The n00b Warriors (7 page)

Dylan shook his head. “We need to get them out of here—now.” But it was too late.

BANG. Timmy, the only kid who had made it all the way onto the merry-go-round, fell dead. The Coco Puff who had shot him from the roof of Mister Toad’s Wild Ride shouted in triumph. As Timmy’s limp body fell from the horse he had climbed onto, over two dozen other Cocos appeared on the rooftops, surrounding them on all sides, and they proceeded to fire.

“Take no prisoners!” one of the Cocos yelled in a French accent. He had long, greasy hair and appeared to be the same age as Dylan; there was a yellow stripe on his shoulder, which meant he was in charge of the company. He was sitting atop of a horse.

The Cocos began firing at Company D. Dylan saw a girl, one of the ones who had slept in Trinity’s room, fall dead as two bullets hit her, one in the back and one in the head. He felt a bullet whiz just by his own head and knew then that war was real, without any time to think about what that meant. He grabbed Trinity’s hand and dragged her with him to take cover at the merry-go-round.

“What do we do?” Hunter cried as he and several others dropped down beside Dylan. Dylan didn’t answer. He looked around and saw only chaos. Samuel, the boy who had slept by himself in Dylan’s room, was frozen and helpless out in the open, along with several others.

“What do we do?” Hunter cried again, this time more panicked.

Dylan looked up and pointed at Pinocchio’s Daring Journey, about 30 feet to the east; the ride was boarded up, but the queue was not, and there was a cement wall in front of it. “Take cover there.” He took off running, shouting “Pinocchio!” and pulling as many kids as possible to their feet. As he ran, he felt a bullet knick his helmet.

When they got to the Pinocchio queue, Dylan hollered, “Return fire.”

“Shoot them?” Trinity shrieked over the gunfire.

Dylan’s temper snapped. “What else can we do?” he shouted at her. He looked several kids in the eye; they were full of fury—all young and fighting in a war that had started before they were even born. “Kill the Cocos!”

Dylan shot first, and the kids who still had weapons quickly joined him in shooting over the cement wall. He watched his target fall dead. It didn’t feel like he thought it would. It was quick. It felt like he was standing in front of a bear that was about to attack him, and it was either the bear or him. He was just an animal hunting his prey. He was just trying to live.

His second kill didn’t come as easily. He emptied his gun, but none of the bullets came close to hitting anything.

Before he reloaded, Dylan grabbed Trinity’s elbow and shook it. “Listen, Trinity—I know you don’t want to live with the guilt, but killing them is the only way to protect your friends. If they die, you have to live with a different kind of guilt.”

Trinity closed her eyes and began to cry. When she opened them, she rose and aimed at the first person she saw and fired. She cried each time she fired and quietly said “Forgive me” every time she hit one. She was a good shot, much better then Dylan—or anyone else. She hit almost everyone she fired at.

Dylan fired all his rounds again and ducked under the cement wall to reload his gun. He noticed for the first time about six of the kids were not shooting. “Return fire!” Dylan commanded.

“We don’t have guns!” one of the kids replied fearfully.

Dylan stifled a groan, then peeked his head back over the cement wall. The Cocos appeared to have grown in number and were now off the roofs, pouring from inside the Peter Pan ride across the courtyard.

“We should surrender,” Trinity shouted over the bullets. “We can never win.”

“They’ll kill us,” Dylan hollered back as he continued to fire.

“Maybe not.”

“They shot first.”

“So?”

“They don’t take prisoners—they’re monsters. You heard what the leader said—’Take no prisoners!’”

“We can’t win, Dylan!”

Dylan looked around, thinking, and finally decided. “We have to run.”

“Run! To where? They have us surrounded!”

“If we charged them, they wouldn’t be able to get us all.”

Trinity looked at Dylan, shocked.

“It’s our only hope.”

She stared at him.

Dylan took her free hand and squeezed it. “We can do this!”

Trinity finally nodded sadly.

Dylan tried to remember what was on the map he’d looked at earlier. The Coco force was strong on the path to the south of the carousel, which his company had just run across. But the other way around the carousel was less protected, getting even more open towards the whale of the Fantasyland boat ride, about 100 feet past the carousel to the northwest. There were about 15 Cocos in that direction—15 to the 19 left in Company D.

As Trinity and Hunter continued to fire, Dylan shouted, “Does everyone see that big whale?”

They all nodded.

“When I say run, we run towards that
—
then just keep running until you get to Toontown, way past the whale. Understood?”

They nodded again.

Dylan took out the one and only grenade. He took a deep breath as he held it in his hand and studied it. He looked at Trinity nervously, then removed the pin and threw the grenade towards the Cocos. When it exploded, he yelled, “Run!”

Dylan led the charge, firing as he ran. Trinity was right next to him, with Hunter and the remaining kids behind. The grenade had caused enough confusion and disruption to clear their path partway.

But it didn’t take long for the bullets to scatter Company D again. Over the firing, Dylan could hear kids crying in pain as their bodies fell to the ground. Dylan nearly tripped on one body; it was Sarah, and she was bloody, but still alive. “I’m sorry,” Dylan said, and he jumped over her and kept running.

