Short Story on Children of Men

I was so lost, but later found. Julian discovered me. My parents weren’t born in England, escaped their country and began a new life here. Only to be separated from their new lives several years later. They were fugies and you can imagine what happened to them. It was in the wake of, what I assume, their death that Julian revived me. She mesmerized me; she was my leader to a new life. How could I disagree with someone who had saved me? How could I betray her? Guilt washes over my body as I scan the horizon for the source, but in a second, the emotion is gone. I am Luke and I am about commit an act of betrayal that I promised myself I would never do. We are nearing the end of this agonizingly long car ride when I see the car. The blockade between the road ahead of us that has sealed my fate as a traitor. Everything happens so fast, as if I was ignorant of mob that has begun sprinting down the hill towards us as I quickly switch to reverse, in order to keep up appearances. Then it happens. Blood seeps from the wound on Julian’s neck as Theo tries, in shock, to put pressure on the fatal wound. The copper smell that is so familiar too that reminds me of my youth. There is no emotion to fake, no facial expression to act, I am in shock of the events that I had so carefully planned. Then I am jolted back to reality when Theo knocks my two accomplices off the motorcycle and I am suddenly overcome with hatred towards Theo. What Julian wanted was wrong and would end is disruption. I know the only way to pull Britain out of these horrendous times is to use Kee’s baby as a way to politically unite Britain. Julian had to go, she was the price for change. Now its Theo’s turn.