

Fool Me Twice

Jim Dodge Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Jim Dodge Jr.

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Outset

I was lying in a pool of blood. It wasn't mine. I couldn't believe the bitch had shot me. We'd been partners for 16 years and there she was holding the smoking gun that caused this mess.

My chest was a throbbing mass of spectacular pain. I knew that if I moved she'd shoot me again so I didn't twitch a single muscle. I just lay there, bleeding pig's blood and pretending I was a corpse. She seemed to be satisfied with her handiwork. I heard her holster the .45 and walk away.

Right now I have a lot of explaining to do. I don't know if I'm telling God, or Buddha, or even an alternate personality of my own, but it feels good just to turn these random feelings into something coherent. My only hope is that I tell this story right. I guess I should start with a brief introduction. My name is Colin Chapel and I'm a cop.

The technical term was Narcotics Enforcement Officer, but nobody wanted to say that mouthful every time and the acronym is too reminiscent of a pitiful character from a cheesy sci-fi flick a century ago. In the year 2080 drugs took a major turn for the worse. Instead of chemicals derived from bleach and bathroom cleaner, we had spores that were carried into the blood stream by nano-bots. They were cheap to manufacture and easy to get. My job was to find the dealers, destroy their labs and keep the product off the street.

I joined the ranks of national law enforcement when I was nineteen. I was naive as hell and I thought I was invincible. I was shot twice in separate incidents before I was twenty-one. This drastically changed my outlook and, after that, I learned to keep my head down. The other officers I worked with took to calling me 'S.C.', which meant either 'Swiss cheese' or 'Supercop' depending on the speaker. They're all dead now so I don't hear that nickname anymore.

At twenty-two they partnered me with a gorgeous, deadly blonde by the name of Rachelle. She was stacked. If she wore less than a D-cup I would be surprised. Her violet eyes were shrewd and missed nothing. Her straight hair fell past her shoulders and caressed her back. Her hands looked deceptively delicate and were amazingly strong. She never wore tight clothes but what she did wear always accented her curvaceous figure. She could have easily been the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. On our first day as partners she caught me looking at her for too long and set things straight. She never said a word but I got the point and a few new scars. That babe could brawl like a rabid grizzly.

I had just entered the Nano-Narc squad and I was as green as the water in San Francisco Bay after the reactor leaked into it. Rachelle was a ten year veteran and had been in Narc for six of them. She was the type of cop that I had always aspired to be; minus the tits and pouty lips, that is.

We worked well together. I didn't hit on her and she didn't beat me up. We busted heads and even managed to win some ribbons from the mayor's office. We bagged more dope than any street peddler could sell in a decade. As the crime rates dropped, our confidence soared.

I can't begin to count the number of times we saved each other's lives. One time she picked off a thug who had a Winchester Boomstick pointed at my heart and I paid her back by clobbering a prostitute with knife-play on her mind. We became closer than twins.

As it turns out she came from a rich family. She was bored with the easy life and turned to law enforcement for recreation rather than those godawful syntho-treks. Hiking in the Himalayas isn't very challenging when all you have to do is say 'end' and you're back in your own bedroom. She seemed to have found enough adventure in the Narc Squad.

It wasn't until 2096 that things changed. A new breed of criminal was emerging. They were fast, smart and they liked killing cops. They stood over six feet tall and were heavily muscled. Short-cropped hair adorned their skulls. Their eyes were black orbs of malice under protruding brows. It was obvious they were enhanced, much like our space explorers and our athletes.

They started with our uniformed officers. They liked to lure them into seemingly safe situations and kill them in increasingly inventive ways. I'd describe their methods to you but there are just too many. Use your imagination and feel confident that the reality was much, much worse.

The worst thing about these murderous bastards was that they were organized. It became apparent that they had a single leader who was coordinating every strike and every movement. They were an army and their general eluded our best efforts to capture him. He knew what we were going to do and when we were going to do it. Routine raids turned into bloodbaths. No officer was safe even when giving a lowly parking ticket. All of our paths and patterns were monitored to eliminate us more efficiently. I quickly realized that a police officer was responsible.

I still don't know what drove this particular member of our brotherhood over the edge even though I know now, without any doubt, who it was. It was a sinister game and we were all pieces with no value, other than a certain level of entertainment.

After all of the blue-shirts were eliminated, they started on the plain-clothes officers. Time and time again a body would be found with his or her badge conspicuously on or near the corpse. Those few of us who survived went underground.

We threw away our badges and we stayed as far away from our homes and offices as possible. We had to give up the fight for justice completely just to keep breathing. The general populace panicked and the cities were non-stop riots. There was nothing we could do about it.

Rachelle and I had gone our separate ways in early 2097 to preserve our lives. She said she was going to Old Chicago since she had friends there but nobody would know her as a cop. I stayed in Philly (the city's fathers had voted unanimously to shorten Philadelphia officially in 2065) since this was the only city I knew. I kept my head down and my guns loaded.

The disease spread. News reports and e-papers all agreed that the violence and desperation were malignant and aggressively spreading. The 'Black Regency' was a nationwide concern in a matter of months. 'Lawlessness before all else' became the new motto of the Republic of North America. Our new, self-elected leader called himself simply 'The Regent.' He never showed himself in public but his symbol, a maleficent, black crow, projected itself from holo-screens whenever he made his announcements to the masses.

I did the only thing I knew to do. I sought him out. I killed as many of his flunkies as I could, while at the same time trying to determine who he was and where he ruled from. I wanted to eliminate him and regain the old way of the law.

For nearly two years I was hard on his trail. I would penetrate his defenses, enter his stronghold and find it abandoned. It was another part of the game for him to leave guards around an empty building to mislead any possible assassin. The ruse worked well and I fell for it dozens of times.

I killed hundreds of super-crooks and still there were more. There were thousands of them, maybe hundreds of thousands and they kept an iron grip on the cowering masses. Curfews were imposed and rules were made. Nobody violated them. Death was the penalty for every infraction. Only criminals walked the streets openly and the people starved. Not even the worst dictator from the history books had instilled fear this palpable. Hitler and Hussein seemed like rude grocery-mat managers by comparison.

Eventually I got lucky. I think I should rephrase that since my luck was mostly bad. I stumbled across the Regent in his hideaway while I was trying to escape one of his patrols. This unobtrusive two-storey house in the suburbs of Louisville, Kentucky was surrounded by black-clad troops carrying all types of guns, knives and blunt objects. It took stealth and good aim to eliminate even one of them and I would have to take out hundreds of them to have any real chance of getting a clear shot. I did my best but it wasn't good enough.

I tried to get a good glimpse of the Regent but the goons who were there to protect him were very eager to escort him off the premises. I was unable to penetrate the wall of toughened flesh and bristling weaponry. I began to grudgingly respect him for his ingenuity at using nondescript locations for control centers. It was no wonder nobody had managed to find him before now.

I stayed low but close on his heels. The high concentration of troops that surrounded him at any time was a good indication of his position. I followed them from city to city in my effort to eradicate his evil designs.

I tried to play my own cat-and-mouse games with the black-hearted mobs but it was just too risky. Leaving their bloated corpses as grisly trophies was fun and kept my instincts honed but after a few close calls I gave up my sport for my own good. These men were fiends who killed without regrets. I never wanted to see my lungs and I certainly didn't want them fed to dogs while I watched. I became a shadow.

One night they stopped in a small suburb outside of Old Chicago. Crumbling, brick town-houses and dying trees lined the streets. No wind blew the stifling heat away and the mosquitoes were so numerous that I had to pull my shirt over my face so that I didn't take a thousand of them in with every breath. The moon shone feebly through the clouds, illuminating the cracked sidewalks and the sagging porches. The air stank of old death.

I thought briefly of Rachelle and wondered if she was still alive. Whether she was or wasn't, there was nothing I could do for her. I kept my thoughts on keeping myself alive.

I watched and waited. A dilapidated structure at one-sixteen Plum Street was the chosen, temporary headquarters of the Black Regency. The feeble glow of a single bulb lit up the windows, outlining a few silhouetted ruffians who appeared to be sparring.

I found a good place to hide so I could safely spy on my enemy. Nobody entered the building. Nobody exited the building. I fell asleep behind a desiccated azalea bush. I woke up when approaching footsteps caught my attention. The first thing I noticed was that all of the guards were dispersing. Still nobody came from inside the building. Only two soldiers remained to protect the door. After a couple more hours of inactivity my curiosity overcame my caution. I pulled my Whisperer from its holster.

Smith & Wesson and Colt merged in 2051 for the benefit of both companies. They began to experiment with quiet weaponry. Silencers became obsolete and the manufacturers got even richer than they had intended. The Whisperer was the quietest pistol ever made. It took shells that had the stopping power of a twelve gauge shotgun but were so quiet that the target only heard the shot if the gun was within an inch of their head. Those who survived the ordeal compared it to a lover's breath in their ear, hence the name. This gun and I were old friends.

The second guard looked up when he heard the first one fall but he made no more noise than his companion had. They never heard the shots that killed them. The coppery smell of their blood tainted the still air. As I was dragging the second dead goon into the bushes the door opened. I slid back into the shadows, a phantom among ghosts.

A figure emerged from the doorway. He was over six feet tall and well-dressed in a black pinstripe suit like the gangsters wore in the old reel-movies. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore black sunglasses. His entire look had gone out of style nearly eighteen decades ago. He walked as if nothing could harm him and wasn't concerned that his guards were missing. This had to be him, the Regent himself. The king was about to be dethroned.

I called out to him. "Hey, buddy, got a light?"

He looked up with an amused smile and was about to respond when my shot tore his right arm from his body. He fell hard and immediately became motionless. He'd never made a sound except for that of his ass hitting the pavement. It was too easy.

I approached him carefully knowing that most people lived for a few minutes before the shock killed them. He didn't even twitch as I poked his arm socket. The metallic sheen underneath his skin told me why he had been so easy to stop. Robots were programmed to shut down automatically when they sustained damage of this extent. It made them easier to salvage.

I was about to scream savagely and had my foot pulled back to kick Mr. Roboto in his titanium balls when I heard a foot step behind me. Shit. I knew the sound of a gun coming out of its holster better than my own voice. This was not the place I wanted to be right now.

"Turn around," she commanded, "slowly."

Hope flared. The owner of that voice was my savior. I turned around, grinning like a fool.

"Rachelle!" I greeted warmly as I turned to face my old partner.

She was wearing a black Armor-Skin suit that gave her the deceptive appearance of a masculine build. Tall, crimson tactical boots and a matching trench-coat proved that her sense of style remained. Her flowing, blonde hair was pulled back severely from her face. She looked older and tired but she was still alluring.

"Colin?" She was shocked. "Is that really you? I figured my legions of loyal idiots had buried you long ago."

"What?!" I couldn't believe my ears. "Run that by me again, I seem to have misunderstood you."

"I ordered them to kill you before I even left Philly," she explained. "I knew you would cause problems if you were left to wander around."

I nearly cried. I loved her more than my own mother. I had watched her back just as she had watched mine. I would have gladly given my own life for hers and nearly had on several occasions. I raised my gun. She shot me without hesitation. The slug hit me in the chest and knocked me down onto the uneven pavement. Blood soaked my shirt and I lay there dazed. She strolled over to my prone form and looked down at me.

"You should have seen this coming, Colin. I hated the way things were and you knew it. I wasn't shy about my feelings. The world is a sewer! I'm fed up with being a piece of debris floating merrily along in the stream," she paused to let her words sink in. "No technological marvel, no governmental body could have gained the control I have. Nobody else could have done this; nobody but me. It takes unfailing ruthlessness and staggering intelligence to do something on this grand a scale."

I lay there panting as pain washed over me in sickening waves. She paused again to organize her thoughts.

"I can't say I'm sorry it ended this way," she finally continued. "You always were a simple-minded bundle of hormonal excess. I'll enjoy watching you die."

I rolled my eyes up to look her in the face. She was still beautiful but her evil ways were etched in the lines around her eyes. She was the worst villainess ever to arise from the world's degradation. I hated her completely.

"What, no witty comeback? That's not like you, partner." The word sounded filthy coming from her mouth like that. Anger helped pull me from the haze of pain I was in.

"You've forgotten..." I croaked.

"Forgotten what?" she snarled. Arrogance oozed from her every word.

"You forgot...the most important...thing," I gasped.

"Come on, die already. I've got troops to move and people to terrorize. I'm a very busy tyrant."

What she had forgotten was what a tricky bastard I am. A friend of mine from the academy studied movie special effects from the twentieth century and loved to install blood packs on anything he could. I had talked him into installing some on my bulletproof vest in the hopes that it might one day save my life. The thought was that, after being shot by a perp I would bleed convincingly while I had time to recoup my strength and formulate a plan. All I had to do was lay still and not move if they kicked me. All they had to do was not shoot me any other place than in the chest or back with an old style, non-armor piercing round. It was a gamble I was willing to take.

I tensed my whole body as if I was having a seizure and then went limp. I didn't breathe. I didn't flutter an eyelash. I didn't fart. I was as dead as I could make myself. She knelt down and poked me with her gun a few times then stood back up. She refrained from desecrating my 'corpse' in any way and began to walk away.

I cracked one eyelid to be sure she was really leaving me. My Whisperer was still in my hand and I raised it without a sound.

"Rachelle," I called.

She whirled to face me, startled. She started to say something but I rudely interrupted her.

"My turn."

Bang.
Resurgence

My bullet hit her in the right eye. Her skull exploded, shearing off that side of her lovely face and messing up her long, blond braid. I hated to waste a good-looking woman like that, but she had it coming. No chick, no matter how hot, was going to kill me and get away with it.

I peeled off my bloody clothes and dropped them on the sidewalk. I must have been quite a sight, standing there on the sidewalk in my birthday suit, surrounded by dead bodies. I mopped the blood off myself the best I could with my pants after I rummaged through my pockets. I collected my wallet and my keys. Both items were useless but they were mine.

Armor-Skin made the best personal body armor known to modern man. It was light-weight, durable, waterproof and yet just as comfortable as old blue-jeans. It could stop knives, arrows, tasers, lasers, and most armor-piercing rounds. It could even prevent a tank shell from penetrating the person wearing it. It just couldn't prevent the smashing of internal organs when the enormous shell crashed into the unlucky target. The prospect of finally owning my own set was exhilarating.

After all these years I finally got to do something in the real world that I had previously only been able to do in my fantasies. I got to take Rachelle's clothes off. With only part of her head remaining on her cooling form this was much less exciting than my daydreams had been. I tried to pretend she was a mannequin from the local Armory Outlet. The ruse was only partly successful. I left her bra and panties on just to be respectful to the dead bitch.

Since Rachelle had picked a 'Skin that was intended to disguise her feminine form she had unwittingly left me with a valuable asset. In minutes I had freed my prize from my ex-partner's corpse. Amazingly, none of her blood had gotten on her clothes. What hadn't sprayed out of the back of her head had run into the gutter with the other waste.

The crimson boots and trench-coat were a little gaudy for my tastes, but they fit perfectly. Now I was dressed like an old comic-book super-hero. Somehow, wearing women's clothes didn't feel as awkward as I had imagined. It was rather liberating in fact. I felt like a new man.

I searched the pockets of my new garments and found little of any real use. There was a pack of gum, a self-lighting syntho-rette and a pair of tactical sunglasses. This ingenious eyewear blocked UV rays and gave the wearer some infra-red capabilities. It even afforded their owner some semblance of night vision. Bonus items like that certainly made life better. If a nuclear explosive detonated, the glasses would survive, even though their fashion conscious owner wouldn't. I knew those would come in handy so I put them on. Cool.

I adjusted the straps and fasteners on the Armor-Skin until it all settled into place. After that I brushed the dirt and leaves off of the coat, smoothed it out and checked my reflection in the nearest window. I was dressed to kill. Again. I knew it was time to bring justice back to the streets. As I turned to walk away, a pair of Regency soldiers approached me. Their confusion was obvious as they looked me up and down.

"Who are you?" the blond galoot asked.

"What are you doing here?" his idiot partner with the brown buzz chimed in.

Their confusion ended when they spied Rachelle's nearly naked body on the sidewalk. I shot them both before they could bring their AK-48's up to firing position. The blond proved tougher than his companion. Then again, I had shot him in the stomach and his brunette pal had taken his in the windpipe. I walked over to the fallen monster. He was gasping for air but I knew that he could potentially live for at least another hour before he died. He was bleeding slowly but steadily. I stood over him in the most intimidating manner I could manage.

"My name is Chapel. You'd do well to remember it."

He didn't seem impressed. I shook my head and nearly shit myself when a bullet whizzed by my ear. I ducked and rolled behind the nearest car.

The rusted out shit-box that I had chosen as my sanctuary disappeared in an instant. The loud boom hit me a full two seconds after the concussion of the blast sent me sprawling. My friends must have brought some well armed reinforcements. Only a Clint Big-Boomer packed enough punch to make a piece of Detroit rolling iron disintegrate like that. It was time to move.

With no time to catch my breath, I sprinted around the corner of the building closest to my position. It was the wrong way. I found myself staring down the barrel of that Clint and wishing I didn't have to pee so badly. My options were limited so I shot the gun-toting flunkie in the balls with my Whisperer. He dropped the 'Boomer and made a grab for his missing genitals. It was so funny I had to laugh as I ran for my life.

I knew the boys from The Regency wouldn't bother to stop to help their fallen comrade in their desire to waste me so I pushed my aching body to its limits. I ran for blocks. I turned left. I turned right. I jumped a fence and headed back in the direction I had originally come from. I figured that would stump them. I was right. They hadn't bothered to move the bodies, help the wounded man or to remove their weapons. I took the AK-48 and the extra ammunition from the dead man and walked back over to the dying one. I felt better. My Whisperer was nestled in its holster, its comfortable weight a reassuring burden.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Blondie.

His response sounded like somebody saying 'fuck you' through a muddy bog. Blood ran from his mouth and down his chin to join the growing puddle beneath him.

"That bad, huh? I'm sorry I didn't kill you. Want me to finish you? It'll be quick" I offered sympathetically.

He spit a wad of bloody mucus at me. It landed somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. With his throat cleared, he was able to garble a few words.

"We'll get you," he said in a gravelly whisper, "your time is past. The Black Reg..."

A single shot from the AK stopped the propaganda from spewing out of his mouth. I wasn't known for my patience and today I was grumpier than usual. I held the automatic rifle at the ready as I headed away from the bodies of my fallen foes. If it hadn't been for the aches and pains of weary muscles I would have felt on top of the world. The crumbling buildings and burned out vehicles helped bring me back to reality. The world was fucked up and somebody needed to fix it. I only hoped I was up to the task.

☺

It was getting dark fast. The pollution in Old Chicago was world famous. I needed to find a place to sleep before I couldn't see enough to walk safely. I picked the least dilapidated house I could find in the gathering gloom and tried the door. It was locked. I used the butt of the rifle as a skeleton key and smashed the knob. The door opened easily enough after that so I let myself in.

"Knock, knock," I called cheerfully.

Nobody answered so I made myself at home. I closed the door behind me and surveyed my new digs. The usual compliment of rooms was present; family room, kitchen, dining room, and a hallway which presumably led to the bedrooms and the bathroom. There was an overstuffed recliner in the family room that had very little dust on it so I made it my temporary base of operations.

I sat down in the burgundy chair and put the leg rest up. My feet were immediately grateful. I set the AK so I could easily grab it and checked to make sure my Whisperer was clear in its holster. I felt a little silly but I'd rather live than die. No surprise there. Exhaustion quickly overcame my sense of self-preservation. I was nearly asleep when I heard footsteps approach stealthily from the back of the house. I hadn't searched the back rooms for any occupants and I was about to pay for my folly. I was so tired I could barely think straight but I found that I already had the rifle in my hands. In one quick move I leapt from the chair and spun to face my assailant. It was a child.

"Hey there." I tried to be pleasant so I wouldn't scare the little guy. "Where are your parents?"

The tike was about three feet tall, grimy as hell and had long, unkempt hair. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. I was listening intently for the sound of any other people in the house. I heard the wind against the windows and some distant explosions but if there were any more refugees in the building they were keeping very quiet.

"What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Chapel. I'm a cop and I won't hurt you."

"You're a copper?" the tiny voice piped. "Really? A for real policeman? Not one of them killer-men?"

I could tell I hadn't convinced the child of my noble intent and I felt that a lot hinged on this moment. I looked into the big blue eyes in front of me and filled my voice with sincerity.

"My name is Chapel. I'm a really for real policeman. I only kill bad guys and I love children." I pointed the gun at the floor to show the truth in my statements. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers so if you'll tell me your name, we can be friends."

The waif's face betrayed an inner emotional struggle but disbelief finally gave way to grudging trust.

"My name's Marie," she answered hesitantly. "But my Pops calls me Shoestring."

With that little mystery cleared up, Shoestring ran up to me and hugged me with all of her miniscule might. I was so surprised I nearly shot myself in the foot. I put the safety on and set the rifle in the chair. I hugged that child as if she was the only other good person left on earth. I was amazed at how good it felt to have human contact that didn't end in bloodshed. I cried a little, I was so overwhelmed.

"Well, Shoestring, it's very nice to meet you." I smiled the best smile I ever had in my life. "Where's Pops? Is he alive? I would like to ask him if it's okay if I stay here tonight."

Her face clouded. I knew the answer before she spoke.

"The big soldier mens came to take him for re-re-re edgi..." she grasped for the word.

"Re-education?" I prompted.

"Yeah, re-education. He says he won't go so they shot him in the head." her expression went blank and no emotion was evident in her voice.

I hugged her again as I tried to figure out how this was going to work. I couldn't abandon her yet she was obviously capable of surviving on her own. Morals, ethics and all that shit ate at me. In the end, I did the only thing I could do.

"Shoestring, you're coming with me."

