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Authors: Scott Douglas

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When they had an unobstructed view of the cabin, they both took out binoculars.

 

The windows were boarded up, and it was bigger than Dylan had thought. There were at least three rooms and possibly a basement. It was made of logs and showed no signs of decay. Smoke was rising from its chimney, and Dylan knew in that moment that somebody was inside.

 

“Is it the right cabin?” Hunter asked in a hushed voice.

 

Dylan pulled a photograph he had been given from his back pocket and held it up, comparing. The photo had been printed on a printer that was almost out of ink, which made the comparison more difficult, but after studying the photo and the cabin, Dylan decided, “This is it—it has to be.”

 

“Maybe they’re not there anymore—they might have found out they were being scouted and found a new home.”

 

“They’re there.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Just trust me.”

 

Trinity came up from behind, followed by Johnny and Milton. “Well?” she asked softly.

 

“I told you to stay back,” Dylan said, upset.

 

“We were curious.” She grabbed Dylan’s binoculars, leaving the strap around his neck, and studied the cabin. “Is it them?”

 

“It’s them—has to be.”

 

“So what’s the plan?”

 

Dylan gazed blankly at the house and finally admitted, “I’m open to suggestions.”

 

“It’s about time,” Johnny said, removing his sunglasses and taking Hunter’s binoculars to have a look at the house.

 

“Let’s knock on the door and say we’re selling cookies,” Trinity giggled.

 

 “Would never work,” Hunter concluded, after appearing to give it serious consideration.

 

“Hunter, go take an inventory of what kind of weapons we have,” Dylan said without taking his eyes off the house. “They didn’t tell me the windows would be boarded.”

 

“So?” Milton asked.

 

“So, it makes it harder.”

 

“What if they weren’t?” Johnny questioned with a smirk. “You’d put the sniper team on them and shoot them through the windows?”

 

Dylan scratched his head and tried to think of something to do, some strategy, but he could think of nothing. He’d only ever learned how to shoot—not how to plan attacks on the enemy.

 

“It doesn’t change anything. Windows or no windows, this is still a risky operation.”

 

Hunter came back and quietly reported, “We got five grenades, an RPG, and an air horn.”

 

Milton stood forward and announced confidently, “I’ll RPG the house—blow it to pieces. And whatever is left we’ll burn.”

 

“No way!” Johnny yelped.

 

Trinity smacked his arm and hissed, “Not so loud—they’ll hear us.”

 

“We can’t RPG it!” Johnny continued more quietly. “We’ve worked too hard for that Nintendo to give it all up.”

 

“I guess it would be nice to watch ‘em die,” Milton dryly pointed out.

 

Trinity rolled her eyes. “I’d rather be a living coward than a dead soldier. Who cares about the Nintendo?”

 

“You’ve never seen me fire. We can do it—I know we can,” Johnny boasted, then gripped his gun and added, “With me and Sally protecting you, death isn’t even an option.”

 

“You named your gun?” Hunter laughed.

 

“Every great warrior does,” Johnny said disdainfully.

 

Dylan continued to stare at the house. Finally, he announced, “Here’s how it’s going to work. We’ll take out the door with a grenade. Milton and Hunter,” he pointed at an area directly in front of the house, “you’ll stay there and provide cover fire. Johnny, Trinity, and myself will charge the house and clear it. Understood?”

 

Everyone nodded except Trinity. Dylan looked at her and asked, “Does that work for you?”

 

“Do I have a choice?”

 

“We’re a team—if we don’t go in together, we don’t stand a chance.”

 

Trinity gazed up to the sky.

 

“What are you thinking?” Dylan asked.

 

“I just don’t like killing,” she said, not taking her eyes down. Finally, she looked back at Dylan and reluctantly said, “But I guess it’s the only plan we have, so I guess I’m in.”

 

Dylan, Trinity, and Johnny sneaked forward. They took cover behind a tree a few feet in front of the door. Dylan looked disapprovingly back at Johnny, who was last in line.

 

“What?” Johnny lipped.

 

“Get in front of her!” Dylan softly said.

 

“I can fend for myself,” Trinity said defensively, holding out her hand to keep Johnny from stepping in front of her. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

Dylan gritted his teeth, pulled out the grenade pin, and tossed the grenade in front of the door.

 

It exploded and the door went down. “Move, move, move!” Dylan commanded. He burst into the room first and immediately noticed a fallen figure by the door.

 

There was a couch in front of him, and he saw three heads who had not bothered to turn at the explosion. Dylan aimed his gun and yelled, “Freeze, you Coco Puff bastards!”

 

“Told you my boys would make it,” one of the men said in a high-pitched voice as he turned around.

 

It was Tommy.

 

“Welcome to the Nintendo paradise in the woods! Get your boys in here and get some food. And clean up that mess at the door.” He laughed. “How’s it feel to take out your first friendly?”

 

Dylan gaped at Tommy and asked, confused, “It’s the wrong house?”

