The n00b Warriors (28 page)

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Authors: Scott Douglas

BOOK: The n00b Warriors
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“Tea?” Dylan asked in disbelief.

 

“Yeah. Apparently he’s a big tea drinker. Earl Grey or some crap like that. And you won’t be coming back here. Start the tour right after that.”

 

“What’s the tour?” Hunter asked.

 

“Boost-America’s-morale type tour!”

 

“I’d rather fight and die,” Dylan said.

 

“Heroes don’t fight!” Tommy exclaimed, laughing.

 

“Well, what if we don’t want to be heroes?” Dylan asked.

 

“This is war, and you’re America’s property now—it doesn’t much matter what you want or think. You do what America says, and America wants you to be heroes.”

 

“I have yet to hear an American tell me that.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll look swell in a vest,” Aimee snickered.

 

Tommy glowered at her. “I’m afraid this is where we have to part with Aimee—they’re waiting to brief her inside and give her the stripes.”

 

“So we’re not going to see you again?” Hunter asked softly.

 

Aimee smiled. “You’re a hero now! You’ll forget all about me come tomorrow.”

 

Dylan reached out to hug her. “Stay safe, and get transferred out as soon as you can.”

 

“Don’t trust Tommy,” Aimee whispered.

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

A Jeep took Dylan, Hunter, and Tommy back to Redmond to wait to be taken to see the President. Dylan immediately visited the wounded tents with Hunter to make sure Trinity hadn’t been taken there. The tents were located outside the former corporate location of Microsoft.

 

“They used to make a video game console,” Dylan said, looking at the buildings, which had become the Company A headquarters.

 

“Was it any good?” Hunter asked.

 

Dylan shrugged. “My sister told me about it once. She saw it at school, but she never played it.” He looked towards the tents and said, “Come on, let’s see if we can find her.”

 

The tents were full of wounded soldiers on gurneys, hundreds of them. Some of them cried, but most just stared at the cheap, flickering light bulbs hung near the ceiling.

 

Dylan and Hunter slowly walked down the rows of gurneys, studying each face. Almost all the people at the tents would live, or nobody would have wasted the time to bring them all the way out.

 

They found Johnny in a gurney with his side bandaged and his arm in a sling. He saw Dylan and Hunter walking towards him, but he quickly turned away from them. He refused to make eye contact even when Dylan stood right next to him. “Did you find her?” he asked weakly.

 

Dylan shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry—I did everything I could. There were just too many.”

 

Dylan needed to know. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. “Tell me what happened,” he said heavily. “How’d you get shot?”

 

“After you ran off, Trinity was helping a kid with bandages, and three Cocos swarmed us. I got all of them, but they also got me. Side and in the arm. I told Trinity to stay, but you know how she is.”

 

Dylan nodded. He could picture exactly what had happened now: he saw Trinity running off with her medic bag, saw her fall from a bullet, saw her body be picked up by a sonofabitch Coco Puff.

 

Johnny’s chin quivered. “I let her down, and she’s dead because of it.”

 

Dylan choked back his tears and rested his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“You don’t have to say that.”

 

“Tommy put us out where we shouldn’t have been—you want to blame someone, then blame him.” Then Dylan laughed almost hysterically. “But you can’t! They’re making him a hero for his actions.”

 

“Tommy?!”

 

Dylan nodded. “Almost fifty people dead or injured, and they’re calling it one of the greatest battles. All because of Tommy’s stupid Golden Wii. You believe that?”

 

“So the Wii isn’t just a legend?” Johnny asked, vaguely intrigued.

 

Dylan nodded. “It’s more like a death wish.”

 

“What happens to you?”

 

“Hunter and I are shipping out with Tommy. They’re going to send us to see the President and use us to boost morale.”

 

“They say I get to go home to recover, but I think they’re just saying that.”

 

“All I have to do is lie about everything.”

 

“At least you live.”

 

“You, too.” Dylan paused and reflected, “We didn’t get off on the right foot, but you proved me wrong in the end.”

 

It was silent for a moment. Hunter, who had been quiet so far, said out of the blue, “They’re giving Aimee Tommy’s old spot.”

 

Johnny nodded.

 

“You should find her,” Hunter continued. “Maybe she can help you when you’re better—put you somewhere you’re safer.”

 

Dylan started to say more, but a nurse came up and told them that they had to let Johnny rest. It took them 30 minutes to walk down all the rows, but when they were finished, they had seen no sign of Trinity.

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

The former Nintendo of America building was just down the street from Microsoft. Tommy was waiting there when they arrived, and he brought with him dozens of new Company D kids who wanted to meet the heroes.

 

Some of the kids wanted autographs, but most just wanted to hear their tale. Neither Dylan nor Hunter said anything; they let Tommy do the talking. They pitied the new kids. Tommy made it seem like war was a splendid thing.

 

McCormick later took them into the mess hall and let them eat by themselves. No one bothered them, not even the cooks. They gave them steak and mashed potatoes and lots of greens, then a huge brownie for dessert.

