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  Meanwhile, Syria took advantage of the fact that Turkey had demilitarised under instructions from Xanasa. They attacked Kobane, which Turkey had held ever since the Syrian war ended in 2019. Within five minutes of the launch of the air attack, Xanasa had caused the planes to crash and had disabled the rest of the Syrian air force and army.

  Knowing that the Syrian air force was grounded, Saudi Arabia took the opportunity to invade Iraq (Syria and Iraq had a mutual defence alliance). In turn, the Shia government of Iraq called on their allies in Iran for assistance. The Ayatollah sent a message to be delivered at Friday prayers in Shia mosques in Riyadh to warn all Shia Muslims to flee the city before midnight. At 1 am, Iran simultaneously hit Riyadh, Saudi air bases and the Saudi army in western Iraq with nuclear strikes. This attack on innocent Sunni civilians caused the Wahhabis to attack any Shia they could find; an orgy of murder and rape ensued.

  After this slaughter, Iraq, Iran and Bahrain (all majority Shia countries) declared war on Saudi Arabia.

  Egypt, Jordan, Qatar and Afghanistan (all majority Sunni countries) formed an alliance with Saudi Arabia, but it was too late. Without their air force and most of their army, Saudi Arabia was quickly overrun. A world-wide ‘civil war’ between Sunni and Shia ensued. People who had once lived happily alongside their neighbours started attacking each other.

  Taking advantage of the ensuing chaos, North Korea ordered a pre-emptive nuclear strike against Seoul and the South’s air bases. They then invaded with over a million soldiers. Initially, due to the surprise and shock of the nuclear strike, they made rapid progress into South Korea. Japan, which had created a high-tech military force once the USA had disbanded its military, helped S. Korea drive this army back. China had the excuse it needed to sweep in and take the whole peninsula. They signed a peace treaty with Japan and then invaded Taiwan.

  While China’s attention was focussed on the Far East, India joined the Uighers and Tibetans as they invaded Eastern China.

  The United Nations had disbanded once the USA, Canada and Europe stopped funding it. Armed African UN forces became local warlords. A severe drought in the Horn of Africa led to starvation as the World Food Organisation no longer existed. A migration of starving people moved from east to west across Africa. Worse was to come. An Ebola epidemic began in Gabon. The virus had mutated and the vaccine was now ineffectual. The refugees from East Africa turned south as they heard rumours of the epidemic. Tragically, many were already infected and soon the disease was rampant throughout the continent. The world powers decided to ruthlessly contain it within Africa. Australia sent naval boats to patrol the Indian Ocean. Israel invaded the Sinai Peninsula and patrolled the eastern bank of the Suez Canal. Xanasa sent boats with armed drones to destroy any vessels on the north and west African coasts. Xanasa also disabled all African aeroplanes. Africa turned from a booming vibrant economy into a stinking rotting hellhole.

  Sarah Theakumkal

  writes about her Journey From India 2060

  I grew up in a friendly, happy, colourful fishing village called Kodimunai on the very southern tip of Kerala. We were poor Catholics of the Mukkuvar untouchable fishing caste. I never knew my mother as she died a few days after I was born. My aunt, an English teacher, had a daughter called Leah who was like an older sister to me. At their home, we were only allowed to speak English. My aunt cooked for us as well as her own family, and I would collect supper each evening for Father and my younger brother Tom. Some might think that without a mother I would have had a very sad upbringing. On the contrary, my early memories are full of laughter and happiness. I enjoyed school, where I excelled in English and history. At the sound of the bell signalling the end of classes, we would rush to the beach to play football and other games while waiting for the blue fishing fleet to return with the day’s catch. There would be great excitement as women came to inspect the fish. Local traders bought any large specimens. If Father sold a lot, he would give Tom and me a few rupees to buy treats. Once the nets were all stowed away and the boats heaved above high tide, we would return home. After bathing, we would sit down for grace before our evening meal. It was literally a lifetime ago, but still as I remember those meals of fresh succulent spicy fish, my mouth fills with saliva.

