The n00b Warriors (24 page)

“Yes, sir.”

Trinity had helped every injured soldier to the far right of the trench. There were over two dozen in all. She was crying and praying over each one.

“First aid will do them a lot more good than prayer right now, Trinity.”

She sobbed, “I’m not a doctor.”

Dylan surveyed the injured men and women. They cried out in pain and begged him to do something. Some who were alive when Trinity brought them there had already died. “Have you given them morphine?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how.”

“Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

Dylan went up to a woman from Company A who had shrapnel in her thigh. He got her first aid pack from her bag and pulled out a syringe. He stabbed it just below her knee, and she whimpered a little. He threw Trinity the bandage that was in the pack. “Wrap it around the wound.”

Her hands shook. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

“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.

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(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 fighting 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.”

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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.