Years Of Hell

BRIEF

Years of Hell is an account of a teenage boy, who has everything at risk. It starts with a promise which soon turns into a hunt for revenge on a terrorist group who staged attacks on the world and killed five million in one day. With the help his friends, he must find their group before they take everything he as. Soon it’s not just his world which is at stake, it soon it is the entire world.

Chapter One- How It All Started…

There is a saying. Humans protect their young, heritage and their friends. This is the way I conducted myself in the years of hell. Some things I regret, but still that’s human nature. I threw myself into a world of emotion, destruction and human suffering. But I suffered from the fiery hell, which roamed my life for those two years. I traveled across the planet. New York, London, L.A, Newcastle, Tokyo and many other cities across the world. But to tell you why I traveled. Why I broke my heart, why I broke my families and friends hearts. I have to go back to the start of the years. Back when I was a common, normal and quiet 15 year old who couldn’t even to begin to imagine what was going to happen and who I really was.

As I youngster, I was never too good with people, I made few friends and was a reserved person. That was just the way I was, couldn’t change it. Well, not at that stage anyway. I went about my daily school routine, being bored, enjoying media two days a week. Nothing really that good. My relationship record, how I can put it, not many of them. Basically I’d had few long-term relationships; never really fell in love I guess. Really I was a 15 year old, about five foot five, medium length blond-brownie hair with blue eyes and a boyish smile. But I’d always felt a bit older than I was; my personality was more of an 18 year old. I grew up too fast, I guess.

The story starts back at school. Just before this whole story starts. In our year there had been a new arrival. Ahmed. He was a small, quiet kid, who kept to himself, the normal newbie. He’d arrived 2 weeks before this next bit happens. So the story starts 1 week before half term and 3 friends were going on the school Spanish trip. I was bit jealous, obviously. But still I didn’t do Spanish, so couldn’t complain. I was walking down the languages department, a plain white corridor with 5 doors on the sides which lead to different rooms and cupboards, with Nick. Nick was ever so slightly taller than me same, as he kept pointing at random times, blond hair, a hell of a lot better with people than me, which again I was a bit jealous of. But still been friends for the best part of a year.

When I meant that this was the start of a long two years, this really was the start.

We passed D15, a French room. As I passed, there was a muffled sound. It sounded like another language, but there wasn’t something right about. I quietly walked over and couched against the door. The sound of shouting from a phone echoed across the room and through the door. The words ‘sacrifice’ and ‘western world gone’ came up too many times for this to be a normal chat. My heart, kept pounding as I thought what would happen if I was caught snooping. But that was all I got to hear before, “ WHAT YOU DOING! COME ON!” and Nick walking off, with my bag and everything else in it, including my phone. I got up and ran after him, trying to forget what I’d just heard moments before.

I now wish that I’d listen more. It may have saved 50 peoples lives. Maybe Even 5 millions lives. This was the last day I saw everyone before they left. The next day was the day they left for Madrid. At that point I was loathing hearing about every detail about from Amy, Zach and Nick. Now I’d given the world to have that happen, rather than what did. Outside the middle school, which sat next to my school, Nick waited for his brother and I waited with him, while teasing him about how he would be having to put up with Lucy on the plane there and him teasing me that I would be sitting bored over the Half Term, doing some boring photo of London. He didn’t succeed; I was really excited about going. Lucy passed us and I got a slap from her file on the back of the head and then she went to her bus. Then Nick brother came out and I left for my Bus. That was just another day, but now that day is something I’ll always remember. Lucy is now in a mental hospital and Zach is living his life in the British army. The coming storm changed everyone.

The next time, I saw them, would be when I was torn into bits, along with the rest of Earth. One week that day, that would be the day everything changed.

Even me.

CHAPTER 2

 

“Near Armageddon – Part 1”

Written By Andrew Thompson

 

This was the day the world fell into chaos. The date was 15^th March 2008.

 

I woke from my slumber and got up to stare across the bomb site, called my hotel room. I stretched across the bedside table, while grazing my arm on the load of split plastic coffee cups, to reach for my phone. I flipped it open and checked the inbox. “50 messages”. I knew that shouldn’t have ever given Lucy my Number. Then an arm dangled down from the top bunk. My roommate, Charlie, who was here because he knew the best places to film the scenes, I wanted, filmed in London. He often said, “ I was a tech director, but tech directors are the best”. I’d known him too long to know that he was joking.

