IMPACT (Book 1): A Post-Apocalyptic Tale Read Online Free Page A

strange. Yes, there were lots of things he knew he’d missed out on. They often struck him at odd, unexpected moments, but he found it difficult to imagine an alternate present in which he’d actually get to enjoy them. Or, not quite difficult, but uninteresting. It didn’t hurt much (although it did a little) to think of the awesome games he might now be playing on the new Oculus Rift set. But it didn’t really matter. Only incidentally did he consider the fact that he was measuring the importance of these issues by how much pain they caused.
    What really hurt were other things. Not what he had missed out on, but what he missed . He let the pencil tip hover above the page, then he drew a line beneath his previous list and added a title for a new one: Things I miss .
    But, just as he’d finished scratching the paper with that last, upwards curve of the s , he felt as if someone had opened the floodgates inside his chest. It was like one of those tsunamis in the Atlantic Ocean had suddenly found its way inside him, and was about to wreck unimaginable havoc. If a present he’d never really known was one he found difficult to regret, the past was quite a different beast. One thirsty for his tears.
    He quickly closed the notepad, slipping the pencil back inside the spiral binding.
    Maybe some other time , he told himself.
    * * *
    The sea was screaming.
    Or that’s how it appeared to the two of them, laying flat in the grass and peering down towards the beach.
    The wind battered the furious surface of the waves, as the Channel waters shook and roared their foaming rage. Somewhere beyond the Channel lay England and, within England, Adrian’s aunt and uncle.
    But right now they couldn’t have seemed any further away. Not only because of the wild stretch of water. Two groups of people stood on the beach, confronting each other.
    One group appeared to be scavengers, although they were in such rough conditions Adrian had initially thought they were ‘wraiths. There were about fifteen of them, clothes filthy and eyes rabid.
    The other group, a smaller group of about six or seven, were different. They stood before the scavengers, blocking their path. Adrian had never seen anyone like them before. They were still, their stance disciplined, as the disorderly scavengers cried obscenities and threats at them. More strikingly, they wore uniforms.
    Alice and Adrian had encountered the occasional group of soldiers during their travels, although they’d always done their best to avoid them – there was no knowing who they were serving, or whether they were dangerous or not. But these men were definitely not military. There were no armies with uniforms like these, black with red stripes along the sides. Their uniforms actually appeared to have been ironed, which was beyond rare these days. And despite something sinister in their design – something that was hard to pinpoint but most definitely there – Alice and Adrian found it hard to look away. There was an enchanting quality to their cleanliness, their order that harshly contrasted with the chaos surrounding them.
    The men in these uniforms stood firm, legs slightly parted, and stared, expressionless, towards their opponents.
    The two children watched as one of the scavengers spat on the sand, then shouted towards the other group, a fist raised in the air. Another one, an elderly woman, was pointing beyond the uniformed men.
    The atmosphere was tense, and just shy of breaking out into a physical confrontation. The smaller group never uttered a word.
    “What are they doing?” asked Adrian. Alice simply shook her head.
    One of the scavengers picked up a large plastic bag containing what appeared to be vegetables, and headed deliberately towards the martial-looking men. His intention was, apparently, to walk past, ignoring them.
    At first, they did nothing. The men merely watched the wretched individual approach them without the slightest variation in their expressions. The man