30 Days a Soldier

Chapter 3: Tensions

November 18th 2017

18:12

Camden, London, England

"Tensions have increased yet again between Russia and the west as a Russian bomber defies international treaties by straying into British airspace. Further intrusion was averted through the timely intercept by two RAF Eurofighters, but nevertheless this has only added to a long list in recent months of troubles between the nations. As you all no doubt know by now, Europe and the US are already at an increased state of alertness with many troops having been recalled home. The increased tensions, of course reflected on the infamous Doomsday Clock which has been moved to one minute to midnight just one week ago, something which never even happened during the Cold War. So the question on many lips tonight is; how long until our respective governments open up negotiations.

"This is Rita Bhargava..."

Switching off the television with its yet again depressing view on the state of world affairs, John leaned forward and picked up the mug of steaming coffee from the table in front of him. The news had only been getting worse in recent months. Granted it was bad before with cyber-attacks, Russia supposedly funding the Ukrainian revolutionists and the US possibly funding the Islamist extremists for some time, but now? Troops recalled home, reports of the governments mobilizing relief supplies around the world, reservists activated, the sound of fighters patrolling overhead and from the sea, the increased Naval patrols.

Of course the public picked up on this, how could they not? There were riots and demonstrations in most Capital cities, shelves in Supermarkets were emptying at an alarming rate, many weren't going into work and more alarming was the increase in racism. Sitting there, sipping away at the sweet hot coffee, John had to admit that he couldn't really care if they dropped the bombs on him so long as he was at the epicentre. Not that he wanted to die, he most certainly didn't, it's just that he simply wouldn't have the time to care were a nuclear bomb to detonate right on top of him.

Downing the coffee and putting on his headphones before the silence got to him, he started listening to Los Campesinos while putting on his battered black leather jacket and picking up his keys.

Leaving the flat and onto Georgiana Street, he was smothered by the still vibrant atmosphere of London despite living in a quieter area. It was the same no matter where you went in London, it was intoxicating with the buzz of distant traffic forever stuck at a standstill, the chatter of millions of people carried on the choking wind, the smells of a thousand takeaways, each competing for your service. For a person not native to London it was euphoric, to a native, it just was.

Travelling down the street dwarfed by the three-storey buildings next to him, his usually wandering eyes to the ground with its cracked paving slabs and its fenced off basements on his left, John was soon onto the far busier Camden Street. The six pm traffic was already choking the long street, cars with their headlights switching on as the evening started to set in, frustrated drivers at their wheels as they listened to whatever DJ was droning on about the latest topic which was most likely the impending doom.

His thoughts racing as they so often did as he walked these encapsulating streets, John was very much a dreamer, his thoughts branching from one story to another, to TV shows and what he would do differently and to his deep seated wanderlust, of wanting, nay, needing to travel the world and yet lacking the funds to do so. That was it really, the reason why he was such a dreamer was because he very much doubted that he would ever travel the world as he wanted to, the dreams and the stories were his way of getting out of his own head, to delay the silence as long as he could, to actually feel normal. But then, what is normal? He just knew that he didn't fit in.

It wasn't long before he reached Camden Town station and the tightly packed peoples entering and exiting it, and then he was brought up short as like an infection, first one and then many people started looking at their phones as they rang and buzzed. His own phone vibrating, the incoming signal cutting through his music, John reached into his pocket and pulled out the offending device seeing that it was an incoming video stream. Moving to stand in the lee of a couple of bins, just as the entirety of London, the country and in large degrees, the world was brought to a standstill, John activated the stream while overhead helicopters shot by.

The face of the PM, James Burbank filling the screen only made John consider that this must be bad news.