The End Of Time

Chapter 1

The graveyard was quietly composed, gravestones piled on top of each other. Day by day that pile rose, ad we were the only ones tending to it. My name is Maude. My family were bombed and now its just me, and my friends Amia and Asher. My mum went a bit mad after the Sangre came. Sangre is Spanish for blood. they've always been after our blood, as Amia - Mia - would say. I'm white. The Sangre are racist and although I wouldn't put it past them to kill me if they had the chance, Mia probably had more of a chance of getting killed than me. But somethings you just don't know. Asher, or Ash as everyone calls him, has no such problems. He is both male and white, and he could easily become a Sangre and avoid the bombs and snipers.

Mia heard the planes first. The last bombing had been at least two months ago, not long, but long enough for us and the few other residents to rebuild our homes, or in my case make a shelter. "Bomber planes!" She yelled, her voice better than any siren. I ran across the road, not needing to worry about traffic. Whoever was left of us hid in the old abandoned Starbucks. I remember going there when I was six and the war was far away. That day was a day to treasure, but so was every day with my family, now they were gone. We huddled in the ruined Starbucks, behind the remains of the counter. Mia smoothed her braids into a bun and gripped my hand. We don't really have any moral principles, but we always stick together, and Mia never lies - which is more than I could say for me and Asher.

We heard a faint boom. Somewhere from the other side of town. That's Ash's house! Or at least near his house, and he knew it. His eyes displayed wide pupils full of horror, and he closed them and muttered under his breath. He wasn't traditionally religious, but war changed people, and sometimes it's nice to have the comfort of a being looking over us. I braced myself for more bombs. There were always at least 8 in each raid. Ash took my other hand, and together we shared courage. Mia's house had been bombed long ago. Together we hoped and prayed we were safe. Together we watched the bombs fall.

***

Some people hadn't made it out in time. "More digging to do." Said Amia grimly, stretching and grabbing her spade. At first the digging and burying had been a sort of horrific novelty, but we had only lasted so long before breaking down over the dead bodies that had ones been so full of life. "Yeah." I nodded bleakly. Amia was the best digger. Before the war came to Eze, she had gone to the gym, her and Asher. It was the same routine after a bombing, Asher dug people out of their houses, alive or dead, and I gave any survivors medical treatment. I had wanted to be a doctor before the war, but if this war ever ended I wanted to be as far away from injured people as possible. 

The Sangre planes left trails in the sky, scarring our skyline. Their bombs left dents in our city, and I felt a small burst of fury because they have no right to scar our home and slaughter our people. They don't call themselves the Sangre  they call themselves 'God's Offspring' but, and I'm no Christian, wouldn't God disapprove of this? The only reason anyone ever fought back against them is because other religious people think they're blasphemous, and i suppose they are when you think about it. But who am I to judge? I'm just a coward hiding in the shadows. I sat opposite the house Ash was searching, trying to avoid all possible sightings of a dead corpse. Who was I kidding? I could of never been a doctor. I could never draw any sought of medical weapon without flinching, and even if I could, I could never touch something so lethal to someone so full of life. Even if it was a medical tool.

"Maude! Come have a look at this!" I rush swiftly over to Ash, doubling my usual pace at the urgency in his voice. A man lay twisted on the floor, his facial features burnt and shrunken. His eyes were glassy. "Ash, he's dead," I said softly, but his expression was unreadable. "He wasn't even a great uncle. He was a shit uncle. but he was still my uncle, you know?" I nod and place a supporting hand on his shoulder. "And you never quite knew if he was insane or just drunk," he continued, "but you know what war's like. It-It puts pressure on you - and he was never bad to me - he never hit me like some drunks. He was just-" Ash stopped. "I know," I said, and Ash took a shaky breath in and dried his shining eyes with his sleeve. He kept digging.

Ash's parents had gone off to fight (the communication link had been cut off so Ash no idea if they were alive or dead.) leaving Asher alone alone with his uncle. I had liked his uncle, everyone had, even when he seemed slightly eccentric. I realised that I hadn't cried. I felt sympathy for Ash, of course,  but people dying was an event of my life now. War hardens your heart. I suppose that's a bad thing, but in the end, it doesn't really matter, does it?