End of days 6

Grey shadows dancing in the mist, the battle’s noise muffled, and yet I know that he’s out there; I can almost feel his breath on my neck.

But then the sun burns through and I find that I’m standing alone outside the station, our road skirting the hill ahead of me, our house just out of sight around the corner.

And there are no ruins, no smoking fissures, no angels, no devils; just the morning light and the way the world used to be.

Is it over? Did we win without me noticing? Are you …?

My heart leaps as I race up the hill, picturing myself opening our door, picturing you welcoming me back. Near our front gate, two men are leaning against a car and I wave to them in my happy delirium.

I know that something is wrong as soon as I see the unwashed windows and peeling paint. Then firm hands twist my arm and I am slammed onto the car’s bonnet, a silver police badge brandished before me.

‘You are charged with the murder of Mr Cecil McKenzie. You have the right to …’

Instinctively I reach for my sword but it has vanished with everything else.