A Time of War

     We huddled in the corner of our classroom, the lights were off but the terrified faces were periodically illuminated by a startling flash of lightning. I say startling, but no one was afraid of the lightning; they were afraid it wasn't lightning. The brief glimpses I got of my classmates betrayed the gravity of the situation, the harsh reality. Some were crying but others had a blank, death like stare in their eyes. Neither expression was becoming of a group of upperclassmen, we were supposed to be the role models. How could anyone be strong in the face of sheer terror? Even grown men weep and fierce beasts recoil amidst the horrors of war.

     My ocean town was dominated by sky scrapers, enormous dated buildings that seemed to creek with every whisper of wind. The salty air had been a harsh mistress and the signs of her wrath were carved out along the buildings. The school was one such building. Many years back, the founders of Shipwreck City thought it fitting to have such tall magnificient structures line the beaches. As a youth progressed through their classes so too would they rise in the building, a brilliant metaphor for climbing up the rungs of life.

     I say brilliant as a sort of mockery now, as the height and sway of the top floor does little to calm my nerves. 

     As if reading my mind, the headmistress proclaimed, "If the enmy were to even breathe on our structure, we should all crumble to our deaths!"

     She was an easily excitable woman, and in truth the only reason we had not evacuated was because we'd no where to go. Should we run out into the streets and be pelted by gun fire? Should we climb to the roof in search of rescue  copters only to be reduced to shreds by yet another kind of malicious fire? No, fear cemented us. Fear of the unknown, the foregin, the inherently evil. We had always been far from the fire fight, now that we were thrust into the action we were as helpless as beached turtles.

     The most comfort we had was the proximity of those around us. There was warmth and consolation in our closeness and mutual dread. To me, however, it was a far cry from comfort. The boy whom I was squished next to was far cozier than the dusty wall on my other side but still worlds different than the touch of my partner, who was God knows where during this crisis. This thought should have moved me to tears, but I pushed it from my mind so as not to make matters worse. I had already said my "I love yous" and that would have to be solace enough.

     Suddenly, a burly man burst into the room, "Turn off all of your cell phones! They say it will be an electromagnetic pulse bomb and I suspect that will be the last of the large advances tonight. Once the fighting has quelled my men will escort you all to a temporary place of residence. Count your blessings for they are few."

     I gazed through the darkness in his general direction, a queer expression contorting my face into something awful. I was no genius but I did not think turning off our phones would do much good against an EMP and I scarcely thought the enemy would stop advancing after such a useful weapon had been employed. False hope was all I could chock it up to, though I am sure many of my classmates believed him wholeheartedly,  as some are prone to do in times of desperation.

     In an effort to placate those around me, I reached for my phone. Before I turned it off, I saw one message that turned my skin cold and my expression from its contorted countenance to one of immense despair. 

     Cutting off my thoughts, the boy next to me tapped my shoulder and pointed out the window. Another flash of light coursed through the room but this one was more vibrant and forceful than before, almost blinding.There was no lightning; the message was right.

     I had heard before you die, everything seems to be in slow motion. That was truly how I felt. The ocean waves seemed to laze over the sand. The wind seemed to trudge across the building. The bomb seemed to float downward through the sky. Even as it touched the ground and erupted in consuming light, I felt every second and every breath until I'd breathed my last.

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      A recounting of the memories of Hillary Jane as uploaded directly form her brain to the mainframe on her last day on Earth. 

May 23, 3030