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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Happens in the future, involves a bit of a World War 3.

Submitted: September 29, 2009

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Submitted: September 29, 2009

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I lay on my back in the rain washed grass, my cold, frozen hand enveloped in his soft warm one, both of us ignoring the sky awash with bright fireworks, too concerned with looking into each other’s beautiful eyes. The crickets played their natural song and we heard the random pop that signaled the images in the sky changing as we listened to the beating of our love stricken hearts.

"I love you," his gentle lips whispered into the night air.

"Then why do you want to get involved in politics?" my own soft lips replied.

"That’s not fair," his deep voice laughed. "Your dad’s the vice president!"

"And I hate it,"

He gently brushed a strand of my strawberry blonde hair out of my clear blue eyes. Meanwhile, I stared into his own blue eyes, demanding an answer. "I want to be able to change the way our country is governed," was the lame excuse he gave me.

"You could just vote if that’s all you wanted to do," I replied, in an unusually snippy voice.

He leaned back to look up at the colorful night sky. "Adabelle, are you sure you want to talk politics on the Fourth of July?" he asked hopefully.

"I’m sure, Justin," I smiled. "I think I’ve seen enough of these fireworks to last me a lifetime."

"True, true," he rolled onto his side to look at me better. "Well, you’ve heard on your zinger about the growing violence in Europe, right?"

"Of course, I have my zinger on me all the time. When it zings I take it out to see what the latest crisis is. Isn’t it amazing how the media is so up to second with these things? I mean, they actually have people all over the world to record events live!" I got so excited when I started talking about the zingers. The little devices were so much better than the phones and computers that the Ancients had used. It was a great messaging tool and the news was available at all times. You could watch wherever you wanted to whenever you wanted to! There were also certain channels that you could watch history on. The zingers came in all shapes and sizes, and you could even pick out a texture for it too. For example, mine was alabaster white and it felt like freshly fallen snow(although it wasn’t cold like one). Mine easily fit into my pockets and made a loud zing whenever the news had something exciting to report. And the best part was, I only occasionally had to remember to charge it, since the batteries kept going for months at a time. It was the latest accessory!

"You know it’s a bad thing when your zinger zings, right?" Justin questioned me.

"Yes," I giggled. "It means that a crisis is occurring, but they keep missing the fashion crisis!"

He rolled his eyes. "When I met you, I would’ve never guessed you were so into fashion."

I snapped back to my serious face. "Don’t try to change the subject."

"Damn, you caught me," he joked. Then he snapped back to his serious face. "Well, they’ve been reporting that the violence in England is due to Switzerland, because they’re tired of being the small, weak country everybody thinks they are. They’re saying they’re trying to take over the world, and with France, England, Spain, and Germany already under their rule, they might do it."

I frowned. He was talking nonsense. "People have always been trying to take over the world, since before the Roman Empire, and nobody’s ever succeeded."

"They say America’s next, and once we get involved, everybody will start calling it World War 3." he looked at me with concern, his shaggy bleach blonde hair hanging down below his ears, making him look like a sheep dog.

"America’s the most powerful country in the world!" I exclaimed. "If they want to take over the world, they should probably start with the weaker countries."

"That’s just it, though," Justin explained. "We haven’t had a war in so long, our country is completely unprepared right now! None of the country’s are prepared! That’s why all of Switzerland’s attacks are happening so fast! Remember when they first started happening? That’s right! Smack dab in the middle of rush hour last Tuesday! Remember?"

Yes, I did remember. It had been a nice sunny, summer afternoon, walking in my nice neo-flip flops down the street to the store. Everybody walked the platinum roads; cars had been banned centuries ago, and only lazy people used their teleporter to take them places. During rush hour, the streets were packed with people, and this was where the GPS built into the neos came in handy. The crowds got so thick you could hardly tell which way was right and which was left! The headphones told you which way your destination was, but it was still possible to end up miles from where you wanted to be because of the press of the crowds. It was my favorite time to go out, because if you just let yourself go, you could end up anywhere. That was how I met Justin, but I’ll save that story for another time.

Anyway, today I wasn’t in a very happy mood, so I definitely did not want to end up miles from the store. I stormed through the crowd, and the expression on my face must have made it clear I did not want to be messed with, for I practically had a straight path to the shop I wanted to go to. I pushed open the completely glass door roughly, and it made such a loud noise as it slammed into the wall I jumped. I thought for sure it must’ve cracked!

Luckily it didn’t, and I was just taking my sigh of relief when a voice behind me said, "Really! Just ‘cause you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you can take it out on the door!"

