“You’re all they got right now.”
She cried even more as she forced herself to treat the wound.
Dylan moved to the next man over, whose left leg was barely attached below the knee. He gave him morphine. “I don’t want to lose the leg, sir,” the man cried.
Dylan knew there was no way he could keep it, but he tried to remain hopeful. “I’ll see what I can do.” He thought of his dad’s missing leg as he looked at him, then pulled a tourniquet from the first aid bag and applied it just above the knee. If he lived, he would lose his leg.
The next two were dead, and after them was a boy who was dying from a chest wound. He was from Dylan’s company. His name was Jefferson. He was a quiet kid who did what he was told and stayed out of the way. “Sir, am I going to die?”
Dylan grasped his hand. “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not afraid,” Jefferson said. His voice was weak. “It was for my country—mom and dad would be proud.”
“Yes, they would, but you’ll be fine.” Jefferson’s breathing was wheezy. Dylan pulled the morphine from the kit.
Jefferson’s hand stopped Dylan from injecting the morphine. “It’s not so bad,” he said feebly. “Save it for someone who needs it.”
Dylan nodded and put the morphine into his pocket. “You’re a brave kid, Jefferson.”
His eyes stared hopelessly into Dylan’s, and he died.
Dylan looked at the long row of those still waiting for morphine. He looked back at the fierce fighting still going on. More had been injured. More had been killed. It did not end.
He learned that day that, in this war, there frequently were no tactics, because they weren’t there to fight. They were sitting ducks. They were there to slow things down, and if by some miracle they lived through it all, they’d get to go home and die another day. Their best efforts meant nothing, for they were fighting a battle that could not be won.
As Dylan forced himself to help the injured, a soldier came up and told him he had a call from Tommy.
“It’s bad out here, Tommy,” Dylan hollered over screams. “You got to get us help.”
“We’re short everywhere, Dylan, but I’ll get you what I can. How about the Golden Wii?” he asked eagerly. “Did you find out anything?”
“We got a bunch of maps in another language, and we shot a guy who had a picture of himself and some buddies holding a golden Wii controller.”
“Yes!” Tommy yelled. “I knew the legend was true! Get me everything, pronto.”
“No way—I can’t spare anyone.”
“That wasn’t an option, Dylan—that Wii is more important than any of you. Sorry for that, but it’s true. I want everything you found come nightfall. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Dylan said through gritted teeth. He knew that the only way they’d ever get the reinforcements was to get Tommy what he wanted.
“Good work.”
Dylan slammed the radio down and bellowed, “Sanchez!”
Sanchez came running, and Dylan shoved the maps and photo into his hands. “I need you to get this to Tommy Bazooka at Company D HQ right now.”
“For real?” Sanchez asked, confused.
Dylan nodded. “It’s heavy shelling out there, and I need someone fearless to take it. You got to get it to Tommy as quickly as possible. It’s a matter of life or death.”
Excited, Sanchez pocketed the papers and ran off.
# # #
(Coco Puff, Blog Entry)
WELCOME TO AMERICA
Posted: Thursday, January 19, 2015 | 7:59 AM (GMT)
I just landed in America an hour ago. It’s my first trip to the country in some time. Things have certainly changed. Everyone is watchful of each other, and military personnel are everywhere.
The man the embassy sent to pick me up tells me it’s Martin Luther King Day. I arrive in a country on the verge of civil war on the day that celebrates a leader of non-violence. I find that fact strange.
I was sent by my country to assist the IT department with strengthening the network’s infrastructure. After last week’s cyber attack at the Pentagon, no one wants to take chances.
The man from the embassy says that I am a celebrity because of the Coco Puff reference that the rebels have picked up on. It still amuses me that the rebels would pick a name used by a foreign blogger.
One can only hope that all of this resolves itself quickly, but from the people I’ve talked to already, I fear that it won’t. If a terrorist group attacked my country, it would unite them together to stop that group, but here it seems to have done the opposite.
Times have changed indeed.
Tags: America, Martin Luther King, cyber attack
Level 13
Trench Talk
“DIVE!” Dylan heard as he was playing cards with Milton the next day.
A body landed on top of Dylan and knocked him to the ground. As Dylan tried to figure ou what had just happened, the body started laughing hysterically, and Dylan realized it was Tommy. “What are you kids just lying around for—there’s a war going on!”
Dylan stared at Tommy blankly.
He continued to laugh. “So how you boys holdin’ up?”
Dylan told him again about the casualties from the night before and how half the company was gone.
Tommy nodded sympathetically. “Must have been some fight.”
“What do you know about fighting?” Hunter quietly said. It was the first time Dylan had heard him talk that day. He was still mad about not being picked.