 

Tommy laughed and smacked Dylan on the back, “You found it alright—little late, though. What happened?”

 

“We just killed one of our own?” Dylan asked, looking at the figure by the door.

 

Tommy looked at the fallen soldier, “He’ll live.” He nodded towards the kitchen. “Food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

 

“I don’t understand. Why did you make us come here? We could have killed you all!”

 

“Yeah, but you should have seen your faces—totally worth the risk!”

 

Tommy saw that Dylan was tense and rested his hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Dylan! It was just a drill. It was the least threatening way to get you some experience before sending you out to the front. You did well. I’m proud of you. Now let’s play some games!”

 

Milton and Hunter enter the room. Milton looked around, perplexed. “Did you get the Cocos?” he asked.

 

“It was a drill,” Dylan bitterly replied.

 

“What does that mean?” Hunter asked.

 

“It means there never were any Cocos.”

 

“So no games?” Hunter asked, disappointed.

 

Tommy laughed. “Plenty of games! Come on, let’s get our game on.”

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

Dylan ate a sandwich on stale bread on the porch by himself. He tossed bread at a squirrel and watched it carry the food up a tree. He looked towards where they had come from—there were no signs of war. He found it odd to be in a place so far removed from the battle he knew was raging, and he wished he could stay there forever.

 

He turned towards the door and looked into the house. Trinity and Johnny were sitting on the couch, playing a boxing game. The graphics were worse than Dylan had expected. It was the older Nintendo console—the one his dad used to play. Trinity laughed and punched Johnny in the shoulder when he beat her.

 

Next to Johnny on the couch was the kid they had shot. His arm was in a sling, but he was happy. He told Dylan after he got his arm fixed up that he’d take a bullet in the arm any day if it meant spending the afternoon playing video games.

 

Dylan trudged to the porch steps and took a seat.

 

Milton came out of the cabin and reclined against the wall. “Not going to play any games?”

 

“I’ve never been too into them,” Dylan replied without turning. “I’d rather everyone else play.”

 

“Johnny and your friend look like they’re having a fun time.”

 

“I noticed,” Dylan muttered.

 

“Do I detect jealousy?”

 

“No!” Dylan said hastily, turning around. “She can do whatever she wants.”

 

Milton shrugged. “She’s a pretty girl—I’d be jealous.”

 

“Well, I’m not,” Dylan said stubbornly, then changed the subject. “What about you? You still married or something to that woman you left?”

 

Milton took a long breath. “Or something.”

 

Dylan looked down, embarrassed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

 

“It’s alright. Before the war, I guess you could say I had everything. A wife. Two kids. Even a white picket fence.

 

“After I reenlisted last year, my wife refused to talk to me. Both my kids are serving, but I’m sure they’re both dead or good as dead. I write her every day, but I never mail the letters—I wouldn’t want her to worry.”

 

Milton looked straight at Dylan. “Everything is different now, Dylan. You should fight for a girl like her—kids are dying too early, and you don’t want to die without having ever loved.”

 

Dylan turned and looked through the window. “I think she’s made her choice.”

 

“Maybe she wants you to be jealous.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Girls like guys to be jealous—they like to be chased.”

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

After dinner, Dylan challenged Johnny to Mario Kart. He had never used a Nintendo controller, though, and immediately realized he was at a disadvantage to Johnny, who had been playing all day.

 

“He really sucks, eh Trinity?” Johnny said the first time he lapped Dylan’s character.

 

Trinity smiled but said nothing.

 

When the game ended in Dylan’s total defeat, he tossed the controller onto the ground. He was about to go find the restroom but stopped he heard a car approaching the house.

 

Tommy ran to the front door and watched a Jeep make its way to the front steps. He saluted the Jeep’s driver, then turned and said, “Alright, everyone. Pack it up. We leave in fifteen.”

 

“Already?” Johnny complained.

 

“Could have stayed overnight if you got here a little earlier.”

 

“So that’s it?” Dylan replied.

 

“That’s it.” Tommy looked at the rest of Dylan’s company, “You men have one fine leader.”

 

The statement did little to improve Dylan’s confidence.

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

 

 

(Coco Puff, Blog Entry)

 

PEARL HARBOR DAY

 

Posted: Sunday, December 7, 2014 | 5:34 AM (GMT)

 

 

 

Today is the anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack

a day that has since lived in infamy. It is the day that started the second World War.

 

It was a day that would have never happened had America been better prepared. Hundreds died because of a flaw in the system. There is a flaw now, and it’s a flaw that will lead us once again into a war that never needed to happen.

 

There is only one thing left to do. Be on guard.

 

The next war will be with your friends—with your family. Your government needs you. They need you to spy on your neighbors. To question your family. To turn in people who you suspect might be involved in an uprising.

 

It is the government’s right to interrogate anyone believed to be conspiring, but they need you to give the names of who is suspect.

 

 

 

Tag: rights of America

 

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