Christmas in Jamaica (A War Story)

Christmas in Jamaica(A War Story)

The sound of the loud mortar blasts made Jillian's eyes alert for the past 16 hours since the hell broke loose.

She finished all her tears after she lost contact with all of her friends whom she landed with on the used-to-be beautiful beach resort in Negril, The Cliff Resort in Jamaica.

December 22, 2021, she and five of her friends decided to spend the holidays in Negril, Jamaica. They're all famous vloggers from a platform and they have all been friends since they were all kids. Most of their content is solely about places and foods.

They've all decided to choose Jamaica as their next tourist destination since they liked summer countries and the lovely view of coconut and palm trees around.

The winter in Philadelphia sickens her. Despite her mom's cry not to join the project, Jillian still insisted on going with her friends.

She was hiding inside an abandoned utility room inside a mall. All she remembered was that she was tasked to buy a bunch of food stocks for the hotel while they prepared the materials and the lines for the filming.

By the time she was paying for the items, screams and running people startled her. The people around her started to panic and run for their lives. She immediately hid inside the utility room where she found it the safest option to go to.

Luckily, she brought the items with her so she couldn't have a single problem with food.

After about 6 hours of hiding, she tried to contact her friends from her cellular phone but she couldn't get a good signal. She wasn't sure if it was because of her location or if the network for roaming was unavailable.

She couldn't move and didn't even dare to open the door in front of her since she could still hear agonizing cries outside followed by a series of gunshots. It made her whimper in silence. Imagine people dying around her yet she's still unmoving and alive, she couldn't stand to be overwhelmed by the situation.

Her whole body was covered in her own sweat. Her dri-fit body-hugging shirt and her cycling shorts felt wet and icky because of it. For those passing hours that she waited, she thought of possible things that might get her into trouble.

She made sure her phone was switched to silent mode, the battery was still full, the items she securely brought with her during the panic-hiding, and her sports bag was lucky with her after claiming it at the baggage counter section of the market.

She opened her bag and found her scissors there. She started to cut the crispy-sounding plastic bag to flatten it on the floor. She arranged the items neatly on a metal rack. She also found some duct tape and started to carefully attach it to the corners and sides of the utility door just to lessen the sound that came from the inside.

The 16th hour came and the mortar blasts started to triple her worries. She kept on cursing under her breath while holding the tip of her glossy blonde hair. Her chest rate started to rise, and her breathing shortened while her eyes forcibly shut due to the tension.

Her worries came as a frenzy and into the form of questions: Are her friends still alive? Were they able to secure themselves from the attacks of an unknown group creating a big mess in Negril? Do her parents know what's happening in Jamaica? Does it show on TV?

All those things made her worry too much. She couldn't bring herself to sleep because of the fear that the mortar might target her location. She couldn't tell if the mall was gravely damaged or had caught on fire for the past 16 hours. She doesn't have the courage to open the utility door.

The lights inside were still functioning. She assumed that the mall's power system was still in good shape. She looked at the time on her phone and saw that it was 5 P.M. People might see the light coming from the room.

She immediately looked at the corners of the ceiling and found no CCTV cameras around. Lucky her.

She looked back at the items she bought earlier from the market and saw that they included two pairs of glowsticks. They're one of the few vlogging materials they need for their project but unfortunately, bad things happened.

She heard loud voices outside. She can say that the distance of the voices from her location is farther. The people might be at the mouth of the hallway.

It was her best time to push the switch into an off-light mode and keep her distance away from the door. She was still holding her phone and the glow sticks. She hadn't opened her phone's light. She only could see a faint light coming from the outside.

Her heartbeats raised tremendously as she heard loud footsteps from heavily armed men. She couldn't tell if they were a part of the Jamaican soldiers or part of the rioters or local terrorists. She had no idea about what had happened to Negril. She's unable to search for anything about the situation with the poor signal. She had no idea what was happening.