I jumped again, which made the store manager laugh out loud. Mr. Smith was about the same age as my dad, who was about thirty. He looked like he was in his twenties though, a young jovial brown haired guy, "So what do you need today?" Mr. Smith asked happily.

I held up my zinger, which had the list on it. "Two pounds of bacon, three pounds of ham, a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and two cartons of eggs." I read off.

He held up the register, where I slid my rank card through. The rank cards were important. Depending on your job, you received points for your card, and then you used the points to buy things. If you didn’t have a job, your card shared the same account as your parents. Once you got married, then you were considered partners and shared the same account. It was actually pretty simple once you got the hang of it.

Once the register approved my card, a grocery bag appeared in my free hand with the groceries in it. I was about to say thanks, when our zingers zinged.

"That can’t be good," he breathed.

But I had finally gotten into a good mood and I didn’t want to let go of it that easily. "Maybe they’ve finally realized what a fashion crisis we’re living in!" I joked. All I got from him was a disapproving frown. I sighed and we both took our zingers out.

I gasped. What I saw was totally unexpected. They were showing ruins, that’s what they were. Shards of glass and splinters of plywood were littered all over the streets. But the streets looked more like silvery waves, like they had turned into a liquid long enough for them to form waves and then they froze and cracked at the top.

And the most horrible thing I noticed after a couple seconds was the people. The survivors. They were all limping about, trying to get somewhere(although I had no idea where). Almost all of them were covered head to toe in blood, their limbs mangled, and I had no idea what it could be from. The walls were too light to seriously damage someone, and the roads were made so that if they cracked they wouldn’t be sharp.

Oh yes, my good mood had gone bye-bye.

"It had to be a bomb," whispered Mr. Smith, mortified. I stood next to him speechless. "A small bomb," he continued.

"SMALL!" I yelled, disbelievingly. My world spun. A small bomb could do that much damage?!? And those poor people. "Where was it?" I suddenly thought to ask.

"The attack?" Mr. Smith asked. "It was in France."

"Where in France?"

"It doesn’t say," he frowned. Then he stopped breathing. After a couple minutes of this, he replied shakily, "It says a small section of the ruins of the country we once called France."

"So," I started, shocked, "The bomb hit every single part of France?"

"That’s what it sounds like," Mr. Smith nodded sadly.

"Unbelievable," I whispered. Then I ran out of the store, scooping up the groceries along the way.

The scene outside was enough to make me freeze in my tracks. Every single person was standing completely still, glued to their zingers(I had put mine away shortly after I saw all the blood. I’m not very fond of it, you see). The only noise was the voices of the reporters, and even that was just an echo, every single one of them saying the same exact thing.

"We have just received news that the bombs came from Switzerland! Why would such a neutral country suddenly attack France? We’ll soon have more on that." BOMBS?!? AS IN PLURAL?!? I had to get home.

I politely asked the people to move, but they were so glued to the news, I ended up just pushing them all out of the way. The voice of the GPS was very reassuring against the creepiness of what was supposed to be the rush hour. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared during rush hour than at this time right here, and that’s counting the time my neo-flip flops fell off, and it took hours to get back home.

Home wasn’t much better. As I walked through the front door, it was completely silent. "Anyone home?" I called out. I took off my neos, and then I wandered down the hallway to the living room. The scene inside almost made me reach my breaking point. My parents were sitting together on the love seat, and even my seven-year-old twin brothers were actually sitting still. The horror of it all was the stricken looking faces of them all. My dad’s was the scariest. I’ve never seen my dad freeze and not know what to say to make it all better. He was great at that(after all, he was a politician) and it made me even more scared as I looked at his face.

He was genuinely frightened out of his mind.

"I remember that day," I answered Justin. "It was horrible." I paused for a second. "But it’s impossible for Switzerland to blow up all of America!"

"I really hope so," Justin replied sadly.

"I know so!" I stood up, stomping my foot on the ground. I looked down at Justin, who was staring up at the sky, his mouth a big ‘O’ and the color draining from his face.

"What is it?" I turned around slowly to look at the sky.

I turned quickly away after I saw it, hoping and hoping that what I had seen hadn’t really appeared. I covered my eyes as I turned back around, peeking through them at the sky.

In bright, neon letters, it said, "YOU’RE NEXT, AMERICA!"

Suddenly, my world exploded.

"It’s all right! It’s all right!" Justin yelled. "It was just the sky!" I was rolled up into a ball on the ground, shaking in fear. "They just put a whole bunch of fireworks into the sky at the same time." He continued a little softer. "It’s all right."

He walked me home after that, one of arms tight around my shoulders, his mouth right next to my ear. "It will be all right, I promise."

He promised.


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