This great city is laid to waste. What was once a bustling metropolis of frantic activity is now a catastrophe. It’s still filled with frantic activity, but for entirely the wrong reason. People are scrabbling to release others from under heavy fallen boulders, and generally trying to assist in any way possible.

A man walks amongst the rubble. On the outside, his face appears calm and steady, his eyes focused and cold as they survey the chaos dispassionately. He steps across the rocks which had fallen, blocking his path, searching for something in the rubble.

~~~~~

“The negotiations failed to be a success, and we regret to announce that, as of three-thirty this morning, Great Britain is at war,” the newscaster announced solemnly. “All inhabitants of London are advised to use caution.”

Harry frowned, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “‘Advised to use caution’…” he quoted carefully. “Do you think that means they plan to attack London?”

Across the room, Dougie looked up from the computer screen he was working at, “I’m sure it doesn’t. If they were worried about that, they’d give us a much more blatant warning than ‘use caution’.”

“Maybe they don’t want to cause a panic,” Harry suggested.

“There would be more of a panic if we were bombed and no-one knew what to do,” the blond stated dismissively. “Surely they can see that?”

There was a loud rumbling bang outside, and all power went off inside. Both the computer and TV screen went blank, and the one lamp they’d had on flickered out with an unhappy sounding whine.

“I don’t think they see that,” Harry stated. He jumped up off the sofa, and sped towards the front door, with Dougie sharp on his heels. They could see the smoke rising half way across the city from where the bomb had hit. And they could see the plane preparing to drop a second one.

~~~~~

He searches the rubble with steady hands, because he knows that if he allows himself to worry and fret for a mere minute, he won’t be able to stop himself. But he can’t resist for much longer. He can’t find what he’s looking for. It’s a big city- maybe he never will.

He hears a soft crying emitting from the rubble, and goes to investigate. He knows immediately that it’s not who he seeks, but he can’t leave the person there. He pushes a rock aside and sees a child trapped in the boulders, one leg and one shoulder crushed beneath the rocks.

He calls out for help, keeping his eyes on the little boy’s, letting him know that he’s going to free him. Then he turns his attention to the stone covering the child’s shoulder, and pushes. Nothing. It’s too heavy. However, another man arrives, and they manage to lift it together, the cry of the child’s pain inspiring them to do so even quicker. Working as a team, they manage to free him, and get him loaded into stretcher for transportation to the nearest functional hospital.

One more person salvaged, but where is the one that he seeks?

~~~~~

The world quaked as the second bomb fell, and they could only look on as the foul mushroom cloud rose above the city. They had run for shelter in an alley, and Dougie’s back was against the wall as Harry had instinctively moved to protect and cover him. The both of them were shaking violently.

“We have to get back into the house,” Harry said, trying to sound firm as he cupped the other man’s face in his hands to force him to look into his eyes.

“Is it safe to move?” Dougie asked in a whisper, his lower lip trembling. “Harry, we’re being bombed… If we get hit-”

“We won’t.” The elder man dragged his thumb lightly over Dougie’s lower lip in an attempt to steady it. He glanced over his shoulder, tried to block out the screaming in his ears, the rush of his blood, the hammer of his pulse. “But we can’t stay here. We need to find shelter.”

Harry took Dougie’s hand and started to pull him out of the alley, but the latter dug in his heels. “Going out into the open is just as dangerous,” he insisted.

“Everywhere is dangerous until we get to shelter!” Harry shouted over the roar of the planes and the crash of another bomb far away.

“Then go, but I’m not moving.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Harry snapped as Dougie let go of his hand and stepped back. “Dougie! Don’t do this!”

There was a loud bang, and a flash of heat struck Harry across the face. That bomb had been close. The ground under his feet gave another mighty tremble, and the buildings shook. The wall next to where Dougie was standing crumbled, and Harry could only scream as it fell between them.

~~~~~

The house is a ruin, he thinks sadly as he arrived in front of it. Half the roof’s missing and various parts of the walls have fallen down. He can see the bedroom through a gap on the upper floor.

He wonders if he came back here. After they were separated, he wonders if Dougie came back to the house after all. Or did he go somewhere else? Or did he not move at all? Crushed by the downpour of rocks and dust?

He pulls out his mobile- dials the familiar number in the hope that it will be picked up on the other side. But he only hears a metallic beep, and that infuriating voice informing him that the number is now out of service. His composure cracking, he hurls it against the wall of the ruined house, breaking down along with the screen of the mobile.

Where is he? Where is he? Is he all right? Is he alive? Is he dead? Did he leave the alleys? Or was he crushed?

He needs to look in the alleys. He needs to see if he’s there.

~~~~~

“Dougie!” Harry hollered into the cloud of dust that rose in front of him. He tried to run into it, but the dust invaded his lungs, and he stumbled back, coughing. “Dougie!” he yelled again. “Dougie?!”

“Here,” a voice said to him, and a hand grabbed hold of his arm. “You can’t be here. Bombs are falling. We need to get to the safe room.”

“No!” he argued. “I can’t go anywhere! My friend is in there!” Harry pointed, but he got the feeling that the man wasn’t listening.

“There’s no time to get him out. We need to get to the safe roo-”

“I don’t want to go to the bloody safe room!” Harry exploded. “I want to get Dougie out of there!”

“I’m sorry,” another voice told him, and Harry found his other arm taken in a vice grip. “But if you want to live, you have to come with us.”

They started walking, dragging an unwilling Harry- who was literally kicking and screaming- with them. “No! Dougie?! Dougie?!?!”

~~~~~

The alleys. He can see the pile of rubble already in his mind as he hurtles down the street to where they had run in a mad panic, the ground shaking as that bomb had hit.

He turns the corner and there it is. He starts to pull rocks aside, screaming the name continuously in the hope he’ll receive a response, however weak, from somewhere.

And then he pulls one rock aside, and stops dead as a hand comes into view.

~~~~~

“Earlier this afternoon, London was attacked by ten cargo planes filled with bombs,” the newscaster reported. “This has left many people injured, some dead, and a great deal of the city destroyed. The planes are now gone and the government asks that all of you do your part to help the wounded.”

Harry stared at the TV in the safe room. He had been here for two hours. It was an underground room, capable of fitting about a hundred people. Apparently they were all over the city, having been built over the past ten years in the eventuality that we would one day go to war once more. April 19th 2020- the start of World War Three for Britain.

Now he needed to get out. He needed to know if Dougie was still alive. He stood, and moved with the others towards the exit of the safe room. He moved up the steps slowly, and walked out into the chaos.

~~~~~

A hand. He feels a thump in his heart, and works furiously to clear the rubble, revealing Dougie slowly to the outside world.

Dougie is bruised, and bloody. His leg is crushed, and bent at an awkward angle, and his eyes are closed. His face is lifeless, and Harry fights not to assume the worst.

He presses his shaking fingers to the blond’s neck, searching. He can’t be dead, not after Harry’s just found him.

His heart soars as he feels a weak flutter against his fingertips.