A few moments later, the loud footsteps stopped in front of the door. That was when she almost forgot to breathe.

She heard them talking to each other in a different language she couldn't apprehend. Maybe, Jamaican, perhaps? She couldn't tell. She had never thought of studying the language. She's assigned to search for the location and the possible easy routes for their supposedly "happy" vlogging journey, so she's a bit confident about her location.

She could tell that she was on the ground floor, left-wing of the Negril Mall where no unauthorized persons were coming into this place except for utility persons. She can still smell the scent of highly concentrated cleaning agents inside the room and the rotten smell of the rags.

One of the guys shouted at the door and kept on banging it. With that, it made her jump a little. She suppressed her cries using her hands on her lips.

She prayed, God, please don't let them in!

A few bangs were made before someone new came in and shouted at the guys. They exchanged a few unknown conversations, which Jillian couldn't bring to understand before they walked away from the door.

She waited for more. She had to make sure she was not caught or she'll be dead for good. Although she has brought her complete documents for her identity in case someone in Negril asks to verify her citizenship. She's obviously not a Jamaican since her Caucasian skin tells it so.

When she felt that no one was there, she decided to open her phone.

It's already 6:35 P.M. and still, no network for roaming.

She decided to open her gallery and scanned her screenshot photos of the places in Negril. She swiped and swiped until she found a good catch.

She located the next place she might possibly hide in case the mall fell devastatingly with blasts of bombs and fire. She shouldn't be confident about safety in the utility room forever. She needs to get out of there and contact her country or perhaps the US Embassy for help.

Four hours had passed and still, she hadn't eaten any. She felt her gut ache, but she couldn't bring herself to eat knowing that her friends were out there and she didn't know if they were still alive or not.

She spent the entire night lying on the cold floor of the utility room, counting imaginary sheep.

After a few moments, she decided to turn on her cellular phone's light. She looked at the date and saw that it was already past 12 A.M. Christmas Day, December 25.

She smiled bitterly and held back her tears. She couldn't believe she was celebrating this holiday alone. She's not even sure if she's still celebrating or just thinking about surviving the night and getting back home safely. She's not even sure if she's gonna end up going back to Philadelphia. Her parents must be so worried sick about her.

Jillian didn't realize that she was already crying. She immediately covered her mouth while continuing her mourning. She wanted to shout but she couldn't.

Her trail of thoughts suddenly stopped when another knock on the door was made. It was almost as faint as a mild thud on a floor and was almost unnoticeable. She covered her mouth again and got on her feet. She took a step back again and waited for the person outside to speak.

Another knock came. It was more audible than the first one. Then, she heard a whisper.

"Anybody here? Please help!" A voice hissed, breathing against the other side of the door.

Jillian's heartbeat raised again. She gulped a lump in her throat and slowly paced towards the door.

"Please help! Open!" The voice hissed again. She couldn't tell if the voice was from a female or a male but the accent was indeed a hundred percent local American, that's for sure.

Jillian slowly and gently touched her ear to the surface of the door. She refrained from breathing too heavily and listened to the vibrations coming from the other side.

"Please, if you understand what I'm saying, scratch the door once," the voice instructed her, still whispering.

Jillian closed her eyes intently and motioned her hand to touch the door. After some internal arguments with herself, she decided to touch the door and let her finger scratch the door once.

She had heard the voice letting out a quick breath as if this person smiled in response to her scratch. The person outside must be happy.

"Scratch once if your answer is yes. If no, never answer. Deal?" The voice whispered again.

She replied with a mild scratch on the door.

"Okay. Are you an American?"

She scratched once.

"You have a phone with you?"

Scratch.

"Does this door creak if we open it now?"

She didn't answer.

"Okay. I have a situation here. I think I killed two local rebels on my way here. I think they're searching for me. Could you please help me? I seriously don't know a place in this God-forsaken land. Please?" The voice asked again.

Jillian let out a sigh. She's having second thoughts about whether to scratch or not.

