The War Journals: Resistance

by Cory Mccoy

  Jesse here. Sitting in a bar in Tennessee, chasing yet another sketchy lead. It'll be a bust like all the rest. I probably would have just sent someone else, but the fact that the perp was often in this bar and mean as hell was just too good to pass up. According to my data, he's never officially identified himself as the person of interest, but other patrons sure seem to think he is. To be honest, not many people can fuck a man up the way this guy did. So there is at least that much to go off of. Besides, it's been a long time since I’ve been in a good brawl. Hell, the war's been over for damn near ten years now.

  As I sit here, reading over his file I can't help but notice that this was the point where things really began to change. Not just for the war effort, but for Connor himself. You see, he did not take Liz's departure well. He'd be angry at me for saying this, but he had already developed a pretty heavy dependency on pain killers by that point. It only grew worse from there. Not just that, but the alcohol as well. He began taking big risks, with no regard for his own safety. Of course, he had learned a harsh lesson when we left the lake. He no longer allowed anyone to accompany him on missions. They became increasingly dangerous, almost as if he were trying to get killed.

  It was nearly two months after our arrival when Connor had the shrapnel removed. Another two before his arm was fitted with the sleeve. It was certainly an incredible piece of hardware. He had been in surgery for over nine hours as doctors picked at the metal in his spine. The fitting for his arm took nearly an entire afternoon. After that, he finally consented to laser surgery to repair his bad eye. I couldn't help but feel like we were fitting a dangerous animal with weapons that even nature refused to give it.

  By this time we had begun taking over the training of our Resistance fighters, knowing that a definitive battle was coming our way. Death was in the air, it was palpable. We all knew that tens, maybe hundreds, of thousands would die once the Chinese launched their massive assault on Seattle. This would be our greatest test, defending the nation's new capitol.

  The last had been incinerated like a bad alien invasion movie. The difference was that we knew a storm was coming this time. We were preparing to unleash our own hurricane upon them.