I hastily peered over the robust military tank, to get a swift glance  of the  entrance to New York.  After

seeing  the armed team of hefty cops clustered at the posts, I hopped down from the tank, hoping that I wasn't spotted.  

Damn, it's blocked.  

Again.   

Like the other goddamn entrances that I've checked.  

I then leaned towards my right, to peek at the cops again. Each cop was wrapped in a full bulky suit of armor, similar to those soldiers from Halo or Star Wars.  I didn't think I would ever see the military and police force dressed like this, but I guessed wrong.  

The cops wore a silver-coated helmet with reflective eye goggles, heavily padded arm and legs, and of course, carried a massive machine gun that could destroy a group of innocent people within seconds.   

Although they are suppose to be the "protectors" of this country, they look much more menacing and malevolent. And unsurprisingly, they do act cold and mean to the public.  

One of the cops, who was standing near the entrance, was busy joking and swinging his gigantic gun around the other cops, as if it was a toy rocket.  

Ugh, guns disgust me.  

But I shouldn't be thinking that, since I was bearing a weapon myself that was attached to my left back side.   

But It's not a weapon like the cops had. Oh heavens no.  

That would be like comparing a weeny goldfish to a killer shark.   

Attached to my back was a handgun that I stole from an airport security guard back in LAX airport. Honestly, I didn't know that the airplane security guards were even allowed to bring any sort of weaponry, but I guess because of the chaos that was happening, they had to.   

Yet, now, it doesn't really matter.   

It doesn't matter who handgun this belonged or if it was illegally brought on the airport floors. Because for now, it's mine and I need it.   

As crazy as it sounds, I need to keep it close to me for my break in.   

I remember when I showed Tiffany this back in San Francisco.   

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me Jess," She said in disbelief as she stared at the handgun in awe.  

Tiffany and I were staying at the Marriott Hotel, which was congregated with South Korean and Japanese refugees. It was around 2 in the morning, and the hotel was full of crying, conspiracy theories and calls.   

No one could go to sleep. It was like the whole world was caffeinated with fear and anxiety.    

"Do you even know how to use it? Or even plan on using it?"  

I scoffed at her question.   

"What do you think?"  

Tiffany then carefully positioned the handgun back on the nightstand, as if she thought it was going to randomly shot bullets at the dry wall that was across from it. She plopped on the edge of her bed and gazed at me with her dead and weary eyes. She looked extremely exhausted. Like, even more exhausted than when she was back in South Korea.  

It was like I staring at a lifeless doll in front of me.  

"You look tired Tiffany, you should go to sleep." I noted.   

Tiffany yawned loudly and nodded. She couldn't say she wasn't.  

"I guess, but I can't fall asleep," She mumbled as she lied on her back, staring straight at the ceiling.  

"This whole war...it's insane. I mean, I feel like I'm dreaming,  know? And when I wake up, I'll be back on our air flight to Japan. Then, I'll be walking down in the airport with a whole crowd of our fans and paparazzi, chanting and calling our names, while holding up signs with our names."  

I chuckled.   

I used to loathe going to airports and trying get through the swarm of fans and paparazzi, while plastering on a warm smiling exterior and sunglasses to hide my horrible eye bags.  

But now, I wish to relive those days again.   

I want to be back on that airplane.  

I want to swim through the waves of fans and paparazzi, while wearing the most uncomfortable heels known to man.   

I want to go back to those days where I only had to worry about are dancing, looking pretty and what to say on the interviews.  

I rather be back there then here right now.   

Now, where the airplanes in Japan and South Korea are in complete turmoil.   

Now, where the city of Seoul and Tokyo are in complete obliteration, that's full with nothing but burning bodies.   

Now, where more than half the people that I know who's heads have been blown off and bodies were crushed by falling debris.   

I sluggishly lied down on my bed and glimpsed at Tiffany laying on the bed across from mine, who looked like she was already fast asleep. I could hear her soft snoring that the other members and I used to make fun of back in our dorm days.   

Poor girl. She tried to help the other members, but couldn't.   

I grabbed my white iPhone that was laying on top of my dresser, to see if I got any new messages:  

There 0 unread messages.  

.

I then pressed on my sister's icon.   

There was a picture of me and her back a couple months ago on my birthday. I remembered how she and I were arguing which icon to use, since she thinks she looks absolutely horrifying in this photo.  

"I look horrible!"  

"What are you talking about, you look just like me?"  

"Exactly!"  

I smiled quietly to myself as I scrolled through our last conversation.   

I'm busy and can't make it. Why don't you ask Victoria to bring you?  

That was my last message to her right before the bombings.   

I sighed and tucked my phone underneath my pillow, as if I was expecting the tooth fairy to delivery a message from Krystal. I raised the volume bar all the way, just enough to wake me up when she finally messages or calls me.  

Goddamn, Krystal. Please send me a message soon...  

"Jessica...."   

I quickly turned my head, startled, as I saw Tiffany lying on her side, with her back facing towards me.  

Did I just hear her say something? I thought she was sleeping! Am I hallucinating?  

I was about to respond back to her, but I couldn't.   

It was like something was squeezing my vocals cords and I couldn't speak out a word. Besides, I couldn't bear to show Tiffany that I was crying. I had to be strong. Not to just her, but to myself.   

Crap, does she know that I'm crying?  