  After the evening meal, my father (Ignatius) and Grandad Tom would sit under the shade of our tamarind tree enjoying the evening breeze, while discussing the world, politics and family. I would often listen, hidden by the tall leaves of our ginger plant. They would often be joined by Father’s best friend, Naheed Abidi, who would arrive in a cloud of smoke belching from his clapped-out old car. Father would often tell the story of how Naheed had saved his life years ago. Father’s boat had capsized in a fearful storm. As he surfaced, he was picked up by an enormous wave that flung him onto his drifting boat. He smashed into it with such force that his arm was broken and he had a severe nosebleed. The blood attracted unwanted attention. His next recollection was seeing a large dark fin cutting through the waves. Within seconds, Naheed arrived, took an oar and kept hitting the shark with all his might until it swam away. Naheed dragged Father to safety and pulled Father’s boat behind him to shore.

  In the summer of 2058, laughter became a thing of rarity as we listened to the news of war brewing in Kashmir. Father believed that Iran’s secret service was behind the shootings in Kashmir. He couldn’t believe it when an army was despatched to invade Pakistan. Fortunately, we were too far south to get any fallout from the nuclear carnage, but the huge dust cloud blocked the sun and our harvest was poor. Worse was to follow when civil war between Shia and Sunni Muslims erupted all over the world. About a quarter of our population was Muslim, the majority being Sunni. Unfortunately, Naheed was Shia. There’d never been any quarrel between the factions; indeed, many of Naheed’s friends were Sunni. All this changed after the nuclear attack on Riyadh. To begin with, old friends just stopped seeing each other. It got really nasty after a Shia man was clubbed to death by a gang of Sunni men. A Sunni girl was raped in retaliation, and after that, all hell broke loose.

  Dad, Grandpa and Naheed continued to meet in the evenings, but their talk was very subdued and sombre. Naheed was a farmer and his crop had failed. The nuclear dust was clearing, but it was too late for his rice crop. We weren’t much better off as our vegetables hadn’t grown well and for some reason the fish catch was poor. Naheed said that his six-year-old daughters were losing weight and he was distraught when he heard them trying to stifle their hungry sobs. Dad and Naheed pondered the possibility of sailing off to find somewhere better to live. The Maldives were suffering badly as the tourist trade had dried up. There were no stable countries to the east until one reached Australia. They’d heard that Ebola was waning in Africa, but that length of journey was out of the question in our little fishing boat. So they resolved to stay and somehow survive for three months until the next rice crop would be ready to harvest.

  One evening, when I was listening, Naheed looked more troubled than usual.

  “Ignatius, I have a terrible dilemma.” He paused.

  “Okay, spit it out.”

  “Some young Shia men have got hold of sniper rifles and are living in the hills above Eraniel. They are executing Sunni in the area one by one. I think this is despicable. My problem is that I’ve been offered a million rupees by a rich Sunni man if I tell them where they’re based. One day, after Friday prayers, I gave a lift to one of the sniper’s sisters. When I dropped her off, she walked towards those hills by Eraniel. I know there’s a cave there and I’m sure that’s where they’re hiding. I’ve been given 100 Lakh and I’ll be given the rest when I tell them the location of the boys’ hideout. Although I believe the snipers are wrong, I’m reluctant to hand them over to be lynched. My problem is that I know this money would feed my family for years to come. What should I do?”

  I never heard Father’s answer as a neighbour’s dog started barking. That night, I lay in bed thinking about how much
food you could buy with 100 Lakh and I wondered what he’d said.

  The following night, he looked even more stressed.

  “I told my wife. She said it was obvious that I had to take the money for the sake of our girls. The problem is that I can’t bring myself to betray these boys.”

  The next night, he didn’t show up. Then at about 11 pm, I heard someone banging desperately at our door. I looked out and saw Naheed dripping with sweat and gasping for breath. Father let him in. I listened through the open door.