 

Charlie was a friend, I’d known for 12 years. We were similar in music tastes, T.V, movies we liked etc. So we got on well and worked well together. He was the co-director on the film, a title he’d created for himself. He was couple years older than me. Thick brown hair, which looked a hedge, but I had to laugh at him some how. Green eyes and small ears. He was taller than me and the same fitness level as me. He’d been working as a photographer for Pinewood Studios for the best part of 2 years. He’d thought that this visit wasn’t go to have a purpose for the film, seeing as most of it would be filmed back home or on a stage at school. But it had more of a purpose, for not the film, but for the coming storm.

 

After Breakfast, I walked out of the hotel and headed for Canary Wharf. The business hub of London and England. The centre skyscraper, was the UK base of Citi Bank group, I headed there with my camcorder to film an office to check for views etc. I opened the door and gazed out across the clean, modern office. In the middle of the silver tiled floor was a glass desk. I walked towards and peered at the digit clock and as my eyes lifted from the clock, my eyes were blown back. The view was just incredible. From this single office, I could the whole of London and beyond. I was soon put into perceptive; I was a very small part of a massive, huge world. At that moment I thought nothing could spoil the world, nothing could ruin it.

 

An hour later, I had left the office and met back up with Charlie, to talk about certain office, which I wanted to rent out. As we talked, there was a sudden chill in the air. I looked past Charlie and looked at the Plasma T.V, which sat on the wall. Across the screen the words ‘BREAKING NEWS: BOMBING IN MADRID’. I pulled out my phone and rapidly checked the inbox. I found the text. It concealed the name of the hotel; the group from school was staying at. I looked at the text and then looked to the T.V screen. At that moment, I crashed down on the table. Alerted by this Charlie attempted to shake up back up, but he failed. Tears dripped out of my eyes, silently. My mind tried to understand what was happening. Then it hit me. I ran out of the door, tears still there. Searched for Nick’s mobile number and hit call. I remember shouting at it. Shouting, “Come on, come on, BLOODY PICK UP!” Charlie rushed after.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“That was…their hotel! Charlie!” I cried out.

“It… It can’t be, their one.”

He hit the pavement. The phone kept ringing. I blasted my rage against a wall. I could feel the rage fill me up like bath being filled with water. I slammed myself against it again.

 

From the phone came a familiar voice, but it wasn’t Nick’s.

 

As the tears and rage sub-sided, I finally was about to know what had happened to everyone on the trip. And I soon was about to witness another hell, unleashed.

CHAPTER 3

 

“Near Armageddon – Part 2”

Written By Andrew Thompson

 

On the phone was a terror filled teacher. She was trebling. Shaking with regret and fear.

“What happened?” I asked

“There was a crash. A crash, then fire came flying through the roof. I managed to get out with most of the group, but… but…”

She burst into tears, but at that moment, I knew why she had cracked. Someone had been lost. I was lost and in a world of hell. I collapsed, next to Charlie and my world. The world I had lived in and loved came crashing down and shattered. One life. One sole I knew had gone. I couldn’t handle it. Nothing, nothing could have shattered the world. The only thing I had left to know was, who. Who had gone? I prayed that it wasn’t Lucy, Zach or Nick. ‘Please, god no, don’t let it be them’ Then the name was burbled out.

“Rose, it was her.” She said.

Armageddon had happened. Crushed by a name. The girl, I’d loved for 2 years, was gone. Tears flooded the pavement. I sat there. I felt like the burning pits of hell had just blown the world to pieces. I just couldn’t handle it, she’d only talked to me twice in my entire life, but I still loved her. Then came another name.

“Nick is critic care. He’s in a comber.”

I rushed to my feet and knew where I needed to go.

“Miss Lily, I’m coming to Spain. Do you hear me? I am coming!”