Every super-hero needs a sidekick.
Saddle Up

Since it looked like Shoestring hadn't eaten lately, I rummaged around in the kitchen cabinets until I found an ancient can of Van Camp's Pork 'N' Beans in the back corner of a top cabinet. It wasn't much but it would keep her from starving to death. I added supplies to my mental checklist. If we were going to travel we'd need some groceries.

As I popped the pull-tab, the can warmed the food up. By the time I presented the meager meal for her consumption she had already found a spoon. I worried for a moment that the tiny little girl might attack me if I didn't hand over the grub fast enough. She looked ready to wrestle mountain lions. I handed it to her gingerly, determined not to lose my hand in the process.

We didn't talk much. The silence was more comfortable. Instead we watched the darkness fall through the flimsy curtains in the back bedroom. Some period of time later, Shoestring fell asleep curled up in my lap and began to snore. That's all I remember until daybreak so I know I fell asleep too.

As the sun started pouring through the windows I woke, startled. I was sure I had heard the front door being opened. Shoestring was still asleep in my lap so I cautiously moved her onto the floor. I didn't want to wake her if I didn't have to.

I picked up the AK-48 as I crept out of the bedroom. I closed the door as I left so Shoestring could sleep through any noise I might make. It was most likely that the intruder or intruders were desperate folks like us. Just the same I made sure the safety was in the 'off' position. If things got nasty they'd do so real quickly. In this world it paid to be pessimistic. My Whisperer was snuggled loosely in its holster. The automatic rifle would clean out any infestation of two-legged roaches faster than my beloved pistol but I wanted it ready, just in case.

I walked down the short hall as if I was invincible. Actually, I felt invincible. The idea of being an unstoppable force for good had settled in and I was ready to rock. After a short burst of gunfire from our unwanted guests I picked myself up off of the disintegrating carpet. If it hadn't been for the Armor-Skin my folly would have been fatal.

The slugs hadn't done any real damage to me through the 'Skin but my pride was wounded. I fired off a short burst as I stood up and darted into the kitchen. I heard one body drop and countless bullets tear through the walls and cabinets around me. Several hit the oven and refrigerator with 'sproing' sounds. I hit the floor.

From my vantage point I could see the dust bunnies under the refrigerator. I made a decision to live a little longer. It was time for drastic measures. Being the brainless wonder that I was, I somersaulted into the living room, spraying rounds as I went. I called that move the 'Pinwheel of Death'. It worked. When the clip ran empty, I was the only living, breathing creature in the living room. Unfortunately one of the brutes had come around behind me and was attempting to crush my windpipe.

"We got you now, fucker," he grunted.

I tried to respond but his thumb was pressed into my vocal cords. Instead I grabbed his cock and balls and gave them a less than friendly squeeze. The only appropriate time to fight fair is when your life's not on the line. He must have liked S & M since he laughed low in his throat and actually got an erection. I let go of his family jewels. My vision was growing dark and all I could think about was Shoestring and the rape and torture she could probably expect if these goons found her.

I was running out of time so I called on my oldest friend to help me. One shot from the Whisperer was probably enough but as he fell I shot him twice more. It was a beautiful moment. Never had I felt so alive. As I was examining the hole in my lovely crimson trench-coat I heard a muffled cry of pain come from the rear of the house. As I left the battered kitchen I made a mental note to unsheathe my weapon before I fired it next time.

"Shoestring!" I yelled as my fear grew.

I sprinted down the hall. The door was open so I lost no time entering the room. I was shocked at the scene that presented itself. I had never witnessed anything so brutal, so gruesome or so beautiful. A dead Regency soldier lay on his back staring sightlessly at the ceiling with a large kitchen knife sticking out of his stomach. He appeared to have deep cuts on every part of his body. The fallen brute was shredded. It was like some mad scientist's failed experiment. I stood shocked for a moment as Shoestring jumped up and down on his chest and screamed.

"You killed my daddy you shitass! You killed my daddy you shitass!" She repeated it like it was a mantra, which I supposed in a way it probably was.

I put my hand on her shoulder and soon found that ten-inch blade pointing at my navel. I held perfectly still and waited for the haze of fear and anger to drain from her vision. It didn't take long. I could see the berserker leave her and she collapsed into my arms, crying as if the whole world was lost. It was but it wouldn't do her any good to discuss that right then. I hugged her back and tried to say soothing things until her tears dried up.

She didn't seem to want to talk about what had just happened so I didn't bring the subject up. Some things were better left unsaid. After she pulled herself together we stripped all the ammo off of the fallen men. One of them had a long boot knife with a black composite handle which I let Shoestring keep. She strapped the neo-nylon sheath around her waist like it was Excalibur. Looking down at the diminutive girl, I added clothes to the checklist. Her soiled t-shirt and shorts were more holes than fabric.

"Do you have any family?" I asked her when we had the bodies piled up like cordwood in the bathroom.

She shook her head. "No. Just Pops."

Her eyes misted up and she didn't say anything else for a couple of minutes. I let her have her silence while I rummaged through the remains of the kitchen for any food or water. Nothing. We needed to move quickly before another pack of jackals descended upon us. We had gotten lucky once and I didn't want to stake my life, or hers, on such a shaky bit of good fortune.

I put a fresh clip in the AK, put three fresh shells in the Whisperer and hauled ass out of the back door with Shoestring in tow. Just as I suspected, our luck didn't hold. Three Regency soldiers stood there waiting for us. I don't know what I fucked up in a past life but I must have done it right.

"Drop the weapon and surrender immediately!" one of them shouted.

As I complied, I glanced around. Shoestring had disappeared. I hoped she wouldn't be spotted by patrols. That girl was tough and deserved to survive my ill-fated company. I wished her well as I prepared myself to be executed.

As I knelt, one of the buffoons commanded. "Kneel, traitor." Duh.

"Hey, cockface, how's your aim?" I asked cheerily. "I just got this coat and I don't want my blood ruining it."

Confusion flashed across their faces. If you added their I.Q.'s together you _might_ get a good golf score. It would be close, though. Mr. Talkative composed himself the fastest and tried to reassert order.

"Just do as you're told and we can get this over with."

I closed my eyes and offered a brief prayer up to whatever gods may be listening for the pleas of ignorant cops. I heard a surprised gurgle followed by several short bursts of gunfire. Expecting to find myself dead and ascending to the heavens, I was surprised to hear Shoestring laughing. Damn it. They must have killed her too.

"Mr. Chapel. Open your eyes. You ain't dead."

"You aren't dead," I automatically corrected, "and how the hell did I manage that?"

"Look."

I did. It was like a scene from a Chaplin film. With blood. Mr. Talkative had a slit throat which I knew had to be from the knife Shoestring carried. His two underlings had obviously been caught off-guard as well and had managed to shoot each other in their haste to defend themselves. I shook my head in bewilderment as I laughed. I never bothered to ask her how she had accomplished it. These guys were real big. They were real dumb too. It was amazing that morons like these had managed to conquer the nation.

I looked at my sidekick with new eyes. She was only three feet tall but she had guts. The clothes I wore weighed more than she did but they hadn't saved my life as effectively as she had. To say I respected her wouldn't even begin to cover how I felt.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Don't know."

"Does it matter?"

"Nope."

I picked the dropped weapon up out of the grass and led us to the nearest retail store. I knew one little girl who had just earned herself a new outfit.

☺

After skulking across town and nearly running into three more patrols, we reached the mall. Dollar-Mart had already been looted, most likely several times. The big glass doors had been smashed so thoroughly only dust remained. All of the windows had been smashed but the 'OPEN' sign still hung dutifully. It was good enough for me.

I carried Shoestring over the threshold so her bare feet wouldn't get cut on glass. I took her to the employee bathroom first. A humming buzz coming from the cash register made me believe the power might still be on. I was right. When I flipped the switch, the light came on. I closed the door so the warm glow wouldn't attract any attention from the street.

Yikes. This was the first time I had seen my new partner in full illumination. If there was a clean spot on her, I couldn't find it. I went back into the store and grabbed a few things. The looters had taken all of the food and the fake jewelry but normal items like shampoo and soap had been left undisturbed. I guess fiends don't bathe.

I hung my coat on the rack nearest the bathroom so I wouldn't foul it with filth from Shoestring. I was still fuming about the hole I had shot in it and I didn't want it damaged any further. I was becoming rather fond of my new wardrobe.

I was a little uncomfortable asking her to undress. "Would you like to do this while I stand outside?" I was squirming.

"No!" She blurted. "Please, stay wif me."

"Are you scared?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's get you clean."

Using water from the sink, I wet her down and lathered her up. It took two wash-cloths, a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo to discover the little girl under the grime. I ended up having to go find a brush with stiffer bristles because the one I had kept getting tangled in her hair. There were enough strands of that left over to make a medium-sized dog. It looked like an old mop in the trash can.

Finally we had her sparkling. She was shivering in the cool air. What I discovered was a pretty young lady with straight, mousy brown hair and the most brilliant blue eyes. Her skin was pale and covered in small bruises and scars. A roadmap of her life covered her body.

"One more thing," I assured her and handed her a big, fluffy towel.

After she had dried off, we browsed the racks of clothing. Everything was on the floor. We moved debris around and dug under rubble until we found her a dress that she liked. It had a blue-flowered print on a white background. We found her some ruffled socks and a pair of sneakers. I nearly collapsed beneath the weight of nostalgia the sight of her evoked.

Somehow I was able to find a sewing kit amidst the chaos. I chose the red that most closely matched the color of my coat and repaired the hole. It was near the seam of the arm so my half-ass stitching was nearly invisible. I put it back on and smoothed it into place. It wasn't perfect but it was close enough.

I packed a knapsack full of toiletries. I filled it with soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste, brushes, wash-cloths and even two more of those fluffy towels. I packed a smaller bundle of clothes for Shoestring. I knew that no female would be content with one set of clothes for long. Besides, that dress would eventually get dirty and I was certain all the laundry-mats were closed. We slung our packs over our shoulders and carefully re-emerged into the morning.
Table Manners

I hadn't eaten in a couple of days and it was starting to show. The world spun, my head ached and my limbs were shaky. My stomach had gone from grumbly to upset and I felt like I was going to puke. Since there was nothing to come up, getting the heaves would be especially painful. The sunlight hurt my eyes and I knew I would fall over if I didn't find something to eat soon. Shoestring wasn't complaining but I could hear her stomach rumbling emptily. I counted my fingers and my toes to make sure she hadn't made a snack of them when I wasn't paying attention. For the first time in my life I wished McDonald's hadn't gone out of business when I was a kid.

The day was hot and quiet. It was the end of the season but summer hadn't given up yet. Mosquitoes attacked en masse in a vain attempt to find sustenance. The ones that survived our awkward swats surely flew off disappointed. Birds sang in the trees and bees buzzed contentedly from flower to flower collecting nectar. I envied the little insects their meal. If I wasn't about to die from starvation it would have been a glorious day.

We pushed on for a while but finally I had to rest before I collapsed from an ugly combination of exhaustion and hunger. I found a spot in a public park underneath a majestic oak tree. We rested in their shade long enough to make me nervous. There was a pond in the middle of the park and we took turns drinking while the other kept watch. The algae infested water tasted foul and it was overly warm but it was better than dehydration, though not by much.

"Shoestring, we need some food," I stated calmly. "I don't know where to find any but I know we can't last long without it."

She grew pensive. Her eyes squinched up and she cocked her head. I could tell she was working things out in her head. When she finally spoke I was impressed by her astuteness.

"Do the soldier mens have food?" She asked innocently.

"Soldiers, Shoestring, and it's not appropriate to add an 's' to men. It's already plural."

I felt kind of bad about correcting her but the world already had enough ignorance in it without us adding to it. I thought about it briefly and realized she was right. Even muscle-bound idiots needed nutrition of some kind in order to efficiently terrorize the populace. My mouth watered as a plan began to form within the haze that filled my thoughts.

☺

The black-clad soldier looked down at the approaching person. She was barely three feet tall and clad in a flowery dress. He could have easily crushed the emaciated child with his boot. He thought of shooting her but didn't feel like explaining unnecessary gunfire to his unit leader. The tiny little girl walked right up to him, fearless.

"Hey, mister," she piped sweetly, "do ya got any food? I'm real hungry. Pops don't come home no more and my tummy's grumbly."

A look of bored contempt crossed his face. His duty was to guard the doorway from all except Black Regency troops and officers. This little girl didn't fall into either of those categories.

"Go 'way. Before I hafta ventilate you." He growled menacingly at the end of the statement.

"But mister, I'm starvin'. Please won't you give me somfin to eat? Pleasssse."

She looked crestfallen as one big tear rolled down her grimy cheek.

"Go away now, you little bitch. I'll kill you where you stand if I have to tell you again." He produced a big, shiny pistol and pointed it directly at her face.

"Is that any way to talk to a child?"

The big guard's head whipped around to face my way as I stepped around the corner and placed a big shiny pistol against his temple. He had been so engrossed in Shoestring's approach he hadn't even noticed me.

"Now drop that pea-shooter and apologize to Shoestring." I left no room for uncertainty as to what would happen if he refused.

"Fuck off, buddy. If you kill me, you'll be dead before my body drops. This building is full of Regency troops. Now drop the weapon and back away."

"If by 'full' you mean five soldiers, then you're right. The bad news for you is that my diminutive friend here can kill more of you oafs than that by herself. You've got bad karma, asshole."

I took the gun from the burly guard's hand as his lifeless body fell. I waited for a few seconds, patiently.

"He was wrong, Shoestring. I'm not dead yet." I laughed at my own poor joke. "Are you ready to eat? I'm skin and bones."

She smiled up at me and accepted the henchman's pistol willingly. It was too heavy for her to use effectively but there weren't any smaller guns in evidence. She needed both hands just to keep it level. She pointed the dangerous end at the ground and slipped her little fingers over the trigger. She could barely hold the gun's weight. It wasn't great but it would have to do for now.

I had picked a little-used outpost for this excursion. I had observed this one in my previous wanderings and knew that troops rarely visited the old fuel depot. Conveniently for us, the soldiers stationed here barely came outside unless it was their turn to stand watch. Fortune had smiled on us so far but I refused to take any chances I didn't absolutely have to take. Either we got some food or we died of starvation. This was the only choice and we both knew it. I kissed the barrel of my Whisperer and holstered it lovingly. I retrieved the AK-48 from where it lay against the wall.

"Okay, Shoestring, this is the moment of truth. Are you ready?" I looked her straight in the eyes and waited for her answer.

"Yep."

"Shoot anything that moves. Shoot until it stops moving. If you run out of ammo, scream bloody murder. That might distract them long enough for me to get to them before they get to you."

She nodded her understanding so I led the way inside the old service station. The hallway was empty and no secondary guards were posted. Apparently the soldiers who occupied this outpost weren't worried about intruders. They hadn't even locked the door. I could hear the remaining men carrying on in the back storeroom. It sounded like they were having a hellacious party. I smiled, happy to be able to add something to their revelry.

I knocked on the metal door that stood between me and, hopefully, a meal.

"Just open the damn door you fucking half-wit!" an angry voice shouted from the other side of the door.

"Hey, boss!" I called merrily, "I have a surprise for you! Open the door will ya?"

"What the fuck?! Lazy asshole..." the other voice replied.

I heard a chair scrape across the tile floor and the stomping of booted feet approaching. The door opened and I was confronted by an enormous man in a black turtle neck and khaki uniform pants. The Regent's crow emblem stared at me from his right breast pocket.

"Surprised?" I asked jauntily as I opened fire.

They all had guns but none of them had time to grab them. Shoestring and I mowed them down ruthlessly. She made a strange barking sound every time she pulled the trigger but since she kept firing I didn't worry about it. I made room in the doorway for her so I didn't take a round in the butt cheeks. The smells of gunpowder and hot blood filled the air around us. Together we made short work of the remaining men.

"Well, Shoestring, it would appear our friend outside was right. This room is so small that five men actually filled it up. I guess his ghost can say 'I told you so' on our way out."

We found a stash of canned food in boxes in one corner of the room. The floor was slippery with blood so we crossed the room carefully. Some of the boxes had been splattered gruesomely but we were too hungry to care. We crammed as much as possible into our packs. I filled my pockets when space ran out. I was weak from hunger but I knew it would be safer if we were far away from the site of our recent food-finding expedition. We walked until nightfall.

☺

Under cover of darkness, we made camp. We had trekked several miles east of Old Chicago. I wanted to get us out of the city so I took every back road we came across. My favorite ones were those with grass growing up through the asphalt. It was reassuring to see the unused roadways spread out before us.

We walked a short distance away from the road and had a feast. Green beans, peas, carrots; there were even some tins of Spam in our horde. It tasted awful but we ate it anyway. Nothing was left in the cans we opened. We even drank the water that surrounded the vegetables. It was ambrosia.

I didn't light a fire due to the risk of being spotted. It was really too hot to need the warmth and we were too tired to want the light. It had been a long day. As the full dark of night surrounded us we fell blissfully asleep.

We awoke as the sun rose. I was still dog-tired and I was hungry again. Shoestring had awakened before me, opened a can of something and was helping herself to breakfast. I stretched to work the kinks out before I joined her.

The day was full of promise. It was a sunny, cloudless morning full of chirping birds and soft breezes. The temperature was creeping up but it wasn't too hot yet. Other than the road, there were no monuments to mankind's stupidity to be seen. My confidence rose to pitiful heights. It was then that something strange caught my eye. A small, pink teddy-bear was staring at me from Shoestring's lap. I was momentarily confused by its presence. It seemed too normal, too perfect to exist.

"Where did that come from?" I asked slyly.

She looked embarrassed and wrapped her arms tightly around her fluffy friend. I felt almost guilty for asking her.

"I finded it back at the store. Where you washed me." She was clearly uncomfortable telling me. "I can keep it, can't I?"

I hid a smile. Goddamn this was cute. It nearly had me bawling like a baby. How could I say no?

"You found it back at the store. There's no such word as 'finded'." I pretended to consider her request. "Yes, you can keep it. As long as I can keep you, that is."

Her whole face lit up and she rushed over to me with that plush creature ensnared in her little limbs. She hugged me tightly and settled into my lap.

"Thanks, Pops."

_'Was she talking to me_?' I wondered.

I looked down into her big blue eyes. She was still smiling, her grin nearly splitting her face. Since she was looking directly into my eyes I knew she had been talking to me. I smiled back and made a silent vow to be the best father I could.

"You're welcome...daughter."
Ugh

"All right, Shoestring, we need a montage."

I had flashes in my head of all the old action movies where the hero only had a month or a week to learn to fight. Short scenes of pain, degradation and inevitable improvement move the story along in a matter of minutes while cheesy music plays to rouse the audience's emotions. In this case, my mighty miniature companion was the main character.

"What's that mean?" she asked sheepishly.

"It means that today you learn to defend yourself."

I felt kind of stupid, suddenly. I realized Shoestring already had four confirmed kills and helped me mow down those ruffians at the old service station. I wondered if I needed to ask _her_ for some pointers.

"Get your gun, the one I gave you yesterday."

She did as she was told. She even remembered to point the barrel toward the ground. I wondered just what kind of man her Pops had been. Obviously somebody had taught her some survival skills and I would have been willing to bet it was her late father. Now it was time for me to attempt to add to her knowledge.

"What now?" Shoestring seemed sincerely curious and unafraid.

"First, you need to learn to keep that thing clean," I started, "because a dirty gun will get you killed."

I handed her a small, black plastic box out of one of my coat pockets. It didn't look like much but it contained everything we needed to clean our pistols. Life was in the details.

"Okay, Pops, what next?"

Her eagerness surprised me. It also filled me with hope and pride. If this little girl could face adversity so bravely, maybe the rest of the world could be saved. Maybe the Black Regency could be toppled. Maybe law and order could be handed back to the people. Maybe we could get through the day without Shoestring shooting my toes off.

☺

"What you have there is an old-style pistol. It's one of the finest pieces of steel ever manufactured by Heckler & Koch. In plain talk, it's a semi-automatic .357 Magnum with a chrome finish and wood grips. Its magazine can carry 15 rounds of death-dealing ammunition. It's loud, but effective. Damn fine gun, if you ask me."

She didn't look impressed by my speech. I'd have to teach her some healthy respect for projectile weaponry so she didn't get herself killed. Or me. I did a good enough job of risking my health without taking friendly fire. I knew she would never hurt me intentionally but accidents are called accidents for a reason.

I showed her how to remove the clip and clear the chamber. We broke it down together the first time and cleaned it so thoroughly you'd have sworn it was brand new. The second time, I made her do it while I watched. I tried to keep my smile from showing. The second time, she had that gun apart and back together in twenty minutes. The third time, it was less than ten. By the fifth time, it was like watching time-lapse photography. I was glad she was on my side. With people like Shoestring, the Regency would have been unstoppable.

"Is that okay?" she asked after the twelfth time.

I could tell she was getting bored. That gun was so clean you could blind an enemy at a hundred paces with its highly-polished surface. It was time to teach her the fun side of gunplay. Shooting.

☺

The day was still and hot. A slight breeze blew. Nothing moved. Shoestring and I were sitting near a copse of trees with our guns on our laps. We were playing a game. Before we could talk, we had to shoot a moving target. If it ran away, we had to wait for something else to present itself.

We had spent three days shooting at targets I carved into tree trunks. That big gun was nearly as long as one of Shoestring's arms but it had very little recoil to throw her off balance. Her tiny fingers barely made it around the trigger but by the third day she was making kill shots nine times out of ten. On the fourth day, as our rations were disappearing at an alarming rate, I created the game. It would have to serve two purposes. Shoestring had to learn to shoot a moving target and we needed some fresh food. Unfortunately, with the firepower we were carrying it would have to be a clean head shot or we would have nothing but bunny grease to show for our efforts.

