The n00b Warriors (13 page)

“Be the team leader.”

Tommy laughed. “Deal with it.”

Dylan had had very little time to consider what it meant to be a leader since Lyle had pinned the responsibility onto him. He considered it as he waited for his company to return.

In school, leaders were glorified. During war games and drills, the leaders were always the same—large, intelligent, and athletic. Dylan was not any of those things. He was the one the leaders put behind everyone else to fetch water. And here he was—the leader of a company of rejects.

He was a leader by chance and not by skill, and he knew it. Yet he still had to put on a mask. If he didn’t make people believe that he could do what he had been assigned to do, they would have no hope.

The more he considered what it meant to lead, the more he wished he was back at school, simply fetching water for the real leaders.

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Dylan was resting in the shade of a tree when his company finished their laps. One of the new recruits had his arm around Trinity and was helping her walk.

“What happened?” Dylan stood up, concerned.

“I just got a little dizzy,” Trinity said with an embarrassed smile. “Just a bit dehydrated
—
but Johnny rescued me. Have you met him?”

Johnny smiled at Dylan and held out his free hand. “Johnny Devolver.”

Dylan took his hand and shook it with a strong grip. “Nice to meet you—and thanks for helping Trinity.” Dylan looked Johnny over quickly, finding it odd that he was in their company. He was stronger than anyone else in the group
—
at the very least, strong enough to be in Company C. He had sandy blond hair that was messy and dark sunglasses that hid his eyes; he reminded Dylan of the surfboarders who used to hang out near his house. When Johnny smiled, it seemed like there was something he was hiding—like the smile was only meant to cover some lie.

“I find it hard to resist helping a damsel in distress.”

“You should hear his stories, Dylan,” Trinity gushed. “He’s probably more trained than all of us combined! He’s the one who thinks he can help us escape.”

Dylan looked at her quizzically. “Since when do you like hearing stories about fighting?” Trinity turned red, but before she could reply, Dylan asked with a hint of jealousy, “So where have you fought, Johnny?”

Johnny smiled and waved his hand nonchalantly. “Just at home—before I signed up. Cocos came into my town, and me and a bunch of my friends helped them leave—if you know what I mean.”

Dylan didn’t know what he meant, and he didn’t want to question him to find out; Johnny seemed cocky. Dylan turned to the rest of the company, who were now gathering around him, waiting for orders. “Listen up—I need four volunteers to hike into the mountains to the Cocos that are held up in the cabin. It’s an easy assignment, and you get to play videogames when it’s over. Who wants to go?”

Hunter and Trinity were the first to volunteer, Trinity whispering to Dylan that it was only to protect Hunter. They were followed by a 60-year-old man named Milton Montana. He was a former high school history teacher from Fresno who had served in Operation Desert Storm. He was the first person Dylan had ever met who had fought in a previous war.

Johnny Devolver was the last to volunteer. “I had a Coco steal my PSP a few months back,” he said, flashing a smile at Trinity. “Caused great emotional distress—this will be my payback.”

Dylan dismissed the company for lunch and was about to leave with Trinity when he felt someone pulling at his elbow. He turned and saw Milton standing at attention. “Sir,” Milton began, “I just wanted to let you know that I am not afraid of those no-good Coco Puffs, and I won’t let you down.”

“Good to know,” Dylan said awkwardly, starting to walk away.

“Those piss-poor, whore-children Coco Puffs took my globe, and I’ll kill every one of ‘em.”

“Your globe?”

“Right in front of my eyes. They had taken our town hostage—took our homes—even our pets. I looked the other way. What can you do, right? I just kept on teaching like I always had, but then one day a group of Cocos came in my room and said on top of everything else they had already taken, they were going to take my globe, too. That’s where I drew the line. I ran off that night—left my wife all by herself so I could join up with the rebels. I hiked for two days before I found them, and I’ve been after the Cocos ever since.”

Dylan looked at the sun shining off of Milton’s balding head, and said, “Glad you’re on our side.” He noticed that Milton’s uniform was buttoned up wrong, and he began to have doubts about allowing him on the mission.

Tommy returned then, carrying an RPG. He looked at Dylan, confused. “Where is everyone?”

“Lunch.”

Tommy sighed. “I was hoping to play a bit of videogame tag with them.” He turned and looked at Milton. “He one of your volunteers?”

“Yes, sir,” Milton said loudly, saluting.

“Then you’re the RPG guy. Let’s make this quick.”

“Sir, I don’t need no training! There’s no weapon I don’t know how to use—guarantee it.”

“I got a good feeling about this one here, Charles,” Tommy said to Dylan. “Same good feeling I got about you.”

As Tommy walked away, Milton turned to Dylan. “Why’d he call you Charles?”