Tommy looked down at Hunter, offended, then grinned. “You should have seen it from where I was. I was in HQ eating some chow when it started. I went up on the balcony—beautiful sight. Bombs exploding left and right. Truly awesome.” Tommy started laughed again. “When the injuries started coming in—man oh man—gruesome sons of bitches, I tell you. Saw this one guy—piece of shrapnel went right up his crack and ended up halfway out of his stomach. Make matters worse, he thought he could cut the shrapnel out and stop the pain. So he pulls out his knife and misses—he cut off, I kid you not, a part of his dick! Hilarious! I went to bring the guy a stack of porno mags this morning to cheer him up, but he had died in the night.”
“That’s a horrible story,” Dylan said.
Tommy nodded, still laughing as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Yeah, but kind of funny if you think about it, huh?”
“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Milton asked. “Laughing at a story like that.”
Tommy shrugged, then got serious. “I took a look at that map you sent over. One you got off that no-good, bastard Coco Puff. Pretty useful intel. We’re going to do some shelling tonight based on it.”
Dylan nodded.
“More importantly—I think I know where to find the Golden Wii!” Dylan tried to ignore Tommy, uninterested in hearing any more about the Golden Wii, but Tommy plopped down next to him. “I don’t think it’s too far from where you and Sanchez almost got your heads blown off. I’m going with you tomorrow, and we’re going to see about taking it! It’s our ticket out, Dylan!” He paused and finished thoughtfully, “For as long as I can remember, I figured I’d die in Seattle—no one comes out of this place. But for the first time, I have a feeling that I might just live. It’s liberating.” He pulled Dylan’s cards from his hands and started flicking them at Milton.
“Where’s Sanchez?”
“Break. I told him he could stay at the HQ until you come for him later today.”
“Later today?”
Tommy nodded. “Got some new recruits that just came in—replacements straight out of basic. I’m a man of my word, am I not? I promised you replacements, and that’s what I get you.”
“So more casualties?”
Tommy laughed. “War has made you a bitter old man!”
Dylan didn’t reply.
“You’ll need to head into camp this afternoon to meet them. They’ll come in at 1400, eat chow, and ship out by 1500. We’re planning an air campaign and expecting some heavy figh
ting tonight, so be on time—you wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Dylan nodded.
“I’m happy with your success, so I’m giving you first pick of the new men. You get ten.”
Without another word, Tommy left. Dylan watched him hurry off and wondered how much action he really did see. Tommy had seemed so fearless at first, but as Dylan thought about it, he realized he never did see him actually fighting. He wondered if Tommy’s stories about all the Coco Puffs he’d bagged were true, or if they were just more of the typical stories kids made up. The longer Dylan stayed on the front lines, the more Tommy seemed like no soldier at all. He thought back to his last leader, Lyle, who also had never killed in battle—and he suddenly remembered the faces of the French couple who’d begged for mercy before Lyle shot them in cold blood.
Dylan turned to Milton and asked, “So do you still think the Cocos are the monsters?”
“How do you mean?”
“Sometimes I just wonder who the monsters are in this fight. I wonder if everyone on the battlefield is just following the orders of someone who never fights—they’re just trying to survive like the rest of us.”
“Yeah, but they took my globe.”
# # #
Before leaving to get his new recruits, Dylan found Hunter again. He was eating with Trinity and Johnny.
“A word,” Dylan said.
“Eating.”
“You can finish later—let’s go.”
Hunter put down his food sulkily and followed Dylan a few feet away.
“Let’s be real for a second,” Dylan began. “Fact is, we can’t go on every mission together.”
“I thought we were a team,” Hunter mumbled.
Dylan nodded. “But that means sometimes you have to stay behind. I needed people to protect the rest of the team, Hunter—did you consider that?”
Hunter shook his head.
“You’ve seen action, and you’re a heck of a shot—better than me. I’m the leader of this company, and I have to decide what people’s strengths are and where to put them. If I put all my best men on an exercise—and a dumb one at that—then who protects the lines? What happened yesterday could have been ten times worse if you hadn’t been there.”
Hunter looked down, unresponsive.
“Right now, you’re my best friend out here—my only friend, now that Trinity is always mad at me for something. I’m not going to ever intentionally hurt you. You got it?”
Hunter nodded reluctantly. “What happened with you and Johnny? He’s hardly talking, and Trinity is worried.”
Dylan motioned Hunter closer and said in a hushed voice, “Don’t tell Trinity this—don’t tell anyone—but Johnny is all talk. He froze up when it came time to fight.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Yeah. So are we good?”