Then, as me and Charlie got up, we were thrown back into the wall. Across the river was the London eye and right from the top there was a blast of fire. The top pod had been attacked and blown to pieces. Fire swept across the Thames. There was a shunt of metal flying towards Big Ben. A whistling sound was followed by a roar and a crash. The National treasure had half of it blown out and into the Thames. This doesn’t happen in real life, in Doctor Who maybe, but there I was staring as half of Big Ben as crashed into the Thames and the other half crushing the houses of Parliament. Distant sounds of sirens came. Thousands of panicking citizens ran away from the River, pushing Charlie and me back into the wall. I pushed through the crowds and I just walked closer to the barely standing metal frame, which had been the London eye. The mass of metal collapsed into the Thames with the river sending a wave of spray towards the river’s banks. Charlie hadn’t fled with the crowd and walked up beside me.

“Are you sure you want to go on that flight to Spain, now?”

“I have to” I whispered out.

“Then I’m coming with you. Remember Nick’s my friend as well.”

That moment on, we swore that we’d find the people who did this.

Later that Day, other attacks were made on the world. New York was torn to pieces by an attack on the Empire State Building. L.A was attacked by a Dirty Bomb, which killed three million people within 2 hours. Toronto was ripped apart by 15 attacks from the air. Moscow had the Kremlin half wiped out by a sacrificed bomber. New Delhi had suicide bombings in its factories, cripple it’s economy. Tokyo lost 2 skyscrapers. Sydney lost the opera house. The death rate of this day was 3 people every second.

Within 24 hours, the entire world was on the verge Armageddon and western destruction, with countries invading others and blaming each other country for the attacks in their country. It was hell on earth. The average person came a looter or a criminal. Governments destabilized and countries became a war zone. The news and radio shut down, information stopped flowing and the world was thrown into darkness. This was the end of the world.

Then the UN placed the world under Marshall Law. For the first time in history there was an Earth government and within a week, the world stabilized and the counting of the dead began. Britain had lost ten thousand people, France lost sixty people. As soon as the world stabilized, this table was sent out as the estimated number of deaths.

Continent	Number of deaths	Injuring
Europe	1 million	7 million
Africa	60,000	45,000
North America	3 million	9 million
South America	90,000	9 million
Asia	850,000	5,000

The world was mourning. Nothing more, nothing less. I was mourning, but felt too angry to mourn. The person who’d do the Madrid bombing could still is alive and he didn’t deserve to be a free human. When the airports re-opened, Charlie and I got a flight to Madrid.

Fueled by rage and lust for revenge, we went through the increased security in Madrid International Airport. Once we cleared the airport, I took a look outside to the bright, sunny sky. It was hard to believe that a week ago, this city was full of panic and hell. Outside the airport doors was a traumatized figure and face of Miss Lily. As I walked out into the street, she turned to face me. One side of her face was normal, but the other side was burnt and scolded. One eye was the normal green colour, but the other eye was bloodshot all over. Like the eyes off, 28 Days Later. Half her mouth was bent downward and her ear mashed into an open split mess. Pieces of metal was dotted around her face, like someone had been soldering and the solder had been chucked and stuck to her face. I stared down. Her right Leg had bloody gauzed in it, like her had been attacked and savaged by a tiger. If she was one of the least injured and I could only think what state the other were in. She didn’t speak, she only gestured towards a taxi.

Charlie and I climbed in the back and Miss Lily stumbled into the front seat. I guess the reason why she hadn’t spoken was shock. Shock, that there was someone who wasn’t injured. At least, not physically injured. Charlie couldn’t stop staring at her. I was, probably, the only one who’d expected this amount of destruction. After 9/11 and 7/7, I’d always had this nagging feeling that there was something coming.

This was it.

The taxi stopped, outside a large building. The building was built with a pale brick and was falling apart. The Doors were the only modern things on the outside of the building. There was a smell of rotting flesh, which soaked into the taxi and overpowered our noises even before we got out. I stepped out. Miss Lily hobbled out of the taxi and told us to follow her. The doors sidled open and the extent of the hotel bombing was relived. The reception was packed with relatives of the injured. Mixtures of languages were spouted out across the room. In the corner was a group of German tourists. They were all in a flood. I looked around and at least a dozen more groups were grieving, expect they weren’t all German. There were Americans, Mexicans, French and Chinese people mourning. This hospital wasn’t a medical place it was a death place. I caught one of the press asking, how many had died of injures. I caught the number, that’s all I needed to hear. In addition to the 50 people killed on the day of the attack, 30 more had died. This was the reality of the human nature. For every person who died, they lost their and humanity and became a number.