She let her hand hang in mid-air. Will she respond? What if it's a trap?

She could hear the frustrated sigh of someone on the other side.

"Okay. I understand. I'll just probably get--"

Jillian didn't let the stranger finish his sentence and scratched the door again.

She heard the stranger's loud breathing as if he was laughing. "Thank you!" the voice hissed.

Jillian slowly removed the duct tape surrounding the door and slowly opened the door. Without further ado, as she saw the figure in front of her, she immediately grabbed the stranger by the arm and pulled him inside. She gently locked the door and placed duct tape on the edges of the door again. This time, she made sure it was thick enough to prevent the lights from coming out of the room.

Jillian sighed in relief. She almost had a heart attack from doing such suspenseful moves.

She could also hear the stranger's panting echoing in the room. "Is it safe to talk now?" the voice asked, still whispering. This time, Jillian could hear the tone of the stranger's voice. It belonged to a male, but she's still not sure about that. The voice was a bit monotonous and low. Jillian had few girlfriends with a low monotonous voice like the stranger. Besides, no light was able to track any figure in her sight.

She couldn't see a thing since she hadn't opened the switch yet. She memorized the placement of the things inside the utility room, so she could easily locate them in case.

She took a little step to her left and reached her hand on the surface of the wall. She felt the wall until she touched the switch. But instead of touching the pointy edge of it, she felt a soft thing on her palm and fingers. She heard a faint tick and the light inside the room suddenly lit up.

She was caught off-guard and winced at the brightness of her surroundings. She looked up again and widened her eyes at how the man came to her face to face, an inch away from her. Her eyes were in shock as soon as she saw the black-haired guy staring back at her in confusion, wide eyes looking at her, too.

Jillian blinked twice before she decided to lower her gaze.

The guy is somewhat familiar to her. She just didn't know where she had seen him. Her heart is telling her how significantly his presence has a big impact on her life that she couldn't understand.

"Sorry. I thought you couldn't find the switch," the guy said in his lower voice. He has one pair of gray eyes and an angled face. His hair is black and has a bit of a beard growing on his chin. He wore a gray shirt and khaki pants. From Jillian's perspective, his age is in his early thirties.

Jillian cleared her throat. The guy didn't get her gesture at first but eventually did as he removed his hand from hers and the switch. He flinched and sat on the ground beside the three-story steel rack.

Jillian walked towards him and sat in front of the guy. "Where are you from and why did you come here to Negril?" she asked.

"I'm a mountaineer. I was on my way to the cliff but I decided to buy some stuff before I left. Suddenly...this thing happened," he said.

She nodded in response. "What's the situation in the mall? Do we have much time to hide or not?"

He grimaced and shook his head. "There's a fire upstairs, 3rd floor. Pile of Jamaican corpses in the central lobby and two guards are down at the mouth of the alleyway."

Jillian shifted her weight to her right and reached out for her bag. She unzipped it and dug a paper from it. She placed it on the floor and showed it to the guy. It's the floor map of the Negril Mall. She brought a pen and pointed it to a box that's labeled 'utility room 4'.

"Here's where we at. Which side is safer to go?"

"I came from the left side, and it's completely dangerous if we go there. There are a lot of rebels."

Jillian shook her head and pointed at the paper again. "The right side is a dead end after three rooms we pass. But I can see a stock room next to us. There's a door inside that will lead us to the parking basement. I just don't know if there's no one there."

"Do you have something sharp or a gun perhaps?" he asked her.

"Just food."

The guy nodded. "Okay. Imma take two guns from the killed rebel guards at the left. And on my signal, you should come out and pack up your things. Understand?"

Jillian bit her lip and nodded afterward.

The two silently prepared for their plan. Jillian packed all her things into her bag. She also included other important things they might need.

The guy peeked at the door and saw that the coast was clear. He looked back to Jillian and motioned his hand telling her to keep an eye on the door. She obliged.

