Blood Stream (A Short Story) Read Online Free Page A

well, more of a researcher really, although he does give the occasional lecture.  It’s probably that which puts me off, the serious tone he adopts as soon as he starts talking about his favourite subject, the faraway look in his eye. 
    He says that this stuff I’m learning is a load of crap anyway, that the real reason the planet is now so empty, so lacking in crowds and communities, is far darker.  
    Far scarier. 
    It’s not in the history books because if people knew the truth they wouldn’t be able to go about their day to day lives, they would just be too freaked out, and what is left of society would crumble. 
    That stuff is easier to remember, because it’s real.  Learning history that I know is fake does not come naturally to me.
    I shift my bum, trying to get more comfortable on the granite rock I’m perched on, and stretch my back, before refocusing on the book on my lap. 
    The book is made of bleached white paper which is still crisp and smells fresh.  It’s one of the newest ones I own. 
    My father says it’s important that I learn this stuff so I can get a decent job, like him, and that I never tell anybody what he’s told me. 
    I don’t know what would happen if I did. 
    What I do know though, is that if I don’t pass my exams, if I can’t get a job, the government won’t help me.  I will have to look after myself. 
    That’s why I’m out here sitting on this uncomfortable stone.  I am hoping some kind of animal will approach the bait; freshly cut carrot I grew in our garden.  I’ve laid it out in a secluded corner that’s protected by rocks and ferns, and in my direct line of sight. 
    I’m hoping to catch a rabbit, as they’re my favourite.  Then I can kill it and we will have meat for dinner. 
    My dad has taught me well, and I hunt frequently, so at least if I don’t get a job I will be able to survive, I will be able to eat, and stand up for myself in a fight.
    Unfortunately nothing is approaching the bait yet, so I return my attention to my book, rubbing my temples as I do. 
    I force myself to read the words on the open page . . .
    ~
    ‘In the year 2046 the government of England refused to play a part in the war that was rapidly consuming the European nations, having spread from the Middle East.  The leading party, Labour, thought that if it abstained from action it would not be a target. 
    The war spread quicker than anyone could have imagined, governments losing control as chemical agents started to be employed as the weapon of choice by multiple countries. 
    Nobody knew who was in control anymore, or who the enemy was. 
    Paranoia spread, and it wasn’t long before France started to suspect that England was collecting their own supply of noxious nerve agents, and grew fearful that they would be the target, as France had recently destroyed the cities of Spain and Germany with nuclear weapons.’
    ~
    I glance up at the bait, and around at my surroundings—water trickling around mossy boulders and flowing softly over the stream-bed, and the lush summer leaves overhead, gently moving in the wind.
    Any excuse for a break. 
    No sign of life yet so I refocus on the book in front of me.
    ~
    ‘England had not been accumulating weapons, but that did not stop France. 
    In 2046 France fought Scandinavia, defending itself against the repeated attacks it had suffered.  After months of small invasions, they had still not won, so once again they deployed more nuclear weapons. 
    After France had taken down the countries surrounding it on land, it turned its full attention to England and targeted London with a powerful nuclear bomb. 
    Survivors from neighbouring counties fled, but many were suffering the effects of radiation sickness, and millions of people died.  Those who didn’t die fought each other for food, and anarchy spread through the country. 
    No-more attacks came from the government in France, who were themselves destroyed in an attack originating in