch and even then it was just out of reach, she climbed up onto the drivers seat, on her knees she climbed over the middle to get the purse, she needed her phone. As she was stretched over the seats she felt the car shift beneath her. It brought a small cry to her lips and that sound scared her more than anything else. She had never heard anything so desperate never mind make it. Already breath was beginning to catch in her throat as panic clawed at her with sharp talons of fear.
She reached out quick as she could and snatched for the strap of the handbag, she got it. Rummage, rummage, rummage she dug for her phone and like all good women she couldn’t see to find it among the day to day crap that filled her purse to bursting. She felt the car jolt again and decided she didn’t have time for this and dumped everything out into her lap. There it was.
Snapping the cell open Mirella Juarez dialed 911, or tried to. She was shaking so badly that the first time she hit 912, then 811 before finally getting it right. It rang two times and they were the longest rings she’d ever heard. Come on, come on she thought frantically, eyes closed.
She felt the van tip forwards, as though dangling from a cliff over an endless ocean. She scrambled into the back as quickly as she could to try to balance the weight. It was working, for now.
Riki Ray was getting edgy and really wanted to go home. She was off shift in 10 minutes and hopefully this would be the last call she had to take tonight. So many people called about the dumbest things. Things that were not remotely an emergency. One old lady phoned and complained about a leak in her kitchen ceiling and a man called asking if she thought the rain would let up soon, oh and could she please tell him what time it was? She couldn’t wait to take off the headset and go home, even if the weather was crap.
Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?
I am trapped, the water washed me down and back behind some houses, help me plees, I need help.
Can you tell me your name please?
Mirella Juarez, I think I am back behind the school.
The elementary school on Gunderson?
Yes, I think so but I’m not sure. It swept me back behind some houses and I don’t know. There was a beige house. Plees get me help, I really need help.
There’s a yellow house?
Yes, a yellow one.
The wheels are taking me down, there’s so much water, the car is already almost floating.
She spoke so fast and the more upset she got the thicker her accent became. The shriller her words became.
Can you tell me anything else about your location? We have people coming to get you, don’t worry.
It’s going to drown, I’m going to,
We’re not going to let you drown. We will be there for you, I need you to work with me and stay calm. I am going to stay here with you.
Ok, ok. But,
Look out the window, what do you see? Any houses? Cars? I need as much as you can give me, it will make it easier for them to find exactly where you are.
Mirella Juarez was scared in a way she had never experienced in her life, even back when she still lived in Mexico, and she didn’t come from a crime free kind of place. She hated to move much for fear of the shifting van but she craned her neck as much as she could and got a good look out of each of the windows.
No, I don’t see anything. Nothing, just a lot of tree.
Roll down your window, if you can, put the window down and exit the vehicle.
I can’t, my car, I’m in the back. Can I break the window?
Yes, if you can, break the window and exit the vehicle.
My car, my car,
Don’t worry about your car, it doesn’t matter, your life is the only thing that matters. We are going to get you out of there.
But I don’t know what it takes to break it. I can’t, the water, the water, it’s too, too fast, it so fast. My car is turning. Now the wheels is getting up, and I’m going to drown, oh my god oh my god. Oh god. Plees help me quickly.
Voice getting shakier, breath shallower, each ripping at her throat, her mouth dry with fear. Plees help me, plees.
Don’t worry, calm down, we have people there, they are going to get you.
The wheels! The van is turning, the water is so fast. Plees, oh god plees can’t you get them here, I need help, I gonna wash away, plees.
Riki Ray could hear the sobs that Mirella was trying to control and she was in constant communication with the rescuers but they could not find her. It was still dark, the rain was so heavy there was zero visibility. Just being out there they were putting themselves in danger too but Riki was going to help the caller, she had to. She couldn’t lose her, she wouldn’t. Why couldn’t she have gotten off earlier?
Is there a building you could climb on top of?
No, none, maybe one of the houses?
It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe and the steady rush of water against the metal minivan body and glass windows made her feel like she was already drowning, as though she was running out of oxygen.
Please come quick, plees plees help me.
We are right there, I’m here with you, I’m not going to leave you.
The van is turning, oh my god, oh no, it’s going down now, it’s taking me down, it’s gonna drown.
Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me okay? I’m right here. Mirella, listen to me okay?
Oh my god plees help me quickly its taking me down,
Stay on the phone, stay calm I’m going to stay with you.