I saw movement out of the corner of my right eye. She noticed it too. Her eyes turned slowly in that direction and narrowed as she gauged the distance. It was a small, spotted fawn playing shyly at the edge of the woods. It cavorted gleefully, getting closer and closer to our position. I tensed.

BANG!

Perfect. A spray of blood and brains arced through the air and the deer fell, instantly dead. I hadn't even touched my Whisperer. Shoestring got it with the first shot. Holy shit, that girl could shoot.

"It looks like burgers tonight!" I was elated.

"You dint shoot it. You still can't talk," she chided me.

I pretended to sew my mouth shut, zip it up, lock it up and throw away the key. She giggled a little and we walked over to her trophy.

Still not talking, I dressed the carcass. I took enough meat for a single meal and left the rest for the crows and the vultures. Deer Jerky 101 wasn't a class they offered back in my high school days. I had only learned how to butcher an animal through necessity.

By this time, twilight was upon us. The thought of eating raw meat was unappealing so I risked a fire. I rigged up a makeshift spit and we cooked steaks. As I was licking my fingers clean, I heard footsteps approach. I had avoided making a fire to prevent this from happening. Damn Bambi and her luscious thighs. Our gourmet dinner might just end up being our last meal. I got up and turned to greet our visitor. I sized him up and shot him before he could say anything. He was Regency. I knew he must be looking for us and feared the inevitable. Wolves always travel in packs.

"All right, I killed something. Let's get the hell out of here."

Shoestring immediately obeyed me. We packed our meager supplies as quickly as we could. This was one of those times when it was lucky we didn't have much.

He had approached from the direction we had recently fled. Our shopping trip had apparently attracted unwanted attention. Sometimes it was very bad to be so good. We grabbed our packs and lit out of there like the proverbial rats from the sinking ship.

Before we left, I kicked the burning cinders into the dry grass in the hopes that a nice brush fire would make escape easier. We didn't wait to see if it worked. I was so excited I forgot to grab the rifle. Oh well, what's life without a few regrets?

I heard shouted orders followed by bursts of gunfire. Their bullets landed well short of us but they were getting closer with each passing second. Those enhanced monkeys could run twice as fast as any well-trained cop and they didn't tire as easily as we did.

I racked my brains but they were having none of this nonsense. I led us into the nearest patch of woods. By this time, their bullets were nearly raking our heels. One must have nicked Shoestring because she yelped and stumbled, though she kept running. I had no idea how we were going to get out of this mess. Things seemed pretty hopeless. We were fucked without a plan.
Vaqueros

I had just begun to sing the first bars of _Yankee Doodle Dandy_ when somebody started shooting from in front of us. I had always wanted to die happy so I thought a merry tune might be just the thing. I hadn't expected to get caught in the middle of a trap. I stopped whistling to concentrate on the new threat. My mind raced but escape seemed impossible. Since we were surrounded I did the only thing I could think to do to buy us a few final seconds together. I tackled Shoestring in a tuck-and-roll maneuver that left me leaning sideways against a tree with her in my lap.

"I think this may be it, Shoestring. It's been nice knowing you. I'm sorry it ended this way."

"Me too. Are we gonna shoot some more of dem?"

"Yes, let's. I've heard that your place in Valhalla is determined by the size of your honor guard."

She had guts. I only hoped to be dead before they were all over the ground. We checked our safeties one final time while the gunfire accompanied us with its deadly symphony. We aimed our guns in the general direction of the first group of slayers. Our backs were to a large tree so hopefully the second group would run past before we were spotted and we could drop a few of them before we were taken.

Shots rang out from every direction. It was a Polish firing squad, everybody shooting towards the center. Bullets whined off trees all around us. The end was soon. Then, suddenly, it stopped. I could hear a few shouted orders in the distance. My ears were still ringing from all of the ordinance that had just gone off around us when I thought I heard my name and the words 'little girl'. I couldn't be sure I'd heard anything so we held our position. I didn't hear the footsteps that should have been our doom.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I jumped up, ready to kill and prepared to die. I had been expecting one of the oxen that comprised the Regency army so I was aiming about twelve inches over the head of the person standing there. I corrected my aim but hesitated to pull the trigger. The man who had touched me was short, stocky, bald, ugly and old. His eyes were squinty and his nose looked squashed. He wore a battered set of olive green fatigues that looked older and uglier than their wearer. Maybe he was trying to make himself appear more attractive with his unpleasant attire. It was, in my opinion, a fashion don't. He carried a very effective-looking shotgun. He cradled it in a familiar way, as if it were his wife rather than a weapon. I lowered my Whisperer under the weight of his gaze.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Yeah, ya can start by thankin' us fer savin' yer sorry lives." His voice was as gruff as you would expect.

I didn't have to ask who 'us' meant because other men had appeared silently around us. They popped up from behind trees and bushes without making any sound. Shit. If these folks weren't friendly we were still close to crossing the River Styx.

The men were all similarly attired in threadbare military uniforms. Some of them had paint on their faces that helped to conceal them in the forest's gloom. Every single one of them was bristling with armament. Their weapons ranged from shotguns like their leader to high-powered rifles to .50 caliber handguns. They were in charge for the time being.

"Well, I guess introductions are in order," I wanted to be a grateful hostage. "I'm Chapel and this lovely lass is the Lady Shoestring. She's my daughter."

Well, she was now. That seemed to satisfy them at any rate.

"Name's Reginald Billings. Since that name sucks I p'fer ta be called Easy." Our hero was as straight-forward a man as I've ever met.

He holstered his shotgun in a sling on his back and swept his arm out to indicate the tall, lanky man standing next to him. I knew this man from somewhere. He was squirrely and timid but he had an aura of command about him. I disliked him instantly.

"This's my second-in-command, Crake. Ya prob'ly recognize 'im since he was tha leader of our beloved country 'fore tha Black Jackasses took over."

That was it! Jamison Crakehall was the President of the Republic of North America. Or he had been, at least. I had assumed he was dead.

"It's nice to meet you, but we really have to be going now," I started.

"Listen up, asshole," Easy interrupted, "we saved yer asses fer a reason. I care fuck all 'bout whether ya have plans er not, yer goin' ta give us some information 'fore ya go. We know who ya are 'n' that ya know more 'bout tha Regency than any man alive. Ya owe tha Blood Brothers yer life."

Great. This guy thought he was Robin Hood and these were the Merry Men. I stifled a laugh so as not to ruin the moment.

"Okay, you have a deal. What do you want to know?"

"'S not safe ta talk here. Ya'll have ta foller us back ta our hideout. Dintcha know bandits hafta have a secret hideout?" He winked at me conspiratorially.

I looked to my minute companion for reassurance. I wasn't sure how this was going to turn out and I wanted her opinion.

"So what do you think Shoestring?"

"They're ok."

That was good enough for me. The Blood Brothers led and we followed.

☺

I was wrong earlier. There weren't just men in this motley group. There were women too. I considered that either a really good sign or a really bad one. Either they were open-minded and fair or they were so short-handed that even the mothers had to fight. Judging by the way they interacted I guessed the former. There was an easy camaraderie present that you didn't usually find in a band of outlaws. I decided to learn more about our rescuers/captors.

"So is that 'Easy like Sunday morning'?" I asked pleasantly.

"No, it's more like, 'Easy ta get yerself kilt askin' stupid questions,'" he said matter-of-factly.

I was beginning to like this guy. He reminded me of my father.

"Fair enough," I replied.

Shoestring began to get tired so I hoisted her up onto my shoulders. Her meager weight was barely a burden, even as tired as I was. I needed to fatten this girl up before a stiff wind blew her away. I hoped she rested well because even as light as she was the extra weight would become a problem if our walk was very long.

"Where did you find her?" a new voice asked.

The questioner was sullen and defensive, as if I had done something immoral and unforgivable. I knew before I looked that it was Crake.

"Back in Old Chicago," I admitted. "She was living alone, barely surviving, so I adopted her. This is after she saved my life twice."

"How so? Do you make her keep watch while you sleep?" His voice had an edge, as if he already didn't like me for some unknown reason.

I felt like this might be some kind of test so I kept my cool and answered evenly. No overthrown despot was going to ruin my day.

"No, actually. This puny female has two confirmed kills, both with a knife, and is a veteran of multiple gun battles." I could sense his disbelief. "I wouldn't be here today without her. She's the bravest person I've ever met."

"Whatever. I'm just glad you had her put that gun away before she hurt herself." This man had a grudge against us and I wanted to know why.

"Okay, asshole, I'm sorry I didn't vote for you but you can show Shoestring some respect or I'll fuck you up with all your friends watching. That's not a threat; it's a statement of intent." Nobody talked to my daughter like that and got away with it.

"What are you going to do? Kick my ass?" He sneered as he said it, as if he didn't think I was capable.

"No, that would be too easy. I like a challenge. I think I'd rather teach you some manners," I answered in calm, even tones.

"Really? Bring it." He had a knife in his hand.

All of the Blood Brothers approached. Nobody spoke. Easy had them form a circle around us. I set Shoestring down and she joined the others. If this was a set-up, there was nothing I could do about it. I focused on the moment.

"Okay, prez, let's boogie."

"Don't you want to pull your knife? The Brothers fight fair."

"No thanks. I don't have one." I took off my trench coat and nonchalantly handed it to Easy. "But I do have a set of titanium balls and you'll be polishing them for me soon enough."

"Before ya start, gentlemen," Easy addressed the entire crowd, "ya need ta know tha rules. This's what we calls a Shoutin' Match. Tha only weapons ya get is tha ones ya start with an' tha ones ya c'n take from yer opponent. If tha winner spares tha loser, it's by choice, not by necessity. If ya lose an' yer spared, ya canna seek vengeance. 'S not honorable. In this world, honor is ever'ting. If ya two slimy fuckers want ta kill each other, ya go right ahead."

Crake assumed a crouched stance and waved the ten inch blade in an expert fashion. I polished my nails on my shirt and tapped my toe. My desired effect was achieved and he charged at me like an angry bull. He had an impressive war-cry. I side-stepped at the last second and turned to face him.

"Ole!" I shouted gaily. "Toro, toro."

I danced a bad flamenco with pretend castanets. There were a few scattered laughs and one muttered 'asshole' from the onlookers. This was a lot of fun. He yelled again and approached me more cautiously this time. He slashed at my chest, my face, my stomach. I evaded the blows, barely. He was good. It was almost going to be a shame to kick his ass. He had it coming and I felt obligated to teach him some courtesy so I responded with a couple of punches to his solar plexus. He was tough, he didn't even stumble. We circled each other warily and judged weak spots. There were some half-hearted exchanges but no blood. I was getting bored.

"So I guess losing the country to a woman must have chapped your ass. Is that why you're so rude to little girls?" It was time for a heart-to-heart talk.

"Fuck you. I didn't lose anything to a girl." His words dripped venom. "I lost my country to the Black Regent. He infiltrated my military. He took my life's work and shit on it. If I ever find him, he will die a slow, painful death."

"You never were very well-informed. I blame that sniveling Secretary of Information. He was your wife's cousin wasn't he?" His face was turning red. "And I have bad news. The Black Regent was a girl. A woman I mean. I killed her a couple of weeks ago. That's where I got this great outfit." I neglected to mention just how well I knew her.

"Who cares?! I lost the fucking war! So what? Shut up and fight!"

I was really getting under his skin. His ego was an easy target. It was big and unused to being questioned. He came in for another round of furious slashes. This time he managed to land a blow. The Armor-Skin prevented it from causing any damage but I knew it was time to finish the game before I got hurt.

"That's right, you did lose. And you're about to lose again, I'm afraid. The last time I saw the Black Regent she was laying in a pool of blood with half of her face missing. It's too bad, she was quite a looker."

He slashed at my face and I grabbed his wrist with both hands. Quicker than I would have expected, he kicked me in the crotch. I lost my grip on him and fell.

"I guess they're not titanium, after all," he gloated mirthlessly. "Are they polished enough for you?"

Now I was mad. First he was rude to Shoestring, then he slammed my nads and now _he_ was giving _me_ shit. School was in session.

He immediately jumped onto my back and tried to stab me in the spine. I spun and hit him in the jaw with the back of my fist. I rolled on top of him and punched him in the base of his skull. I stood up and drove a crimson boot into his testicles as hard as I could.

"Nobody does that to me. You can either respect my gonads or I can disrespect yours." I looked down upon him; the conquered surveying his fleeing enemy. "If you put an ice pack on that, the swelling will go down faster."

He was writhing in agony. I still had an ache too, so I could sympathize. I picked up the fallen knife and grabbed a handful of his gray hair. I put the knife to his throat and drew it gently. Blood flowed but I didn't cut his windpipe. I just wanted to make a point. I had no desire to kill any good guys, no matter how marginal they were.

"I win. You lose. Get up and walk it off." I started to turn and reconsidered. "You can apologize to Shoestring when you feel better."

It was over. I dropped the knife and walked over to where Easy was standing.

"I'm very sorry about that," I apologized to the grizzled commander, "I just can't tolerate rudeness to children."

"'S okay. He had it comin'. Yer a man of honor an' I respec' ya fer that."

We shook hands. This warm, fuzzy moment was shattered by the sound of a gunshot from beside us. Everybody whirled and drew their guns at the same time. Only Shoestring didn't move.

Her pistol was in her hands and an expended cartridge lay at her feet. I looked to see what she had shot at and saw Crake standing shocked and cradling his hand. The handle of the knife was still clutched grimly in his grip. The blade was nowhere to be seen.

"Nobody kills my Pops," she spat at him.

"Shoestring, what happened?" I asked gently.

"He got up and got his knife and was sneakin' behind you."

She was so calm it was eerie. She kept the gun trained on him. The others followed suit. Easy looked from Shoestring to Crake and back. He was obviously deciding what to do. The tension was unbearable.

"I told you she could shoot," I said amicably to the ex-president.

"Yeah, well she missed. My head's still attached," he snarled.

"Is this true, Shoestring? Did you miss your target?" I couldn't help it, I felt compelled to compound his misery.

"No, Pops. I dint want to kill him without you tellin' me it was okay."

Easy was beginning to look interested.

"Crake, ye've dishonored yerself an' yer Brothers. Ye've broken yer vows an' ya broke tha rules of tha Shoutin' Match." His voice was strong and serious. "Tha sentence is death."

The remaining Blood Brothers took aim and waited for the signal. Easy raised his hand to signal readiness.

"Wait."

I had an idea.

"Easy, my most generous host, may I have a private word with you?"

He nodded. "Don't let this weasel outta yer sights. If he twitches, shoot 'im."

We walked a few feet away from the assembly to where we could talk without being easily overheard.

"I don't think we should kill him." I hated saying this; I had always despised the washed-up politician.

"Whatta ya think we should do, then? We canna let misdeeds go unpunished."

I explained my idea. He smiled, laughed and clapped me on the back.

"I like ya, boy. Yer my kind of scoundrel."

☺

Easy was standing in the middle of a sea of expectant faces. He was their leader and they respected him completely. Not one of them muttered or looked unsure of the situation. He was their Father and they were his Children. I felt myself drawn into his presence.

"Blood Brothers, I stand before ya now, disgraced an' dishonored. One of our brethren has broke his promise ta always do tha right thing. He fergot who he was. He has brung shame on us all. Our valued guests have been shamed wit' us. But they've begged fer a pardon. Them who has no reason t' wish it, have asked fer us ta spare Crake's life. I've decided ta hear their plea."

Now all of the faces showed confusion. Crake smiled smugly. Before he could say anything, Easy continued his speech.

"There'll still be reckonin'. Justice will be had." He let the words sink in. "Since this whole bloody mess started wit' a rudeness an' a slight, it'll end wit' a proof an' a apology."

He walked over to Crake and regarded the man with a jaundiced eye.

"Jamison Crakehall, I find ya guilty of breakin' yer vows an' of carryin' yerself dishonorably in a Shoutin' Match. Ya now have tha chance ta redeem yerself."

"This is a travesty! I'm guilty of nothing! I merely attempted to end the vile slander pouring from the mouth of this shit-caked baboon! Fuck your sentence and fuck Chapel!"

"Ya c'n either face tha sentence or ya c'n die where ya stand."

The world was silent. Thirty seconds passed while the accused tried to decide what hope there might be. Easy pulled his shotgun from its sling and cocked it, slowly. Crake's courage fled and his shoulders drooped.

"What's my sentence?" His ego was deflated.

☺

William Tell would have been proud. We were out of apples but one of the Brothers (who was actually a Sister) found a pinecone. Crake was standing against a tree with it on top of his head. He was definitely nervous and seemed to be reconsidering his choice. Shoestring had her gun drawn and was waiting patiently to carry out the sentence. I was giddy in anticipation. I couldn't decide whether to hope she missed or not. Damn, I was becoming a sadistic bastard.

"Are ya ready, lil lady?" Easy asked Shoestring.

"Yes sir."

"Ya c'n shoot whenever ya want." He stepped behind her.

The Blood Brothers and I all stood behind her so we wouldn't bugger her aim. She pointed that enormous pistol at Crake, sighted down the barrel and fired all in one smooth motion. The sound of the powder exploding was deafening in the intense quiet. When it was all over, there was a puddle at Crake's feet, though it was piss, not blood. His head was intact but the pinecone was nowhere to be found.

"I told you she couldn't shoot! She didn't hit shit!" The dishonored Brother was dancing in his glee.

"Look behin' ya, at tha tree," Easy said casually.

He looked. We all did. Just above the spot where his head had been, there was a hole where Shoestring's bullet had hit the tree.
Waggery

After that, the discredited warrior hastily apologized to Shoestring. He didn't sound sincere but there wasn't time to argue about it. He refused to look at me or even to acknowledge my presence. I could understand that. He had been made to look like a fool at my hands. I knew I would never be entirely safe around him.

We continued on our way to the Blood Brothers' hideout. We walked for hours, taking a circuitous trail that must have had a dozen switchbacks in it. I'm sure we traversed three times the necessary distance. They took security seriously and didn't want us to be able to find our own way into or out of their haven if we proved not to be reliable. Smart.

It was too quiet. Birds sang and crickets chirped but nobody talked. It was unnerving as hell. I looked at Easy questioningly and he mouthed one word. 'Regency.' There were still troops in the area. I tapped Shoestring on the shoulder and put my finger to my lips to indicate the need for silence. She mimicked me and nodded her understanding. We trudged along, tense and expectant.

Every shadow of every tree presented the potential of enemy contact. A chattering squirrel could be a sign of attack or a swooping bird could indicate an approaching foe. I found myself hoping for combat. When we arrived at the bandit stronghold unmolested, I was a little disappointed. I was beginning to really enjoy killing the black-hearted bastards that comprised the Black Regency.

Their home was more a medieval keep than anything. One large stone building was surrounded by mud and grass huts and a sturdy wall of logs kept all within its protective grasp. The design was brilliant. The log barrier blended into the surrounding forest and the gray mud of the buildings would look like normal ground if observed from above. No structure was taller than a single storey except for the sentry towers which were built into trees to disguise their function. It was an architectural masterpiece that combined Man's ingenuity and Nature's beauty. The gates were closed behind us as soon as we crossed the threshold.

Chickens and pigs wandered freely in the streets. Children ran around naked, playing unashamedly. Work duties were evenly split between the sexes. Men and women worked alongside each other in the gardens. They did the laundry and cooked the meals. They cut firewood and hauled manure. It was every hippie's idea of Utopia. Except they all carried guns.

Easy dispatched his men (and women) to various duties, excusing them from his presence. I followed him with Shoestring by my side. We were here at his request and I assumed he wanted to get right down to business.

"Do we need to hand over our guns or anything?"

"Nope. Yer guests, not prisoners." He seemed to be expecting the question. "Keepin' a man too far from his gun isn't a good idear in these times."

He led us to a smallish hut near the stone tower.

"Ye'll find food an' water in there. I'll come back ta ya in a bit. Then ye an' I'll have our talk-talk."

He left us without saying anything further. Shoestring and I looked at each other, shrugged and went into the dim recess of the primitive shack. It was amazingly clean for having a dirt floor. There was a wooden table that sat two. The chairs were old lawn-style chairs but they were in good condition. There was a loaf of crusty bread and a roast animal of some kind on a platter with two plates and two forks. A pitcher of water and two mugs completed our dining experience. We dug in. When we were finished I took out my wallet. There were a couple singles, a five and two twenties in there. I tossed the small bills on the table. I never ate out without leaving a tip for the server. Waiting tables was hard work.

"That's not even good for arse-wipe, ya know," a familiar gruff voice said from the doorway. "Though tha thought is nice."

Easy was standing at the threshold of our temporary home.

"Yer wee one is a bit droopy. That wall there folds out inta a cot."

He shuffled past me and demonstrated the how-to of transforming the wall into a bed. It even had a thin mattress and a fluffy blanket ready and waiting. Shoestring yawned widely as she snuggled in. She was asleep in seconds.

I followed Easy out into the afternoon. Twilight was coming and the shadows were growing long. The sky was clear and the moon was nearly full. The first crickets of the evening had already started to sing. It was going to be a beautiful night. I hoped it would stay that way.

"I know yer girl." Easy's voice was almost an affront to the peace of the evening. "I knew her dad 'fore tha war."

We walked on while that statement sunk in. I had a feeling he would talk some more without any encouragement. I was right.

"He was a good man an' a fine soldier. Bes' damn sniper ya ever did see. A course that was 'fore he had her."

I wondered why he would offer up that information like that. It seemed odd that he would choose to reveal secrets to me when he had to suspect I had my own. I wasn't suspicious but I was intensely curious. This man was deep like an ocean trench.

Soon we were alone in the gathering darkness. The closest hut was safely out of earshot and nobody walked the dirt lanes around us. He stopped and turned to look directly at me. His face was deadly serious. I became apprehensive. I wanted him to stop talking about Shoestring so I could start asking questions before something ugly surfaced.