"It's not your fault," Tiffany finally stated, without turning an inch of her body.   

What?  

"It's not your fault..." She repeated.  

It was dead silence in our cheaply rented hotel room. You could heard the soft ticking from my wristwatch, echoing in the dainty room.   

I laid there motionless as more tears started to roll down my cheeks.  

To be honest, I didn't know how to react...especially to something like that.   

"You didn't know that this whole war was going to happen..." She added, as she soundly went back to sleep.  

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

I tossed my black Jansport backpack on my left shoulder and began to walk away from the restricted zone. There was no way that I could surpass all of those cops to get to New York.  

 I slid on back my radiator sunglasses that I took from Tiffany the other night and began to shuffle back.  

"Hey, you!" A deep and macho voice shouted behind me.  

 I spun around and saw one of the bulky cops marching towards me, angrily.  

Ugh, what now? I'm walking away from the restricted zone, not going towards it!  

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?" The cop asked as he approached me intimidatingly. The cop reminded me of those cowardly police men back in Seoul: they may look tough and angry, but once you make a move, they immediately start to back off like a couple bunch of pansies.   

"What's wrong officer? Was I speeding?" I sarcastically remarked as he growled at me.   

I'm not going to take this guy seriously.  There was nothing that I was doing that was illegal. This guy just wants to show off his friends that he can confront a 5'4 innocent Asian girl.  

The cop quickly observed me as if he knew I was carrying a weapon, which was thankfully covered by my bag.   

God knows what would happen if he found my gun. He would probably run away and scream like a little girl he is.  

"This is a forbidden zone. No one should be around here." He asserted.  "Do you not know how dangerous it is to be here? The entire state of New York is quarantined?"   

He then snatched my  backpack from my shoulder abruptly without any warning.   

"Whoa! Hey! Who do you think you are, airport security?" I protested as he scavenge through the contents in my bag.   

Thankfully, he didn't see the handgun that was still intact to my shoulder.  

All I had in my  backpack was my phone, wallet follow by my  half eaten subway sandwich and  bag of Lay's Salt and Vinegar potato chips that I bought earlier this morning.   

"Hmph, I thought you were a journalist..." He said murmured as if he wished I was.  

A journalist? Do I look like a journalist to you?  

My dirty blonde-dyed hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail and I was wearing nothing more than a brown tank top and washed out black jeans full of rips and holes.  These were the clothes that I had on during the escape.  

What kind of journalist dresses like this? Maybe he thinks that I'm a journalist in a disguise, but no journalist would dress as ratchet as this.  

"I'm not a journalist." I addressed him, confidently.   

How can this dimwit think I'm a journalist? Geez, is he desperate to arrest someone?  

"Then, who are you?" He snapped back in a suspicious tone.  

God, this man is infuriating.   

You making this way more complicated it should be.  

"Do you have an ID?"  

ID?   

 Tiffany took my ID after hers was stolen at the airport back in LAX. I honestly didn't think I need my ID anymore since the world thinks I'm dead.  

"I don't at this moment,"  

  The guard paused and stared at me more, as if he was trying to undress me with his eyes.  

Eww Gross. Leave me alone already..  

"Do you have a name?" Are you serious now?  

I smiled. "You.....can just call me J,"   

It was easy for me to put on a fake smile since I used to do that all the time for the past 5 years.  

There's no way that I'm telling this D-bag my actual name.  

The cop glared at me through his reflective goggles for a couple of seconds and then roughly tossed me back my Jansport backpack.  

"Just stay out of trouble, alright J?" He said in annoyance as he shuffled back to his post with the other cops.  

Aw, what's wrong? Poor baby didn't get to arrest another innocent person today?  

 I slid my backpack back on as I began to walk down the rocky dirt trail to the main road. I stared at the bright horizon to see the towering highway that used to be full of bustling and beeping traffic.   

Now, it's just an empty and silent road that haunts outsiders.   

The government and police force made sure to block any roads that lead into New York.  

It's amazing how everything can change within a couple of weeks.  

Now, I have to walk back to the train station that's 10 miles away. But I'm used to walking long distances now, it helps me ease my mind.  

So many things had happen and are still going on right now.   

"Back to square one.." I muttered to myself as I carefully found my way down back to main road.  

This was the 6th time that I've failed to find an entrance to New York. However, was first time that a cop accused me of being a journalist.  

Journalist, hmm? Maybe I should've became that instead of singer. I heard the salary was good.  

I remember reading a CNN article online with Tiffany about the arrest of journalists.   

The US government and police force were apprehending several  journalists whom were trying to coverage what was happening in the quarantined New York:  

"What the US government and police force is doing is absolutely inhumane! There are millions of people who are stuck in the state of New York! There are reports of  corpses lying on the streets,  untreated  sick and injured people that are not getting medical help, and so many burglaries, kidnappings and violence!"  

I glanced back to see the silhouettes of the cops who are guarding the entrance and exit  to the corrupted and chaotic state.  They were playing and joking  with each other, as if they were 5-year-old kids waiting in line for recess.  

Do they not know what they're doing? Do they not know that millions of innocent people are trapped inside, wanting to get out, but they're the ones preventing them?  

"Hey, keep on walking blonde!" One of the guards at post shouted towards me as I glanced back.  

I coolly gave him  a dirty look and continued strolling.  

Ugh.  

This world disgusts me sometimes.