  “I took the 100 Lakh back to the rich guy at his home, telling him that I’d failed to discover where the boys were hiding. I thought he would understand and would praise my honesty for bringing his money back. Instead, he tried to grab me. He’s a mountain of a man. I dodged his grasp; terrified, I ran for my life. A gang of his neighbours, armed with clubs, screamed insults as they chased me. I reached my car just in time. Thank goodness it started first time. My wheels spun, kicking up stones as I accelerated away. They must have thrown something as my rear window smashed as I sped off down the road. I thought I heard gunfire and then I saw a grenade rolling under my car. I realised, too late, that it was a cricket ball. A moment later, I felt a sickening thump as a small child bounced off my bonnet, smashing my front windscreen. I know I should have stopped, but I panicked and put my foot to the floor. I left my car at Eraniel station, bought a ticket to Karakorum and ran here as fast as I could. I’m sure they’ll see through my ploy and will be here soon. What should I do?”

  Father paused briefly to think.

  “Years ago, you saved my life, and now it’s my honour to repay you. We’ll leave by boat as soon as possible. Fetch your family as they’ll otherwise be killed in revenge. While you collect them, we’ll pack what little rice we have, put together some warm clothes for the nights and fresh water to drink. Now go, they’ll be here soon.”

  Naheed briefly clasped my father and ran off to fetch his family. I was excited, if a little nervous, at the prospect of this adventure. I feared that I’d not be seeing my friends for a very long time, and was sad that Grandad wasn’t coming with us.

  I’d just sneaked my mother’s beautiful hairbrush that was in-laid with mother of pearl into the packing when Naheed rushed through the door. He was closely followed by his wife and two girls. They looked scared, dishevelled, and the twin girls were whimpering quietly. Father took control and we were soon marching towards the sea. It was a cloudless sky with a warm easterly breeze. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, it would’ve been very beautiful with the stars and a slither of moon reflecting off the calm sea. I was just enjoying the gentle susurration of the little waves when in the distance I heard the high-pitched scream of an engine, driven to its limit. Father made us push with all our might to get the boat launched. We jumped in; our outboard engine spluttered into life. The car screeched to a halt and six men ran down the beach. I heard a terrifying staccato noise, and ten yards behind the boat, the calm sea was turned into a churning maelstrom. We were soaked with spray.

  “What on earth’s that?” I shouted.

  “Nothing to worry about; we’re out of their range.”

  The village lights were soon a distant glow.

  I gave Layla and Maryam a shawl each as they were shivering, whether from the stress of the situation or the cool wind that the motion of the boat was creating, I wasn’t sure. They clung to each other, too frightened to talk. Tom, who was ten, two years younger than me, seemed to be revelling in the drama.

  “Where are we going, Father?” he asked.

  “At present, we are steering south-west, aiming for the Maldives in a couple of days. It’s time for sleep; Naheed and I will take it in turns to steer the boat.”

  I woke in the middle of the night as Naheed and Father were arguing in clipped whispers.

  “You must be joking! If we sail without light, we’ll surely hit a rock.”

  “There’s nothing between us and the Maldives. If we use a light, those ruffians will know exactly where we are.”

  “How do you know they’re on that boat?”

  “Why else would a fishing boat be out at this time of night?”

  “They might be planning to use lights to attract fish.”

  “You know that’s rubbish! Anyway, I would prefer the tiny risk of a collision than have them shoot our children with their automatic.”

  “Fair point. Okay, I can watch the compass with my torch. The breeze is blowing from the north now. If we hoist our sail and turn the engines off, we’ll hopefully be out of sight by dawn.”

  That really had me scared. I thought we’d left them behind on the beach, but it seemed that my father was convinced they were following us!

  The gentle rock of the boat must have overcome my fears and I woke with the sun blazing down. Any worry about being cold was long gone.

  Fatimah, Naheed’s wife, was cooking some fish they’d caught, and we were soon enjoying this with a meagre helping of rice. I looked around, thankful to see the ocean was completely empty. I didn’t say anything for fear of upsetting Tom and the twins.