"I'm not telling ya this ta scare ya or ta make some fool prediction 'bout yer future. I jus' want ya ta know who ye've adopted."

"And who might that be? Is she a robot? A clone? A traitor?" I sounded a little bitter and a lot angry.

He laughed at me, deep belly laughs that shook his whole frame.

"Nope, nothin' like that! Gods, man, yer one cynical bastard!" He stopped chortling and continued his revelation. "She's a little girl an' she's nothin' ta hide. But she's hurtin'. Murray Alexander was a wonnerful father. When Alicia got knocked up he quit tha army an' took up a family way of life. He loved that woman an' dint want ta get kilt 'fore he could meet his daughter."

We started walking again, following the curve of the perimeter wall. I couldn't see where I was placing my feet but I trusted Easy to lead the way safely. I knew he could kill me without me knowing I was dead but I also knew he wouldn't unless I deserved it. Right now I had his respect and I intended to keep it.

The tactical sunglasses lit up the pudgy little warlord with a pink glow. Seeing in infra-red was a little odd but it afforded some semblance of sight.

"So how does that affect Shoestring? Did they have her enhanced? Why are you telling me this?" I was much calmer this time.

"Cuz she's my granddaughter."

That statement hung in the cool air like a ton of bricks. I was happy, sad, angry and afraid all at once. I stopped our journey this time by placing my hand against the rough barrier and leaning against it. I couldn't breathe well and my head was spinning.

"Your granddaughter? Does that mean...that you're taking her from me?" I was staggering from the unintentional blow to my emotions.

I had only known Shoestring for a few days but she already meant the world to me. If I had married and had a child I would have wanted him/her to be just like that naive little girl who was sleeping peacefully yards/miles away. I was being crushed underneath the weight of my grief. A firm hand grasped my shoulder. Easy was doing his masculine best to comfort me.

"It's not like that a' tall, son." I could hear tears in his voice. "This isn't a' easy thing ta say but I'm gonna say it. It's gonna be cheesy and cliché, I'm warnin' ya, but I think yer gonna wanna hear it."

He paused for effect. I nearly died in the space of those seconds that passed then. I had never considered suicide before but I had visions of putting my Whisperer up to my face and pulling the trigger.

"I feel like I gained a son rather than lost a granddaughter."

"Wha-what? Did you say...?" My English failed me and I said a few syllables of gibberish.

He held his right index finger up to stop me.

"I loved my son. He was tha best son I coulda hoped fer." Old sorrow consumed him briefly. After he recovered he continued. "He died a man o' integrity. Tha Black Regency took his life but not his loyalty. He spit in tha face of tha man what shot him an' tole him exactly where he could stick it."

Easy's chest puffed out in pride.

"I thought they had kilt Marie too. But here she is an' cuter 'n' hell."

"What happened to your daughter-in-law?" I had to know.

His face fell again and he shuffled the dirt with his toe. He was uncomfortable and uncertain as to how to proceed.

"He killed her, didn't he?"

"No. _She_ did," he said pointing in the direction of the hut where Shoestring slept.

☺

I reeled. I literally fell down. Nothing could have prepared me to hear that. Once again the world seemed fucked up beyond all repair.

"Why?! What in fuck's name would cause Shoestring to kill her own mother?" I had the insane urge to howl at the moon.

"Lemme 'splain a few things ta ya. Murray was a father first an' a soldier second. He knew tha shit was gonna hit tha fan. He loved tha Republic an' tha freedom it brung. He had fought ta protect that freedom an' it was bein' took away slowly by tha Regent. He made his wife an' daughter learn gunplay an' hand-ta-hand fightin'. That girl's been brawlin' since she was in her nappies. I reckon she could really kill a man if'n she had ta. Like ya were saying earlier but fer real. She..."

I interrupted. "She did kill those men. She cut them with no remorse and no fear. Shoestring might weigh thirty pounds soaking wet but she's a survivor. I would be dead already if it weren't for her."

"Fer real? Ya weren't joshin'? I'll be dipped in shit." He smiled broadly and got a far away look. "My lil granddaughter is a kick-ass lil bitch. Who woulda thunk it?"

"I don't mean to disrupt your happiness but I really want to hear the rest of this story."

"No, no, yer right. No time fer dreamin'." He paused to consider his next words. "Anyways, he taught 'em ta fight an' ta conserve food an' water. They took long trips into tha woods ta learn ta live off tha land. If they had wanted ta, they could have started their own kingdom in tha aftermath. Then tha Regency came. Murray had knew it was comin'. He weren't surprised, only disappointed. Ta most folks, they was a perfect fambly. Did what they was told ta an' never managed ta piss off nobody. Curfews an' short rations, riots an' madness. They toughed it out in their lil house. Then one day Alicia starts actin' crazy. Slaps Marie fer no good reason, sends her ta her room. Tells Murray she's gonna turn 'im in fer talkin' 'gainst tha Regent. This's when tha phones still rang. He was sure she meant it, what with havin' that gun pointed at him and all. He coulda kilt her right there without breaking a sweat but couldn't bring himself ta do it. He begged her ta stop, not ta do it. Tole her he loved her. Dint work. Marie stopped her ma from doin' it. With one shot from her dad's service pistol."

He stopped to compose himself. He was nearly sobbing and he looked small and pitiful. I hugged him like he was a child and cried with him. My poor little Shoestring.

"How do you know all of this? Were you there? Are you a god?" They all seemed like valid questions at the time.

He smiled and said, "No way. Just a simple old man who misses his son turribly. Let me go now, isn't seemly fer two grown men ta be touchy-feely. We'll get a reputation, ya know."

Since he was still grinning I knew he was kidding. Still, I acquiesced to his request and sat back against the wall. He joined me. Together we kept the night alive.

"I know cuz he called me right after it happened. He was scairt. He dint wanna lose his lil girl ta tha brutes. Treason 'gainst tha Regency was a killin' crime. He wunnered who his wife mighta tole 'bout his idears. His beloved wife was buried out back 'fore her body was cold. A new 'herb garden' suddenly grew there, though nothin' actually grew. Two days later he was gone. This is where my god-like talents mighta confused ya. Murray's death was seen by some friends o' mine who kep' an eye on things fer me. I figgered Marie was dead since two shots was heard an' it only took one ta kill my son."

He paused again when we heard footsteps approaching. It was one of the men that had helped collect us earlier.

"All is quiet from the wall, sir," he reported to his commander.

"Good, Beckstein, hit tha sack."

"Shouldn't there be a watch all night?" I asked.

"There is. He wouldn't ha' been here if his relief hadn't taken his place. I skin 'em fer abandonin' their posts."

I wasn't sure if he was being poetic or not but I wouldn't want to put it to the test. I wouldn't want to cross this man if he was my worst enemy.

"So this leads us where? How does this affect anything?"

"Yer sure full o' questions, ain't ya? No worries, I unnerstand. This gets us ta tha point of ever'ting. Mr. Chapel, I want you ta take tha best damn care of Marie that ya can. Ya care fer her an' she cares fer ya. Yer more of a dad than I could ever be. She don't even know who I am. Murray an' I dint talk much them last years. Stubborn, we were called but tha better word is asshole. We butted heads 'til we couldn't stand each other no more. He only kep' in touch with me fer Marie. In case she ever wanted ta know where she came from."

I was glowing. I would get to continue being Pops. I felt like a million bucks.

"But let me say one more thing. If ya ever hurt her, I'll kill ya myself."

"Yes sir. I'll do my best." I felt like saluting but resisted.

☺

After the impact of things settled a bit, Easy lit a cigar and offered me one. I took it and thanked him. That dog-rocket would be priceless in the outside world and it would be rude to decline. We blew smoke rings and watched the stars.

"So what about all this?" I finally inquired. "How, why did the Blood Brothers come about? And why that name?"

"It is a turrible name, ain't it? But it puts fear inta folks. Keeps our private lil corner private," he chuckled. "An' it shows our common vision. Brothers protect one another. Even though they squabble, they love each other. It's a belongin', a community. Ya look at me like I'm tha father but I'm a sibling like tha rest. One big happy fambly."

"What about Crake? He's not happy." He was a dick but it wasn't necessary to point that out. It was crystal clear.

"He's a dick, but he's a good man. Don't let that lil tussle earlier make ya believe otherwise. His ass is a lil chapped 'bout losin' 'gainst tha Regency, but he would lay down his life like tha rest o' us if it came ta it."

"I'm not so sure about that but I'll do my best to pretend that I think you're right."

"Yer quite a strange person. Most would not dare ta say things like that. They'd lie ta me an' say tha sun rose on top o' my bald head. I'm glad yer not like them. Makes me sick sometimes, seein' shit like that."

"I've given up on bullshit."

"It's a gawdawful habit, sir. Ya asked how this, tha Blood Brothers, came together."

"Yep."

"Accident. Some o' us were military, most 'r just folks who dint wanna die yet. Picked up a few strays here, some stragglers there. No big mystery, no secrets, jus' a bunch o' people who wanna taste freedom again. An' we're willin' ta die ta keep it."

"That sounds pretty cut-and-dried. There's not much left to say after that, I guess." I was worn out and my usual quick wit had fled. "How about some shut-eye?"

"Ya go ahead. I need ta check tha sentries."

Reluctantly we stood up and went our separate ways.

"Hey, I fergot ta warn ya 'bout Suzie."

"Really? Does she collect penises for souvenirs?"

"No, she rides them ta exhaustion."

With that he melted into the shadows leaving me with hope for what the next day might bring.
Xiphodon

There was a brown stallion. He had a crimson saddle and tactical blinders. He was strong and graceful. He was, pardon the expression, hung like a horse. On his back was a beautiful woman. She was naked.

The saddle and blanket were entirely soaked through. No matter how far he ran, she screamed protestations of love to him. The rougher the ground was, the more she seemed to like it. Her generous breasts bounced in defiance of gravity. Her supple thighs gripped him tightly. He had become her willing slave.

A couple of times, the stunning horse had tried to slow down, in need of rest. When this happened she slapped his ass and talked dirty to him. It seemed a little strange that a horse would have any interest in human sexual functions, but he did; plenty of interest.

"Suzie's coming! Suzie's coming!" his rider exclaimed to the world.

Over and over she yelled this. Finally, she leaned against his neck and fell asleep. The stallion slowed carefully and headed to the refrigerator for a cold beer and something to eat. He shook off his passenger, gently so as not to wake her. To his horror he found nothing but diet drinks and petit fours.

I sat up, feeling like I had been running all night.

"Damn dream," I muttered, "gettin' me all worked up like that."

I threw off the blanket and hastily pulled it back over my lap to hide the enormous erection I had developed. It wouldn't do to let Shoestring witness the morning woodpecker and have to try to explain its presence. That was one talk we would be having much later in life. Provided there was a 'later in life' to worry about.

☺

"Mornin' Pops."

Shoestring was awake and had put on a clean dress. This one was yellow and ruffly with an orange butterfly embroidered across the belly. She had brushed her hair and had her knife tied to her waist. The end of the sheath nearly dragged on the dirt floor. I had to shake my head to be sure I wasn't still dreaming.

"Good morning, Shoestring. Did you sleep well?"

I was not in a good mood so I had to force myself to be courteous. It hurt.

"Good. I want somfin to eat."

"Something, not somfin. Remember to enunciate clearly. Do you want to go see what they have for breakfast around here?"

She nodded enthusiastically. I wondered if they had any coffee. I would have killed for one cup of thick, dark, caffeine-rich java. I was destined to be disappointed.

I got dressed and pushed my hair into place. It wouldn't stay so I gave up. I wasn't trying to impress anybody. There was a smell of eggs and toast in the air so we tracked it down to its source. There were about a dozen Brothers standing or sitting around a small cook-fire. Each had a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. I pinched myself to be sure I hadn't died and ascended to Paradise. The smell was mouth-wateringly irresistible.

"Mornin', folks!" Easy greeted us jovially.

He looked mighty chipper for a man his age. I resented him momentarily for his good humor. His friendly nature soon warmed up my cold heart and I smiled back at him. The man was infectious.

"Looks like a buzzard made its nest in ya hair. Wanna comb fer that?"

"No thanks, Easy; it pisses them off when I jostle their eggs." I didn't want to be a Gloomy Gus in the midst of such brutal happiness.

I noticed that everybody in the small gathering seemed to be ecstatically happy. It was unnerving. Somebody passed me a plate and I quickly forgot to be uncomfortable. The food was still warm and perfectly cooked. I felt like I understood what was making the assembled party so joyous.

"Do you have any coffee?" I had to ask. It felt like my sanity depended on it.

"Nope. Sorry. We tried ta fix up a substitute but it tasted like stale donkey ass. Howzabout some o.j.?" Easy had a wooden cup held out for me to take.

I tasted the proffered liquid and was surprised to discover it was filled with sweet, tangy orange juice. It was better than any of that store bought shit could have hoped to be. I was floating in a haze of breakfast euphoria.

I looked around to see if Shoestring had managed to procure a plate of nutrition. She had. She was shoveling eggs into her mouth with a slice of toast. Both were being consumed at a phenomenal rate. I wondered if she was breathing between bites.

I ate until I was nearly bursting. They kept offering me more but I declined after the fifth plate. I didn't want to eat somebody else's share. Besides, superheroes can't be greedy, fat slobs. They have to be gracious and bulging with muscles. I wasn't bulging with muscles, but I was in good shape. Spending years fighting for your life keeps you fit.

When breakfast was over the soldiers around the fire were still giddy. They were inordinately happy about something and it was starting to get on my nerves.

"What is everybody so goddamn happy about?" I asked grumpily.

"I see yer not a mornin' person," Easy observed, "but nothin' is gonna fuck up our good mood today. Not even yer crass ass."

He laughed at me which served to take the sting out of his reply but made me more irritable anyway. Whatever was going on had to be stopped before I got really hard to live with. Without a cup of coffee left in the world, I was going to be having a lot of bad awakenings.

"We got some good news las' night." Easy was nauseatingly bubbly. "Some of General Warren's men captured a Regency outpost near Atlanta."

"So what? I don't get the relevance." I wasn't impressed, truly.

"Well, arsehole, this's tha first time it's been managed. Many a good folks ha' died tryin' ta take a little back. It's a fuckin' landmark moment. And now we have ya an' yer head full o' knowledge ta carry us."

I tried to contain my enthusiastic lack of concern. I didn't have any clue what they thought I knew. I hoped not to disappoint them too much when they found out that I really knew very little.

"Sgt. Hillard should be here 'round noon ta brief us," Easy continued. "We'll need ya then ta plumb tha depths of yer brain."

Finally. I'd been waiting to get this interview out of the way ever since he first proposed it. I felt like a rookie waiting to meet with the chief for the first time. People with rank tended to be condescending and clueless. If this Hillard turned out to be as simpering as I expected, I'd set him straight very quickly.

☺

Shoestring and I were allowed to wander as we pleased. Everyone we met was friendly and went out of their way to explain what they were doing and why it was important. I tried to look interested so I wouldn't ruin things for Shoestring. She was having a blast.

We were standing in the north tower/tree with a tall young woman with short brown hair and eyes to match. I hadn't asked her for her name yet, but I was hoping it was Suzie. Her voluptuous figure was barely contained within her khaki uniform. I was enthralled.

Her first words to me were, "Here comes Sgt. Hillard now. They'll need you in the command post, Mr. Chapel. That's the stone building. Do you need me to take you there?"

"No, Suzie, I'll find my way."

"Excuse me? Did you just call _me_ Suzie?" Her eyes narrowed as she appraised my mental state. "I'll let that one slide since you're new here. My name's Crenshaw. Suzie's... never mind, you'll be meeting with her soon."

Completely embarrassed, I led Shoestring to the squat tower in the middle of the compound. Since our temporary living quarters were right outside it, we were able to make it there in good time. Even a horny old cop can find his way home. Most of the time that is.

Easy and Crake were waiting for us outside the big wooden door. Their excitement could be felt. I shook my head and walked up to them. If they wanted to explore the depths (shallows) of my mind, I'd let them. I didn't want to piss on their parade.

"I'm glad ta see ya could make it. Didja find Suzie?" Easy had laughter behind his lips but he didn't let it escape. "Nope, yer still walkin' upright. Ya'd be bowlegged if she had got ta ya."

He stifled his mirth but Crake nearly hurt himself laughing. I smiled briefly and muttered 'fuck you' under my breath. My mood hadn't improved much since breakfast.

"So when's Hillard arrive?" I asked as politely as I could manage.

"Now," said a voice from behind me.

I assumed the lilting soprano was the Sgt. Hillard I had heard so very little about. I turned around to greet her and nearly split my pants at the sight of her. Rarely had a woman so beautiful been born. She was stunningly, achingly beautiful. She had short, red hair and eyes that were the blue of a winter sky. A pert nose and flawless cheekbones gave me thoughts of angels fallen to earth. Her figure was lithe and she had a lot of grace, even standing still. Her uniform did almost nothing to hide her curvaceous form. Little Colin was very eager to make her acquaintance.

She held out her hand and I rushed to shake it. The whole situation must have been very entertaining. Here I was, a grizzled combat veteran, making a complete adolescent fool of myself over a woman. A statuesque woman with large... Moving on now.

"I'm Sgt. Hillard," she introduced herself," and you must be Colin Chapel. Your reputation precedes you."

"That's enough droolin' fer now, Chapel. Let's take this inside." Easy led us into the command post.

☺

I spent the better part of two hours telling Easy, Crake and Sgt. Hillard all about my days as a Narc officer and the events that led up to my meeting with the Blood Brothers in the woods. They listened as if my every word was a treasure to behold. I was more than a little uncomfortable with the attention being paid to me. Shoestring sat quietly, listening with them. She hung on every word as if this was her favorite bedtime story being told. She gasped at the scary moments and clapped when I described Rachelle's death. Her reaction kept me going more than anything else. She was an awesome spectator.

"So that's it. That's all I know to say." I was capping off my epic.

"Wow. That's quite a tale," Sgt. Hillard responded. "So the Black Regent was a woman? That must rankle you, huh Crake?"

"Fuck you, Suzie. And Chapel, I don't know why you're grinning. They're feeding you to the wolves as soon as they can so wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

Crake's smug sense of victory stopped me in mid-chuckle. Easy stood there and watched events unfold, face impassive. I decided to let Crake's comment sit for a moment while other things came clear.

" _You're_ Suzie?" I felt my pecker rise to new heights.

She might have been a military leader but she was one hot tamale. I hoped we would be meeting later to go over her 'tactics'.

"Yes, _I'm_ Suzie. No doubt you've heard all about me by now." She looked amused and turned to Easy. "What have you told him, commander sir? Been spreading rumors again?"

While Crake fumed, Easy shrugged and looked like a little boy whose mother had just caught him filching cookies before lunch. His ears turned red and he mumbled something incoherent.

She looked back to me and asked, "At any point did he mention my husband?"

I shook my head.

"Good. Then forget about him. When this meeting's over we'll find a shady spot and..." She suddenly remembered Shoestring was in the room, "and I'll teach you some tricks for riding horses."
Yield the Floor

"There is some strange shit going on here!" I had finally reached my limit with the goings-on that surrounded me. "First I'm brought to some hippie commune where everybody gets along but everybody carries a visible weapon. Then I find out that the town slut is a fucking sergeant in who knows whose fucking army. Now our beloved nation's fallen leader whips off some shit about me being turned out for fucking wolves. This asinine fucking whirlwind is going to stop right now!"

I punctuated each point by pounding my fist on the small plank table that held the maps Sgt. Hillard had brought with her. At the word 'whirlwind' one of the table's legs fell off and everything that was resting on it fell to the floor. My childish outburst had calmed me down a little and now I could think more clearly.

"I forgot one other thing I meant to say," I said much less vehemently. "Either I'm suffering from a sexual deficiency or all of the women around here are way too attractive to be outcasts from society."

Sgt. Suzie smiled like she had just received a compliment, which I guess was true, while Easy and Crake exchanged a glance.

Shoestring piped up before anybody else could speak. "I don't know what a sectional defringency is, but that lady on the tower was ugly as dirt."

Suzie laughed out loud at that statement. I turned to face her and she winked at me.

"I don't know what a sectional defringency is either," she managed between giggles, "but I bet I can help make it go away."

"Fuck me running! Can we just get on with this goddamned meeting?!" I spouted venomously.

"Calm down now, Chapel. It's not as bad as it looks. Things'll get more clear if ya just let us explain." Easy's voice was soothing without being condescending. "Hillard'll cover all tha things ya wants ta know if ye'll just let 'er finish. Maybe ya should have a seat."

He pulled a chair away from the wall and offered it to me. I accepted the gesture sullenly, still fuming. All I had wanted to do was find a way to return the world to its former peaceful self. I wanted to teach Shoestring how to be a good person. I wanted to fight for truth and justice. Now it felt like I was going to be forced onto a pedestal like a cut-rate martyr. I didn't like the feeling at all.

"Continue, please," I urged. "I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Apology accepted. Now as I was saying," Sgt. Hillard picked up a map off of the pile of kindling the table had become and indicated a few points on its yellowed surface. "We came in from the west. Snipers took out the Hidden Eyes while leaving the sixteen visible guards alive. That took considerable manpower. It allowed our men to sneak in behind the decoys. The doors were unlocked as we knew they would be. They encountered little..."

"What's a Hidden Eye?" I blurted.

"Even though every Regency soldier is trained to be an unstoppable killing machine, the Eyes are the real defenders," Sgt. Suzie explained to me as if I was a retarded four year old. "They can hide in broad daylight with the use of special clothing that bends the light around them, making them effectively invisible. They're trained in the use of every weapon and they communicate instantly with devices that are implanted in their skulls. There are at least six Eyes at a small base. Their HQ had forty three. We had to bring in sharp-shooters from every unit to take them all out at once."

