The n00b Warriors

by Scott Douglas

  “I told you to stay down,” Trinity scolded Dylan after Tommy left.

  “Did anyone else get hurt?”

  Trinity nodded.

  “Where’s Hunter?” Dylan asked, hoping he wasn’t among the wounded.

  Trinity started to answer, but then Dylan saw Hunter walking up behind her with a plate of food. “I got you something to eat.”

  Dylan started to sit up, but was dizzy and quickly fell back down.

  “Don’t get up,” said Trinity, “you’re too weak.”

  “I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?”

  Trinity bit her lip. “We have to get out of here, Dylan—Tommy is insane. Do you know what we spent the past day doing? Videogame tag—it’s Tommy’s own invention. The way it works is you run and hide, and when Tommy finds you, you’re supposed to shout out a video game, and then that keeps you safe from being it—only Tommy still tackles you to the ground.”

  “He made us play it literally all day long!” Hunter added. “And he wouldn’t give us water—I threw up twice.”

  “Everyone says he’s insane, and that he always sends people to the most dangerous places—one person told us that more people have died under him than anyone else. But they’re too busy in Seattle to do anything about it.” She paused and added quietly, “If Seattle doesn’t kill us, Tommy will—some of the new recruits were talking, and they think there’s a way to escape.”

  # # #

  Trinity and Hunter helped Dylan out of the hospital to the golf course, where Tommy was already waiting. Dylan supported himself against a tree and watched Tommy march back and forth in front of a small group of kids, explaining his theories on life and war.

  The golf course’s once-green lawn was dark brown and full of weeds. Sleeping bags were scattered everywhere, and placards on sticks identified the companies that currently resided in the course.

  The placard next to Tommy said “Company 103227D”—the name of Dylan’s company. They were located on the putting surface of the ninth hole. Most of the people standing on the putting green were unfamiliar to Dylan; they were the new recruits he had been promised before coming to Seattle. He had come to Washington with six other kids; his company now had 15. Tommy promised it would be up to 20 before they saw any action.

  Dylan’s head began to throb, and he did his best to listen as Tommy gave a biography of his short life.

  Tommy had been born into the war. Tommy’s parents were both Company B soldiers, and his mom had given birth on the front lines. She was allowed two weeks’ leave to be with Tommy, but she only took three days. On the third day, she sent Tommy to Los Angeles to live with his aunt.

  A group of Coco Puffs had raided Tommy’s aunt’s home when he was 12. As large Cocos with large guns forced Tommy’s aunt, his nine cousins, and even his little black dog (Peanut was his name) out of the house and into yellow slave relocation buses, Tommy hid in the entry coat closet with a sheet over his head.

  Three days later, a Coco Puff family and their infant daughter moved into Tommy’s home. During the night, while Coco Puffs slept in his aunt’s bed, Tommy sneaked into the kitchen and ate a banana and three slices of baloney lunchmeat. Then Tommy took his little league bat and went upstairs. First Tommy took two swings at the father’s head. When he didn’t move anymore, Tommy took a swing at the mother’s head (she had been screaming since the first swing Tommy had taken at the father)—“It only took one swing to shut her up,” so Tommy said with a smile.

  Tommy left the infant sleeping in the corner because it reminded him of his baby cousin, and then went to the room that used to be his own. Tommy took his PSP and several games and fled the house.

  It wasn’t long before Tommy found a group of escaped Frosted Flake POW’s who were planning an attack on the Coco Puffs. Tommy lied about his age, joined up with them, and fought and survived in one of the greatest Frosted Flake battles ever.

  Tommy ended the speech with, “I, ladies and gentlemen, am a legend.” Dylan smirked.

  Tommy stood straighter and pointed at the three stripes on his shoulder, “These three stripes I received because I have no compassion for Coco Puffs. They indicate that I am not afraid to kill, and in fact, I have come to enjoy it. If you don’t learn to take pleasure in your kill, you will die. You’re in the bloodiest battlefield in America. I expect that I will die here, and all of you should make peace of your own at the thought of never coming out of this hellish front alive.” Tommy looked at Trinity and winked, then continued, “Now—let’s get down to business. If everyone would direct their attention to the guy leaning up against the tree like he’s about to pass out—that’s…” He paused and pulled out a small piece of paper from his back pocket and read out, “Dylan, your new team leader. He may not look like much, but he’s willing to take a mortar for his company, which counts for something.

  “Tomorrow, four of you will get to try out for the role of legend.” Tommy pointed at the mountains in the distance. “Just east of here, a group of Cocos are rumored to be held up in a cabin, and they have been hitting our supply trucks—intel suggests that they have an original Nintendo game console. Find the cabin, take out the Cocos, and the four of you and your team leader will get to play for the entire day.” Tommy looked at a young kid that Dylan had yet to hear actually speak. The boy quickly looked down to avoid eye contact. “What’s your name?”