 

Dylan and Hunter picked around the edges and took nibbles of the food, but they had little appetite. Tommy was the only one able to eat everything on his plate.

 

“At least it’s better than that canned soup we used to eat on the lines,” Tommy said.

 

Dylan looked at him curiously. “I didn’t know you were on the lines.”

 

Tommy looked away embarrassed.

 

After dinner, McCormick took them to their barracks. They had an entire cabin to share. It had enough beds for 12. On three of the beds were brand-new PSP’s, a stack of video games, and their new uniforms, which looked identical to what Tommy was wearing.

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see another bed in my life,” Hunter said.

 

Dylan went to one of the beds and held up the new uniform. “I’ve never seen any kid in something like this. Why does it make us look wholesome?”

 

Dylan took a shower shortly after. It was the first one he had had since he went to the trench. After all that time of non-wet shampoo and sponges, he didn’t want to come out of the hot water. When he finally finished up, Tommy was already sleeping. Hunter was staring at his new PSP but not playing it.

 

Dylan got into bed and did his best to fall asleep, but he couldn’t rest. After an hour, he stood up and started to leave the room with his blanket and pillow.

 

“Where you going?” Hunter asked.

 

“Sleep outside.”

 

“Can I come?”

 

“Bring a blanket.”

 

“You guys are nuts!” Tommy mumbled, then went back to sleep.

 

Dylan found a place under a tree not far from the cabin. Hunter laid down close to him and shared his pillow.

 

“We’ve lived through a lot,” Dylan said as he stared at the stars.

 

Hunter nodded. “Do you think this war will ever end, Dylan?”

 

“All wars end. Maybe after we’re dead, but all wars end.”

 

“I used to hate school—all the homework and teachers picking on me. It doesn’t seem so bad any more. Sometimes I wish I could just be in school and not have to worry about dying. It’s a rotten thing for a kid my age to worry about.”

 

“My mom used to tell me when my dad was fighting in the war that every star was a soldier who died. ‘You get your own star when you die in a war,’ she would say, pointing at all of them.”

 

“That’s a lot of dead soldiers,” Hunter said.

 

“Yeah, but there’s not nearly enough stars. There must be twice that many dead soldiers.”

 

“I think I’m kind of going to miss it.”

 

Dylan turned and looked at him. “What?”

 

“The fighting. I didn’t like it, but I was good at it. I felt like I was a part of something.”

 

Dylan looked at the sky, thinking, then turned on his side and said, “We’re a team. You still are a part of something—a part of this team.” He extended his hand for Hunter to shake.

 

“Okay.” Hunter smiled, shaking his hand.

 

After Hunter fell asleep, Dylan couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down into his ears as he looked into the sky and wondered which one was Trinity’s star.

 

#
      
#
      
#

 

 

 

(Rebel Frosted Flake, Blog Entry)

 

TAKING SIDES

 

Posted: Wednesday, March 18, 2015| 11:59 AM (GMT)

 

 

 

They came into the tent recruiting today. They told us they needed us to fight the civil war. Only one person went. I don’t know why. There are no incentives to fight, other than to get even. Revenge is not what we’re looking for now.

 

After they left, I met a man (I can’t say who, because they are monitoring everything we write now). He told me that they needed me to go, too. But they wanted me to fight against the Cocos. They told me it was time to take sides.

 

I’m not taking sides. I just want to go home. I have no views, because I know if I write any views, I will be censored and taken away with the other objectors.

 

I love America! I said it! Can I go home now?

 

 

 

Tags: civil war, censored, taking sides

 

 

 

Level 16

 

I Don’t Like Kids

 

 

 

The sun woke Dylan and Hunter early. They went back to the room, got dressed quietly, and went to the mess hall before Tommy had stopped snoring or McCormick had a chance to get them.

 

It was empty when they arrived. Breakfast would not be served for another hour, but one of the cooks recognized them and let them in. He brewed them coffee and told them to wait while he made them bacon and eggs.

 

 “It’s so quiet,” Hunter commented, sipping coffee at a table near the back of the room.

 

“Yeah. You kind of get used to all the noises—I sort of forgot what quiet sounds like.”

 

“How do you feel?”

 

Dylan shrugged, “What do you mean?”

 

“We lived!”

 

“Not all of us,” Dylan replied, sadly looking down.

 

Hunter didn’t answer.

 

Tommy came into the mess hall, beaming, 20 minutes later, just as they were finishing breakfast. “How’d the nature boys sleep?”

 

“Just like home,” Hunter replied.

 

 “There’s a home I never want to return to.” Tommy looked at Dylan, who hadn’t looked up. “Why the gloomy face? You still in mourning or something?”

 

Dylan said nothing. He grabbed the apple that was next to his plate and began to squeeze it.

 

 “Leave him alone,” Hunter said.

 

Tommy shrugged. “Well, he should wear a black veil or something—how am I supposed to know when we can joke around about it?”

 

Dylan looked up then. “You want to joke about her dying?”

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