Plees the door is going, it’s going to drown, the water it’s so fast oh my god…
You are not going to drown, we are right there we are going to save your life I won’t leave you I’ll stay right here, I’m right here.
We are going to save your life. Do you hear me? We are going to be there for you, stay with me okay? Try to grab something up above, a tree anything,
Nothing, there’s nothing,
Okay if you see anything just grab it,
There’s nothing, I can’t get out of the car,
Yes. Oh my god, oh god!
If Mirella Juarez said anything else, there was no one there to hear her. The call was disconnected.
Riki Ray stared her the computer monitor in front of her. She couldn’t see it. Her eyes burned, she couldn’t breathe. There had been a noise in that last second and she wasn’t sure if it came from Mirella or if it was the sound of the water finally getting it’s way. Determined Death. A sound she would hear over and over again for the rest of her life.
Posted at 9.56pm:=== gunna KILL MYSELF TONIGHT FUK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!! THIS AINT NO JOKE
34 mins later#1 sees this message staring back at her from her facebook page. What to feel, so many swirling thoughts but no true dark fear for Girl. #1 is somewhat surprised at her lack of emotion.
36 minutes later on the phone.
#1 guess what I saw when I logged into my facebook page? At the top of the page this crazy suicidal message. There was one earlier in the day from Girl as well, ranting about going out to get her drunk on but good.
maybe she should kill herself.
#2*Gasp* on the other end.
#1: that was terrible wasn’t it? I didn’t mean it.
#2 That almost makes it worse.
#1 well, I did maybe mean it a bit. Can you imagine living with those kinds of feelings day after day? She is never going to get the help she needs, she thinks she is fine even though she turns to drugs and prostitution.
#2 She could end up like one of Robert Pickton’s victims.
#1 reckless and careless, it could happen so easily.
if she died she would not have to suffer any more at least. When dogs are suffering you put them down, it’s the humane thing to do. maybe she should be put down and out of her misery.
41 minutes later off phone.
#1 takes another look at Girls facebook page and reads down further. sees nothing but drunken statements and swearing sadness, if she could drink her tears to get drunk she would never be sober again, she could finally drown and end it all.
what about the No Joke part of what she posted? Doesn’t that statement seem a little like attention whoring to anyone else she wonders. Wouldn’t someone who really did want to die not bother with that? A cry for help, but from who, for who? This isn’t the reality of imminent death she thinks as she sits still blinking at the luminescent glow of her iMac.
46 minutes later#1 still staring at Girls status wondering if she should reply, thinks about putting something on her own status like, sad for family or something along those lines. thinks too tacky, should she say something to the pained one? can I really help? would I just be feeding it, the drama she soaks up like a filthy old used up sponge?
50 minutes later still staring doing nothing. refreshing from time to time to see what comes next. maybe a post from Girl that says, “I’m dead, I told you I’d do it!”
Sickest part is that this fills me with an almost envy. I find the recklessness both repulsive and seductive.
I remember the feeling of caring about nothing in the world but getting what I needed, as complicated and stressful as that was. It was also simple. Life in it’s simplest form: survival and to someone like me, like Girl, it is getting high or drunk.
Real life requires so much more thinking it gets tiresome and sometimes I want to shuck the skin of life and slip into the gleaming satiny sense of nothingness.
When does one feels as whole as when they finally take the hit they have been aching for for hours?
55 minutes later No promises, sometimes not even a need to lie anymore. No more apologies way past that. To crave being able to glide away on a wave of blissful sparkling light to a place of peace and softness for just a little while.
Those hours walking around and around townhouse subdivisions watching others live in the real world while taking it in without ever actually having to touch it. A unique worldview only available to us chosen few.
Air feels like cool velvet, sometimes like a warm caress from a caring mother, the world shrinks and becomes about only you and your demons. Fight fight fight play play play fight play fight fight again and again. Play. End. Stop. Here.
59 minutes later#1 anger. how could she email Girl in a way she won’t know who it is. Like *69 for phones. tell her that this time if she is really going to do it, don’t step in front of a truck like last time, because someone else could get hurt. kill herself responsibly.
maybe it’s simply none of her business. what can she do anyway? at some point we are all responsible for out own choices. to help or not to help. let her die on one hand or try and save her with the other.
60 minutes later mind of #1 made up. do nothing. let her go.