  “Paul, sir.”

  “I got a mission to discuss with Dylan—take the company and run laps. To and from the company headquarters, ten times.”

  Paul reluctantly nodded and led the rest of the company in a slow jog.

  Dylan quickly looked down as Tommy approached, and Tommy gave him a slap on the back that nearly knocked him over, joyfully explaining, “I like you—I think you’ll do just fine out here.” He looked to a small pond behind Dylan and said, “Walk with me.”

  Tommy set a quick pace while Dylan slowly followed. He was still nauseated from whatever the nurse had given him. He was finding it easier to stand, but the throbbing of his head made every step hurt.

  “It’s simple, really,” Tommy said. “Our intel suggests a cabin twenty miles east of here. I’ll have a supply truck get you within five miles, and you’ll have to hike in the rest.”

  “Do they have a lot of weapons?”

  “Not really. The men are armed, but only with their rifles. We believe there are only three, five at the most.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “And you’ll be armed with superior firepower.” Tommy paused at the shallow creek and watched the current. “You ever used an RPG?”

  “No, sir.” All of Dylan’s games featured characters with rocket-propelled grenades, but he had never been good at firing them even in the games.

  “I’ll have someone show you and your men how when you get back. It’s a simple little device.” Tommy sat on a rock and removed his shoes and socks. He dangled his feet in the pond and asked, “You ever been fishing?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We’ll have to do that sometime. It’s a relaxing sport.” He looked up at Dylan. “Don’t just stand there. Put your feet in. It’s not every day you get to do something as childlike as dangling your toes in the water—take advantage of it.”

  Dylan did as he was ordered, but jumped back at the water’s icy temperature.

  Tommy laughed. “It is a little cold, huh?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “You get used to that sort of stuff the more you fight. Cold, rain, snow—none of it will faze you. Not when you’re a true soldier.” Tommy sighed dramatically. He asked, “What are you like outside of war?”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “What do you do?”

  “I don’t know. Play games, watch movies—that kind of stuff.”

  Tommy nodded. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not one of these kids who come in all cocky-like. You play games.” He splashed Dylan in the face with the frigid water and reflected, “We’re kids in a man’s war.
You’re going to die here like everyone else one day—but if you want to live as long as possible, just fight like everyone else.”

  “How’s that, sir?”

  “Don’t think.” Tommy laid back, looking into the sky. “How would you like to go home and live? If I told you how, would you want to know?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “Three years ago, a group of Cocos managed to get into a general’s office and steal his Wii. Supposedly, it was the last Wii left in all Seattle, and it was colored gold. About a week went by and, as you can imagine, the general was angry—he kept sending men on these insanely dangerous missions, hoping that they’d come back with his beloved Wii.

  “None of the men would ever come back from these missions. Then one day, five of them did—and every soldier had a photograph of the Golden Wii glued to his forehead. The Cocos had glued the pictures to their foreheads and then sent them back to tell the rebels it would never be theirs again. Legend has it the general cried so loudly that you could hear it for miles away. The next morning, he sent out a memo saying that any soldier who successfully retrieved his Golden Wii would be immediately sent home and never have to fight again.”

  “Is it true?”

  Tommy shrugged, “Happened long before me. I guess it could be. It’s the stuff of legends now. If that general is still around, I don’t know who he is. But I’ll tell you what, Dylan—you find that Golden Wii, I guarantee you’ll be sent home.”

  “So you believe it?”

  “Every legend has roots in the truth, right?” He paused, then continued. “This place is mad. Everyone’s insane. If you don’t believe in the Golden Wii, find something else to believe in—it’s the only thing that’ll keep you from becoming like everyone else.” Tommy stood and put his shoes back on. “Just something to think about.”

  Dylan decided to play devil’s advocate. “So if the story were true, but the general’s not around anymore, why would we be sent home?”

  “Because a general’s word lasts forever.”

  As Tommy started to leave, Dylan asked, “What if I don’t want to do it?”

  “What?”

  “Be the team leader.”

  Tommy laughed. “Deal with it.”

  Dylan had had very little time to consider what it meant to be a leader since Lyle had pinned the responsibility onto him. He considered it as he waited for his company to return.

  In school, leaders were glorified. During war games and drills, the leaders were always the same—large, intelligent, and athletic. Dylan was not any of those things. He was the one the leaders put behind everyone else to fetch water. And here he was—the leader of a company of rejects.

  He was a leader by chance and not by skill, and he knew it. Yet he still had to put on a mask. If he didn’t make people believe that he could do what he had been assigned to do, they would have no hope.

  The more he considered what it meant to lead, the more he wished he was back at school, simply fetching water for the real leaders.

  # # #

  Dylan was resting in the shade of a tree when his company finished their laps. One of the new recruits had his arm around Trinity and was helping her walk.

  “What happened?” Dylan stood up, concerned.

