The Woman's Game - 2. Part One: The Book of Genesis III

An office is a simple place, but this office was a home for someone. It was a home for Ash when his father was working.

Realistically, everyone was going to believe the London accountant story. Having to travel for hours each day, leaving at 5 getting back at 2 was a great cover story for any agent. He was on the simple 6-1 shift every day apart from a Sunday. His bosses were Christian so they believed in the day of rest.

If people would only read the paperwork. They would be able to find out what he could do and what he had done. What horrible things he had done.

Ash often visited his father’s office when he is away. He needed to know more. And he soon became addicted to the information. Everything his father knew, he knew. Thank goodness for a copied key he found. The papers that he was reading on that day were about the evacuation system.

Everybody was graded on their use to society. Doctors, teachers, members of parliament all of them A*’s down to the prisoners and elderly who were F’s. That was the order of evacuation. If you were important you were shipped out and the rest were left to rot.

You couldn’t imagine what havoc would be wreaked if the prison guards left and the prisoners in every prison around England were left to their own devices. There would be pain and there would be blood.

The diseases would spread like wildfire; much like the fresher’s flu. It would last for a while but get worse. It would eventually die down but it wouldn’t go away completely.

Then the rats. They would spread and multiply because of the abandoned buildings.

It was a world that Ash couldn’t bear to face.

He figured that his family were going to be D’s. They would be towards the end…

When the disease and rot will have spread around the country and the government will have given up.

Ash could hear someone coming down the corridor and he knew it was…

He knew it was his father.

It was too late for him to get out of the office.

He was going to have to face his father. He curled up in the chair ready to face him.

The father opened the door; he looked extremely tired and irritable and looked at the boy curled up in the chair.

He slammed the door shut, shaking the walls and he looked down at the boy.

‘Now, before you make reasons. Tell me, what did you see?’

‘Everything.’

‘Now, I would normally hit you. But, I cannot in this case. You are to forget whatever happened. I respect you enough son. You must understand my actions.’

‘Yes Father.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing Father. Thank you Father.’ He shuddered.

Ash left the room, shaking because of what happened.

His father got angry but he loves him.

God only knows why, but he loves him.

**

It was the following day and it was the regular slot of 3 o’clock.

It was a bit late for lunch but too early for dinner. That was the perfect time for Mrs. Greenwood.

Ash knew that this was the time when their elderly neighbour usually came round for a cup of tea and a good old chit chat with his father. He didn’t really know why an 80 year old woman with grey hair and a face covered in moles would be hanging out with his much younger father…

He thought it best not to ask. Especially after what happened last time he looked where he shouldn’t.

She knocked on the door as she always does with her umbrella and raincoat. Even when it was fifty degrees outside she still wore her raincoat. She came in, brushed herself down and walked in the living room where his father was sitting. Every time.

Ash went into the kitchen and put the kettle on and walked back into the living room.

‘Ash my boy, how big have you grown.’ She looked at him as if she already knew the fate that was going to happen to him.

Of course, she already did.

‘Now, how old are you now?’

’14, ma’am.’ Ash smiled.

‘Goodness me. I remember when you were a little dot.’

The father grunted in laughter, a sound that only came out when he found something far too amusing or was faking it to keep someone happy. Calvin often wondered when his father was going to tell him the complete truth.

He even sometimes wondered if he even loved him.

Ash swiftly went back into the kitchen and once he had finished the tea, they took it up to the office like always.

An elderly lady.

She couldn’t be any harm.

Could she?

**

It was all falling apart. The streets. They no longer looked like streets. Mobs. Thousands of angry mobs. Surrounding council houses, barricading the councillors in. Begging. Ordering them to answer their questions. They were surrounded and there was nothing they could do about it. The Mayor and his associates hid in the panic room. There was always a panic room behind the chambers of debate in case of emergency. Only way to get in was by drilling the door down or lasering it to pieces, probably killing the people inside. Or by knowing the codes. Only way out was blood. A sample of blood from the current mayor. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

And this was London…

The Mayor of London was cowering for his life.

The paperwork was found.

The Clones.

The Russian Clones. Someone leaked the information on the internet and it caused uproar. The British were financing it. They were helping the Russian War Effort!

And the British were not going to stand for it.

They were going to fight. So they gathered in their thousands and they launched themselves at council houses, at Parliament.

They even had the Queen at knifepoint ready to kill her if they didn’t get any answers.

Then, across the River, the Prime Minister took a deep breath and stepped out of the door to Number 10.

‘The big society is not going wrong. We are just not taming it right. If only we could…’

He barely finished his sentence when a short man in a long black coat fired a single shot into his head and another into his stomach. He muttered under his breath, ‘Long live the motherland’.

The Russians knew this would happen to the world. And they always had their man watching the Prime Minister’s moves in case he did something wrong because if he did, he must die for it.

The British would never learn. Ignorance is never bliss. Only pain, indescribable pain.

At that point, a man was climbing to the top of Big Ben with a torch. ‘This is what we think of Parliament. This is what we think of Governments. We know we are all going to die. We have read it. Long Live Freedom!’ With this, he threw the torch through the glass, the pane shattering. The timbers inside caught fire and the iconic building began to burn…

It’s funny how quickly a fire can spread…

No one was safe. Not even the women and children.

A single woman stood in the street.

A tear begins to fall down her rosy cheek.

‘What have they done?’

A stray bullet hits her in the back of the head.

All hope was dead then, if there ever was any in the first place.

Long Live England.

Long Live Death.

**

The lights were dark. The entire city power grid had gone down. The L’Arc De Triomphe sat in silence overlooking the city of Paris. The city of Lights. Not quite so now.

It was dead. No cars in the streets creating the shining glow of the city’s traffic. No one was around.

Except the soldiers in the streets.

One for each doorstep. People were hiding in their homes because they were afraid.

They invaded the beaches of Calais and they were able to take the beautiful City of Lights, Paris.

They even took Disneyland Paris and were using it for their base.

It was some sort of Secret Army and they were building some sort of weapon…

They were like soldiers, electric soldiers. They were surrounding the Eiffel Tower and they were using their shockwaves to electrify the tower.

There was something going on. This was happening everywhere.

This Secret Army was behind the disaster.

But what did they want?

A young rat crawled across the floor and stood on all fours, its eyes glowing and then the rat scurried on from where it came from in the direction of the next sewer.

**

It was your average night, the flag flying from the pole, the soldiers in the gardens.

Soldiers from the secret army…

It was open but there was something wrong. The building was burning down.

It was the White House and it was burning down and the President was stuck inside.

A man walked along the burning corridor with a loaded shotgun and walked into the President’s office.

He raised his arms, and with no emotion, shot and then leapt out of the window. No emotion. Just there to kill and then claim his money.

The President was dead and the White House was burning.

Who would want this?

There would be uproar, collapse, and eventually it would fall apart. Much like the rest of the world.

Would there ever be an end?