Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

Adbul pulls me out of my thoughts and onto the balcony, and I immediately see three helicopters approaching. They look big, even from this distance, and extremely powerful yet utterly exciting. They hold formation like they were made to fly together, until they get close enough that all I can hear is the deafening sound of their blades. One of them suddenly moves forward and I assume it is the one with the cargo – the passengers of importance.

I glance to my left for just a moment, just long enough to see Abdul shouting into his radio, his angry screams competing with the unstoppable sounds of our new visitors. I look around to see our soldiers getting themselves ready, perhaps for a fight; if nothing else, wanting at least to look strong against the small, yet deadly force that has arrived. I look around and see chaos, but I still don’t see the sinister aspects of what is approaching. All I see is opportunity.

The lead helicopter finally lands, still flanked by the other two, as though they are playground bullies who always stick together, knowing that strength comes from numbers.

‘American arrogance knows no boundaries!’ Abdul shouts, louder than I have ever heard him before, as if he hoped they would hear it from inside their big metal toys. As if they could; as if they would care if they did.

‘They were supposed to land at the back, not on the new lawn!’

I don’t answer him and look down to see servants and soldiers shouting and waving their arms, pointing to the back of the palace.

‘These bastards landed on the moon first and now they think it gives them the right to land wherever they like and do whatever pleases them.’

‘And clearly it does,’ I say, with a smile.

Abdul suddenly grabs me and pushes me back into the room, pinning me against a wall. We’re inside enough for the Americans not to see but still close enough that I can feel the sun beating down on one side of my face. I don’t look at him, even as he shouts at me; instead, I look outside, hoping the Americans don’t ever see me like this – as the weak and imperfect person that I am. They will think of me as sheltered and unimportant, and however true that may be, I don’t want them to know me as everyone else does.

‘These people only want our oil,’ Abdul says, his thin fingers digging into my neck. ‘And our oil is all we have. Do you understand me?’

I shake my head, my body forcing against the hold he has on me. ‘It is not all we have.’

‘Oh, but it is. Do you think that tourism will save us? And do you think at the end of Western civilisation that anyone will still come? I promise you they will not. This will only ever be about our desert and what hides beneath those dunes. Today we will see how much they are willing to pay and then they will leave with nothing, because it is most definitely not for sale.’

‘He is right, young Jalal,’ this voice says from the doorway. I quickly realise it belongs to Hamza. He stands there in his full military outfit, a rifle thrown over his back as though he feels it is his duty to fight off the advancing hordes single-handedly. ‘We might seem like nothing more than a small pile of rocks and barren sand but we will not be beaten by these vile beasts.’

‘Hamza is right and you will do well to let him do the talking today.’

Hamza advances towards us both, his eyes on our violent embrace. ‘And you, Abdul, would do well to release your prince. However much a worm he is, he is not ours for squashing. We must all be focused on the real enemy that awaits us downstairs.’

Abdul seems to think carefully for a moment and then releases me and nods, patting down my arms and slowly stepping back. ‘You must forgive my enthusiasm, we both know I only wish for you to finally listen to my experience and wisdom, so that I may make you the prince we all hope you can be.’

Hamza grabs both of us and pulls us closer, as the smell of sweat resulting from this morning’s mobilisation floods my senses and makes me want to choke. ‘The purpose of today is to see them beg and then later this evening you will tell your father the tale of how they were on their knees. You will bathe in the glory of our nation’s reserves and offer them only enough for their return journey to whatever archaic battleship they have moored wherever they are still welcome. They will land back on their ship with nothing but a realisation that their world is coming to an end and that a new power will be born and a new world formed. Whatever plague they have created for themselves will be their undoing and we will only benefit in this new world.’

Abdul bumps his head into mine. ‘Follow our lead and do as we tell you and tonight we will comfort your father with stories of how they left us, never to return, and how we paved the first steps into the future of our people and our mighty country.’

I look at him but I cannot speak; I cannot even offer a fake nod. I don’t like the old world but the new world I envisaged didn’t involve my best hope of escape leaving without me. They will never return again, never again give me such an obvious opportunity. Abdul and Hamza smile at each other, and all I can think of is how I am about to lose something before I even gain it.

I walk into the reception room and feel an immediate chill. I’m not sure if it’s me and the burden I am now bearing, or if it’s simply the constant buzz of the air conditioning that has slowly absorbed its way into the marble, making every step a cold reminder that I did not expect to find myself in this position today, or any other day.

Hamza suddenly grabs me and prevents me from moving another step further. ‘You will stand here,’ he says, his thick hand anchoring me in position, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘Do not move any closer towards them and at all times make them come to you.’

Abdul stands next to me. ‘And do not speak unless it is to reinforce what we are saying. You must remain proud and reserved, leaving us to do the talking.’

‘You mean I am not to speak because I cannot be trusted?’

Hamza laughs, before taking a couple of steps away from me, placing himself where I assume he would have been with my father, my brother and all those before me.

Abdul is still staring at me, his beady black eyes looking me up and down for what must be the hundredth time today. ‘You believe whatever you think is best and we will think whatever we believe is right.’

I look back at him, casting a probing gaze over him until he notices what I am doing. ‘You’re still sulking over the helicopters on the lawn, aren’t you?’

‘How dare you?’ he says, his hands ready to make their mark, our battle never over.

‘Enough!’ Hamza shouts, silencing us both as he looks towards the entrance.

We both look forward, just in time to see the Americans coming down the hall. They move quickly and with absolute purpose; the people of importance flanked by marines dressed in full combat gear. I look down at my robes and up at the visitors in suits and battle armour, and I realise how little and irrelevant I really am.

The marines push the group forward, their eyes observing everything, like they are assessing every possible threat. They look so noble, so proud of who they are and where they come from. I cannot help but admire them and everything that they symbolise. They suddenly separate, making way for the formation behind them to continue the journey into my room, leaving the soldiers outside. It is the generals, diplomats and ministers who will have the adult discussion with me.

I watch them enter: two suits and a soldier; two women and a man.

I’m confused; the vision in front of me is entirely different to what I would ever have expected and difficult to understand. I can’t see the obvious leader or understand who is in charge. I stare at this small group as they settle themselves into their new surroundings, their differences to each other both obvious and unexpected. Instinctively, I look at the only man, but he seems small and insignificant; his skinny frame barely filling out his pin-stripe suit. The bigger of the two women is the one in the general’s uniform – a woman in warriors’ clothing, with a build appropriate for her position. She stares down at me as I look up, admiring her ability to be who she wants to be – her nation allowing her the freedom to fulfil her own destiny.