  “I just got a little dizzy,” Trinity said with an embarrassed smile. “Just a bit dehydrated—but Johnny rescued me. Have you met him?”

  Johnny smiled at Dylan and held out his free hand. “Johnny Devolver.”

  Dylan took his hand and shook it with a strong grip. “Nice to meet you—and thanks for helping Trinity.” Dylan looked Johnny over quickly, finding it odd that he was in their company. He was stronger than anyone else in the group—at the very least, strong enough to be in Company C. He had sandy blond hair that was messy and dark sunglasses that hid his eyes; he reminded Dylan of the surfboarders who used to hang out near his house. When Johnny smiled, it seemed like there was something he was hiding—like the smile was only meant to cover some lie.

  “I find it hard to resist helping a damsel in distress.”

  “You should hear his stories, Dylan,” Trinity gushed. “He’s probably more trained than all of us combined! He’s the one who thinks he can help us escape.”

  Dylan looked at her quizzically. “Since when do you like hearing stories about fighting?” Trinity turned red, but before she could reply, Dylan asked with a hint of jealousy, “So where have you fought, Johnny?”

  Johnny smiled and waved his hand nonchalantly. “Just at home—before I signed up. Cocos came into my town, and me and a bunch of my friends helped them leave—if you know what I mean.”

  Dylan didn’t know what he meant, and he didn’t want to question him to find out; Johnny seemed cocky. Dylan turned to the rest of the company, who were now gathering around him, waiting for orders. “Listen up—I need four volunteers to hike into the mountains to the Cocos that are held up in the cabin. It’s an easy assignment, and you get to play videogames when it’s over. Who wants to go?”

  Hunter and Trinity were the first to volunteer, Trinity whispering to Dylan that it was only to protect Hunter. They were followed by a 60-year-old man named Milton Montana. He was a former high school history teacher from Fresno who had served in Operation Desert Storm. He was the first person Dylan had ever met who had fought in a previous war.

  Johnny Devolver was the last to volunteer. “I had a Coco steal my PSP a few months back,” he said, flashing a smile at Trinity. “Caused great emotional distress—this will be my payback.”

  Dylan dismissed the company for lunch and was about to leave with Trinity when he felt someone pulling at his elbow. He turned and saw Milton standing at attention. “Sir,” Milton began, “I just wanted to let you know that I am not afraid of those no-good Coco Puffs, and I won’t let you down.”

  “Good to know,” Dylan said awkwardly, starting to walk away.

  “Those piss-poor, whore-children Coco Puffs took my globe, and I’ll kill every one of ‘em.”

  “Your globe?”

  “Right in front of my eyes. They had taken our town hostage—took our homes—even our pets. I looked the other way. What can you do, right? I just kept on teaching like I always had, but then one day a group of Cocos came in my room and said on top of everything else they had already taken, they were going to take my globe, too. That’s where I drew the line. I ran off that night—left my wife all by herself so I could join up with the rebels. I hiked for two days before I found them, and I’ve been after the Cocos ever since.”

  Dylan looked at the sun shining off of Milton’s balding head, and said, “Glad you’re on our side.” He noticed that Milton’s uniform was buttoned up wrong, and he began to have doubts about allowing him on the mission.

  Tommy returned then, carrying an RPG. He looked at Dylan, confused. “Where is everyone?”

  “Lunch.”

  Tommy sighed. “I was hoping to play a bit of videogame tag with them.” He turned and looked at Milton. “He one of your volunteers?”

  “Yes, sir,” Milton said loudly, saluting.

  “Then you’re the RPG guy. Let’s make this quick.”

  “Sir, I don’t need no training! There’s no weapon I don’t know how to use—guarantee it.”

  “I got a good feeling about this one here, Charles,” Tommy said to Dylan. “Same good feeling I got about you.”

  As Tommy walked away, Milton turned to Dylan. “Why’d he call you Charles?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I don’t think he takes the time to get to know people’s name—I get the feeling that people don’t last long around him.” He looked at the RPG. “Sure you can use it?”

  Milton scrutinized the weapon and admitted, “This one here looks a lot trickier than the ones I’ve used before.”

  “So you don’t know how to use it?” Dylan nervously replied.

  “I didn’t say that!” Milton said, offended. “I’m sure I’ll get it all worked out by the time I have to actually fire it.”

&nbs
p; # # #

  (Coco Puff, Blog Entry)

  REVOLUTION

  Posted: Saturday, November 15, 2014 | 12:49 PM (GMT)

  Today, the United States capital was attacked for the third time. A fourth will happen if you don’t do something about it. This is your revolution, your time to rise up against those who stand in the way of freedom and democracy.

  There are two types of American people today. Those who are progressively changing the government to ensure the freedom of future generations. And those who are holding it back from achieving its destined greatness.

  Open your ears. Listen for those who choose to stand in the way of your government. They are your enemies. They will hunt for you and prey on everything that belongs to you.