George and Kelly Bright had finished another day of back breaking hoeing. In the darkness of the barracks, they wondered how long they would survive.

When the machines came, they had been staying together in Newcastle. As the onslaught commenced, they had fled, hoping to escape the torrent of death.

Heading towards the Scottish border, they had met one of the star shaped machines who had unleashed his bolts. This advanced matter transmitter had transported them to one of the many orbiting prison ships, where they spent the next few weeks.

Now tonight, they chatted softly. His sister was rather weakly as she always had been. Wearing tattered clothes, as they all were, Kelly was dangerously thin. Even her dark hair had fallen out.

George was no better off. His wide waist had shrunk until he was but a shadow of his former self. His dark hair was now a bright white and his sunken cheeks reminded him of a grinning skull.

“We will never get out of here,” Kelly whispered. “These damn machines will kill us all in the end.”

“Don’t say that Kelly. At least we are alive.”

“How long for?” she asked weakly. “We won’t last a year.”

He tried to cheer his sister up.

“Remember that Paris trip where you lost that shoe of yours?”

Kelly smiled.

“That damn dog took it.”

George laughed.

A sudden explosion shook the wooden barracks and everyone glanced at the open space where windows should have been.

“What was that?” Kelly asked.

“No idea,” George replied as gunfire erupted.

“Someone’s attacking,” Kelly said sitting up.

“George ran to the wall and glanced out. Two machines were firing at something he could not see. He called her over as other inmates ran over.

“This could be our chance Kelly,” George said grabbing her soft hand.

He pulled her toward the door and opened it. He saw and heard explosions and gunfire coming from the outer stockade. He glanced at her.

“Come on Kelly. It is now or never.”

He dragged her out as the battle continued around them. George saw the breach in the outer stockade and ran for it. Kelly, in her weakness, tripped and went down. As they rolled, a pink ray slashed down reducing his sister to dust.

George scrambled up and looking at the machine in alarm, saw a fighter standing beneath it. He saw a small explosion that took the machine’s attention toward the dashing attacker and ran for the escape route.

When he reached it, he saw a tall cat, dressed in a dark blue cloak.

“My sister’s dead,” he muttered.

“Get yourself out of here now,” the cat replied, pushing him away.

George had run north, away from Bamburgh Castle. As he did so, rays slashed down eliminating many of the fleeing prisoners. He dived down as a machine drifted overhead. Once it was gone, he dashed into the night.

He never forgot that awful night. He never forgot his sister either.
As time passed, a terrible feeling of revenge built up within his tortured mind. One face haunted his nightmares.

The cloaked cat.
---
“We appear to be in orbit my dear,” the cat said as the globe showed a beautiful picture of planet Earth.

“You have a scanner now.”

“Unfortunately yes. It seems the ship put one in. No idea why.”

Yoland gazed at the blue globe and frowned.

“What happened to the cloud cover?”

Jerrix smiled.

“It’s approximately three years since our last visit my dear. Should be a bit warmer by now.”

Yoland smiled.

“Are we just going to hover or are we really going to land?”

Jerrix tapped a few buttons on the east panel of the pyramid and the ship juddered again.

“Until the engines are fully run in we will have to be careful,” he pointed out.

“Are we down?” Yoland asked.

Jerrix pointed to the globe.

Looking at it, Yoland saw a terrible scene of rubble.

“Where are we?”

“It seems to be the ruins of Newcastle. Not far north of Holy Island my dear. Shall we take a peek?”

Yoland nodded as the cat stepped outside.

She gazed around at the deeply depressing scene. Where buildings and roads once stood, heaps of rubble was piled up. Bulldozers were attempting to clear this as burly workers in blue hats looked on.
Here and there, grim faced survivors scuttled about.

“Rather sad sight this,” Jerrix commented. “A lovely city reduced to this.”

“Did you come here for any particular reason?” Yoland asked.

“Just curiosity,” the cat replied. “See how people were adapting.”

They walked away from the relative safety of the ship and down the rubble-strewn path. As they did so, Jerrix suddenly stopped.

“Something the matter?” Yoland asked.

The cat was staring ahead into empty space. He watched fascinated as a similar cat stepped from a lightly damaged hotel only to be gunned down. The animal fell heavily to the ground and did not move.

Jerrix felt his face drain of colour.

“I have just seen myself being assassinated.”

“I strongly suggest we leave at once then,” Yoland suggested. “We can’t risk that.”

The cat grabbed her.

“Even turning back could lead to disaster my dear. We have to keep going.”

She shrugged her shoulders and followed him through the bewildering sea of carnage until a voice called him.

“Wait a moment, I recognise you.”

They both turned and saw a short bloke with dark beard approaching
from behind a torn hospital. He was dressed in a crazy assortment of scavenged clothes and seemed to be smiling.

“You are Jerrix are you not?”

The cat nodded slowly.

“I was one of the prisoners you rescued from that camp.”

“Nice to see you again eh...”

“Terry. You told me to head for the island.”

“I’m glad you made it,” the cat replied. Then his voice dropped. “Many people did not.”

“Oh the famous last stand. It’s become something of a legend.”

“A legend?” Yoland asked.

Terry smiled.

“A small group of fighters determined to defeat the enemy.”

“They certainly did that,” the cat said carefully.

“I can offer you both a drink if you like,” Terry said. “My shift has just ended.

“Lead on,” Jerrix replied.

“My place is not much I’m afraid. Just a broken down caravan.”

“I love caravans,” the cat told him.

Terry led them through the rubble until they spotted a small battered white van coming into view.

“It looks lovely,” Yoland commented.

“Glad you like it,” Terry said. “For me it’s home.”

He opened the door and they entered a rather small kitchen area. The tiny living area stood to the far left.

“Grab a seat and I’ll get a bottle out.”

Yoland followed the cat until he sat on the fitted sofa that sat behind a small wooden table.

“Only whisky I’m afraid,” Terry commented.

“Fine by me,” Yoland replied as Jerrix shook his furry head.

“I’ll just have water ta.”

Terry poured out two glasses and carried them over before pouring his own.

As he rejoined them he said, “Bottoms up.”

Yoland sank hers as Terry did likewise. Jerrix sipped at the water slowly.

“How did you cope with the snow?” the cat asked.

“Pretty well actually. Many of the old and young perished but I hear it was worse elsewhere.”

The cat nodded.

“How long will you be around?” Terry asked.

“This is just a fleeting visit,” Jerrix replied.

“Keep travelling eh?”

“Something like that,” the cat replied.

“If you like you can stay here for a bit,” Terry suggested.

“Why don’t we do that,” Yoland suggested.

“Of course we will my dear. Time for a rest eh.