She gave me a hard stare. "They encountered very little..."

I interrupted again. "What military do you belong to?"

All three of the other adults looked like I had just flung shit at God. I had already gone too far so I pressed on.

"I mean, the Blood Brothers don't use ranks. They just do what Easy tells them to do. Is this some tree-house club where you have to know the secret handshake?" I began to wonder if their blank stares indicated a monkey had flown out of my ass and I was unaware of it dancing on my shoulder.

"Gen. Warren is the highest ranking, living member of the Army of the Republic of North America." Suzie finally broke the angry silence. "The rest of us are the soldiers that followed him into hiding so that we could re-emerge when the time was right and reclaim the country from the Black Regency. Now is the time. If you have any more questions, ask them now or hold them until I'm done speaking. Your outbursts are counter-productive."

I was shell-shocked. This gorgeous babe in the camouflage jumpsuit had just reprimanded me in front of my peers. She was really, truly pissed off. I was too turned on to be upset.

She gave me a scathing glare before she picked up her speech. "They encountered very little resistance once they were inside." Her eyes dared me to say anything. "The Regency troops depended heavily on the highly trained Eyes that we had taken out. This was the key."

She stopped to let that sink in. I took my life into my own hands by asking a question.

"If they're so damn good at hiding, how did you know they were there?"

"That's a good question," Crake deflected her fury from me.

"That's simple. It was raining. The technology in their suits bends light but water still splashes off of it." Irritation radiated from her.

I wasn't impressed but I was glad that they had finally discovered something that could lead to the Regency's downfall. Now all I had to do was figure out how I was to be included in this. I had the distinct feeling I wasn't going to be happy when I found out.

"So what is all of this brilliant rhetoric leading us to?" I queried.

"They've found out where tha bad guys' headquarters is," Easy jumped into the conversation. "Now that we knows how ta take 'em out, we wanna hit 'em where it hurts."

"Exactly," Hillard elaborated, "it's time to take these bastards down."

☺

After that I kept my peace. I had answers to most of my questions. I was shown maps and had strategies explained to me. The whole point of this private meeting was to organize an attack on the Black Regency's HQ in three months' time, after we had taken the time to transport enough troops to successfully carry out the plan. It all sounded great there, in the tiny little room, but I knew that lots of good men and women were going to die.

By the time we were ready to break, I knew my chances of exploring the territory between Sgt. Suzie's thighs had vastly improved. My mood soared, even without coffee. I felt optimistic for the first time in years.

"So what then?" I asked. "You have all of these wonderful plans. You know how many troops you need and how much time it's going to take to move them. You know when you want to strike. But what the hell are you going to do if you succeed?"

Crake narrowed his eyes at me distastefully before he spoke.

"Then we turn the country back over to its rightful government. We raise the Republic back to its former glory."

"And there are no hitches or glitches?" I was sure there was something that hadn't been revealed yet. "I mean, no plan is perfect."

"There _is_ one little detail that I wasn't sure how to mention," Hillard said grudgingly.

All eyes were on her. It was painfully obvious that this next bit of news was unexpected and unwelcome. You could feel the axe fall.

"There's a new Black Regent and he's worse than the original."

"Worse? How could anybody be worse than the evilest, vilest, most maligned villain the world has ever witnessed?" I was reeling. I had, after all, already cut the head off the beast. Witnessing it growing back was a kick in the nuts.

"Let's just say that he's not as tolerant as the original."

"Fuck that!" Easy's outburst caught us all by surprise. "Let's just have tha entire fucking truth! Ya held out on us! We who've bled an' died with yer men! This is no game here, girlie! This is life an' death an' if we canna trust ya ta tell us ever'ting we needs ta know, it's just death!"

She sighed. "He's ordered his soldiers to kill everybody who's not Regency."

We all wilted. Shoestring started to sob and the rest of us had moisture in our eyes. All I could think was that we were doomed.

"What do we do now?" Crake moaned. "If he kills indiscriminately we'll never be able to sneak close enough to hit him. They'll probably nuke the bigger cities and burn the forests. We're screwed."

Our heads nodded in agreement with his pronouncement of doom. There was no way to argue. He was right. We were screwed.

"There is hope. All is not lost." Sgt. Suzie tried to sound confident but fell short. "We can still do this."

"How? How will we pull this stunt off?" I was crushed. "We'll be shot on sight before we ever get within miles of their headquarters."

"That's simple. Have you ever heard the saying 'If you can't beat them, join them'?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Yep," agreed Easy.

"Yes," was Crake's response.

"Uh huh," said Shoestring.

"So what?" I added.

"They're killing everybody who's not Regency." She paused for effect. "But they're accepting recruits."

☺

"Fucking stupid asshole." It was the first thing to come to come to my mind.

Easy laughed and Crake appeared thoughtful. Sgt. Suzie smiled.

"So you gentlemen finally see the whole picture?" she inquired.

"I gets it. Yer gonna get our men ta sign up. Then we'll nail 'em from tha inside."

"That's brilliant! We'll be in key positions for our assault _and_ we'll be able to gather more intelligence than we ever thought possible." Crake was warming up to the idea. "This just might work. This _will_ work!"

Hand shakes and congratulations were shared amongst the four of us as we absorbed all that we had learned. No drug could have lifted us up to the lofty heights we had reached and no anesthetic could bring us down. For those few short moments we were gods.

There was an awkward moment broken by Shoestring's high-pitched voice. "So what do ya want wif my Pops?"

Crake, Easy and Sgt. Suzie looked at each other and came to an unspoken consensus. I observed them closely in an attempt to gauge their thoughts. The lady warrior closed her eyes and touched her chin to her impressive chest. She seemed to consider her words, then lifted her head and speared me with her sparkling blue eyes.

"We want him to help us hunt wolves."
ZPG

My first impulse was to tell them how fucking crazy they were and that I wanted no part in their suicide mission. I wanted to rant and rave about the scope of the failure they were setting themselves up for. I couldn't. I knew it could work.

"I'm in," I said without hesitation. "Tell me what my part is."

"Me too. If Pops goes, I go," Shoestring added quietly.

She had gotten up and was clinging to my leg in a one-armed death grip. Her pink teddy bear was clutched in her other arm, looking for all the world as if it was being slowly strangled. I patted her hair and basked in her love.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Sgt. Suzie looked concerned. "This is going to be dangerous and she might jeopardize the mission."

"Shoestring goes with me. There's no one I'd trust more to guard my back," I stated flatly. "Besides, a superhero can't be seen without his sidekick."

"I think that outfit's gone to your head," she said dubiously.

"I'd be glad to show you my secret power later, if you want."

☺

That concluded our little meeting and we left the confines of the tower for the sunnier outdoor climate. It was hot and disgustingly humid, enough so that I considered taking off my trench-coat. After a moment I decided to wait and see if I could convince Sgt. Suzie to do it for me.

"Well, Shoestring, it looks like we're going to war," I said cheerfully.

"Yep. I hope we win."

We were the last ones in line out the door. I had done this intentionally so I could watch the sergeant's sexy ass as she walked. It was an inspirational view. The last time I had undressed a woman it had been to steal her clothes and I sincerely hoped the next time was more fulfilling. And not too far in the future. Otherwise I'd have to put Shoestring to bed early and find a quiet spot to whack my weasel before my balls exploded.

The afternoon was warm and humid. We ate a lunch that consisted of roast pig and fresh fruit. Scantily clad women (and men) walked to and fro carrying out their assigned tasks. All that was missing was a coconut radio and we'd have Gilligan's Island.

I floated through the day trying to get a glimpse of Sgt. Suzie's divine form. I had ignoble intentions and nefarious plans I wished to carry out. Shoestring was getting whiny, no doubt due to my impenetrable air of distraction. I tried to teach her some of the finer points of stick-fighting but she kept hitting the hard ridge that my penis had become. It was already ugly and misshapen and I didn't want it to get damaged beyond usefulness. In her defense, my crotch was at shoulder level for her and she wasn't doing it intentionally.

As dusk approached I became fidgety. The bulge in my pants ached and throbbed. It was hard to think and blinking was becoming more difficult as all of my skin was being pulled toward my nether regions. I was nearly ready to try my luck with that mousy tower guard again when an angel appeared. Or perhaps she was a temptress. Or both. Either way, Sgt. Suzie was standing in the doorway of the little hut Shoestring and I called home.

I nearly came in relief. She was still wearing her baggy camouflage pants but had shed the pocket-infested shirt. I sincerely wished for a bucket of cold water to pour on that white, cotton t-shirt, so that I could watch her nipples rise towards me. I pictured her in that t-shirt and a black g-string and didn't care that I was smiling like the village idiot. I was probably drooling, too.

"Hungry?" she asked solicitously.

"Yep!" Shoestring interjected. "Haven't ate nothing since lunch!"

She hopped up from the chair like she was spring-loaded. That silly pink teddy bear was dangling grimly from her arms. She gave me a dirty look when I didn't immediately get up. I was waiting for my erection to subside so that I wouldn't trip over it when I walked. Even thinking about Grandma locked in an intimate embrace with Grandpa wasn't having any effect. I pulled my trench-coat around my waist and carefully stood up.

"I haven't eaten anything, Shoestring," I said, my voice cracking like a teenager. "You must remember not to use double negatives."

"Come on tiger, Shoestring, our dinner's getting cold," Sgt. Suzie purred, "and I know Chapel wouldn't want to miss dessert."

There was no doubt as to what was on the menu. I was getting a piece of something and it sure wasn't pecan pie. Not unless she liked it that way. I was willing to eat my way through a pile of steaming warthog rectums to have a taste of her beaver soufflé.

The meal consisted of something and lots of eye contact. The conversation was about something and playing footsies. Shoestring was upset about something that happened and Suzie ate a banana in a very provocative manner. After we were all finished eating, everybody left to do something and Suzie and I were finally alone. I hoped that somebody had done something with Shoestring so she wouldn't be something. After we found a darkened hut that appeared to be unoccupied, something happened.

"Don't worry," Suzie assured me, "happens to lots of guys."

I raised one eyebrow at her in a suspicious manner and cleared my throat questioningly.

"Sorry, force of habit."

"I thought so. Unless you were faking, there was nothing sorry about that!" I laughed haughtily. "Mwahahahahaha."

Her response was muffled by the presence of Little Colin on her tongue. I promptly forgot what we had been talking about and succumbed to her methods of persuasion. I tried to caress her breasts but she pushed my hands to my sides and continued her ministrations. I let my eyes roll back into my head and tried not to explode in her mouth. From there things got better and more involved. Sgt. Suzie was flexible and unashamedly gifted in the sexual arts. And she tasted like peaches.

"So what about your husband?" I slurred, exhausted.

"He's dead."

"M' sorry to hear that," I was embarrassed by my egregious error, "Regency kill him?"

"No," she stated flatly, "I fucked him to death."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Here, let me show you."

An hour or three later, we slept, sated.
Ashlar

I woke up in phases. First was the floating in a haze part. Next came the weird visions and half-dreams that were too beautiful to remember when they were done. Next came the realization that I was alone in bed and I had no idea where or who I was.

A confused dialogue played itself in my head. ' _Who am I? I'm Chapel. Who the hell is that? A superhero. Why am I here? Because I fucked a goddess! Oh yeah!'_

After that I was ready to move. I was hungry and I needed to piss like a mad bastard. I could smell breakfast on the breeze and I wanted to brag to the boys about last night. Surely my prowess would be legendary by the time lunch rolled around.

I searched for my clothes, half blind from sleep, and managed to get my pants on the right way on the third try. My boots were filthy and my shirt had an aroma all its own but those were details for a more awake me. Right now it was time to fill my belly with chicken embryos and toast.

I pissed against a convenient tree and followed my nose to the cooking pit. Easy and Crake were both there talking to Shoestring. They were all smiling and staring wistfully at the sky. It was a beautiful moment.

"Good morning!" I called cheerily.

Crake and Easy waved me over and patted me on the back like I had just won the championship belt. I puffed up my chest and gloated silently.

"I'm glad ta see yer still walkin'," Easy was giggling, "usually Suzie's men canna open their eyes tha first day."

"Or feel anything below the waist," Crake added with a chuckle. "I know I couldn't."

I was somewhat repulsed by the knowledge that the bloated ego before me had tested Sgt. Suzie's waters but it obviously hadn't worked out since she had done some sensual acrobatics with me the previous night. I realized Shoestring hadn't said anything so I turned to look at her.

"Good morning, daughter," I greeted happily.

She glared at me. If looks could kill I'd have never been born. There was such venom in that glance I knew no asp could be so dangerous. I wondered if I had missed something important. Maybe my intrusion into their conversation had pissed her off. I stood there withering in her gaze. No demon of Hades could have had fire in their eyes like Shoestring did just then.

"Didja enjoy your night?" she asked finally, grudgingly.

"Yes I did, thank you. Did you enjoy _your_ night?" I returned warily.

"I slept in Mr. Easy's hut. He let me have tha bed and he took tha floor," she was fuming but she was talking. "We played Go Fish."

She pursed her lips into a tight white line and stopped. She flopped onto the ground angrily and stared into the flames. I shook my head and looked at Easy questioningly. He cocked his head as if listening to the wind and mouthed the word 'women'. Crake nodded sagely, as if that one noun explained the universe.

I grabbed a plate and helped myself to a generous portion of eggs and bacon. There was also a pitcher of orange juice and a stack of cups so I added that to my morning meal. I squatted beside Shoestring and chewed thoughtfully. That moment, that day made it simple to believe the Black Regency was a bad dream and that I had woken up in the comfort of my own home, untouched and unharmed.

"You're mad about Suzie?" I asked without looking at the tiny girl child who was playing in the dirt beside me.

"Yep," she admitted sullenly.

"Do you think she'll come between us?"

"Yep."

I sat my plate down next to my cup and turned to face Shoestring. She looked like a forgotten doll in her sorrow. I felt my eyes misting up when I saw a tear on her cheek. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and lifted her from her place on the ground. I stood up and wrapped her in the biggest hug I could manage. She held onto me fiercely and sobbed onto my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Shoestring," I was choking back tears, "I'll never let anybody come between us. I forgot my manners last night but sometimes... sometimes grown-ups lose their heads over things and forget that children need them. I promise not to let it happen again."

She tried to speak but her words were muffled against my arm. I kissed her forehead and gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

"Can you forgive me?" I implored.

She lifted her head from my chest. "Yes sir."

"Can you stop crying then? You're getting my coat wet."

She looked up and saw the smirk on my face. That set her off in a gale of laughter and I knew I had repaired the breach. Parenthood was tough stuff.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask where _she_ was," Shoestring blurted.

"Who? Suzie? Why, I have no idea who you're talking about," I affected a Cockney accent, "but if ya knows where she be, I'd be glad for tha information."

Shoestring slapped me heartily and pretended to sulk. Her cheeks were bunched up in a smile so I knew she was only faking. I tousled her hair and she lunged onto me like a bear that was after its prey. We rolled around in the dirt like a couple of maniacs until I was winded. I puffed and blew until I could breathe enough to laugh again.

"Hey there, tiger," someone purred.

I knew it was Suzie by the look on Shoestring's face. She was livid. Blotches of red blossomed on her cheeks and hate filled her eyes. I hopped to my feet in an attempt to prevent a fight. I didn't see any weapons on either of them but I knew that didn't mean there weren't any. And I knew what Shoestring could do with a knife.

"Hello Suzie. Nice morning isn't it?" I said while placing myself carefully between the girls.

"Not as nice as last night was." There was a glint in her eye that I liked but knew Shoestring wouldn't.

"Umm, can we talk later? This may not be the best time."

"Sure. Is something wrong?" She still sounded like a tigress that was ready to pounce on her unwary victim.

"No. Well, yes." I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling. "I shouldn't have...we shouldn't have..."

I could hear my daughter breathing. She sounded like a bull who was seconds away from charging. It was time for drastic measures.

"Can we talk about this later? I can't really talk right now," I finally blurted.

"Sure, sweet cheeks. Later then."

With that, Suzie walked off, confused. I wanted to explain but bided my time. Family is more important than pussy.

"Well Shoestring, what are our plans for today?" I asked her while trying not to stare at the departing derriere of the sassy sergeant.

Shoestring stood there for a minute, staring daggers into Sgt. Suzie's back. When her nemesis had escaped from sight, my daughter turned to me and sniffed.

"You need a bath! You stink!"

I knew she was right so I laughed as I lifted her. I cradled her in my arms like an overgrown baby and rubbed noses with her. She giggled spastically and flailed wildly.

"I'm not the only one," I growled ridiculously, "for you, my dear, smell like dried antelope poopies."

She tried to act offended but only succeeded in making us both guffaw like idiots. I set her down and we searched for somebody who could tell us where we could bathe.
Bullyrag

We found the baths easily enough. Hauling clean water to the tubs was more difficult but we managed. A small fire was used to warm the water and a drain was conveniently placed in the bottom to let the bath drain into a series of pipes and from there to the gardens. It was quite an amazing setup. We used it to wash our bodies and our clothes. I knew we both smelled better when we were done.

"Ya coulda just used tha lever there ta fill tha tub, ya know," Easy pointed. "It woulda saved ya haulin' that water up tha hill."

I looked to where his finger was pointing and saw a lever that I hadn't noticed before. I pushed the lever down and clean water ran into the tub. I felt stupid.

"You could have showed us that _before_ we wasted half an hour carting water from the stream," I said and laughed.

"I wanted ta let ya have yer privacy. There's not too many places ta be alone 'round here."

"Thanks, Mr. Easy," Shoestring sounded chipper, "that was very nice of you."

I patted her damp head dry with one of our towels and helped her brush the tangles out of her hair. Her brown hair was nearly black when it was wet but her eyes sparkled azure in the sun light. She was a pretty little girl and I was glad she had adopted me.

"What brings you here, Easy? I know this isn't a strip-o-gram."

His tense stance was proof that he was here on business. I only hoped it was something that could be dealt with before dinner. I was ravenous.

"I gots some bad news," he said gloomily, "there's Regency troops headed this way."

"Shit. They must have followed me." Damn it, was no place safe?

"We think they may have used other means," he pulled a small, hand-held device out of one of his vest pockets. "Would ya mind if I checked somethin' real quick like?"

"No, go ahead."

"What is that thing, Pops?" Shoestring's asked, curious.

"It's a Sensor-Wand. It's used to detect bugs," I explained as Easy waved it over me.

"Like ants and roaches?" She looked confused.

"No," I said as it began to chirp agitatedly, "more like tracking devices. Shit."

"Fuckin' hell," Easy swore, "we shoulda thunk of that earlier. Now we'll have ta move."

I took off my crimson trench-coat and handed it to Shoestring while Easy waved the Sensor-Wand over me again. Nothing. He waved it over Shoestring. The bug was in my coat.

"Damn it all to hell! I like that coat!" I stomped dramatically. "Can I borrow that thing for a minute?"

"Sure," Easy passed it to me.

It was quiet until it got near the left sleeve. I felt carefully and found it in the seam where the main part of the coat and the sleeve joined. If my shots back at Shoestring's house had been a half-inch further down I would have obliterated it. Life was a constant disappointment.

"Shoestring, can I borrow your knife?" I asked politely.

She drew it from the sheath at her waist and gave it to me handle-first, just as I had taught her. I used its pointy tip to loosen the seam and remove a small, button-like object. I closed my fist around it and thought for a moment.

"How long before they get here?" I asked Easy.

"Two days."

"How many are there?"

"At least a thousand."

"Do you have an apple?"

He was dumbstruck. "What? No. I c'n get ya one, though. What're ya thinkin'?"

"I'm thinking that we can use this to our advantage."

☺

We were standing outside the gates enjoying the cool evening air. I jammed that bug into the apple that Easy had brought with him. I tossed it casually out into the woods for some furry forest denizen to eat.

"Now we pack. After we're all packed up, we torch the place."

All of the Blood Brothers who were within earshot turned to me. They wanted to pretend they hadn't heard me correctly. I could understand that. This village had been their home for years now.

"What are you saying?" That was Crake sounding worried.

"I'm saying that they know where we are. Due to an oversight we've exposed this place. It's my fault and I accept the blame."

I turned to face the gathering soldiers.

"I fucked up. Once again I've endangered good people," I wanted to beg their forgiveness. "It's shitty but there's no way to change it now. We have to leave and we have to burn everything to the ground."

"But this is our home," somebody wailed from the back of the growing crowd.

"It _was_ our home," Easy stepped in. "Now it's a death trap. We gotta git outta here an' we gotta do it fast. Else wise we'll all be dead afore next week. There's about a thousand Regency troops headed this way with killin' on their tiny lil minds."

"Tonight we'll pack up everything we can. We'll get one last good night's sleep. In the morning we set a bonfire and haul ass." I was trying to salvage morale. "That way we won't leave those black-hearted bastards a ready-made outpost. Anything that can't be carried will be left to the flames."

People's heads hung to their chests. They were losing what little bit of safety they had gained in this unpredictable world and it hurt. I knew more than a few of them would blame me. I knew I'd always blame myself.

The gates were closed and barred. Night was just beginning to fall and the crickets were singing merrily. We were settling into a nice dinner when the screams started. Everybody dropped their plates at the same time. Weapons appeared as if by some magic trick. Even Shoestring was bristling. She was holding her knife out in front of her with both hands. She was ready to fight, ready to kill. I was proud of her.

"Where did that scream come from?!" I asked nobody in particular.

"West wall!" somebody shouted back.

I ran. We all did. Our lives depended on it. Suddenly something slammed into me and drove me to the ground.

"Pops!" Shoestring shouted.

"Keep running! Follow the others!" I roared. I wanted her out of the line of fire.