  Father’s boat was in reasonable condition. It was his pride and joy and was painted a lovely ultramarine blue, including the small cabin in the centre of the boat. This wasn’t big enough for us all to sleep in, but there was plenty of space on the small foredeck. He’d added a small mast and simple sail after the time he’d run out of fuel on a fishing trip and had rowed for hours to get home. However, we females clearly had a problem. There was no toilet on the boat as the fishermen would normally just go over the side. Eventually, they found us a bailing bucket and a sarong slung over two poles for privacy.

  To occupy the children, Naheed suggested that each of us hold a line with the heads of the breakfast fish attached. Nothing seemed to bite and then suddenly Tom shouted, “Help! Something’s pulling me in!”

  Naheed was over like a shot and reeled in the fish calmly and steadily until it was exhausted. Finally, he landed a small tuna.

  That afternoon, we saw a low-lying island on the horizon. It took ages until we were sheltering under the shade of the plentiful coconut palms. It soon became apparent that it was very small and uninhabited. The only water we found was stagnant and infested with mosquitos in an empty coconut shell. The dry brown coconuts could be used to flavour our food, and the green ones at least quenched our thirst. We piled both types into the boat. We still badly needed fresh water.

  We pushed off, setting a southerly course. We had to use precious fuel as the sea was flat calm with not a breath of wind. We were totally bored. Fatimah suggested we play mancala using coconut shells and some seashells she had collected from the beach. Tom and I enjoyed our contests, but Maryam and Layla were too young to get the hang of it and were restless. Maryam shrieked as a hermit crab climbed over her knee with one of our shells still firmly attached to its back. Time dragged as we drifted past abandoned islands. Many of them had been tourist atolls but were now lifeless, their artificial, soulless luxury slowly decaying. At last, Father spotted someone who must have been a retainer left behind to guard a particularly opulent development. We chugged over.

  “Sorry, I’ve got no spare water. I have to get it from Male where there’s plenty as they have a solar-powered desalination plant. Normally, I collect water when I pick up tourists, but I haven’t had a single visitor for three weeks.”

  Layla started to sob, and with this, his heart melted. He gave us a little water, wished us well and gave us directions for Male and a description of the desalination plant.

  We felt better and for a while I enjoyed watching creatures in the water. We caught glimpses of little grey fish, and some silver flying fish jumped over the boat, presumably escaping from a predator. The best bit was when a pod of dolphins joined us, surfing our feeble bow wave.

  -----

  The next morning, we arrived at Male. We were given di
rections for the water plant and jostled our way through the busy, narrow streets. It felt strange to have so many people all around us after the seclusion of the last few days. I noticed that they were moving slowly and looked rather thin and wasted as they watched our odd little band walk by. We were thankful when Father spotted the large corrugated iron building covered in solar panels that we were looking for. We were met by a friendly man who greeted us and waved away our offer to pay for the water.

  “We have more than we can possibly use and it keeps pouring out for free. You’re not from round here, I think. Where are you from?”

  Naheed tried to evade the question. “It’s a long story; we won’t bore you with the details.”

  “I’m interested as there were some scoundrels getting water yesterday who were asking about a group of people who might just fit your description. Come and have some food. We’re fed up with the monotony of our present life.”

  With that, Aariz filled our canisters and we followed him to his ramshackle abode. His wife greeted us and prepared a meal of fish, rice and okra from their small vegetable patch.

  While we ate, Naheed told our story.

  “We’ve heard of the troubles between Sunni and Shia, but we’ve been spared any of that here. We believe that we’re all children of God. We’re Sunni, but we welcome you and want to free you from those horrible thugs.”

  “Thanks, but how can we lose them? We can’t fight them as we know they have at least one automatic gun.”

  “First, my son will help me move your boat to a locked and covered boathouse. None of you must leave my house. They know they can’t shoot you here for fear of being lynched by my neighbours. However, they’ll be watching and as soon as you leave they’ll look for an opportunity to attack. I’ll tell you about my plan when we get back.”