Alex tapped me on the shoulder. “ They’re this way” he whispered. I turned and walked to the lift. A tear in my eye dropped to the floor, added to pool that signified the human suffer and death.

With a ring of the lift arrival on the 3^rd floor, my heart sank and the smell of human decay became unbearable.

Chapter 4

‘Rose’

Written By Andrew Thompson

She’d been the love of my life for 2 years. She’d always an innocent vibe around her and her face was one of an angel. One of the more opinionated girls in the year. Always knew what was what. She was always up for a laugh and loved to see a smile from anyone she knew.

Rose was one of the few girls that would talk to me, normally about the films I was making but we did talk about other thing thou. As an actress she had always known about character’s personality and trades of successful productions, films etc. She could have been called my adviser, but she was a friend above all else. She’d tell me about outside production she involved with and when they were on. I guess it was publicity for the plays, but still. I’d gone to a couple of plays she was in and always paid a visit backstage, with a present of course. Then I’d walk her to the bus stop (Well, if I’d walk her home that would take a couple of hours.) and I’d leave for home. I’d always remember the smile; she’d give after I told her best line of the play. As I left her, I’d always thought she would be there for me, but I wrong to think that. No doubt.

Rose wasn’t the supermodel type; she didn’t see the point in size zero and diets. She always said to me, “Life is for living not for worrying about food”. She wasn’t slim, but she wasn’t fat either. More of wide, than anything else. Her hair was blonde, with a golden shine; her eyes were a bright blue. Her nose was a small and her ears were tiny, I sometimes wondered if she could fit ear phones in her ears. In my view, nobody’s perfect, but she was as close to perfect as you could get to. I’d sometimes thought, what if I asked her out? What would have happened? Well, I think that a lot for things don’t we all.

Her parents were probably the best in the world. They were protective, rich, and happy. Everything that I would love to have as parents. When I went round to her house, they would treat me like a part of their family. Rose was everything to them. They loved her, to the end of her life and beyond. As did I.

When I saw her broken, ice-cold body in a white body bag on the floor of one of the wards, my heart turned to stone and crumbled. I’m threw myself out of the room and into the corridor floor. After half an hour of endless tears and suicidal feeling, I finally told myself she was gone. I walked back into the ward, my face sodden with tears and regret, I opened the bag and said goodbye. I kissed the shell that had been Rose, hoping that she died quickly and not in pain. I zipped it back up and walked out with my hands in my jacket pocket and my face down. As I moved on to the next shell of a friend.

Chapter Five

‘Brain Dead Friends’

Written By Andrew Thompson

 

 

Words couldn’t describe the state of my mind, at that point. I was in an emotionalless

break down, which just blanked my emotions. I felt cold and heartless. In a sense, I couldn’t feel anything, just darkness and emptiness. I could have been described as a machine, like something out of ‘Terminator’. I walked into an empty room, well I say empty. Empty of Human life. The pale walls had body bags, packed against. One of the bags was unzipped and inside was a body of small kid, who couldn’t have been much older than five. His spine had cracked into his skull and was stick out at the back of his head. He had no arms, which I could see and one leg had half of it ripped off, showing only the blood soaked bone. I looked to the left of bag and there was another kid in another bag, this time it was a three-year-old girl. She had three quarters of her head missing and no ears or eyes. I looked to another unzipped bag. There were 20 babies in, a lot of them only newborns.

 

I got to my feet and run out of the room; hit the wall facing the room. Vomit rushed up my throat and swept across the wall, like a paint can had been tipped over the wall. Before 15^th March, there would have been at least six nurses running towards me now, but now they’ve got worse people to tend to. As the vomit dripped down the wall, struggled to me feet.