I rolled and stood up in one smooth motion but I was immediately knocked back down by some unseen assailant. I realized there must be Hidden Eyes in the compound. They had attacked at twilight to take advantage of the failing light. I wondered how many soldiers we'd find dead at their posts when this was over.

"Chicken shit bastard," I growled, "come out and fight like a real man."

Once again I was on my ass. I was losing my temper. I did a funky squirm/roll maneuver so I could see all the way around me without standing up. I saw something pink off to my left. I was confused but drew my Whisperer and fired a shot in the direction of the shape. I hoped I didn't hit any of the Brothers with a wild shot.

I quickly stood. This time I side-stepped to the right to avoid any blows. The pink smudge was charging at me. I fired three more shots directly at its center. It fell with a grunt and a flash of static. It was up again in a split second. This time it circled me warily. I had time to realize what I was seeing was the diminished heat signature of a Hidden Eye. Infra-red technology and a keen fashion sense had probably saved my life. I was glad I had stolen these sunglasses when I stole the rest of this get-up. Rachelle had wanted me killed but so far had saved my life several times over. I would have bet she was rolling in her shallow grave.

He charged again but I was ready this time. He slashed at me viciously which I only knew because I heard the blade whistle through the air. I shot him right through his invisible face-plate. That did it. Blood sprayed from the ruined helmet and he fell, never to move again. I must have damaged some vital circuit because he became completely visible after that. His head was a mess. I spit on him, a huge, thick wad of spittle that could have been used as glue.

"Don't fuck with Chapel!" I kicked dirt in his face.

I cut my victory dance short so I could help the Brothers. I could hear furious fighting all around. If the Regency had sent more Eyes, my help would be invaluable. I tried not to let the bodies of fallen Brothers drop me out of battle mode. There were a lot of bodies.

When I arrived, the fight was raging. I saw three pink shapes viciously attacking dozens of good guys. Even with small numbers, their camouflage gave them the advantage. It was really hard to kill ghosts.

"Somebody grab a fire extinguisher!" I heard Easy yell over the din.

I smiled. That man knew his shit. I started laughing as I waded into the fray. The first Eye I came to didn't know I could see him and tried to sneak up behind me. I let him. At the last second I whirled around and shot him through the face-plate. He flew a few feet through the air before he landed heavily. I heard a cheer from somewhere. One of the Brothers had witnessed my takedown. As I turned to confront the next victim, Crake appeared with a fire extinguisher.

"Everybody drop and close your eyes!" the ex-president shouted.

Everybody did as they were told. Crake sprayed the white foam randomly around himself. Both of the other Eyes were soon white with flame-retardant goo.

"Shoot them in the faceplate! Shoot their black brains out!" I yelled.

The exposed assassins were fired at from all sides. Since none of the Brothers had stood up after they had dropped, they were able to fire from all sides simultaneously without fear of hitting a comrade. That was it. They had sent four Eyes to take out an entire village. There was something we were missing.

"They were after you," Crake said from my shoulder. "These three were a distraction so the fourth could take you out with minimal effort. The rest of us were incidental. You must be one hell of a hero, Chapel."

I expected to be blamed for the dead. I was prepared to leave in shame. What Crake said next surprised the shit out of me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome?" I was gobsmacked. "What are you thanking me for?"

"For proving yourself to be a warrior." He paused, thoughtful, "We lost some good soldiers here tonight but you showed us that we can win. Against unbelievable odds, we can win. All we needed was a kick in the ass. All we needed was you."

"Thanks Crake. That means a lot. What do we do now?"

"First we hang some decorations. Then we lay our fallen Brothers to rest with a funeral pyre that would befit the gods. They deserve no less."

Easy, Crake and the other officers started barking orders. Everybody who was able started to gather supplies. We would be leaving within an hour and there was a lot to do.

"Pops!" Shoestring called and ran up to me.

She hugged me fiercely and started crying. I picked her up and hugged her back.

"Shoestring. Shoestring. Shoestring," I repeated over and over to assure myself that she was unharmed.

"Would now be a better time to talk?"

Shoestring stopped crying to glare evilly at Sgt. Suzie. We were going to need some family counseling to work through these issues. I looked from the little girl to the grown woman. I took a deep breath and put Shoestring down.

"Ladies...," I was unsure how to proceed. "Shoestring, Suzie, I think you two need to work a few things out while we turn these invisible demons into scarecrows."

"Listen, Shoestring," Suzie started, "I'm not here to take your Pops away from you. I'm not here to be your mother. I just want to be your friend."

Sgt. Suzie crouched down to put her eyes on a level with Shoestring who responded by narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips.

"Okay," Shoestring responded finally, "but if you hurt 'im, I'll kill you."

Sgt. Suzie stuck out her hand and said, "Deal."

They shook on it. By the time we were done stringing up the four armored assassins, the two of them were singing _Ring Around the Rosie_ and enjoying themselves. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Maybe now I could have fun _and_ family.

The remaining Blood Brothers, wounded and all, left the village ablaze and headed into the night.
Chalk & Cheese

"What we need is a fucking pack mule!" I shouted.

Nobody had said anything but I was tired and my legs ached. Most of the shit I was carrying belonged to somebody else which didn't assuage my temper any. It would be dawn soon. Instead of getting sleep we had marched all night. Nobody was in a better mood but they were too weary to vocalize their feelings. They say every group's got to have an asshole and I was proud to volunteer.

We trudged on in silence. Sgt. Suzie was carrying Shoestring who was deeply asleep. Most of the other children were sleeping in wagons the Blood Brothers kept for hauling supplies. Some of the teenagers were still awake because they were training to take their places amongst the fighting portion of the group. They would stand watch with the adults. Easy sidled up to me and nudged me out of the main group. Crake joined us at the edge of the procession.

"We need ta stop ta rest soon," Easy whispered. "Folks is gettin too tired ta walk."

"I know, but is it safe?" I wanted to sleep too but I didn't want to die while I was doing it.

"Nope. But I think it'll be less safe if we keeps goin."

"We can camp where we stop," Crake added. "This is untamed wilderness. We can post sentries and hope for the best."

"Do it," Easy ordered quietly.

Crake trotted off to issue orders, leaving me alone with the boss. I knew it wasn't accidental and I dreaded hearing how I had rated the honor. So far this month I had gone from Joe Schmo surviving on the street to some kind of super-hero to being a killer of dreams. It was a strange ride and not entirely enjoyable.

"What is it this time El Capitan?" I asked Easy good-naturedly.

"I want yer opinion on this. I knew we'd hafta move eventually but this is a bit sudden."

"So you want to know how to keep the Brothers safe?"

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"I see only one real choice," I had already been thinking on this topic and it felt good to verbalize it. "We keep moving. At each town, city or stoplight where the Regency has a recruiting station we drop a few of them off. They join in groups or alone and we head to the next stop. We repeat this until only a select few are left to gather intelligence and organize the assault."

"That's what I wuz thinkin. I just wanted ta hear it from another mouth." His shoulders sagged. "We'll start in Old Chicago. That's tha direction we're headed anyways."

"Shit, Easy, I just left there! I guess I'll die there at this rate." I couldn't keep myself from grumbling. I was too damn tired. Easy just chuckled and left to start the group's dissolution.

The next few weeks were going to be rough. These men and women had already lost their homes and now they were going to lose each other. The charade of joining the Regency was only going to work so well. Many of them would die trying to worm their way into the evil organization. Many more would die in the final battle. There was no easy way to do this but it had to be done. I only hoped the cost wouldn't be too high.

I rejoined Sgt. Suzie and let her know what was going on. Soon the column halted and we made camp. Shoestring barely stirred as we tucked her into a sleeping bag. She looked so tiny laying there in that adult-sized sleeping bag. It was like catching a fairy curled up in an old cocoon. I crouched down and stroked her hair until she stirred and muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep. I kissed her cheek and mouthed 'good night' before standing up and attending to my own sleeping arrangements. Sgt. Suzie was waiting for me when I was done.

"What do you think...?" Suzie started.

I shushed her by putting a finger over her lips. She looked at me quizzically as I pointed down at Little Colin.

"If you wake him up," I whispered dramatically, "you'll have to play with him."

"Let me unpack my toys," she said as she undressed.

I grinned hugely and carefully hung my trench-coat over a low-hanging branch. My sunglasses were already snug in an inner pocket and my boots were easily stowed underneath so the morning dewfall wouldn't leave the insides wet. When I finished I turned around to the sight of a very naked buxom female snuggled into my sleeping bag. I had strategically placed our blankets on the opposite of a big tree, shielded from sight and hopefully sound from the rest of our traveling companions. It proved to be a wonderful strategy.

We were awakened way too early by some of the younger Brothers. Suzie had to attend to military matters so it was left to me to repack our blankets and forage for breakfast. We had been allowed four hours for sleep and we would get thirty minutes more to break camp and eat before we continued our move. It wasn't enough rest but it would have to suffice. With a large group of Black Regency soldiers on our tails it was safer to walk tired than it was to lollygag around. We had to keep moving as fast as we could if we wanted to see nightfall.

"Hey, Chapel, can I ask you something?" It was a voice I didn't recognize.

I turned to see a smooth-cheeked youngster approaching me. His shaggy blond hair was unkempt but his gray eyes were sharp, like a hawk. He was too nonchalant to be convincing. He was trying too hard to appear truly relaxed. Either he was scared or he was putting up a front. I hoped he wasn't about to attack me for ruining their home. I would hate to embarrass him in front of his sworn Brothers.

"Sure sport. Shoot," I replied guardedly.

He finished trotting up to me and stopped to help Shoestring get her blanket rolled up. She thanked him when they were finished. He got up, brushed the dirt off of his knees and turned to face me. It was obvious he was trying to win points.

"What do you need to ask me, junior? You can give up the charade and have out with it or I can walk away and pretend you don't exist. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as your acting." I was being harsh but I hated playing games.

"I just...just...just wanted...to...to...to..." he stammered hopelessly.

"What is it? I haven't got all day."

"I just wanted to ask if I can walk with you!" he nearly shouted at me in his haste.

"Fuck man! No need to yell. You'll alert every Regency scout for miles," I cautioned.

He quickly looked around, searching for signs of immediate attack. My words had their desired effect. He calmed down, took a few deep breaths and tried to smile.

"You can walk with us. Just don't step on Shoestring's heels. She's likely to cut your balls off and feed them to your next of kin." I had to hide a smile as he placed himself on my right while leaving Shoestring safely on my left.

I turned to check on my daughter. She was dressed in a pink dress with white polka-dots this morning. Her pack was slung across her back expertly and her knife hung from its place of honor at her side. That silly pink teddy bear was being squeezed under her left elbow. This kept her knife hand free. I nodded my approval and she beamed. We joined the rest of the column with our new-found friend.

"Hey, kid, before we go any further I need to know your name," I tried to be friendly but without coffee it wasn't easy.

"Jeremy, sir," he blurted.

"Calm down Jeremy Sir. Nobody's going to eat you. Relax and enjoy the morning." He was already beginning to get on my nerves.

"Yes sir."

"That's enough of that 'sir' shit to last me for the rest of my life. My name is Chapel. No mister or sir before or after that. Got it?"

"Yes sir. I mean okay!"

This kid was way too nervous. He'd shit himself before lunch at this rate. I had to fight the urge to ask Shoestring to show him her knife technique. It'd be funny to see the fear on his face but not to smell the piss in his shoes. Instead I clapped him on the back chummily and ruffled his hair.

"You and me, Jeremy, we're going to be friends. I promise not to try to kill you if you don't try to kill me," I said with a smile. Apparently there were too many teeth showing because he gulped and turned white.

"Yes sir," he croaked.

I gave up and spent the rest of my time teaching Shoestring about the merits of freshly ground coffee beans. She wasn't interested in the least but listened to me ramble without complaining. The day wasn't too hot and the sunlight pierced the canopy in a beautiful display. It would have been a glorious day if death and dismemberment weren't an indeterminate distance behind us. We all began jumping at shadows. By the time we stopped for lunch, tempers were short.

Easy, Crake and Sgt. Suzie spent more time breaking up fights than they did anything else. Even I felt compelled to step in and prevent two Brothers from duking it out over a damn sandwich. In the end I settled the argument by giving the sodden mass to Shoestring and daring either one of them to try taking it from her. I don't know if it was her smile or the way her hand caressed the handle of her knife but they decided to make their peace and calmed down. We only stopped for about fifteen minutes before we were trudging along again. This time we were all silent. There seemed to be nothing nice to say so we said nothing at all. Our moms would have been proud.

The day passed without incident and soon dusk was upon us. Word came down the line that we would make camp as soon as it was fully dark. No fires were allowed and conversation had to be kept quiet. Rear scouts had spotted signs of pursuit. This time we would sleep with our weapons in our hands and our ears perked.

"Hey baby," Sgt. Suzie whispered into my ear. "I have to keep watch tonight. I won't be able to keep you warm."

"That's okay," I responded. "I have Jeremy to take your place."

I grabbed him by his shoulders and hugged him soundly. He nearly choked on his own tongue trying to deny our nonexistent relationship. I winked at Sgt. Suzie conspiratorially. She raised one eyebrow in disbelief and I let the poor lad go.

"I somehow doubt the truth in that," she purred into my ear. "But you might want to be careful. He may like it."

"I'll be careful," I promised. "If he makes any untoward advances, I'll feed him to Shoestring."

Once again Jeremy tried to protest his innocence and assert his virility but Sgt. Suzie stopped him with a lusty kiss on his mouth. There was no tongue involved but judging from his reaction it would have seemed as if she had taken his supposed manhood into her mouth and sucked it until it ran dry. I chuckled and helped Shoestring arrange her blankets. I couldn't wait until he realized he had just kissed my girlfriend. I would be able to get miles off of his discomfort then.

"Okay guys, let's eat." It was hard to communicate in low tones but Jeremy and Shoestring both settled in for a cold canned food dinner.

There was nothing to do so everybody who wasn't on watch went to bed. We needed the rest and soon soft snores could be heard on the wind. I lay awake for a while watching patches of sky through the branches of the trees. The night was clear and the stars twinkled prettily. I dozed off into dreams of comets and flying horses made of light. I floated airily amongst the stars with goddesses clad in sheer skirts and no tops. They kept trying to feed me grapes and ply me with wine and I kept trying to get my hands under their skirts. Just as one of the lusty ladies was allowing me to have my desires fulfilled I woke up with the feel of a blade pressed against my throat.

"Don't move or I'll slice your throat," a male voice growled.

I was deeply upset by this tragic turn of events. Never before had so many sexy nymphomaniacs thrown themselves at me, even in my dreams. Now I would have to kill somebody. Life just wasn't fair.

"Not even to slap you silly?" I probed.

"No, not even for that," he said nervously.

The pressure on the weapon stayed steady so I did as I was told. I wasn't worried about my own safety as much as I was for Shoestring's. She may not listen and then people would get hurt. Maybe some good people would die. I needed to figure out how to get out of this without my friends being harmed.

"Listen buddy. Why don't you just kill me and let my friends go. I'll promise you safe passage once my blood soaks into the ground."

"Yeah right! As soon as you're dead so are we." My assailant's voice cracked like a teenager.

I realized I hadn't opened my eyes yet and that I could probably learn a lot about my captors by seeing them. I cracked one eyelid and then the other. There was a little light in the sky; just enough to silhouette my assailant. I nearly laughed when I saw Jeremy leaning over me with his knife pressed to my throat. I didn't want to startle him into killing me so I bit back the urge.

"Hey Jeremy," I greeted pleasantly. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Huh? What did you say?" I had caught him off guard.

"Some asshole has a knife pressed to my throat," I continued in a conversational tone. "Would you please ask him to stop? I wouldn't want to get a nasty, infected wound."

"Shut up! Shut up before I kill you where you stand!" His voice was high and shrill. "You think you're so damn cool but you're not! You're no better than anybody else! You bleed just like I do!"

"That's what I tried to tell them," I said in a conciliatory tone, "but nobody seems to believe me. Maybe if _you_ tell them they'll listen. And just for the record, I'm not standing anywhere. You caught me lying down."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. His face turned red and I expected steam to boil out of his ears. This was the moment the situation hinged on. Either he would kill me or he would fuck up and I would kill him. I preferred the latter.

"I've already told you to shut up," his voice was eerily calm, "and I won't tell you again. Next time you speak, Shoestring dies."

I pressed my lips into a tight line so no sound would escape. My eyes narrowed as I gauged my opponent. In about three seconds Jeremy was going to die. I was going to see to it personally.

I counted silently to two before shouting "three!" in Jeremy's face. He was so shocked he dropped the knife. By the time he thought to grab for it, it was protruding from his eye socket.

"Kill them all! Mow the motherfuckers down!" I barked. I knew there were more by the things Jeremy had said when he thought he had the upper hand.

Shots were fired close by. I felt the wind of a passing bullet and ducked behind the tree I had slept under. I whirled to check on Shoestring and nearly vomited when I saw her lying near her sleeping bag, unmoving. She was still holding onto that hideous teddy bear and they were both covered in blood. A red haze descended across my vision and time slowed to a crawl. My Whisperer was silently dealing death for several seconds before a coherent thought passed through my head. It was only later that I worried I might have killed an ally in my rage. At the time I didn't care.

I don't know how many shots were fired or how long the melee lasted. Men and women fell, sometimes in more than one piece. Somebody close to me was crying and others were shouting. The smells of blood and gunpowder filled the air. It was utter chaos and I was swept up in it. I knew nothing but killing. As I stopped to reload I thought ' _Shoestring must be enjoying this',_ before remembering that she was dead. That was the end of my usefulness in the fight. I fell to my knees in grief.
Deray

I don't know how long I thrashed around in my grief. My feeling of loss was complete. I had long expected to die in a fight but I had never expected to love another human being as much as I loved Shoestring. Her death was the end of my world. I put the barrel of my Whisperer in my mouth and pulled the trigger. I did this several times before I realized the clip was empty. Dutifully I holstered it and lurched to a standing position.

"SHOESTRING!!! SHOESTRING!!! FUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!" I shouted to the world.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I swung a tightly balled fist at the owner of the offending appendage. I didn't connect with anything and was rewarded with a painful blow to the solar plexus. I doubled over in an attempt to catch my breath.

"That's enough of that fer now," Easy hissed. "Ye'll get us all kilt fer nothin."

"They killed her! They killed my daughter!" I growled at my friend.

"They what? What tha fuckin hell're ya blabbin on 'bout?" He was perplexed.

I grabbed his hand roughly from my shoulder and dragged him over to the spot where I had last seen the dainty form of Shoestring covered in blood. Her sleeping bag was still there though her lifeless body was not. Splashes of bright, liquid crimson were everywhere. Hot tears filled my eyes. Sympathy and understanding filled his.

"Maybe ya oughtta foller me," he started, "I gots somethin ya might be innersted in seein."

I trailed behind him like a lost little puppy. A gentle breeze could have blown me over at that moment. A retarded, syphilitic chimpanzee could have easily killed me with a handful of expertly flung poo. I was dead inside. Everything that had mattered to me had been ripped away. Fuck the Republic. Fuck the Black Regency. Shoestring was dead. There was a small clearing ahead. Easy pointed toward it.

"Look. Over there. Thass what I was talkin 'bout."

I followed his directions and was greeted by the sight of Sgt. Suzie holding Shoestring's body as if she was alive. Shoestring's head was resting on the buxom sergeant's left shoulder. The tiny waif's arms were draped over the woman's shoulders in a silent hug. The blood had been cleaned off her pale skin and she had been dressed in the white dress with the blue flower print that was the first clean outfit I had ever seen her in. I clearly remembered the sight of her wearing it in the rubble of the Dollar-Mart. I had to struggle to remain standing.

Crake was busy digging Shoestring's grave. His face was solemn, his demeanor sober. Sgt. Suzie noticed me watching and waved me over with a careful gesture so as not to disturb my daughter's corpse. I took a deep breath and complied. That was the longest walk of my entire adult life. I would have gone to my own execution more willingly.

"Want to hold her?" Suzie asked. "She's getting heavy."

"Sure. She's my daughter after all."

I took the limp form from Suzie's grasp and carefully draped the tiny arms over my shoulders. Shoestring's skin was cold and smooth. I began to sob. Nothing had ever hurt as much as this; not the loss of my brother to a drunk driver, not the betrayal of my partner all those years ago. I was empty without Shoestring.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry," I moaned into her hair. "I'm sorry I got you killed. I love you. I love you so much. I love you. I love you."

I was muttering 'I love you' over and over in my grief.

"There, it's done," Crake declared quietly.

"That's way too small!" I snarled. "She'll never fit in there! Dig it bigger man!"

Crake rocked back on his heels, astounded at my outburst. I passed Shoestring's cadaver back to Sgt. Suzie, grabbed the shovel roughly from Crake and proceeded to widen the tiny hole so she could be placed into it without having to be folded first. I was furious. We may have been in a hurry but she deserved a decent burial. I would see to that if it killed me.

"Don't you think that's big enough for a...." Crake's query was silenced with a venomous glare.

After that he just stood back and let me dig. A few minutes later I had the hole widened enough to be my diminutive daughter's tomb for all eternity. A little more work assured it was deep enough to deter scavengers.

"That's an awful big hole, isn't it?" Shoestring asked.

"No," I answered automatically, "you should fit in there perfectly."

"But Pops, I ain't dead. That hole's for Teddy," she explained patiently.

"I'm not dead. Ain't is a very poor word choice," I corrected my dead daughter.

As she walked up to place the blood-soaked bear into the hole, realization struck. I had her in a vise-like hug before she had even let her horrid pink stuffed animal fall into its final resting place.

"Shoestring! You're alive! You're alive!" I rejoiced.

"Course I am! I played possum while you killed those men. I knew you'd get angry with me if I helped."

