It was horrible when the second bomb went off. Half the people in my office screamed and ducked under chairs and tables. The other half? Well I didn’t even want to contemplate. The first bomb sounded somewhere up stairs, and we, in my department hadn’t time to wonder what it was until the second bomb went off closer to home. I looked out from under my table and saw carnage and chaos. My eyes clouded up with tears. Screams and loud moans broke the deathly stillness.

It was the turn of the new millennium, and we of the ‘Truth’ Newspaper had been partying. Lots of alcohol and cigarettes had been passed around as we counted the minutes. Just as midnight struck, the bombs went off, just like a rebellious Extremist had predicted.

I wanted to block my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen to the screams of my colleagues. These people were my friends, my family; we were a close-knit department of reporters.

For some reason I had been lucky. As I stood up I realized why I and half a dozen other people around me had not felt the heat and shards of shrapnel and debris of the bomb. We had been protected by the thin movable pylon board. The same one we pinned notices and assignments on. It was now melted and contorted on the floor; it had saved us from most of the damage. Apart from a few scratches and bruises I was fine. I scanned the room. The six people, who had avoided injury along side me, were sitting on the ground weeping. They were distraught, and showed everything that I felt. I let them be and slowly made my way around, looking for survivors. I found a camcorder that was only slightly damaged, so I picked it up and switched it on. I knew that this would feed the human curiosity, and feed the hate towards the ones who did this. I instantly knew who were behind the attacks, and I was sure I was not the only one to conjecture. Most of the country hated the people who called themselves Extremists. They were rebels who hated everyone; religion, politicians, women, men, children, everyone who did not follow them.

I walked carefully through the room, aiming the camera at various angles. The lights were still out and I knew they would never work again. I made my way towards the eastern wall where I felt certain I had seen movement. Sure enough as I approached I found four men. One of them had a broken arm and another sported a bloody knee. I helped them move and sit by the other survivors. I counted, there were ten people in ok shape, but ten did not count much when I knew there were about sixty of us in the room.