Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

‘Stay where you are,’ two Marines shout together.

‘The deal!’ I shout. ‘We have a deal!’

‘The deal is off. Stay where you are or we will fire.’

I stay still and look down at the two red marks still positioned on my body, each competing with the other to find the centre of my chest. I’m struck by the fact that the only ones now interested in me are the soldiers, the experts in war, who were not even in the room when I bought my short-lived freedom.

Once they disappear around the corner I look out the window and see the helicopters blades roaring into life as they prepare to leave me. I don’t know what to do; I am still as trapped as I always have been, and my world has changed so drastically, yet I still face a future that is no different from what it was before. I wait for a moment, hoping that Jessica will come back, running into my arms and pulling me with her to the safety of her distant home far across the ocean.

She doesn’t appear and nothing happens, and just as my chapter in this story seems to be ending, I suddenly hear Abdul’s voice. I turn to see him standing back up and shouting at me.

‘You have done this! You have caused all of this!’ he screams, in between gulps of blood that spill out of his mouth and splatter onto the floor. ‘You have betrayed your mother’s faith in you and failed your father, and now you have destroyed your country!’

I cannot hear anymore and I run at him, screaming with hatred that has grown over many years, from of all that I have been told and all that has been denied. By the time I reach him he is lying flat and unmoving, but it doesn’t stop me from hitting him. I smack him across his cheek, catching his nose for good measure, thinking only of those decades of torment, sending blood and bone splattering across the marble floor. I hit him again and again, not stopping to think what I’m doing. I lift his body up and smash my head into his; my clear payment for his absolute abandonment of the boy he was supposed to protect.

When I finally stop I can no longer recognise the face of my eternal tormentor, and I know that he won’t ever move again. I take one final look at him, at the twisted corpse that will take a new place in my nightmares, and once I can no longer face him I turn and run. I run past the bodies of people I know, and through smoke-filled corridors filled with screaming men and expanding pools of blood.

Once I get outside I finally understand what I have caused. In the distance there is nothing but fire and fumes, funnelling their way deep into the clouds. Our world burns with flames so big I am sure you can see them from space. I was told to make them beg for the oil, told never to sell and not to lend, but now these oil fields are ablaze for as far as my eyes can see; worthless in the eyes of everyone who matters.

I look around for someone to help, for some way out of this, but all I can see is my father’s convoy heading towards the palace, a trail of dust following them as they speed along the long road. It’s enough for me to realise that I have only one choice – one final chance – and so I run towards the helicopters, towards my only possible source of freedom. As I fight my way through the grounds I think only of the world I have wanted to be in for so long, now so close and yet still so far. I look up to see more palace guards above me on the roof, aiming a rocket launcher at the helicopter.

‘Don’t shoot!’ I shout, but they either don’t hear or don’t want to listen to little me.

Before they can fire anything a splatter of bullets from one of the other helicopters sprays across the roof, and I realise that its friends never left it. The two airborne gunships are still flying around like bees protecting a nest, killing anything that moves.

I keep running, praying that if I’m hit now that the bullets kill me. My eyes are focused only on my only escape out of here, which is about to take off. I think how likely my death is now and how unlikely it has become that I will find a way out, and it’s enough to make me pick up a rifle, hoping my father will somehow believe I am still loyal, so obviously one of the brave few who fought off our attackers.

As I reach my ticket to freedom I see the door is still open and I wonder if they are waiting for me. I soon realise the reason for their delay is the general, as I see her shirt ripped open and some sort of drip being hooked into her veins. I keep shouting and look around the helicopter. I finally see Jessica’s slender frame hiding in the corner, a white ghost who will now forever appear in my dreams and my nightmares. I stop shouting and stare, hoping that someone will notice my silence.

She sees me as she talks on her phone. She keeps talking but looks at me with this gaze that my frantic mind interprets as flirting; she seems to be enticing me to come closer. The marines have their guns pointed my way again but it doesn’t stop me. I drop my weapon and grab hold of the door.

‘Please, take me with you. We have a deal,’ I plead.

She puts the phone down and leans forward, pushing the marines out of the way, her face near to mine and her sweet breath close enough to taste. ‘But you have nothing to offer us.’

I think for a second, desperately trying to find an answer that will help, willing to offer her anything. All around us the skyline burns, a red blaze that seems to come up from the sand like it has travelled from the depths of hell pull everyone under and make them pay for my mistakes. ‘You know that if I stay I will die. I made a deal and you blew up our oil.’

Those eyes look at me but don’t show a fraction of the passion I want to see. ‘It was never your deal to make,’ she says and smiles. ‘You played a game and you lost, and we cannot afford any passengers where we are going.’

I shake my head, refusing to listen to her, although I already know that what she is saying is true. ‘Please, I want to go to America.’

‘You shouldn’t beg,’ she says, and then leans back.

It’s a cue for the marines to push me away; my grip weakens and only my desperate pleas remain. I fall to the floor, my back hitting the dusty ground that I have had to call home for all my life.

The helicopter finally takes off, still flanked by its smaller, deadlier friends. The sound is deafening. A dust cloud surrounds me and I lie back to see the belly of the beast as the helicopter leaves, its blades spinning faster until I’m forced to close my eyes.

I wait for the storm to pass before I open my eyes again and stand up, now without any cause or options. I see that my only chance to escape the darkness of this place is departing towards the distant, golden sun, leaving me behind with only my fading and ultimately borrowed time.

Wednesday 17 thAugust – Thailand

It’s our summer break, so what are we supposed to do? Hang around midtown and loiter like we actually matter to anyone? We could have gone to the beach to watch the boys surf all day and long into the evening, until the sun fades and we would light fires and drink beer. Our youth is supposed to be for these wasted moments; that gap between nothing and something meaningful.

It was my father who suggested a month of charity work, the flight and accommodation paid for by him. I have to admit that it did sound a little more appealing than lighting a beach fire and piling firewood on top of yesterday’s wood, all the time wondering if tonight Angelica would get screwed by Brad or Cody, or maybe by both of them. I always thought that it would be a delightful change if for once Brad could pound Cody into the dunes whilst everyone else watches. That would hold my attention far more than the set-menu jock-and-cheerleader routine I’m so regularly forced to endure.