The n00b Warriors (32 page)

There were protestors at nearly every stop on the tour, but Dylan had only heard about them; he had never seen them. It was encouraging to him to see someone who was against what he was doing.

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The Las Vegas strip was relatively unchanged by war. It was a refugee city now, which meant the outskirts of the city were full of temporary tent shelters. Nine million people lived in the city, which made it the most populated city in the country—on either the rebel or the Coco side.

Tommy had looked forward to visiting the city since he first found out it was on the tour. It was the only city in the country that had no age limit on drinking or gambling. The entire day, he begged Elisa to let them go out for drinks after speaking. She finally agreed once they finished signing autographs.

Dylan and Hunter had both tried alcohol once, but didn’t like it. They went to the bar because Elisa made them—they had to go everywhere in a group; that was her first rule.

They went to a small, out-of-the-way bar that Elisa reasoned would be less populated and picked a table near the back. Only Tommy and Trista drank. He was on his second beer when three disabled veterans in their 20s entered the bar. One was missing an arm, one a leg, and one was in a wheelchair. They sat near the front of the bar and kept to themselves. Eventually, however, the man with one arm made eye contact with Dylan, and nudged his friends and said something. They all got up and made their way to Dylan’s table.

“Look what we got here, boys!” the man missing his arm said to his friends. “Couple of Army pussies and their Army bitch.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” Elisa politely said.

The veterans looked at the wholesome outfits and laughed. “Where’d you get the suits?”

“Army-issued, sir,” Dylan said

“Army-issued, my balls!” He turned to his friends and laughed.

Elisa smiled and said, “Look, we don’t want any trouble—just came for a few drinks.”

“You don’t want trouble?” This statement amused him and all his friends. “Me and my buddies served three years in the war. We’d still be fighting if it weren’t for those Coco Puffs.”

Dylan made himself smile. “It’s an honor to meet men of such devotion.”

The man missing an arm laughed again to himself and said to his friends, “Would you listen to this guy!” Then he asked, “Where have you served?”

Dylan pointed to Tommy and Hunter. “The three of us served on the front lines in Washington. Trista fought in the South Pacific.”

This amused the man more. “Wait a minute—you’re those pussies that are being paraded around the country as heroes.”

They reluctantly nodded.

“And you think you’re a hero?”

“No, sir,” Dylan said, quietly but firmly. “I think we got lucky.”

“You’re no hero. You’re just a bunch of pussies. If they want heroes, they should parade around all the disabled vets like me and my buddies.”

“I agree.”

“Oh, you think you’re being funny?”

“No, sir—I’m being serious.”

“Prick.” He spit at Dylan, then spit in Tommy’s pitcher of beer, and finally turned. “Come on—let’s get out of this place. I don’t feel like drinking anymore.”

“Bunch of jerks,” Tommy said after they left.

Hunter looked up and said, “He’s right, though—we aren’t heroes.”

Tommy laughed. “Maybe not you, but I got the Wii—I deserve every honor I get.” He slid his glass towards Dylan. “Drink up, Dylan! It’ll ease your mind about things.”

Dylan stood, and Elisa grabbed his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Going to get some air. Is that okay?”

“Just stay away from those guys.”

Dylan ignored her and walked outside. He went to the curb, sat down, and stared at the Vegas skyline. Hunter followed and sat down beside him without saying anything.

“I want off this tour.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Hunter said encouragingly.

“Not for you. I don’t even sleep anymore—I can’t sleep. I turned into some kind of monster for them, and now they just want me to be a kid again. I can’t do that.”

“Is it because of those guys?”

Dylan didn’t answer.

“Because you
are
a hero—to me and a lot of people. You risked your life, and you led us well. I’d be dead if not for you.”

Dylan looked down and softly said, “Heroes don’t go on tours to show themselves off.”

“It’s like they’ve been telling us all along—we give people hope.”

Dylan gawked at him. “Hope, Hunter?! Hope in what? You saw the President—he’s crazy. What exactly is this war about? No one even knows anymore.”

“So what do you want to do?” Hunter asked hesitantly. “Do you want to leave and go fight again? You know now more than ever that there’s no point to this war—how do you fight knowing that?

Dylan rested his head in his hands. “That’s it Hunter—I’m stuck. I can either go fight again in a war that’s more meaningless than ever, or encourage others to fight in it. I just want to run, but where am I supposed to go? The war is everywhere. I just feel trapped and alone with this secret of how our leaders really are.”

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(Coco Puff, Blog Entry)

RUMORS ARE NEVER FUN

Posted: Sunday, June 21, 2015 | 3:15 PM

There are certain things I am not allowed to say over this blog, and any attempt to say them will no doubt be censored. The
REMOVED BY CENSOR
. One that we need. I wish I could say more.

