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Intermediate. Years 7/8/9

Bomb Runner

By Joshua Duddy, year 9, Elizabeth College

It was a cold and dark winter's night in London. Andrew and Marcus weaved through the streets, afraid, but willingly. It was a risky business, running through the torn down lanes during the Blitz, yet the rewards were too tempting to ignore. The sirens had sounded minutes earlier. Now the streets were quiet...

"Marcus," Andrew whispered shakily, "Come!"

The bush that had contained the blonde nine year old burst, throwing leaves all over the destroyed garden. Andrew had been an innocent child until the war had begun, and now found himself with no family and a friend he had met on his scavenging trips. Marcus raised two fingers and pointed them towards the entrance of the battered oak door. A bomb had landed near to this house recently, damaging it, but not quite destroying it. "Perfect," they said simultaneously.
"You know Marcus, I don't think we realise how easy we got it," Andrew mimicked.
"I know, it's as if the world has stopped, and we've just continued as normal," Marcus replied. "However, I wish my dad was here, he'll come back one day, once he's finished 'business'."
Andrew sighed, knowing that his intelligence on the subject was far greater than Marcus's, as he was five years older, and just said, "He will, I'm sure he will." And with that, Andrew approached the door, head down. He turned, realising Marcus was staring into the sky, watching and waiting.
"Marcus?" Andrew cried. But by then it was too late. The whistle of a bomb sang mockingly, about to take another victim. Andrew glanced at Marcus, Marcus glanced back. Then the bomb had arrived at its destination.

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