The guy slowly came out of the room and searched for the guns from the two lifeless Jamaican rebels lying down on the cold floor. He suddenly stopped when he heard a footstep incoming. He slowly flinched. As soon as he saw the rebel's face he abruptly ran back to the front of the utility room.

The rebel ran after him.

The guy shouted, "Now!" and Jillian opened the door harshly.

The door's violent swing hit the rebel.

"Run!" the guy shouted at Jillian.

They both ran fast to the next door where the stock room was located. They hurriedly opened the door and closed it. They were both panting.

Jillian immediately looked for the other door inside the room. She roamed around and found it at the end of the room. She immediately called the guy.

"Here's the thing. We don't know if the other side is safe." Jillian started.

"Where's it lead us?"

"Parking basement," she answered. She inspected the room again and saw nothing unusual. It was like it was left unattended the whole time the riot arose. She looked back at the guy. "We need to open this. There's not enough time..."

The guy nodded and gently turned the doorknob to open the door. It creaked a little but it was managed.

When the area was clear of rebels, they both advanced to a new location.

They saw the parking lot was a mess. A few cars have been destroyed by gunshots and blasts from grenades. Few were on fire. Jillian jumped and muttered her cry as soon as they heard another blast inside the parking basement.

They ran and hid when they saw a group of rebels heading in their direction.

The rebels brought big guns that Jillian couldn't bring to know the names or classifications. Some are holding grenades, throwing and laughing at the empty cars.

Jillian and the guy waited for them to walk past their location. When they finally were a few yards away from them, Jillian sighed in relief.

Suddenly, shouts came echoing in the place. The rebels who passed them suddenly have been hit by multiple gunshots. It was followed by blasts again.

There she saw troops beginning to scatter around the building. Blacks and American troops.

Jillian and the guy smiled in relief as they saw everything. The troops are winning. She could almost hear the loud Christmas songs playing through the speakers around the parking base. She almost cried.

It was when suddenly, the guy beside him shouted in pain.

Jillian immediately looked at him in shock. The guy was hit on his stomach. She immediately helped him to hide on the other side.

"Shit! Don't say a word. You'll be okay. You'll be okay," she assured him. Her eyes started to flood with tears. She's too overwhelmed by the series of events happening.

The guy lay on the ground while preventing himself from shouting in pain. His wound started to gush more blood.

Jillian immediately looked for cloth in her bag and helped it lessen the bleeding. "It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay."

The man laughed miserably. "I'm happy if I die, you know. I'm happy," he said.

"Don't say that! You're not gonna die."

The guy pulled something out of his side pocket in his khaki shorts and gave it to Jillian. "Please tell my parents that I love them."

Jillian reluctantly accepted the guy's wallet. She opened it and saw the pictures of his family. And she was taken aback when she suddenly saw her own picture there as well. She looked back at him searching for an answer.

The guy smiled. "I'm sorry, Jillian. I'm sorry if I had to bump into you at this moment. At least I've seen you in just a brief time. I'm happy."

"W-who are you?" Jillian asked while trembling. She couldn't believe that this guy she just met in a war zone was someone who knew her.

The guy smiled. "I know your memory hasn't returned yet. But in case it's back, please don't cry too much."

Suddenly, Jillian's chest became heavy and aching in pain.

"I'm your husband..."

Jillian couldn't stop crying in front of the mirror. It was almost a year since the war in Jamaica made an indelible mark on her soul. The old pain was too late to come but it still made her cry even on this Christmas day when she could celebrate it again with her family.

A Series of old memories came rushing into her mind, especially the image of her beloved Drew, her husband. She couldn't believe that she had yet to mourn his sudden death in Jamaica.

She found out that her parents pretended she was okay and that they hid from her about her accident six years ago that brought her into amnesia. She forgot everything about her husband, even how they met.

She also found out that Drew came to Jamaica to find and take care of her while she was away from her family.

And because of her gut to continue the project in Jamaica, she instantly lost her husband before she could have her memories back.