Chapter 2
The nations make themselves comfortable, oblivious to the fact that their lives are about to be changed forever. The screen flickers and the words Gutters by glassamilk appears. Chapter 1. A female voice begins to read.
Some people were calling it the rapture.
Some gathered together in droves in front of all manner of theological representations, on their knees with their hands in the air, and actually welcomed the event with tears in their eyes and a smile on their lips, held fast in the belief that it was some kind of divine event being put in place by a savior returning to strip them of their mortal lives.
"Are we really going to sit here and listen to this?" Romano groans. Italy swaps at his brother's head in a playful manner.
"Shush, I want to know what happens next."
Peter Kirkland thinks that all of them were insane and that any person with half a brain in their head should have known exactly what it was.
Everyone perks up. Sealand? Really? He's not even at the meeting!
"Woah woah, wait up, is this story supposed to be about that little guy?" Prussia seems a bit put off about the story not being about him. Others begins to mutter among themselves.
"Silence! Maybe we should allow him to listen to it too, seeing that the story involves him" says Germany and looks expectantly over at England.
"Don't look at me! He's not my responsibility" the Englishman replies rather tersely. Arthur does love Peter, but showing it is another fact of the matter. He nods over to where Sweden and Finland are sitting.
"Sweden and Finland have adopted him – they're the ones taking care of him."
Everyone's eyes glances over at the pair.
"That's right! He's actually waiting in our room upstairs. Would you like that I go and get him?" Finland cheerfully response.
Germany nods and the Finish man stands up, gives his Swedish husband a kiss on the cheek and leaves the room.
Less than 10 minutes later, he returns with an excited boy, who's ecstatic about finally being allowed to participate in a meeting.
"Is this really about me?!" the young nation excitingly says. Tino smiles and nods at him.
"Yes Peter, now be quiet and listen."
Sealand complies happily and sits in his 'mama's' lap.
The voice continues reading.
The end of the world. Armageddon. The apocalypse.
Shivers runs down the nation's spines. It's the one thing they fear the most. The end of the world. They listen carefully, as the voice begins to talk about the chaos that it ensues. The Calamity, as they learn it's called, is just a nicer word on it.
In the days preceding The Calamity, Sealand was not sure what to think. He had been in England during the event on June seventh on a 'diplomatic visit' to his part time guardian, waiting in a huddled mass of nerves and fear in Arthur's sitting room.
They were supposed to have another week to prepare when the first flash came.
A horrifying heat, hotter than anything Peter has ever known, swept over them all in one pure, white burst of light, and immediately burnt anything and anyone in the bare air into nothing more than a greasy streak of a shadow on streets and building walls, bricks melting and pavement turning to steaming, black soup beneath their feet. Millions, simply gone in an instant.
There's a collective gasp in the room. The thought of such a horrible death was almost unimaginable. Japan visibly winces. Flashbacks of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs returns to his mind. He was in Tokyo at the time, away from the two cities when it happened. But he still remembers the details. How thousands of people had been vanquished in one second. Gone to the world, except their shadows, who remained on buildings. A small sign that they had actually been there. They were people. They were his people. 200 thousand casualties. Japan never forgot and never stopped mourning them. He lowers his head, while the voice continues speaking.
The earthquakes did not come until after the second flash decimated the southern hemisphere a day later. All radio contact with Asia was cut in less than an hour followed by Italy, Greece, and Turkey soon after. Sinkholes opened in thousands of cities and with them came tsunamis and floods and soon, low-lying cities were drowning and the nations were crumbling as quickly as their buildings.
Japan's attention to the story is back. He is frowning. He doesn't like this. Not one bit. He remembers the tsunami that hit him in 2011. Worry begins to seep into the room. Italy is shuffling nervously in his chair and Turkey, usually very stoic, is listening carefully to the words being spoken with one hand clutching the armrest.
The third flash hit central and northern Europe again several days later, but by that time, Peter was already too far gone with fever to remember it, still tucked away in England's sitting room beneath what was left of the collapsed ceiling, pressed between the backs of Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy, soaked with the sweat of their own sickness as England weakly hammered away at the broken radio, hoarsely screaming for the help of anyone still left breathing.
England is pale while hearing this. He glances over at France, who's face is set in a slight frown. Neither of them wants to think about what happens to them. So they listen and learns that Peter is transferred by boat to a bunker in Munich. There's no explanation as to what happened to England and France next, but they don't seem to care. They're content enough to know that Sealand is alive.
He tried to scream for Berwald first and then Tino and Arthur and Francis and anyone, but all that came out of him was a series of strangled gasps and coughs that brought red and black ash to his tongue.
Sealand clutches his father's hand. He needs to know that he is there. A gentle squeeze from Sweden comforts him, and he sinks down, resting his head on Sweden's shoulder. They all listen, as the voice describes a young woman, deathly injured by the flash, tries to comfort Sealand.
The woman had pulled him, struggling and crying, to her breast and stroked his hair with her hands, hands that were still too soft, and whispered to him in German in a vain act of calm comfort, her voice whispery and full of gravel, reminding Peter of crinkling paper.
He needed to be free of her. He needed away from her and her red flesh and sodden, stinking bandages. Still, she did not let him go and he had dissolved into tears, clutching the ripped fabric of his ash streaked shirt, and begged for Sweden. At that, the woman had hushed and let a quiet moment pass before asking in English if that is where he was from. He had only cried harder and the woman had bowed her head and whispered to him that Scandinavia was gone.
"Scandinavia is gone?! What does she mean 'Scandinavia is gone'?" Denmark flies up from his seat to stare at the screen.
"If you shut up and listen, maybe we will then get to hear" snaps Norway at Denmark. The Dane, slighty embarrassed, sinks down into his chair again.
In the third flash, she had explained, northern Europe had taken the brunt of the heat and thus far, not a soul had been found alive among the charred wreckage. She apologized and stroked his hair and told him that there would be no possibility of going back.
She held him until he sobbed himself to sleep.
A slow sinking feeling lands in the pit of Sweden's stomach. If all of Scandinavia was gone, was he gone too? Then who would look after Peter?
Sealand seem to have gotten the same thought, cause he looks worried up at Berwald. Sweden can't offer him more comfort than a hug and a careful smile. Yet, Peter finds comfort in this and cuddles up to Sweden's chest, carefully listening to his heartbeat. A sign that he is alive.
The voice carries on explaining how Sealand fares in the bunker. He is set to work when he can stand again, which is five months after, and told to scrub the cots clean together with three other young boys. There's especially a young polish boy, who he takes pity on and shares his bed with him. But, all good things must come to an end, Peter realizes, when the voice goes on to add:
When the boy died several weeks later, Sealand was neither surprised nor distraught. People came and people went and it was foolish to get close to anyone. He simply rolled the young man out of his bed and set to taking his belongings, a routine that was all too common when someone passed away.
Some people were still calling it the rapture.
Peter Kirkland still thought they were insane.
When the last sentence is uttered, the room is filled with ear deafening silence. No one are quite brave enough to break the stillness. Some are to shocked to actually understand what has happened. Others are too marked and scarred to want to know, what happens next.
But whether they had a choice or not, the voice continues on.