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?
# # #
(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.”
# # #
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.”
“Tea?” Dylan asked in disbelief.
“Yeah. Apparently he’s a big tea drinker. Earl Grey or some crap like that. And you won’t be coming back here. Start the tour right after that.”
“What’s the tour?” Hunter asked.
“Boost-America’s-morale type tour!”
“I’d rather fight and die,” Dylan said.
“He
roes don’t fight!” Tommy exclaimed, laughing.
“Well, what if we don’t want to be heroes?” Dylan asked.
“This is war, and you’re America’s property now—it doesn’t much matter what you want or think. You do what America says, and America wants you to be heroes.”
“I have yet to hear an American tell me that.”
“I’m sure you’ll look swell in a vest,” Aimee snickered.
Tommy glowered at her. “I’m afraid this is where we have to part with Aimee—they’re waiting to brief her inside and give her the stripes.”
“So we’re not going to see you again?” Hunter asked softly.
Aimee smiled. “You’re a hero now! You’ll forget all about me come tomorrow.”
Dylan reached out to hug her. “Stay safe, and get transferred out as soon as you can.”
“Don’t trust Tommy,” Aimee whispered.
# # #
A Jeep took Dylan, Hunter, and Tommy back to Redmond to wait to be taken to see the President. Dylan immediately visited the wounded tents with Hunter to make sure Trinity hadn’t been taken there. The tents were located outside the former corporate location of Microsoft.
“They used to make a video game console,” Dylan said, looking at the buildings, which had become the Company A headquarters.
“Was it any good?” Hunter asked.
Dylan shrugged. “My sister told me about it once. She saw it at school, but she never played it.” He looked towards the tents and said, “Come on, let’s see if we can find her.”
The tents were full of wounded soldiers on gurneys, hundreds of them. Some of them cried, but most just stared at the cheap, flickering light bulbs hung near the ceiling.
Dylan and Hunter slowly walked down the rows of gurneys, studying each face. Almost all the people at the tents would live, or nobody would have wasted the time to bring them all the way out.
They found Johnny in a gurney with his side bandaged and his arm in a sling. He saw Dylan and Hunter walking towards him, but he quickly turned away from them. He refused to make eye contact even when Dylan stood right next to him. “Did you find her?” he asked weakly.
Dylan shook his head.
“I’m sorry—I did everything I could. There were just too many.”
Dylan needed to know. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. “Tell me what happened,” he said heavily. “How’d you get shot?”
“After you ran off, Trinity was helping a kid with bandages, and three Cocos swarmed us. I got all of them, but they also got me. Side and in the arm. I told Trinity to stay, but you know how she is.”
Dylan nodded. He could picture exactly what had happened now: he saw Trinity running off with her medic bag, saw her fall from a bullet, saw her body be picked up by a sonofabitch Coco Puff.
Johnny’s chin quivered. “I let her down, and she’s dead because of it.”
Dylan choked back his tears and rested his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“Tommy put us out where we shouldn’t have been—you want to blame someone, then blame him.” Then Dylan laughed almost hysterically. “But you can’t! They’re making him a hero for his actions.”
“Tommy?!”
Dylan nodded. “Almost fifty people dead or injured, and they’re calling it one of the greatest battles. All because of Tommy’s stupid Golden Wii. You believe that?”
“So the Wii isn’t just a legend?” Johnny asked, vaguely intrigued.
Dylan nodded. “It’s more like a death wish.”
“What happens to you?”
“Hunter and I are shipping out with Tommy. They’re going to send us to see the President and use us to boost morale.”
“They say I get to go home to recover, but I think they’re just saying that.”
“All I have to do is lie about everything.”
“At least you live.”
“You, too.” Dylan paused and reflected, “We didn’t get off on the right foot, but you proved me wrong in the end.”
It was silent for a moment. Hunter, who had been quiet so far, said out of the blue, “They’re giving Aimee Tommy’s old spot.”
Johnny nodded.
“You should find her,” Hunter continued. “Maybe she can help you when you’re better—put you somewhere you’re safer.”
Dylan started to say more, but a nurse came up and told them that they had to let Johnny rest. It took them 30 minutes to walk down all the rows, but when they were finished, they had seen no sign of Trinity.
# # #
The former Nintendo of America building was just down the street from Microsoft. Tommy was waiting there when they arrived, and he brought with him dozens of new Company D kids who wanted to meet the heroes.
Some of the kids wanted autographs, but most just wanted to hear their tale. Neither Dylan nor Hunter said anything; they let Tommy do the talking. They pitied the new kids. Tommy made it seem like war was a splendid thing.
McCormick later took them into the mess hall and let them eat by themselves. No one bothered them, not even the cooks. They gave them steak and mashed potatoes and lots of greens, then a huge brownie for dessert.
Dylan and Hunter picked around the edges and took nibbles of the food, but they had little appetite. Tommy was the only one able to eat everything on his plate.
“At least it’s better than that canned soup we used to eat on the lines,” Tommy said.
Dylan looked at him curiously. “I didn’t know you were on the lines.”
Tommy looked away embarrassed.
After dinner, McCormick took them to their barracks. They had an entire cabin to share. It had enough beds for 12. On three of the beds were brand-new PSP’s, a stack of video games, and their new uniforms, which looked identical to what Tommy was wearing.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see another bed in my life,” Hunter said.
Dylan went to one of the beds and held up the new uniform. “I’ve never seen any kid in something like this. Why does it make us look wholesome?”
Dylan took a shower shortly after. It was the first one he had had since he went to the trench. After all that time of non-wet shampoo and sponges, he didn’t want to come out of the hot water. When he finally finished up, Tommy was already sleeping. Hunter was staring at his new PSP but not playing it.
Dylan got into bed and did his best to fall asleep, but he couldn’t rest. After an hour, he stood up and started to leave the room with his blanket and pillow.
“Where you going?” Hunter asked.
“Sleep outside.”
“Can I come?”
“Bring a blanket.”
“You guys are nuts!” Tommy mumbled, then went back to sleep.
Dylan found a place under a tree not far from the cabin. Hunter laid down close to him and shared his pillow.
“We’ve lived through a lot,” Dylan said as he stared at the stars.
Hunter nodded. “Do you think this war will ever end, Dylan?”
“All wars end. Maybe after we’re dead, but all wars end.”
“I used to hate school—all the homework and teachers picking on me. It doesn’t seem so bad any more. Sometimes I wish I could just be in school and not have to worry about dying. It’s a rotten thing for a kid my age to worry about.”
“My mom used to tell me when my dad was fighting in the war that every star was a soldier who died. ‘You get your own star when you die in a war,’ she would say, pointing at all of them.”
“That’s a lot of dead soldiers,” Hunter said.
“Yeah, but there’s not nearly enough stars. There must be twice that many dead soldiers.”
“I think I’m kind of going to miss it.”
Dylan turned and looked at him. “What?”
“The fighting. I didn’t like it, but I was good at it. I felt like I was a part of something.”
Dylan looked at the sky, thinking, then turned
on his side and said, “We’re a team. You still are a part of something—a part of this team.” He extended his hand for Hunter to shake.
The n00b Warriors Page 19