I am under orders not to leave the embassy.

Yesterday,
REMOVED BY CENSOR
. All of us just sit around watching old movies until six, when the power cuts out.

Tags: rumors, alliance

Level 19

Homecoming

Dylan stood in front of his parent’s house in Carlsbad. Little had changed. A rebel flag now hung above the front door—a reminder to anyone who passed that someone in the house proudly served. Aside from flags, the entire block seemed uninterrupted by war.

He looked at Trinity’s house down the street; a flag hung above their door too. He wondered if anyone had told them.

“So you going to go in or what?” Tommy said, slapping him on the back. “You got games inside?”

Dylan ignored him. He looked at Hunter, who was to his right, and nodded at the house. “That’s Trinity’s place—the one with the picket fence.”

Hunter looked and asked, “Are you going to see them?”

Dylan nodded. “Will you come with me later?”

“Sure.”

The front door opened, and Dylan’s father stood balancing himself on the doorframe. “Hot damn!” he hollered. “My hero boy’s come home! Mother, you better get out here!”

Amy came to the door holding Dylan’s new little brother. She looked at him in disbelief, and then said, “Dylan?” her voice pitching high.

Dylan ran to her and embraced her tightly. He hadn’t thought he would cry, but he couldn’t hold it back.

“They told us you were coming,” she tearfully explained, “but I didn’t believe it.” The baby started to cry, and Amy looked down at it. “This is your new brother, Jason.”

Dylan grabbed his little hand and shook it.

“He’s going to be a hero, just like you!” James said, grabbing Dylan and hugging him. He lost his balance, and Dylan had to hold him up.

His mother grabbed his arm and shook it. “Are you well? They’ve fed you good?”

Dylan nodded.

“Come on! Get inside! You have so much to tell us.” She looked at everyone else and added, “All of you—I have stew cooking in the kitchen.” As they entered, she said to Dylan, “Your brother will be home soon—he’s sure going to be happy to see you!”

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The video game system in the living room was blaring. Everyone was playing games except for Dylan, who stood on the porch looking blankly at the empty street. There was a time when he was little when kids would play kickball and hockey in the street, but that time had long since passed. Most of the kids were off fighting.

“Where’s there a grocery store around here?” Trista asked, joining him on the porch.

Dylan nodded down the road. “It’s not too far. You want me to walk you?”

She nodded, “I need some…” She paused and blushed. “Stuff.”

“Whatever.”

They weren’t supposed to go anywhere without telling Elisa, but she was asleep, and they didn’t want to wake her.

They walked by Trinity’s old house, and Dylan stopped. He looked in the window and could see her grandmother inside, rocking on her rocker. For a little while, he had forgotten what happened to Trinity.

“Who lives there?”

“A friend’s mom,” he said. “Her daughter died in battle
—
I was with her.”

“Does she know?”

Dylan shrugged.

“You should tell her—she has a right to know.”

“Hunter’s going to come with me later. We’re going to tell her together.”

“How long did you live here?”

“All my life.”

“All your life? Most I lived anywhere is five years.”

“Five years?”

“We moved around a lot. Dad didn’t want to serve in the war.”

“So he sent you instead?”

“I got drafted after I moved out. I was living in Florida with a friend, and the Army came by and pulled us right off the street—they said we had been drafted.”

Dylan nodded but said nothing.

“You carry a lot of guilt, don’t you?” Trista observed.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Trista mused, “I feel like the people we left behind were the lucky ones—you know?”

Dylan nodded. “Tommy’s the only person I know who doesn’t feel that way.”

“Tommy’s selfish.”

“Did you lose a lot of friends?”

Trista looked down sadly. “Who didn’t?”

Dylan nodded in front of them at the trading post. “You should be able to get anything you want there.” The trading post had opened about five years ago, after all the markets went out of business; it was run by a former math teacher who quit teaching when the government offered him the job.

There was only one other person inside the store, and he was talking to the clerk, not shopping. Trista walked around the store quickly, in search of what she had come for.

“This is kind of embarrassing,” Trista said as she went down one aisle.

“What?” Instead of answering, she reached for a package of tampons. “Oh,” he mumbled, adding, “It would only be embarrassing if I was the one who had to buy them.”

She smiled and said, “Well, you’re going to have to be embarrassed—I forgot my purse.”

“Okay,” Dylan said awkwardly.

Trista laughed. “I’m kidding, Dylan—relax!”

Dylan turned bright red. “I would have done it.”

Trista smiled. “You’re cute.”