The n00b Warriors (27 page)

Johnny shook his head as tears streamed down his face. “I could see her—she wasn’t moving, and then a Coco took her. They took a bunch of the women.”

“I have to find her.”

Tommy shook his head. “We got to get out of here—get the Wii somewhere safe. They’re going to be coming for us, and they’re going to be coming strong.”

Dylan’s eyes welled up. It was the first time since fighting that he had cried. “I’m staying until I find her. I promised her I would take care of her.” He walked off before anyone could argue. Hunter and Aimee followed, but Tommy went the other way.

Aimee put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Trinity hated it out here—she was more spiritual than all of us combined. If anyone would find peace in death it would be her.”

“Did you hold the Golden Wii?”

Aimee nodded. “I got it, and then Tommy took it from me.”

“Was it worth it?”

“It’s a symbol, Dylan—it represents something greater. Symbols are all we have.” She paused and added, “But no—it wasn’t worth it.”

Dylan went to everybody lying on the field; the bodies that were facedown, he turned over. He studied each of them. He tried to remember the names of the ones in his company. He apologized. He had Aimee and Hunter drag the few who were still alive, including Johnny, back to the trench to wait for help.

Aimee pointed out that there was movement on the Coco side. Reinforcements had started to replace the lines, and they would start firing once they were settled in enough to realize that there was someone in no-man’s land.

Dylan ignored the threat. He went up and down the Coco line two times, but there was no sign of Trinity.

He felt no fear. A part of him wanted to cross over to the enemy side and find wherever it was they had taken her body. He wanted to see her even if she was dead, so he could have closure, and he could tell her that he was sorry.

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Dylan sat down on the tank and watched Aimee return to their trench. Hunter came up next to him. They watched the sun setting in silence, across the enemy’s field. The new Cocos were pulling weapons from the dead bodies and carrying away the wounded. Dylan felt sorry for them. They all looked new—too new to know what they were in store for.

“I never thought it would happen like this,” Dylan tearfully admitted, “If it ever happened, I wanted it to be together.”

“Maybe she made it out somehow,” Hunter said hopefully.

Dylan shook his head. “There’s no way, Hunter. She’s gone—it’s just you and me now.” He looked at Hunter’s shoulder; in the chaos, he had forgotten about him getting shot. “How’s your arm?”

Hunter shrugged. “I told you, it just nicked it—the bullet didn’t even stay inside. I always thought getting shot would be more dramatic.” Dylan was silent, and Hunter added, “We still have each other.”

As the last of the sun disappeared, a Jeep and two trucks made their way towards the tank. Tommy jumped out of the Jeep and ran up. “We’re getting out of here, Dylan!”

A man in a suit got out of the Jeep, as well. He had greasy, slicked-back brown hair and was wearing dark sunglasses. He reminded Dylan of Johnny.

“This is the company leader, sir,” Tommy said to the man in the suit. “We would have never found the Golden Wii if not for him.”

He nodded and extended his hand. “My name is McCormick James. I work for the President. How would you like to be a hero?”

“I’m not a hero. My entire company is either injured or killed off. Look around!” Dylan said, letting his emotions get the best of him; he looked down and saw that McCormick was wearing a pair of muddy sneakers with his suit.

“The way I see it, you helped hold off a company of Cocos twice your size! This is the first time we’ve pushed back an enemy line in months!”

“My friends are dead—I failed them.”

McCormick slapped him on the back and said, “You’ll be pulled off the front lines and given medals for this. We have a new company that’s going to take over.”

“Aimee’s going to take my spot!” Tommy said excitedly. “You, Hunter, and I are going to be paraded around the country to boost morale.”

“What’d I do?” Hunter asked.

“We’ll call you the great machine gunner or something!” McCormick laughed.

“My place is here. I’m going to die like Trinity—like I should have today,” Dylan argued upset.

“Trinity’s his girlfriend that died,” Tommy explained.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend. My bestfriend!” he broke down again, and softly said, “And she’s dead.

McCormick chuckled. “Well, whatever she was, you’re not staying—not on my watch, anyway. This isn’t an option. We’re pulling you off the lines right now. You’ll meet the President, shake people’s hands, tell them how great it was fighting and how we’ll win—your new job is to encourage others to join. But the best part is, you get to live!”

“So you want me to lie?”

McCormick flashed a smile
—
just the way Johnny would. “Not lie. Just be a hero.”