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t think he takes the time to get to know people’s name—I get the feeling that people don’t last long around him.” He looked at the RPG. “Sure you can use it?”

Milton scrutinized the weapon and admitted, “This one here looks a lot trickier than the ones I’ve used before.”

“So you don’t know how to use it?” Dylan nervously replied.

“I didn’t say that!” Milton said, offended. “I’m sure I’ll get it all worked out by the time I have to actually fire it.”

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(Coco Puff, Blog Entry)

REVOLUTION

Posted: Saturday, November 15, 2014 | 12:49 PM (GMT)

Today, the United States capital was attacked for the third time. A fourth will happen if you don’t do something about it. This is your revolution, your time to rise up against those who stand in the way of freedom and democracy.

There are two types of American people today. Those who are progressively changing the government to ensure the freedom of future generations. And those who are holding it back from achieving its destined greatness.

Open your ears. Listen for those who choose to stand in the way of your government. They are your enemies. They will hunt for you and prey on everything that belongs to you.

Those responsible for the attacks on Washington are not a small group. They are your neighbors, your friends, and your family. It’s time to let them know that if they don’t stand with you, they stand against you.

There is no one who wants to believe that this is what we have come to—that we are now in a time when we must treat those close to us as enemies. Who wants to believe that? But if you don’t open your eyes, it will be too late. Take a stand now—for the sake of your country.

Tags: revolution, attacks on America

Level 7

Selling Our Souls for a Video Game, Part One

Dylan woke up the next morning to a flick on his ear. He looked up, startled. Tommy stood over him with a proud smirk. “Time to get hunting!” Behind Tommy’s shoulder, Dylan could see the sun peeking through the tall trees. He had been offered a tent because of his rank as team leader, but he decided to stay with the rest of his company in sleeping bags on the golf course.

Tommy unzipped his pants and turned his back to Dylan. “Truck will pick you and your men up in an hour,” he explained as he peed in front of Dylan’s sleeping bag. “It will take you a few miles out—close as we can get you without being detected. You’ll have to hike the rest of the way in. I imagine it will take ‘bout a half day. Just follow the map.”

Before Dylan could respond, Tommy threw a map on the ground and skipped off.

Dylan turned on his side and saw Hunter, still sleeping. He was moaning and fidgeting. On the other side of Hunter, Dylan could see where Trinity had gone to sleep, but her bag was empty.

“Hunter, get up,” Dylan said, nudging him. “Time to go.”

Hunter started and stared at Dylan, disoriented. “I had a really bad dream.”

“What was it?”

Hunter kept staring for several seconds, then finally said, “It doesn’t matter—just a dream, right?”

“Yeah.” Dylan yawned, stepping out of his sleeping bag. He walked towards his boots at the end of his sleeping bag, and stepped barefoot into the puddle of pee that Tommy had made. “Great!” he mumbled, picking up his boots and walking towards the chow tent.

Trinity was sitting at a table in the tent, drinking coffee with Milton. Dylan dumped some water over his feet, grabbed a cup of coffee, and joined them at the table. “You’re up early.”

“I wanted to take a shower. Figured it might be my last one in a few days.”

Dylan nodded and looked at Milton, whose shirt, he noticed, was still buttoned up wrong. “What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“At all?”

Milton nodded. “Got knocked in the head a few months back, and haven’t slept since. Not even tired.”

Dylan noticed Trinity was wearing a hat, which she never did. “What’s with the hat?”

“My hair never looks pretty anymore. This was just easy.”

Dylan asked jealously. “Are you trying to impress someone?”

Trinity blushed and changed the subject. “So what’s the plan?”

“Truck’s going to take us out to the woods, and we hike the rest of the way in.”

“And then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t even have a clue of how to get there, do you?”

“I have a map.”

“You know how to read it?”

“It’s a map—how hard can it be?”

“I was a scout in Iraq,” Milton said. “I’ll get us there.”

“There you go, Trinity—Milton has us covered.” Dylan stood and started walking out of the tent with his coffee; he passed Hunter, who was also getting a cup of coffee. “You drink coffee, too?”

Hunter nodded, “Tastes like dirt, but Tommy told me that I’ll have better aim with my gun if I drink two cups a day.” Hunter paused and asked softly, “Nervous?”

“No,” Dylan said.

It wasn’t true. He had been awake most of the night. It wasn’t the Cocos that worried him, or even the sounds of fighting in the distance—he had gotten used to all of that. It was the unexpected—nothing could prepare someone for that.

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An hour later, a transport truck was on the same highway the plane had landed on, taking them to an uncertain destiny. Dylan sat in the front with a 12-year-old driver who could barely see over the wheel; Hunter, Trinity, Johnny, and Milton all sat in the bed of the truck. He tried to give the seat to Trinity, but Johnny insisted that she sit in the back with him because he had some things he wanted to discuss.