Young Writers Society

1

Leafy sat in a stolen ship on the edges of space. He was no where in particular, just sulking in the darkness; still on a high from pills of concentrated alcohol.

“Hey you,” he called out to his reflection in the glass of the space ship window.

“Get a grip and get a life – you moron!” His voice was full of hate, croaky and raw.

From his pocket he took out a pill – solid alcohol. He chewed and swallowed, relaxing almost instantly.

He slammed the acceleration lever forward and the ship went into double-speed mode, fast for his model. Too fast. Stars and planets became a bur around him. He laughed loudly, pushing forward the treble-acceleration levers. The steering pad shook from side to side, taking the ship in all directions.

The hum of another craft passed them, barely missing the ship that was now out of control.

“Damn the galaxy. Damn the world. Damn the human race!” He seized the steering pad and twisted it randomly, spinning it into chaos, he pressed all buttons by slamming his hand on the button pad, the ship turned over, gaining momentum. The spinning got faster until he fell into dizziness, he cursed the world again.

Thud. His head smashed against the titanium flooring, bruising it almost instantly. Several crates came open and cut his thick skin open, blood splattered everywhere. The speed of the ship threw him against the walls, then it span and he collided with several crates.

Asteroid. Closer. Closer. Collision.

The ship jolted, Leafy seemed to float through the air, almost in slow motion. Sliding, sliding – then it all went full speed again as the ship was forced downwards into a spiralling plunge.

Leafy’s insane laugh ended as the ship hit solid ground and he was jolted back with immense pressure, skin tearing from bone, feet and legs snapping with the back lash of the landing force. He lay still within the ship, barely breathing.

2

Robin took out a nimble-gun and shot the man in the burning ship, point-blanc in the forehead.

“Better to have lived and died, than never to have lived at all.” He watched as the man began to heal, cuts sealing and breath filling his lungs.

He woke and Robin and Leafy looked at each other for moments.

“Where am I?”

“Britain.”

“I thought those were extinct.”

“It’s a country.”

Robin helped him up, although he didn’t need it. He smelled alcohol on his tongue.

“Where am I?” the crash-lander asked again.

“Staffordshire, England, United Kingdom, Earth,” Robin recited.

“Of all the places to land – I come back down to fucking earth.”

Robin stared at him and winked, walking from the space craft out into a wide open desert of dust: a moonscape.

”Correction,” Robin began, “You are in the desert that once was England, United Kingdom, Earth.”

“What was it before?”

“A very rich country…” He said it with slight sarcasm. The crash-lander was American, they were all to blame. “…before we went to war eons ago. Then we were reduced to this – I give you Great Britain!” Robin flung out his arms to the land.

3

The ship was easy to fix. That is if he had parts and fuel. Nuclear fuel was banned in Great Britain, so Robin had told him. And metals but lead were melted away and were in short supply. Conversation was the only tool to sanity.

“Why did this war start?”

“A man named Hassim Suddain, so the stories of old go- he was an evil man, we were all told. He was killed, hanged!”

Leafy gulped.

“Us and you took over his country, liberated his people – saved them from treachery, so the stories go.”

Leafy watched him with curiosity.

“Then – your country decided to take over other countries, many other countries. Our country followed.” He hung his head in shame.

“We soon reaped the consequences: annihilation!”

“Cool,” Leafy said, still dazed from drink.

“Not cool, we all nearly died, so the stories go.”

“Oh.”

4

They had travelled a little; Robin had something to show him. They stopped and looked into a pit, bigger than the moon – a crater. In the centre was a rod of metal, jutting from the ground.

“This is why nuclear fuel is banned here – it is a great evil.”

“How am I to get home?”

“We have some for emergency fuel, kept below ground. We are arranging refuel now.”

A few others were filling his ship up and repairing it for travel, they were of little conversation. Most of them had lost their minds from birth and their skins were saggy, they looked like aliens.

“Why do they look funny?” Leafy squinted at them.

“Radiothingies,” he said simply. “Poisons people and makes people look funny.” Robin said. “Radio’s are banned here.”

His ship was repaired quickly with the last of Staffordshire’s steel supplies and was ready for take off.

“Well – it has been nice meeting you.”

“I wish I could say the same but we blame your people for our downfall – no aid has come to us since the War.”

“Damn you,” he shouted, they were insulting his country. He stepped into the space craft, laughing once more. The jets started and he took off at a slow speed. His laughing soon stopped and guilt formed in his throat. He looked down at his satellite navigation. He was above the Middle East. He leaned over the control panel and looked down onto the land below. No life was their, all had been annihilated.