She stated this so matter-of-factly that it brought tears of joy to my eyes. I whirled her around in the air and kissed her so much she finally started to defend herself against the onslaught.

"Pops, quit! You're drownin me!" This statement was followed by a flurry of little girl giggles and a volley of half-hearted punches.

Finally I broke the embrace and set Shoestring down on the forest floor. We had to finish what we had started.

"Would you like to help me fill the hole in?" I asked Shoestring.

"Can I say something first?" she asked in a tight whisper.

"Of course. Anything."

She walked to the edge of the shallow pit and threw a small purple flower in. After a moment of silent reflection she spoke.

"I'll miss you Teddy. I loved you almost as much as I love Pops. I hope you rest good." A single tear rolled down her cheek.

I gave her a few minutes before I broke her reverie.

"Shoestring. We need to go. More bad men are on their way," I started filling Teddy's grave with the shovel.

"Okay, Pops," she acquiesced. "Maybe you should put the rest of your clothes on first.

"I don't know," Sgt. Suzie interjected. "I kind of enjoy the sight of him exercising in his underwear.

☺

Once I had my pants, boots and gaudy trench-coat on I found I felt better. Much better. My daughter was alive! She was whole and healthy! The downside was that I would have to find her a replacement for that godawful teddy bear. I hoped we would run across a Dollar-Mart or its equivalent before too much time passed. She would probably want to sleep cuddled up against me until we did. That meant Sgt. Suzie would have to warm up her own bedroll for a while. Little Colin didn't like that idea too much.

We spent several hours burying the dead. The Brothers who fell in the battle against the traitors were given the best, most honorable burial we could give on short notice. The turncoats were left in shallow graves so scavengers could find them without too much trouble. No tears were shed for the slimy weasels. The remaining members of the group were sullen and taciturn.

"Plans have ta change, folks," Easy declared stolidly. "I love all ya Brothers like my own children but I can't trust ya anymore. We needs ta accel'rate our split."

"What's that mean?" some anonymous Brother asked from the rear of the crowd.

"It means that we separate right now instead of pieces at a time," I answered. "Tonight we go our merry ways in bands of five or less. Tonight your time as a Blood Brother ends and your careers as spies in the Black Regency begins."

"Thass right friends. Yer now goin ta join tha enemy. Hopefully most of ya are true ta our cause." He paused to let that sink in. "I swear ta ya now that if I find out any of ya's not true, that yer really a black-hearted bastard...I'll kill ya myself. Fer those of ya's thass true an' right, I'm sorry ta have ta speak so. If yer one of us an' ya know it, be assured that I'll die ta make sure yer lives, our lives, are restored ta tha freedom an' liberty that we've fought fer these past years. I love ya all."

After that, nobody spoke. I know I wasn't the only one with a tear in my eye. Easy's face was taut with emotion and many of the Brothers were crying uncontrollably. It was an awful moment but we all knew that this was what had to be. The choice had been made for us by Jeremy and his treacherous cohorts. They had died and the Blood Brothers had died with them.

As the others packed up and formed their groups, Easy, Crake, Sgt. Suzie, Shoestring and I held back. We would be traveling together to orchestrate the Regency's downfall. 'Ka-tet' as a twentieth century writer called his band of heroes in his _Gunslinger_ novels. I had loved those books as a teenager but the author's name escaped me. His last name had something to with royalty.

We gathered our supplies without talking. Conversation would use up necessary energy. There were a lot of miles to walk before we would be able to rest again. I tried not to think about all the Brothers who would die in the upcoming battle. We meant to honor the fallen with a tremendous victory for the Republic of North America. We intended to win back our freedom or die trying.

☺

The next week passed slowly. Without the rear sentries we had no idea how close our pursuers were. We were also able to move quicker proving there's something positive in every situation. We had decided to skirt Old Chicago and head straight to Nashville instead. General Warren had an outpost there where he was marshaling his forces for the impending attack.

"So just where is the Regent's headquarters anyway?" I asked one bright, cheery morning after too much walking and not enough sleep. "I mean, we have a plan but no location. It's like a movie with a plot but no set."

"He's in North Carolina," Sgt. Suzie sounded exhausted. "He's taken over the Biltmore Estate."

"What's that?" I felt stupid asking since the place sounded important.

"Some rich bastard spent tons of money building this elaborate house a couple centuries ago. Vanderbilt or some such nonsense. The place is huge and elegant," she explained as if by rote. "Apparently the new Black Regent demands luxury rather than safety. The place was meant to be a show of wealth, not a fortress. It'll be a shame to destroy a historical landmark but I'd rather burn the whole country to the ground than live any longer under the rule of a despot."

"I care fuck all about historical landmarks," I snorted. "I just want to take him down."

"Pops, what does 'fuck all' mean?" Shoestring inquired innocently.

"It means I don't care," I explained. "And 'fuck' is a bad word. Good little girls shouldn't talk like that."

"Sorry Pops."

"It's okay. I say shit like that all the time," I said to reassure her.

"Quit being an asshole," Sgt. Suzie blurted.

"Shut up bitch," Crake said giggling.

"Yer all a bunch o' cocksuckers and I wish ta hell ya'd shut up so's an old man c'n think," Easy drawled.

I nearly pissed myself laughing. Shoestring looked confused.

"Never mind, honey," I said between chuckles. "It's a bad joke even if you do understand it."

She shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to where she was stepping. The sun was setting and it was getting difficult to walk without tripping over some unseen hazard. Roots grabbed our toes, branches smacked our faces; the trees were out to get us. I felt like some pseudo-Vaudeville actor practicing my slapstick routine. Eventually we gave up and made camp.

The night was peaceful. Crickets chirped a sleepy song while the stars danced us to sleep. Predictably, Shoestring placed her sleeping bag next to mine assuring that Sgt. Suzie and I would get no quality time. It felt so good to know she was alive that I didn't complain. Besides, she looked cute snuggled up like a bug in a log. I fell asleep watching the tree branches sway in the breeze.

The next day it rained. The day after that it rained. For the next week it rained. We were miserable. The wet drops were cold and insinuated themselves into every crack and crevice. We did everything we could to stay dry but nothing worked. Mud was our bed. Water was our pillow. I began to have dreams where we had all transformed into fish and swam away to spawn on distant shores. Fear of pneumonia spurred us on. As a self-declared super-hero I felt it was my duty to die valiantly in battle, not from a lung infection. We needed to find someplace to dry out.

"I smell smoke," I said warily.

We were slogging through the swamp-like forest at an alarmingly slow rate. I had a feeling snails were laughing at us as they passed us by. Nobody perked up at the news so I supposed I was the only one who smelled it. Since it offered hope I was determined to enjoy my hallucination for as long as it lasted.

Shoestring pointed and said, "I wonder if it's coming from that little house."

All four of us grown-ups exchanged glances. We followed her finger, saw what she was pointing at and drew our weapons. Somehow we had approached a little log cabin and it looked to be occupied. It was like a slice of hillbilly heaven. Light shone through the windows and smoke curled up from the stone chimney. The porch was wide and uneven. A rocking chair stood sentry on one corner while a barrel full of rainwater guarded the other end. There were no signs of movement from within, a fact which soon explained itself.

"Nobody move an inch or pretty boy here loses his head," a raspy voice commanded from my right.

We hadn't heard anybody approach. I holstered my gun and motioned for the others to do the same. They did so, albeit reluctantly.

"If you so much as twitch I'll splatter your gray matter all over my front yard," he said as I started to turn around to face him.

"Hey, buddy. We're friends," I said diplomatically. "There's no need for violence."

"If that's the case then why were you all holding guns?" he responded smugly.

"You got me there. Would you believe we were hunting squirrels?" I asked unconvincingly.

"Do you know what it sounds like when a shotgun is cocked? It sounds like this," he said and demonstrated. "It makes a helluva mess when it goes off and now it's one step closer to doing just that. The next thing you say better explain what you're doing here and it had better sound sincere or your friends will have to find you a new brain."

I chose not to say anything. When I get nervous my inner asshole wakes up. Wisecrack after wisecrack played through my head but I held my lips closed. I wasn't in a position to do anything else. Finally somebody else spoke up.

"We're cold and wet, mister. We're just tryin to get somewhere that it's not raining," Shoestring said through chattering teeth.

"Sorry little girl, this ain't the place," he said and spat a huge glob of something brown and syrupy into the muck.

"If ya jus' let us pass peaceably, we'll get out of yer life, buddy," Easy promised. "We don't want no trouble."

"Well, you sure found some," he said. "I figure this situation goes one of three ways. First guess, you're outlaws running from justice, meaning the Regent and his asshole army. Second guess, you're freedom fighters running from the Regency so he doesn't hang you or worse. Third, and this is the least likely, you're deserters from the Regency and you're running so you don't end up with your heads on the walls outside that fancy mansion the bastard's taken over. Either way you figure, you're being chased by the worst murderers our planet's ever seen and I don't aim to get caught in the crossfire."

He punctuated the end of his speech by spitting again. I could still feel the barrel of his shotgun against the back of my head and it was beginning to worry me. If his finger twitched I'd be the second person to die wearing this outfit. It was time to conclude our pow-wow and get the hell out of there.

"You're absolutely right. We're running from the Black Regency. The hounds are on our heels," I said in the hopes it would placate our unwilling host. "I know it doesn't really matter to you which way we go as long as we go. I won't tell you which of the three reasons is the right one. You don't sound like the sort who gives a shit. If you put that gun away, we'll leave and you'll never see us again."

"You're damn right I won't. If I do I'll kill you without warning you first," he said, unimpressed. "You've endangered my home and my life. I'll put my gun away, but you better hold to your word and haul ass. Just like one of them icebergs, what you see is only a small part of what there is. Like my mama used to say, 'if you mess with me, you mess with my whole fuckin' family'."

"Sure, no problem. Just lower that barrel," I said and waited for him to comply, "and we'll be off. I'll go first and my friends will follow. No muss, no fuss."

Without turning to look back at our captor, we walked away. Nobody spoke. We were too tired, cold and disappointed. The rain had stopped but it was still wet and cold. Even the comforting touch of Shoestring's hand on mine couldn't lift me from my doldrums. The day was too fucked up for happiness or reassurance.
Embuggerance

The morning dawned sunny and hot. It turned the wet forest into a steamy jungle. Mosquitoes feasted on our tender flesh. It was the most miserable fucking morning I had experienced in years. It was the kind of day our mothers liked to warn us about.

"So what's for breakfast?" I was hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a raging rhinoceros.

Nobody answered. That may have been because nobody else was awake yet. Even in the stifling humidity they were exhausted beyond endurance. I hadn't slept much past sunrise ever since the world had gone to shit so I was up and ready to start the day.

"That's right folks," I continued in a whisper. "Canned veggies and whatever's in this foil wrapper! It should be delicious! Let's just hope it's not dog food!"

I chuckled at myself while I opened cans. Slowly, gradually my companions woke to the smell of green beans and beef stew being warmed over a small cook-fire. I was no gourmet chef but I knew how to heat meals like nobody's business.

"Mornin Pops," Shoestring mumbled.

Her eyes were barely opened so I waited until she had a good grip on the bowl before I let it go. We didn't have much food so dropping any would constitute a tragedy. After one sniff of the bowl's contents her eyes opened wide and the sleep faded from her face.

"Pops, why'd you make stew _and_ green beans," she asked, "when there's already green beans in stew?"

"Hmm," I considered, "because they were the first two cans I opened I guess. Now that you ask, though, I feel real stupid. Thanks honey."

She looked up at me to see if I was serious. Her eyes narrowed in consideration before she realized I was being my usual sarcastic self. After that she gave her full attention to her breakfast. By the time she finished, the others were moving and had joined us around the fire.

"Why are you so cheery this morning?" Crake asked irritably.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just the sight of your pretty face that's got me smiling."

"Ah, whatever. I should have known not to expect a straight answer from you." He sounded more accepting than condescending so I knew our relationship had improved.

"If yer ever too serious, my friend, I'll know ya died," Easy said before a painful coughing spasm stopped him.

"That doesn't sound good," Sgt. Suzie commented. "That's what pneumonia sounds like. We'll have to find you some antibiotics when we get to Nashville."

"Nuff o' that kind o' talk 'fore breakfast," he waved her off, "I won't be dyin' today so never worry 'bout me."

She was right and we all knew it. Pestering Easy about it would only piss him off so we let him be. Warren was bound to have some medication at his base camp. We just had to hope our esteemed leader would be okay for that long. Nashville was a long way from here on foot.

After the trash was buried and we had everything all packed, it was time to discuss plans. This short range shit wasn't working and the long view was already settled so it was time to discuss the intermediary times.

"I think we need to find some transportation," I offered. "It will take us weeks to reach Tennessee on foot. The war could be won or lost by then and we wouldn't even know it."

"Yer too right," Easy agreed. "Any kind o' travel is tricky right now but faster'd be better. There don't seem ta be any used car lots 'round here so what do ya suggest?"

"I'm pretty opportunistic. I say we commandeer the next vehicle we come across. Providing it runs of course."

"What I wouldn't give for a motorcade," Crake said wistfully.

"Sorry Mr. President. We're all out of those at the moment," I teased, "but if you'd like to come back next week we'll have a nice shiny bicycle you can ride."

He waved to a non-existent crowd from his pretend limo and smiled. "Thank you all! God bless America! Don't eat the yellow snow!"

"What a speech," Sgt. Suzie groaned. "Damn it, Chapel! Now he's an asshole too! You're a bad influence!"

"It's an honor just being nominated," I said and bowed dramatically. We all laughed at that before being brought back to reality by the sound of a plane overhead.

"Shit. It's time to move," I said. "I'd rather present a moving target than have my shiny white ass shot off while I'm standing around trying to decide which way to go."

"Me too," Shoestring agreed solemnly and we all headed off.

☺

We slogged for days through the mud, maybe a week, before we found any signs of what passed for civilization. I don't know how civilized they had been but I couldn't see any signs of a McDonald's anywhere so I had my doubts. Still, they had a Starbuck's so they must not have been too backwards.

"Which car should we steal?" The rusting hulks I could see were all a bit too far gone to be trustworthy.

"Shit, Chapel, just pick one. Since you'll be the one pushing I suggest one with four tires that doesn't weigh too much," Crake said.

I made a mock salute and responded, "Yes Mr. President."

"Pops, I don't see one with four tires," Shoestring added, "and that red one doesn't even have one."

"That's a Honda HoverR, honey. It doesn't need wheels."

"Then how does it go?" she asked innocently.

"It uses some kind of magnetic thingy to lift itself off of the ground. Hamster farts make it move forward. For reverse you just sneeze."

She eyed me dubiously, considering my level of honesty.

"If you don't know, then say so," Sgt. Suzie purred, "or is it not manly to admit you're stupid?"

Easy laughed, coughed and laughed more. I turned to regard his pale visage and was worried by what I saw. Pain was etched on his face and his walk had become slow and jittery. If we didn't find him some medicine soon we would lose him. That got me thinking.

"If you were a pharmacy, where would you be?" I muttered.

I made a slow circle to determine which direction to go. I was used to drugs of the illegal kind so looking for the prescription kind was a little strange. I had to help my friend though, so I did my best.

"You might as well shoot an arrow into the air and see where it lands," Crake said sourly. "It'd be faster and likely as accurate."

"We need to split up. Our esteemed leader needs antibiotics. Either that or he'll be crow food soon." Easy gave me an ugly look. "Sorry, boss, but it's true."

Shoestring ran over and gave him a hug. "We'll get you better. Pops knows how to fix anything!"

I hoped I could somehow live up to her high expectations. The thought of that blood-soaked teddy bear presented itself so I hurriedly pushed my mind to present matters.

"We'll split up. Crake and I will go down...Main St. there and the rest of you go that way up Nebraska Ave. Whatever the hell that sign says anyway. We'll meet back here at night fall."

"Why do I gotta go with them?" Shoestring asked, affronted.

"Because I said so," I said more gruffly than I had intended.

She looked hurt but I knew I would be able to make it up to her. I hoped.

"Let's get moving. We're wasting daylight." I nodded to Crake and we headed off.

☺

During the course of our travels we found beauty shops, pawn shops, apartments, grocery stores, auto shops, shoe stores and even one whore house. Its permits appeared to be in order so I didn't feel the need to issue a citation. Since the whores were nowhere to be seen I don't know who would have paid it anyway.

"There it is, what I've been looking for." Crake followed my pointing finger and looked confused.

"That's a Dollar Mart," he said as if I had suddenly been struck stupid. "Last time I checked they didn't sell anything more valuable than soap and two dollar watches."

"Precisely," I said and cautiously entered the gutted store.

Nobody had shot at us during the last few hours and this fact was worrying me. I'd expected to have killed at least a dozen desperadoes by now. Either we were in a radioactive wasteland or we were in for a serious ambush. I checked my Whisperer to make sure it was it was ready to deal death.

Crake reluctantly followed me inside. He checked the rear of the building and the storage area. I did a sweep of the offices and the bathrooms. We appeared to be the only bipedal occupants of the building. As I suspected, there was no food left but there were some clothes on the racks. I picked a few new outfits for Shoestring and some clean underwear for myself. The one pair I had was a color I didn't want to think about. I found the other thing on my shopping list easily enough. Peering up at me from underneath a pile of green plastic army tanks was an ugly, pink teddy bear that was an exact replica of the one Shoestring and I had buried a week ago. I stuffed it into a pocket with the clothes and we left. We still had to find a drug store.

We never found one. By the time we returned to our pre-appointed meeting place, we were demoralized, hungry and more than a little irritable. Failure was a bitter fruit and neither of us liked the taste.

The sun was nearly gone but there was no sign of our companions. I approached the intersection as if a thousand guns were aimed at it. I was still concerned about banditos. If there weren't any here we would probably all be puking our teeth out in the next couple of days.

Crake trotted across to cover the other directions silently. He knew what the odds were of finding an abandoned town as well as I did. He wouldn't have survived this long if he hadn't. When I saw him draw his gun I knew we were in trouble.

He flashed two fingers at me so I would know the number of enemies he had spotted. Two weren't even a threat to Shoestring. She could kill them both without getting her dress dirty.

I worked my way closer but stayed behind cover. I wanted to see them before they saw me. Even two stupid assholes could have a negative impact on my continued existence. Or their unseen friends could. Either way I kept my head low and my gun ready.

Apparently they thought they were immortal. One short skinny guy and one tall fat guy were sitting on the hood of an ancient jalopy watching the sun go down. There were no others in sight so I knew there had to be at least two dozen armed men I couldn't see. This looked like the age-old baited trap gig. I was a ballsy mouse so I walked right in after the cheese.

"Howdy, boys. Sure is a nice view!" I greeted cheerily.

In a split second I was staring down the barrels of a couple of very nice rifles. I fancied I could smell the piss as it puddled in their boots. It took them a moment to recover enough to speak.

"Who tha hell're you?" the tall one asked.

"I'm Chapel. Who the hell are you? Rejected circus clowns?"

The little guy responded by tightening his grip on the trigger of his weapon. I knew if he pulled any harder I'd be dead. Tall Fatass responded before I got ventilated.

"We're visitin' this here place. Seems nice 'nuff an' we may wanta stay a while."

"Well I was here first," I said and saw them both make a quick scan to see if I had any friends to back me up. "I'll have to ask you a few questions to see if you're Chapel Towne material."

"Huh..." the chubby bastard responded wittily.

His jaw hung as he tried to figure out what was going on. I could tell this was going to take some time so I continued.

"First question. How many are in your party? We have limited accommodations," I explained.

They exchanged quick glances which told me they were alone. Any vestige of confidence they had previously displayed disappeared. I fought back a giggle. It wouldn't do to let them know I had them figured out already.

"Uhh, thirty. In tha advance party," he added quickly. "There's more comin' tomorra."

"Yeah, ta kill ya dead with yer fancy coat!" Tiny Mite blurted.

He was eyeing my red trench-coat hungrily. "If you knew who I had to kill to get this coat you might not want it so bad."

"Oh yeah? Who?" Fatty Tub O'Lard jeered.

"The Black Regent." I paused to let that sink into their feeble brains.

"No shit ya say? The Regent hisself?" They didn't believe me. "Well it just so happens we're on our way to join him now. If he's dead then how the hell are we goin' to fulfill our quest?"

"The Black Regent is dead. Her body is rotting back in Old Chicago," I stated. "The person you're headed to join up with is an impostor. Don't worry; I plan on killing him too."

My sense of humor had failed. These two bumpkins were going to join the Regency and that wasn't funny. It was time to teach them a lesson. By the time they had a chance to realize what I was doing I had Shorty on the ground with my foot crushing his windpipe and Fatty against their old car with my trusty Whisperer prepared to blow his tongue through his brain pan. I had surprised them so completely they never thought to bring their rifles into play.

"So you're just passing through, right?" I asked smiling. "And you're not coming back any time soon? Good."

I took my foot from the prone man's throat and took two quick steps back from his obese compatriot. I used the barrel of my gun to indicate that I wanted them to stand next to each other. I was busy deciding how to humiliate them further when someone walked up behind me and placed their hand on my shoulder.

"We'll take it from here," a voice that definitely didn't belong to any member of my party said.

Shit. Once again I had been caught with my pants down. I was beginning to wonder how I had managed to survive so long in this post-apocalyptic world when my self-preservation skills were so sloppy.

"Do I need to drop my weapon and put my hands up?" I didn't move a muscle. There was no use provoking the unseen visitor.

"Only if you want to," the voice replied amicably.

I turned slowly and nearly wept in relief. Easy, Crake, Sgt. Suzie and Shoestring were all there with several dozen new faces. It was apparent they weren't prisoners, Easy's shit-eating grin being the biggest clue.

"These're tha Freed Men, Chapel. They're friends o' ours," Easy explained. "They been runnin' this lil burg since tha collapse o' society."