Trinity, who was still running alongside him, started to turn, but Dylan grabbed her arm, yelling above the bullets and cries, “No stopping!”

They broke through the lines, but they had lost about a third of their company. The Cocos chased closely behind them, firing at their backs.

“They’re going to kill us,” Hunter cried.

“Just keeping running!” Dylan yelled as more of the kids around him fell.

They had just rounded the corner past the whale when Frosted Flake soldiers, adult ones in camouflage, began jumping out of trees and boarded-up booths. They fired back at the Coco Puffs and gave Company D the cover they needed to escape down the path.

They kept running, longer than Dylan had anticipated —past Matterhorn Mountain, past boarded-up gift stands, and finally, several hundred feet later, past It’s a Small World, which was to the right of Toontown’s entrance.

Dylan finally slowed down near the Toontown entrance, his heart racing from adrenalin and his lungs aching. It was quiet there, and he scanned the area, trying to count how many had made it alive. He was startled to see two young, unsuspecting Coco Puffs making out behind some bushes to the sound of gunfire in the background. Dylan stared at them, and they looked back, stunned.

“What are you waiting for?!” Dylan heard Lyle shout from behind. “Shoot them!”

“No!” The Coco said, jumping in front of the girl. “Please, take us prisoners! We surrender! We surrender!” He sounded French, too.

Lyle laughed as he strode past Dylan. “Sorry, I don’t believe we have orders to take prisoners.” He aimed his gun at the girl’s head and fired. Her companion began to run, but Lyle shot him in the back and then the head.

Trinity gazed down at the two bodies. “They were defenseless,” she said tearfully.

“So were you,” Lyle replied. “Who wants coffee?”

Dylan looked at the blood pooling on the concrete and found that it shocked him less than seeing two people kissing. He realized how quickly he had adjusted to war.

Trinity ran to a tree and began vomiting.

“What’s her problem?” Lyle said, amused.

Dylan turned on him. “Where were you? They slaughtered us.”

“Scouting—I told you.” Lyle smiled and slapped Dylan on the back. “You did good, soldier—you did real good.” He paused and looked at the Toontown entrance. “We’re barbequing inside Toontown for lunch—I’d say all of you have earned the right to have some chicken. Whaddya say?”

Dylan didn’t say anything.

Lyle pulled a small canteen from his side pouch and poured water over his head. “It’s been some day—see you all in Toontown.” Then he jogged off.

Dylan watched him leave; he wanted to turn away, do something, but he couldn’t—he was numb. He felt a tap on his side and jumped, and then turned to see it was Hunter. He was talking, but Dylan didn’t comprehend it at first and just stared.

“Is it over, Dylan?” Hunter asked again, his eyes full of tears.

Dylan turned around and studied the distant towers of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, where they had just fought their first battle, and then turned back to Hunter. “For now.”

#     #     #

(Rebel Frosted Flake, Blog Entry)

AMERICA’S ARMY

Posted: Thursday, September 11, 2014 | 8:47 AM (PST)

Several years ago, when I was still a graduate student, I read an article about
America’s Army
. This was 2002, when the game was just being released for the first time and not that many people knew about it. At the time, I was an avid gamer, and I downloaded
America’s Army
out of curiosity. I was struck by the realism; I was naïve, so of course I thought this was a good idea.

The government was quick to point out that there was really nothing they could have done to prevent the attacks in that Paris market. Maybe they shouldn’t be blamed—but the game was on the group’s computer, and they said they used it for training. So maybe the government isn’t to blame; maybe the attackers would have found another game to use for training if
America’s Army
hadn’t made it into their hands or hadn’t existed in the first place. Maybe. That’s the problem with “maybe,” though—you just never know.

With my eyes no longer closed, I accused the government of not taking preventive measures; I said in my blog, “Maybe there’s nothing the government could have done then, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing they can do now.”

They did nothing after the attacks except sympathize with the families of the victims. In times of trial, we don’t need the sympathy of the government—we need its leadership.

In looking at the lineup of new PlayStation games, a lineup that the President himself endorsed in his address to the nation yesterday, it is clear that the government is not interested in taking preventive measures to make sure another market attack doesn’t happen.

And I am simply outraged by the government’s new game rating system, which adds “EP” to games that the government approves for educational play within the classroom. “Educational Play”?! What does that mean?

This Frosted Flake is confused by many things these days...

Tags: PlayStation, video games, America’s Army, Paris Market Attacks, game rating system, Educational Play

Level 4

War Is Hell

An empty soda can hit Dylan’s shoulder as he walked into Toontown with Trinity and Hunter. He quickly dropped to the ground and covered his head, thinking they were under fire.

“Looks like someone has shell shock!” Lyle, who had thrown the can, laughed. He was standing in front of a barbeque with a spatula. He turned and looked to the man next to him, who was wearing nothing but boxers, flip flops, and Goofy’s oversized character head. With a hard nudge, Lyle explained, “This is the kid I was telling you about—the hero.”

“Come get a burger, kid,” Goofy said. His voice was muffled from the mask.