Chapter 8

The funeral

The limo, drove up the gravel road, to the large cemetery. Next to me in the limousine were Jacy and Ernest, behind me sat Ava, Wyatt, and some other man, that was invited to the funeral.

When we got to the large cemetery gate, we got out, to see the Japanese Navy General, who I suppose was Akamine’s wife, and a couple other important looking people. 

We walked into the cemetery and I was surprised at how many people had attended the funeral. About two hundred men and women, lined up in front of a pit and grave. After the crowd silenced, an electric carriage rode forward, four men around the outside, marching in unison to the grave. They lowered, the coffin in, carefully.

Once they did, the electric carriage drove off, and the men saluted before the grave.

The General stepped forward and turned, to the crowd.

“In these sad times, today we say goodbye to former Prime Minister Akadeji Akamine who survived the dark era of World War II and ended the Eurasian Cold War.” She continued on, but I didn’t listen. I became too upset.

Eventually, the funeral ended. I looked around at all the other graves. Most of them were from the brutal war eight years ago. Military workers, government control, rescue workers, but then I stumbled across one grave. it read:

Mary Grace Bush

2028-2039

A Sweet Friend

Tragically, her life ended early in the War of 2039

I stared at it for minutes straight, on the verge of crying. My friends wondered what I was staring at and walked towards me.

“What is it?” Ernest asked. I didn’t say anything, nor take my eyes off the writing.

“It’s Mary,” I murmured.

...

Two weeks passed.

Ava, Ernest, Jacy, Wyatt, and I caught a plane home.

Nothing happened. On the ride, I heard a ding, and noticed Finn texted me. 

Finn: Is everyone ok?

Me: We’re all fine

 Thanks for checking in

Finn: Ok I wanted to make sure you didn’t need my help.

Me: We’re on our way home

Finn: Hope you make it back safely

Me: thanks

I flipped off my phone and stared out the window. Rain was pouring down, thumping off the thick glassed window.

These were days of mourning.

And so would the rest of my life. To much of the ones I cared for were dead. My life was a hard one.