Art made by PchelaGenadiy
Finally the car parked in it's place and the motor fell asleep.
"Everyone out of the car this instant."
You were annoyed.
Why?
The car ride had been awfully loud.
Thirteen Colonies wouldn't stop asking question after question, triggering the UK so much that they started fighting, of course making the US join, and finally the whole car broke into a full blown fight.
The only person who had kept quiet the whole time was Skáney, who looked out of the window in awe, amazed and confused.
"I can't wait until we can finally all go back again." Thirteen Colonies huffed after finally getting out of the car.
"Maryland has Scarlet fever, she needs me more than I need this bullshit."
"Oh your states are dying already? Who could've known?" The British Empire asked the Thirteen Colonies, the fake empathy making it sound very harsh.
Thirteen Colonies opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but then kept it to himself.
"That's what I thought." The British Empire seemed to be pleased with himself that he had left the other speechless.
"Listen here, old man. She'll be ready for the battlefield before you can say Boston Tea Party, so shut your mouth." The American snapped.
But his eyes were clouded with dark worry.
You couldn't blame him. He had been torn out of his normal life and was thrown into the future, in a different world. And there was no way back. For now.
"Alright, I want to get some things straight. We're not going shopping for things we don't need. We're going in there, getting food, clothes.."
"And toothbrushes." UK added quickly.
"... and toothbrushes." You looked at him with annoyance, before continuing. "I don't want anyone wandering off and buying things we don't need, okay?"
The crowd in front of you nodded.
"Alright." You turned around, heading for one of the stores.
"Whoa, USA why is the ground so black?"
"Because this is a parking lot."
"Parking lot? Co jest parking lot?"
"It's a place to park."
"Park? But there is no plants here."
"There are no plants here."
"No, like parking your cart in a place, that kind of park."
"Oh."
Trying to ignore the obnoxious conversation behind you, you went through the shopping list again, making sure you wouldn't forget something vital.
"Guys, do you think we might find someone here?"
"Yeah, it would be a relief to know that more of the countries are okay."
"Do you think we'll run into more past countries?"
"If someone like the USSR could come here, then do you think that even worse might show up?"
"What's worse than the USSR?"
"Well... I can think of one."
The conversation stopped then and there. A neurotic silence followed.
Walking past the side of the parking lot, there suddenly was a soft rattling sound in the bushes next to you. The countries jumped, but you recognized the light footsteps of a rat.
Suddenly it scattered out of the brush and onto the pavement.
And with it panicked screams behind you.
"Bloody hell a Rat!" UK screamed and clung onto Germany. "Kill it! Kill it!"
"What? What's wrong with you?" You asked, startled.
But it wasn't only UK who seemed to be losing it. The British Empire froze in terror and The Kingdom of Poland immediately hung onto Polands side. Skáney grabbed your hand and immediately pulled you back.
Then he picked it up and flung it through the air, where it hit the pavement once again, twitched, squeaked and fled.
The countries were so startled that they probably lost ten years off of their lives.
UK shook and still didn't realize he was holding onto Germany like a scared toddler.
He was flung back to past memories. Memories that were too horrible for him to forget about.
It was the times before he was the UK.
It was raining that day in London. Rats scurried over the streets, crows cawed.
The death birds were calling their victims.
A man walked in those dirty and lifeless streets that day.
His face was white with a red cross in the center of it.
He avoided the rodents at all costs. He despised them. With every ounce of his being.
The bells were ringing. But it wasn't Big Ben. Big Ben wasn't to exist until centuries from now.
The man shivered. It was cold. Or maybe it wasn't, maybe it was his soul that was slowly leaving his sick body.
He looked at his finger tips and gasped with shock.
They were even more black then before.
Gloves, he couldn't show his children he was dying too. He quickly slipped them on.
He finally entered a house. He didn't bother to put on the special suit.
He didn't have time. He needed to know if Greater London was still alive.
The house was filled with horrible stench.
There lay his province, decaying in front of him, even though he was still alive.
His hands, toes, mouth, lips, neck and eyes were swollen and black, bleeding while toxic puss would flow from the swollen pockets.
The sickness was eating him alive.
It was a horrible sight, not only that but also a horrible stench. It made you sick just to look at him.
Walking up to him, the province opened his eyes to look up to England.
"Hello, sir." He whispered.
England took a chair and sat down next to the head of the bed.
Greater London looked up to him, his eyes red and bloodshot.
"I don't feel good, sir."
England just nodded and wanted to put his hand on the provinces forehead, but realized that he might hurt him in the process, since his forehead also was swollen.
Instead he put his hand down on the blanket covered arm and sighed.
"How is Cornwall, sir?"
England swallowed and shook his head.
"Don't worry about him Greater London. You have to concentrate on getting better."
He got up to get the province some water.
Stew had been cooking on the almost dead fireplace. He sat back down next to him and fed the province. He was so sick that he obviously had no appetite, but he knew that England was going to force him to eat something.
After he was done, England got up and wanted to put the dishes away.
Greater London gasped shakily. Tears started flowing down his sick eyes.
"Your gloves sir, they're bloody."
England looked down at his hands. Blood. They were drenched.
"You got the sickness too." The once strong province started crying now.
"Are we going to die, pa?"
England turned around, he couldn't answer.
"Everything is going to be alright. Have faith." He finally said.
He had to get out. He couldn't show his province he was about to cry as well.
"I'll be back, try to get some sleep." He said, listening to the quiet sobs of Greater London.
He got out of the house. Rats immediately ran away, they had been waiting for something in front of the door.
But he managed to step on one, he listened with satisfaction as the bones cracked and organs squished, killing the rat slowly and painfully.
Picking his foot back up, he looked down at the dead rat and kicked it. It went sailing through the street and landed on the other side.
It was the rats fault they were dying. They had cause this suffering and death upon whole Europe.
He looked up to the window where his sick province lay.
His poor, sick child.
And what scared him the most, was that he didn't have an answer to his question.
It haunted him. His provinces thin voice repeated in his head:
Are we going to die, pa?