A Coco plane flew low overhead, and its bomb doors opened. Dylan watched them fall and hit. McCormick seemed nervous and said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here before any of you die!

Dylan looked down at the trench. None of it seemed real. They were supposed to die in the trench like everyone else. He could only think one thing:
Why do I get to live?

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(Coco Puff, Blog Entry)

UNEASY TIMES

Posted: Saturday, February 28, 2015 | 11:55 PM (GMT)

I was supposed to return home three weeks ago. At least once a week, they tell me to be prepared to leave, but then nothing happens. It’s the fourth week air traffic has been suspended, and I can’t shake the eerie feeling I have. A part of me sides with the military, and agrees with them for shutting it down after the continual attacks—but the other part just wants to go home.

There’s nothing more for me to do here, so most days I just wander the streets and visit libraries. Today I was in a library reading a magazine, and FBI agents entered the building and removed books from the collection. They must have taken over a thousand. They loaded them into two vans. What I found most odd is the way everyone pretended they didn’t see anything. No one wants to stand out—not since they started taking people.

Yesterday I passed a dispute on a street corner where two men were arguing—I’m not even sure what it was about. Suddenly, one of the men said that he should call the 1800 number and make up some story about how he was conspiring. The other man stopped arguing after that.

I want to get out of this country more every day!

Tags: civil war

Level 15

The Cost of Heroism

A mile back, there were transport trucks, hundreds of them. They had come to relieve the lines. Dozens of them scattered as far as the eye could see. All the lines were being replenished with new men and women who would die serving their country.

Dylan, Hunter, and Aimee stood silently watching the scene. A bomb flew overhead and hit not far from them. Many of the men getting off the trucks flinched—some cried—the rest just stood watching. More bombs came—so many that it began to sound as it had when Dylan first got to the lines. Nothing had changed, except that his friends were almost all dead.

Tommy had left earlier and would meet them at HQ. He said he had goodbyes to make, but Dylan figured he probably just wanted to go play video games, because he had yet to hear of anyone who actually liked him.

“So you’re going to be a four-star?” Dylan said, looking at Aimee.

She shrugged. “Of Company D, but I guess I can’t complain. It’ll be nice getting away from the action for awhile.”

“What happened to the Aimee who only wanted to be on the front lines?”

“That Aimee’s tired,” she smirked.

“Why did we live through that?” Dylan said to no one in particular, looking at the destruction around them.

“Only time will tell, sir,” Aimee replied.

“How so?”

“My mom used to tell me all things happened for a reason, so I guess we have to live a little bit longer to find out why we didn’t die.”

Dylan nodded, and reluctantly said, “Let’s go live, then.”

They both nodded. A Jeep had pulled up not far away and let off a four-star. “Can we hitch a ride to the HQ?” Dylan asked the driver.

He nodded. “You boys are lucky sons of bitches!” the driver said as he began to drive away from the lines. “Heard nearly all our boys died. Must have been some fight.”

No one said anything.

“There’s a story back at camp ‘bout four kids who killed two thousand Coco Puffs, then carried away all their dead and wounded, and returned to keep watch on their lines. Top it off, they found the Golden Wii! You believe that?! It really exists.”

Hunter looked at Dylan and Aimee, who both shrugged.

“Those must be some of the bravest damn men who ever lived,” the driver said, shaking his head. “It’s a wonder they didn’t die, if you ask me.”

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Tommy ran to them when he saw them approach the HQ building. He had changed out of his Army uniform and was wearing a vest, button-up shirt with a tie, and slacks; he looked preppy, except for his sneakers.

 “There’s my boys and their balls of steel! And Aimee—whatever you have of steel,” he laughed.

 They all stared blankly.

“Heroes! That’s what everyone is calling us!”

“The ones that died are the heroes,” Dylan said.

Tommy shook his head. “Those men are dead. The rebels need living heroes to boost morale. You’re the heroes who lived to tell your stories.” He looked down at his clothes and asked cheerfully, “What do you think of the new uniform?”

No one answered. Hunter quietly asked Dylan, “Do we have to wear that, too?”

“Make me feel like a celebrity. Mr. McCormick says it makes us look like wholesome, good boys—that’s the image we’re going for when they take our picture. He says they want all the moms to think the Army will make their kids like us.”

“So orchestrated,” Aimee said sarcastically.

Tommy nodded. “And we’re leaving for New Mexico to see the President! You believe that? Nobody leaves this hellhole alive—nobody until us! Word came through this morning that the President himself wants to have tea with us.”