The World Of Steam

39

The civil war had died down during the night as the enervated people rested their broken bodies. They tried to forget about the brutalities of the fight, tried to occupy themselves with any random activity that they thought of. But that was easier said than done. They knew that they had to face the horror all over again tomorrow. The war was now their routine. Camps were set up with large tents, providing both armies with shelter. Most of the tents were full with sleeping people, all pressed next to one another, sharing their body heat selflessly. Two men sat on upturned buckets and played a game of cards with each other. Some people crowded around a burning barrel, heating up their icy fingers. Others ate what little food they had left, savouring every small bite. Rations dwindled and hunger had set in. But with the rate that the war was going on, the ground would soon be fresh with human corpses. A volunteer nurse knelt down by a wounded man and tended to his injuries. A man cradled his friend as he cried in his arms.

"I can't do this anymore." He sobbed. "I don't think that I can keep fighting for much longer."

"Just hold out." The other man replied softly. "Just hold out for as long as you can. We will survive this. I'll make sure of it."

A general stood in front of the corps of the British army. Every single soldier wore black uniforms and had double filter gas masks covering their heads. Almost all of them were armed with machine guns and rifles. The rest had rocket launchers, their ammunition strapped to their backs. "Listen up!" The general yelled out to them. "We have been called in to stem the flow of this war! We will stop these people tearing each other apart by any costs necessary! We will stop this war and rebuild everything that has been destroyed! Who's with me?!"

The army all let out a "Ha-ooh!" as they all pumped their fists into the air. They quickly made their way into the streets, preparing to join the battle. They all simultaneously turned their heads towards the banners of the king that hung up on towers and buildings. Raising their arms up, they saluted their dead king as they went to war.

Jennix paced up and down the room of the empty building, silently pondering. She looked over to the vial and then looked outside at the broken window, at the dark brown sky that loomed over the ruined city. Frowning, she looked back at the vial. She suddenly scoffed, half-laughing, and smiled.

The next day, Jennix made her way back to her house. Maybe she could attempt to reason with me and give me some hope. Opening the door, she stepped inside and closed it behind herself, turned to look forward. Suddenly, there was a gunshot. Letting out a single gasp of shock, she ran through the house, through numerous rooms. "Lennox?!" She called out frantically. "Lennox?!" Dashing into a small spare bedroom, she sighed heavily, relaxing, trying to slow down her racing heart. She looked at me as I shifted the bolt of my rifle and fired again at The Council Of Gold's Zeppelin through the open window. "What are you doing?" She asked me.

"I'm dispelling some rage." I replied casually and fired again. Jennix stood in place, allowing me to do what I wanted. Dexton looked at me from the Zeppelin, his left hand curled into a fist, squashed into his cheek, whilst the fingers of his right hand tapped away in a slow rhythm on the armrest. He did nothing but stare, not in the slightest bit scared by the attack. The force field shimmered and shimmered again, rippling all the way through the balloon.

"What should we do?!" One soldier shouted at the old man. "We need orders!"

"Calm down." Dexton replied in a scarily tranquil tone. "As long as the shield is up, we are safe here. There is no way anyone can disable it from the outside. Leave him."

Suddenly, Jennix yelped and I spun round, aiming my rifle at the assailant, slotting in another bullet as I did so. A man held her by the neck with one hand and aimed a gun at her head with the other. He did nothing but smile at me and then proceeded with walking backwards. Being stuck in a standoff, I had no choice but to let him take her. The man took a few more steps and was gone.