In The Mean Time... (UPDATE 25 OCT 12)

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Fear. The feeling that floods my veins. The feeling that leaves me empty and cold, afraid to console even with those closest to me. That's what they do to you; spread fear; leave you vulnerable and afraid. They take a strong and independent man and break him down until he is nothing more than a mould, waiting to be rebuilt.
  They left me in the street. Battered and bruised, I had no recollection of who they were or where I had been held captive. I knew just two simple facts: I had been held captive and I wanted revenge.
  The next thing I remember I was on a hospital stretcher, being wheeled through a sterile corridor that was bustling with doctors, nurses and patients; some coming, some going. All that I saw were in a better position than I was in at that moment.
  I remember the face of the nurse who first wheeled me into the ambulance. Leila, her name was. She was a young brunette. She wore the hospital's clinical white uniform, complete with upside-down watch attached to the breast pocket. I'll never forget what she said to me when she reached me and had checked me for any immediately visible injury: "They kicked you to death, didn't they?"
  They. There was their name again. They. The term is used so frequently in language - it is so commonplace - but nobody realises who They really are.
  Except me. I know the truth. I know who they are. And I am going to expose them to the world. We deserve the truth. And They deserve to die.


Dread had long overcome me and gone, but, stood here on the doorstep of the concrete house, that all began to re-emerge. How do you tell somebody that there husband has died?
  Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I rapped my knuckles twice against the white-washed wooden door. This was not going to be easy.
  There were a few moments between my brief knock and the woman opening the door to me. I stood there in silence, swaying slightly on the spot, not trying to think of the possible reactions I could face and failing. Crying, wailing, screaming, violence... The possibilities were endless.
  The door slowly opened and a pale-faced woman appeared on the other side. She was shaking and her eyes were red; she had just been crying. She already knew the news. That, at least, made my job a little easier.
  "Ma'am," I said, respectfully, trying not to show my own fraught emotions. We would likely both break down if I did.
  "This is about Danny. Isn't it?" She asked. I nodded solemnly.
  "I'm afraid to say that there was an explosion, ma'am, just south of the border. Private Mendez was caught in the explosion -"
  "Did he hurt?" The question caught me off-guard and it took me a few moments to recover. We both stood staring silently at each other.
  "Private Mendez was killed instantly, ma'am." Some vague glimmer of relief fluttered across the woman's eyes before dying again.
  "Thank you," she said, quietly, beginning to close the door to me.
  "Ma'am," I stated quickly. She held the door half-closed, her body now behind it once more. "Private Mendez was my best soldier. He was like a brother to me and he will be dearly missed. Not just by you or me, but everyone back at Base. Danny was a great friend to us all. I just want you to know that it was an honour serving with him."
  A flutter of happiness brushed the woman's lips before they fell flat once more. Nodding silently, she closed the door once more.
  Replacing my regulation cap back on my head, I turned sharply on my heel and marched back down the garden path.


The explosion shook the earth. Residents of houses clutched to furniture in a desperate bid not be thrown from their feet. Children screamed, pets wailed and adults sobbed.
  The children screamed for their lives.
  The pets wailed for attention.
  The adults sobbed for humanity.
  Almost an hour passed before the last of the aftershocks finally subsided. The panic that had spread had now calmed to a general sense of sorrow. People emerged, one by one, from their houses to take in the scale of the damage done.
  A mushroom cloud was rippling on the horizon, bubbling and swirling, rising ever higher.
  "Is that...?" Somebody asked.
  "Yes," another answered. "The United States now has an effective nuclear bomb."