 

As I looked up, there was a familiar face, which stared up at me. By the time I was standing upright, a body was wrapped around me. I looked down to a tear sodden face of a scared girl. It was Amy. She’d been lucky, she only had minor cuts and bruises, but the physical damage wasn’t anything compared to the mental damage she’d had inflicted on her. Suddenly, I felt her pushing away and panic filled her. Screaming, she flew back into the wall and slid down it.

 

Two nurses ran up to Amy and pulled her away up the corridor. I ran after them. ‘HEY! HEY! WHERE YOU TAKING HER! OI!’ I shouted. One of the nurses came up to me, she guessed that I didn’t speak Spanish and in her best English. “Your…friend has…” She pointed to her head and continued “…problemo”. Confused, I adapted the mumble she’d spilled into English. “She has a mental problem”. The nurse nodded, knowing that I understood her. ‘How?’ ‘No don’t.’ I stared. “Found beside a young boy…” She pointed to a bed in a room. She ran after the other nurse and left me. Slowly, I walked against the wall, slumping as I went to the door of the room of the boy.

 

As I reached for the handle, I held my breath and hoped that it wasn’t that serious and it wasn’t who I thought it was. The door opened with a creek and a loud squeak, which could wake the dead, shame it bring them back. With my eyes shut, I walked through and knocked myself on to the floor. Forcing my eyes open, eyes that I’d wished to stay closed.

 

When the sight hit my eyes, I threw myself back into a pile of body bags. As I hit a charred finger dropped out of the bag and shattered into a pile of dust. I picked myself up and stared at the shell, which was lying on the bed. Both it’s arms were broken in two to three places, his neck had a huge scare on the right side of his neck. The sheets which covered him were blood soaked and is left leg was plastered up. I walked closer, scared. Scared of the true identity of the shell. I picked up the booklet, which concealed the details of the shell. My heart raced and tried to rip out of it cage.

 

I couldn’t read Spanish, but there were two words I could read. The shell’s name was Nick.

 

Nick Peace.

Chapter 6

‘Exploding Enemy’

Written By Andrew Thompson

I should have been crushed. Crushed with emotions. But this wasn’t new. I’d had the world fall apart in front of me. The love of my life taken from. Another friend had been locked away from the world because of the mental state she was in. Nothing hurt anymore than, already had. Cold as a Machine and heartless as a rock, I walked out and sat in on a hard metal seat. My face was still sodden from the flooding early. The only thing I remember from that moment is emptiness, my sole was away on some far planet. My humanity was thrown out of the 10-storey building.

 

I shut my eyes and regained my strength. As they opened, the murder was passing by. At first I just blinked and thought. I stood up and walked after him. I knew if I punched him in the corridor, I’d be possibly arrested. So I followed him for 2 minutes, then I thought.

“Oh, screw this.”

 

I tapped him on the back. Achmed turned round. His face, a front of a mass murder and an enemy. My fist clenched and hit his face, throwing him back into the glass door, which swung open as Achmed crashed to the floor. I was about to take another swing, but my arms were held back. Alarmed and worried, I tried to turn around to see who was holding me. I felt my heart try to rip it’s self out of me, as Achmed got up, his fist clenching. I shut my eyes, waiting for a punch, but that hit never came. Suddenly, my arms were dropped and I stumped back.

 

As I lifted my head, echo’s of screams hit my ear and dug into me like a dagger. As soon as I lifted my head, my eyes screamed and I ran backward. Achmed had a trigger in his hand, which was linked to a metal box, which was ticking. As I ran I shouted down the corridor, “Get the Hell out! MOVE! MOVE! HE’S GONN…”

I cut. A burst of deafening sound deafened me and then sent me flying through a pair of hospital doors. As I hit the floor, a foot tumbled in front of me. As I tried to get up, blood dripped from my hair, shirt and mouth. The blood left an almost metallic taste in my mouth. The sound of cracking, from the floor, told me to get the hell away. But, something had a hold of my leg, crushing it like a bug being squashed. Another crack came towards me. At that moment, I thought I was doomed. Doomed to fall 5 stories into a dark abyss of blood and burning derbies.

 

Crack. Cracks formed up the wall, where I was. Crunch. My Leg was been chopped up like a vegetable. I could feel the heat from the fires below and around me, as if hell was pulling me in. Doomed, trapped and about to die in pool of blood and tears.