Hunter sighed, but said grudgingly, “Yeah, we’re good.”
Dylan clapped him on the back and walked back to Trinity and Johnny. “Johnny, let’s go.”
“Where?” he replied nervously.
“Got replacements coming in. You’re coming with me to help pick them out.”
As they began the five-mile walk to HQ, Johnny said, “Thanks for not telling Trinity what happened.”
“What did happen?”
Johnny shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve always pumped myself and told myself I was ready to fight—ready to die even. I guess I’m not.”
Dylan stopped walking, pulled out his gun, and aimed it at Johnny’s head. “Then I guess you die now.”
“Stop messing around,” Johnny said nervously.
Dylan looked around. It was surprisingly quiet, and no one was around; he imagined they were all getting ready for the big show in the sky that Tommy had promised. A Jeep with a team leader passed by them, but then the area was empty again. Dylan reflected, “It’s perfect, really. I just tell people you died when a bomb hit you. Do you really think anyone would doubt it?”
“This isn’t funny.”
Dylan nodded. “Neither is how you acted with me and Sanchez—we could have died because you were a coward. The way I see it, you’re just getting in the way, and if I kill you, then you can’t exactly do that.”
Dylan pushed the gun barrel against Johnny’s temple. Tears spilled out of Johnny’s eyes. “Come on Dylan, don’t do it.”
Dylan laughed in scorn and released the gun. “You don’t even try to say you’ll do better—that you’ll fight?”
Johnny cried, “I don’t know if I can—you’re right, I’m a coward! I’m all talk. Is that what you want to hear?”
Dylan shook his head. “I want to hear that you’ll fight—that you’ll protect Trinity. There’s not a lot else that matters to me.”
“You think I’d let anything happen to her if I could prevent it?”
“I don’t know—like you said, you’re a coward. You’d rather get her pregnant than defend her.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fight.”
Johnny closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Because next time we’re in battle and you don’t, I will put a bullet through your head. Got it?”
Johnny nodded.
Dylan started to walk off without him, but Johnny ran to catch up. “I know you don’t think anything of me, but for what it’s worth, you’ve earned my respect—I owe you my life. I should have died when those Cocos ambushed us.”
Dylan didn’t reply.
“I still think we can escape,” Johnny added a few minutes later.
Dylan turned on him. “Johnny, if you want to escape, then now’s your chance. Just leave—right now. I’ll tell everyone that you died. No one will question it. No one will miss you.”
Johnny looked around and appeared to be considering it, but finally replied, “It’s not the right time.”
Dylan snorted. “It’s the perfect time! I guarantee you that if you leave right now, not a single person will come looking for you.”
“What do you have against escaping?”
“Am I not being clear right now?” Dylan asked, irritated. “I’m giving you permission! What more do you want?”
“You could go, too. We could get Trinity and Hunter and anyone else who wants to go.”
“I’m protecting my company the only way I know how—by fighting.”
“You’re just what the Army wants you to be—a robot soldier.”
Dylan shrugged. “And what are you? I gave you the chance to escape being a robot soldier, and you’re too afraid to take it.”
# # #
Dylan’s ten new recruits from Company A were young and excited to be in such a place as Seattle. Unlike Company D, they were the jocks of the Army. They’d actually had real basic training, which included what was essentially brainwashing to believe the most hellish battlefronts were the best ones. Dylan looked them over with pity. Sanchez had joined them for the walk back, and stood bored, waiting for Dylan to finish up.
“War is hell,” Dylan stated to his men. “If you remember how to hold your gun and shoot, you stand a good chance of not dying too quick. Let’s move out.”
“Not quite as passionate as your first speech,” Johnny said as they started walking back.
“Can’t believe you’re even letting this guy talk after what happened.” Sanchez said. His eyes were red, and Dylan guessed that he had spent some of his time off drinking.
“I’m forgetting about that, and you are, too.” He paused and added, “But if it happens again, I’m giving you permission to shoot him between the eyes and put him out of his misery.”
“Yes, sir!” Sanchez pulled off Johnny’s sunglasses and put them over his own eyes. “I’m claiming these—consider it the cost of me not putting a bullet through your head.”
Dylan looked back at the new recruits, who were following at a distance. The closer they got to the trenches, the slower they walked. They nervously stared at the black smoke in the distance—smoke Dylan, Sanche
z, and Johnny had not given a second thought to. Dylan looked at Sanchez and said, “I want all of these men ready to fight come nightfall—you got rested up last night, so I expect you to work extra hard tonight.” He noticed Johnny was now stopped and staring into the distance, and he asked, “What’s up? Why are you stopping?”
The n00b Warriors Page 17