 

I wondered how many had been added to the body pile and if I would be joining the lost soles as well?

CHAPTER 7

‘Declared’

Written By Andrew Thompson

Slipping. As I dangled, flashes of the previous day hit hold. Flashes of Rose mangled on the bed. Flashes of the ripped and savaged bodies in white bags. Flashes of destroyed families and a pool of tears on the reception floor. My sweaty hands losing grip of white floor. I was losing grip because the blood, which swept itself across the corridor, was on the floor. I looked to the left to a small crack in the floor. The pool of blood was slowly dripping away, just like my sole. Dripping away to a dark, lonely abyss.

CRACK!

Suddenly, the huge mass of rock, which had been slowly crushing my leg, collapsed further into it. A scream of pain flew out of my mouth, along with a huge noise of cracking. Scared and panicking I tried to get up, regardless of the pain, which was spearing into me. As a pulled myself further towards the doors, I could feel my legs ripping apart. I struggled up; my mind set to release myself from this peril. Also set on getting revenge. Revenge on the group, which had destroyed my sole.

A blast of fire rushed through the gap. Within a second the bolder, which held me captive, collapsed into the abyss and I was free. Well free from the boulder, not from the seize which was going on all about the building.

I lifted myself up and stumbled towards the doors. Sharp pains kept shooting up my back. Blood lay where I’d been. I smashed through the doors. To my left was a pile of bandages and a security desk. I reached for the bandages and tightly pressed and rolled the cotton around my leg. I hadn’t looked at the wound, mainly because I in the situation to throw up. Once the wound was wrapped up, I stood up and walked to the security desk. As I crashed to the chair, a sharp piecing sound went through me. Gunshots of a machine gun, followed by screaming. And a Thud. I looked up and stared with disbelief, at the CCTV screen. The Hospital was under siege and the hostages were being gathered up in a room on the 2^nd floor. Injured people, some near critical, were being spilt up and taken to other wards. The captors, all wearing a pair of combat trousers and grey t-shirts, shoved people like they were kicking a bit of meat about. A man in his 30’s stood up and slammed his head into the back of one of the captors, sending him flying into a bed. He ran for the door. I looked at the other captors, like some cold blooded animal, they lifted they’re machine guns and pulled the trigger. I shut my eyes. The sound of flesh being pierced echoed about the room. When I opened my eyes, a body lied on the floor. Blood gushed from every hole and a leg was detached. Screams came from another TV, but this on was the News.

On screen was a ward, which had the medical staff from the hospital in it. In front of the camera was on the captor.

“People of the world, this is where your nature has lead you.”

His accent wasn’t one of a normal terrorist, but one of a normal civilian.

“On the verge of self-destruction. For this your existence has been…”

Fear struck the world’s heart. Nothing was the same, then onwards. Beats of racing

hearts was heard across the continents. The next act would show the decelerated of

war.

“… denied. This species is to be decimated. If you resist, we will destroy anyone who stands in way of our goal. We will do anything.”

I couldn’t believe this, I just couldn’t. They were declaring war on their own species. Willing to kill innocent people, for the extinction of them and everyone else on the planet. He walked back into the middle of the hostages, with two of the killer coming either side of him. His eyes black and un-human.

“THE FUTURE IS DECIDED!!!!”

His hands crashed against his chest. I thought this was going to be some weird ritual, it wasn’t. A high-pitched scream came from his chest; suddenly I knew he was a bomb. Fear, anger and hell hit me. From the three, came fire and a blast of smoke and blood hit the camera. There was only silence. A dead silence, like at a graveyard. I felt a tear drip down my face. My fist clenched. The screen came to another room where more people were being held. More of the murders were gathered around the innocent people. This guy had more of a German accent.

“Every 45 minutes, we will cleanse the world of your infestation. This is the final years of Mankind. By 2009 this world will be rid of you, forever.”

Those words echo, throughout the rest history. This time we had to destroy. It was them or us.

At 5:36pm on 16^th March 2008, humanity was at war with an unknown enemy.

At that moment, I was the only person who could stop them.

I was defender of a parasailed world and distraught race.

This is the war, history didn’t record.