"Then I guess you all know who I am. Who the hell are you?" I put my Whisperer back in its holster in preparation of shaking hands and all that asinine courteous stuff.

"This is their leader, an' these are his men," Easy indicated each in turn.

Leader left me hanging. He made no indication he even saw my extended hand. The guy was a little weird. I waited for something to be said but nothing was forthcoming. I scanned the faces of the Freed Men and determined them to be honest, hard-working men who wouldn't take shit from any upstart asshole like me. I liked them instantly. Besides, if Shoestring wasn't complaining, neither was I.

"Okay, boss, what now?" I ventured forward with after an uncomfortable pause.

"We'll take these two and dispense justice," Leader said to me as he turned to his Men. "Take them into custody and show them justice!"

A dozen of his scariest looking troops came forward and dragged the two unlucky bastards off behind a row of shops as we all watched expectantly. Less than a minute later two shots rang out and the men returned. I made a mental note to steer clear of the wrong end of their justice system.

They led us back to their lair, a few men dropping out of the column to return to their duties as sentries. There was a complete lack of conversation though everybody fell into step with military precision. It was eerie. I started to ask Easy more about our new acquaintances but decided against it. It just felt too weird. I began to hope there wasn't a mass suicide pact brewing. Free or not, these guys were odd. They all wore their hair in a crew cut and they all wore a scowl like it was a badge of honor. Their rifles were clean enough to eat off of and their clothes, though mismatched and threadbare, were tidy looking and even appeared to have been pressed recently. Nobody wore facial hair or jewelry of any kind. Everything on their personage had a practical, logical function. I wondered if they were eunuchs since there were no women amongst them and they all looked extremely unhappy. I could feel the word 'outsider' emblazoned on my forehead. I'd never been a religious man but I wondered if I might be praying to the almighty for mercy before this was all over.
Fimbriated

"I just want to know that I'm going to wake up with my balls still attached," I was explaining to Easy. "These guys are Grade A nut-jobs! What if they decide I'm the Antichrist or something?"

"Listen, Chapel. Tha Freed Men are a lil unusual but they're not gonna hack yer balls off in tha middle of tha night."

"How do you know that? I mean, they've reverted back to the Stone Age! Men fight and the women do everything else," I was getting slightly hysterical. "It's like a bad school film! How do they reproduce when the boys and girls aren't even allowed near each other?!"

"Ahh, I see where this's leadin'. Yer upset that Suzie an' Shoestring ain't allowed ta see ya while yer here." He chuckled a little in between wheezes. "These guys're strange, I'll give ya that. But they're allies. W'out them we canna win 'gainst tha Regent! I canna stress tha' enough! We'll all be fightin' fer our lives soon an' we need all tha help we c'n get!"

"You're sexy when you're angry," I purred. "Where are you from anyway? That accent of yours is difficult to place."

"Boston," he muttered and stalked off.

I knew I'd have to apologize for being an asshole but that had to wait. Right now I needed to find out how my daughter was doing. I hadn't seen Shoestring...or Suzie...for two days. I didn't want them to be indoctrinated with some rabble-scrabble religious mumbo-jumbo while we were (not) enjoying the hospitality of the Freed Men. I was also still worried that I'd get castrated instead of fed during our stay. I've never been able to trust anybody who puts their entire trust in a two thousand year old book that's been mistranslated over and over again.

I shook my head as I stalked down the hallways of the old apartment building. The men trained, fought and otherwise protected the community from outsiders. None of them used names and they never spoke except when necessary to communicate. Their leader was unanimously respected. His commands were followed unquestioningly. I guess 'justice' waited for those who failed in their duties. Leader had patiently explained to me that they would earn names when the rest of the world lived in freedom again. Fucking wackos.

The women lived separately. Let me rephrase that. The women _existed_ separately. Their home was the apartment building next door. They were not permitted to cross the threshold of the men's building. Food and clean laundry were left on the doorstep. The woman whose duty it was to deliver whichever items were due rang the buzzer and went back to her own residence. During the two days we had been here I hadn't so much as heard a single word cross her lips. I had gone so far as to say hello to her during a breakfast drop off but she turned her head and jogged away. I knew there were children next door because I had heard their giggles from the roof but I have no idea how they managed to be conceived under such strict limitations. Leader wouldn't talk to me anymore. My incessant grilling of him must have crossed some line of tolerance. Now he just ignored me whenever we ran across each other.

I emerged into the warm afternoon air. The weather was so unpredictable that there was no telling which season this was. I had lost track of the date years ago and hadn't bothered to try to figure out what day it was since then. It wasn't important. Every day under the banner of the Black Regency was the same as any other. Today could be Christmas or fucking New Year's as far as I knew. It would be hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk at eight in the morning and snowing at noon. Before the Regent took over scientists were screaming 'global warming' and saying that emissions from spray cheese or something was the culprit. History buffs countered by saying that global warming had been a rallying cry for the liberal left-wing since the 1990's and that it still hadn't been proven. I wasn't a scientist. I didn't care. I just wanted to live in a free country.

It was hard not to rant and rave. The world was already so fucked up and now these zealots were going to be part of the solution?! What a joke! If they were in control of things we'd all be neutered at birth. There had to be some way to defeat the Regency without them. The thought of overwhelming odds against victory only caused me to feel more trapped and lost. If we were going to topple the Regent only to install some crackpot in his place, could we consider our win a victory for freedom? We wouldn't be free. We would be the slaves of God. I decided then that I would do whatever was necessary to be sure that democracy reigned supreme, even if it meant killing every one of the Freed Men by myself.

☺

I took a deep breath before I knocked. I wasn't even sure the women would answer the door. They might burn me at the stake for what I was about to attempt. After I knocked I turned back toward the street to see if I was being watched. No obvious spying was going on but I felt sure that somebody was seeing this. When I heard the door open behind me I turned around.

"Can I help you, sir?" The voice was soft and deprecatory.

The woman who had answered my knock was a short, heavy set matron in a long blue dress with her hair in a bonnet. She had a pretty face and mousy brown hair. Her head was slightly bowed and she waited patiently for me to answer.

"I'd like to speak with my daughter," I said courteously.

"I'm sorry sir, but men are not permitted in the women's quarters for any reason."

"Then ask her to come outside," I demanded tersely.

"I'm sorry sir, but contact between men and women is only permitted under orders from our leader. I am unaware of any such permission being granted."

"Permission granted," I said as I pushed her roughly aside and entered the building.

She grabbed my arm in an attempt to subdue me. I stopped walking and said, "Take your hands off of me woman!"

I hated to lord it over the poor creature but I had a feeling she would comply. I was right. Instantly she let go and I continued through the entryway and down the hallway that led to the stairs.

"Shoestring! Shoestring!" I called as I stomped my through the corridors.

Not a single curious face peered out of the doors. Nobody answered me. I banged on the doors as I passed to no avail. Still I continued my fruitless search for my little Marie. Six flights of stairs and nothing. The door to the roof was open so I climbed the ladder just in case answers could be found outside.

"Pops!" I heard a familiar voice call as a bundle of warm clothes wrapped themselves around my legs.

"Shoestring! I missed you!" I said as I picked her up and hugged her tightly. "How are they treating you?"

"Great! They feed me regular and wash my clothes every day!" She was excited. "There's other kids to play with and everything!"

"Good, good. I'm glad you're so happy," I said through gritted teeth.

It appeared the Freed Women were taking better care of Shoestring than I ever could. I felt like a neglectful parent suddenly and it made my heart ache. What kind of father could I ever hope to be if I couldn't even feed her regularly? I wanted to dry up and disappear on the spot.

☺

They chained me up. Leader stormed over with the same ugly brutes who had dispensed 'justice' on the two interlopers the other day. They dragged me out like a child, chained me to a wall in the basement and locked me in the dark. All of my weapons were taken from me. It didn't take long to disarm me since all I had was my Whisperer and the hunting knife I had forgotten about. Nothing was said and no ideas were given as to how long I would be imprisoned. One thing was certain. As soon as I was unchained Shoestring and I were leaving this freaky place and heading to Nashville with or without our other companions.

I tried to sleep some but the chains weren't long enough to let me sit or lie down. The best I could manage was a sort of semi-doze while I leaned against the wall. My thoughts were awhirl. All I could picture was Leader wearing the Black Regent's clothes and ordering the deaths of everybody, Regency or not, in a sacrifice to some hideous idol that was supposed to represent their "compassionate" deity. He shouted to the people that only in Paradise could they be pure of heart and free from the sins of mankind. In this dreadful vision parents murdered their children and then themselves. Knives, poison, cars driven off of bridges...it was one violent catastrophe after another. I woke sweating bullets.

Hours/millennia later, the door was opened and Crake walked in. He stood in front of me for a few seconds as if considering his actions. The light from the hallway wasn't enough to let me see his face clearly but I fancied I could see indecision playing across his features. In the half-light the former president looked regal. I found myself hoping he would accept his former post when democracy was restored.

"Chapel...shit man, they want to execute you," he explained. "You've violated some of their highest laws. Easy and I have convinced them to let you live but we have to leave immediately."

"Suits me," I snarled. "The sooner the better. These self righteous assholes are no friends of mine. Unlock me and give me back my gun."

"You got it buddy. They make me uncomfortable too."

He produced a key and released me from my shackles. The feel of my Whisperer in my hand was glorious. I was ready to leave.

"There is one little detail I should make you aware of," he said hesitantly. "They're coming with us."

"That's good. I wouldn't go anywhere without our women."

"Not them. The Freed Men. They're coming with us to Nashville."

"No fucking way!!!" I shouted. "Those crackpots...no way...I refuse..."

I was spluttering in my furor. I was briefly reduced to spouting nonsensical syllables. Crake waited patiently for my episode to end before he interrupted.

"We have no choice. Without them and others like them we just don't have enough soldiers to win the day." He paused to let me calm down so I would listen. "We have no choice if we want to defeat the Regent."

"I don't like it," I retorted.

He nodded sagely and led me up the stairs to where the rest of our party was waiting.

☺

It's safe to say the Freed Men and I didn't get along well after that. They still wanted to punish me and I still wanted to smash all of their teeth out. It made for a tense trip. There was one good thing to come out of the whole affair. They had vehicles. Not just any vehicles, they had Harleys.

Through litigation and lawsuits, Harley Davidson had stuck to their guns through the decades. When you bought one of their motorcycles you got a loud, chrome, rubber and iron steed. They had never buckled under the pressure to change to the cleaner burning engines or the safety features offered by other manufacturers. While this may seem a poor tactic for a company in modern times, it actually helped them sell more bikes than ever. Everybody with enough money bought a Hawg or a Street Demon. Before the world went to shit I had been saving towards the purchase of a used Classic myself. Nothing beat a Harley Davidson.

Feeling like I was King Shit of Turd Mountain, I cruised the highways on my Harley. It wasn't the Classic I had always wanted but the Chopper I had been allotted was perfect to me. The gas tank and fenders were painted with crimson flames that nearly matched my coat and boots. It had leather saddlebags and a big wide back tire. She was a dream come true. Never had anything (except a woman perhaps) pleased me as well as this.

Shoestring rode with me, grasping tightly to my sides. She had been a little wary at first but her smile grew wider the faster we went. I heard her giggle nervously a few times but she assured me she was having fun. Thoughts of the Freed Men behind us soured things, but only minimally. It was a wonderful time and I set my mind to enjoying it while it lasted. I knew something was bound to fuck it up eventually.
Gunsel

I was running as fast as I could and still I couldn't get away from them. Their hungry tendrils reached for me, snagging my clothes. I was crying in fear yet screaming with rage. I leapt piles of debris. I sprinted around corners. My pursuers were gaining on me. I wanted to turn and shoot them but I was afraid to slow down enough to take aim. I knew if they got a hold of me I'd never get free. There was also no certainty that bullets would harm them. They were implacable. Silently, unstoppably they continued to give chase. My friends had already been escorted to their doom by the horde.

Something warm and wet ran into my eye. I knew I was bleeding. I was injured beyond my ability to heal. Still I ran, grasping onto what little hope there still was. As long as I was breathing there was a chance of escape. My chest was in searing agony which told me that I wouldn't be breathing much longer. When the time came, I'd fight Death kicking and screaming.

Finally, exhausted, my pace slowed and I turned to face my end. With my Whisperer in hand, I whirled to confront the approaching madness. Unsure of what egregious error I may have committed, I silently contemplated the tangled mass of vegetation that desired to taste my blood. Withered yet growing, the vines wrapped themselves around my arms, my legs, and my throat. I was dragged down to my death.

When I woke up I was drenched in sweat. A scream was still lurking in my vocal cords and I struggled to stifle it. Never had I been subject to a nightmare of this magnitude. Lying in the dark surrounded by quiet snores it was hard to believe that a dream could have such power over waking emotions. Unnerved by the sound of the wind blowing through the trees I slept no more that night.

☺

When Shoestring saw my haggard face the next day she asked me what was wrong. Not realizing I looked that bad I told her about the nightmare. She looked sympathetic and gave me a hug to help me feel better. I did but not much. While I was holding her tiny body against mine I remembered something.

"I nearly forgot about this," I said handing her the new pink teddy bear.

She looked guilty for a moment. "Umm, Pops, I kind of got a new one."

She walked back to her sleeping bag and produced a lime green monkey from its insulated depths. Unbelievably, it was even more hideous than the teddy bear. I was reminded of an old neighbor of mine. She had been the token neighborhood gossip. Ms. Hodgkins preferred lime green pantsuits and only wore other colors for weddings and funerals. Her loose tongue had earned her a noose when the Regency took over.

"That's okay sport. I hate pink anyway." I made as if to throw it away, "We'll just get rid of it then."

"No!" she belted out, startling a few of the closer Freed Men awake. "I mean, I'll keep it...if you don't mind."

I passed the repugnant ursine over and hid a smile behind my hand. It was amazing that such a sweet little girl could also be a stone cold killer. Hard times forced hard choices on us all. Looking around at the assembled men, I knew the time for reckoning was coming soon.

"Have you seen Easy?" I asked my daughter.

She pointed silently over to where the sick leader was sleeping. He looked awful. There were circles under his eyes and he was as pale as milk. His jaw hung slightly open, allowing a thin string of drool to fall to his pillow. I hated to disturb him but I needed to ask him some very important questions. With a gentle shake I roused him from his slumber.

☺

As the sun rose activity increased. Breakfast was prepared, bedrolls were packed and plans were made for the day's travels. It was important to keep to back roads where the Regency was less likely to be watching traffic. Our band was small enough that we could easily be overcome by a small force. It was also important to avoid areas laid to waste by radioactive warfare.

"Were they able to find you any medicine?" I asked Easy first since I considered this the most pressing question.

"No, they don't b'lieve in them. Even fer me they say God's gotta heal," Easy spit out between shivers.

"Shit. I was hoping you would be feeling better before we got to Gen. Warren," I was crestfallen. "I'll check whenever we pass through cities. If Leader has any objections..." I let that last trail off menacingly.

"He's a good man, Chapel. Whether ya like him er not he's on our side. W'out him an' his men we ain't got no chance 'gainst tha Regency."

"So you say. After seeing the immaculate condition of those bikes I'm slightly more inclined to agree. As much as they disdain medicines and modern things like equality between the sexes it seems strange they would keep such good care of even such a primitive machine as a motorcycle."

Easy chuckled, coughed and chuckled a little more. "Leader, as ya call him, used ta be a Hell's Angel. Part o' tha reason he picked that town ta inhabit was 'cause there was a Harley dealership. I think he loves them bikes more than his men!"

"Let me guess. He saw the end of the world as a sign of the apocalypse and found God."

"Thass 'bout right," Easy responded.

"I think he must really hate his men since he won't let them near his women. It's bloody sadistic!" I made a mental note to find Suzie for a little night time activity.

"Damn it son," Easy sighed. "Can ya not look past tha religious differences fer a moment? If yer worried 'bout tha future leadership of our country I c'n assure ya it's already been decided."

"And the decision is..." I urged.

"Tha next President of tha Republic of North America is goin' ta be Colin Chapel."

"What the fuck did you just say?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Ya heard me," was all he would say.

"I heard you. I just can't believe that this kind of dumbass decision could be made," I was deadly calm.

"We all agree. Yer tha best man fer tha job," he said cautiously.

"Who is 'we all'?"

"Me, General Warren, tha leader of tha Freed Men, Crake...all of us."

"So while I was sleeping you decided to shove me into the position of...what...shortest lived politician ever? No fucking way."

I stormed off to kill something. Anything would do. Or anybody. A black cloud settled around my shoulders and lightning was flashing in my head. I drew my knife as I walked. I wanted to rend, to maim. I wanted to pierce flesh and hear the dying squeal of my prey. I wanted to share the feeling of being trapped and dying. It was not a good time to fuck with me.

Nobody did. Apparently the scowl on my face was enough to ward off interference. The trees here were scraggly and far apart. I didn't care. I walked through the open fields as if I owned the planet. The only living thing I saw was a hawk wheeling high above. Eventually my fury abated and I put my knife away. When I heard engines starting I reluctantly returned to camp. It was time for cruising. The thought of being an iron cowboy for another day lifted my mood as I trotted back to my Chopper.

☺

The day's travels were long and arduous. It was fiercely hot and unbearably humid. When we stopped for lunch I took off the crimson trench-coat and stuffed it in my pack because I couldn't stop sweating. Easy was so sick that he had to ride double with Crake lest he doze off and drive into a tree. At this rate we would have to fight the Regency without Easy's wisdom and guidance.

That night, our little clique huddled around a tiny campfire. Easy was dazed and withdrawn due to his illness. Shoestring sat in Suzie's lap staring intently at the flames. My red-headed lover was giving me looks that told me she'd rather have me in her lap and I was doing my best to let her know I agreed. Crake was quietly telling us gossip of the Capital House. It was quite amusing to hear the dirty laundry of the nation's leadership. He even told a few about himself that would have embarrassed anybody but he laughed when we did so we knew he thought it was funny rather than damaging. When he seemed to be finished I asked the question that had been burning my brain for a while.

"Is it safe for us to be traveling openly like this?"

"No, it's not, but what choice do we have?" Crake answered.

"I don't know, I just don't want to get caught in an ambush or something," I muttered. "I guess we'll just have to hope our luck holds for a few more days."

I shook my head, resigned. There really was no other way. If we walked the last piece it would take weeks. We didn't have that kind of time.

"Does anybody have a razor I can borrow?" I asked mostly to change the subject. "I feel like a grizzly bear has attached itself to my face."

"I think you look just fine, tiger," Suzie purred. "Your rugged good looks make a woman swoon."

I smiled broadly. Regardless of what might be happening in the future, tonight was going to be okay. It was time to put Shoestring to bed and wake Little Colin up for some late night exercise. I knew I wouldn't be getting much sleep but the trade-off would be well worth it.

We rose with the sun. Suzie left to fulfill her military duties while I got Shoestring up and fed. We were within two days travel of Nashville and everybody was in a hurry. Under normal conditions we could have actually arrived there after one or two days of travel but the roads that were safe to travel were few and far between. It was just one more reason to add to the millions there already were to take the Regent down.

"Today we ride hard," Leader told those of us who were close enough to hear him. "Tomorrow we arrive in Nashville. In a few weeks we'll ride with Gen. Warren's men into the Final Battle!"

Whereas most soldiers would have shouted and called excitedly, the Freed Men merely nodded and mounted their Harleys. Shoestring and I followed suit. We fell in beside Crake and Easy.

"So boss, what's the plan? First we get you healthy and then we kill as many of the black hearted bastards as possible. What's the hitch?"

"Well Chapel, - _cough-_ we pretty much jus' - _cough-_ kick ass from there," he struggled to say.

"Geez Davey, you don't sound so good," I said in my best stupid voice.

"Shut up," Easy muttered as Crake started the engine of their boss hog.

We traveled hard that day. Lunch consisted of whatever we could eat as we rode. Shoestring kept me from dying of starvation by pushing crackers into my mouth. Luckily we had a canteen handy to moisten the dryness that followed.

We rode well past nightfall and finally, exhausted, we dismounted and made camp. Nobody said anything as we settled in for a few short hours of fitful sleep. The impending battle loomed large in our minds. Though it was still a few weeks away, its inevitability was a huge weight around our necks. The thought of so many good people, and the Freed Men, dying was painful in the extreme.

We were up before dawn. Leader was anxious to get to Gen. Warren and it was infectious. There was little time to pack up so once again we ate on the road. Shoestring found some dry cereal to feed me this time. It could have been sawdust for all the time I spent actually tasting it. I wanted to kill the Regent and all of his cronies and I wanted to do it without further hesitation. When we finally reached Col. Warren's encampment, the anti-climax nearly killed me.
Hebetude

"Hurry up and wait," I muttered.

As soon as we had arrived we were given billeting assignments. After a brief verbal tussle I got it through their thick skulls that Shoestring would be staying with me no matter what any olive-garbed military dickhead had to say about it. I had to shout _'she's my daughter'_ at a half dozen of them before it sunk in. No superhero should ever be seen without his sidekick under any circumstances.

The next few days were spent in endless hours of pointless briefings which consisted of hearing the same information a countless number of times. The whole plan boiled down to running into Asheville and killing as many Regency troops as possible while trying to nail the Regent himself and restore the country to its former democratic state. Maps and troop movement plans were redundant. We knew where to go and what to do. At one point I seriously considered taking the pointer from the sergeant who was leading this particular strategy meeting and saying just that. I resisted, barely.

General Warren's men took their military seriously. Camouflage netting covered the whole area even though most of the vehicles and tents were already camouflage. No fires were allowed outside, only in tents with vent holes at the top so the flame wouldn't give us away. I guess they didn't consider smoke a sign of fire. Still, being so close to so much military hardware got me excited so Shoestring and I poked around in crates until I found what I was looking for. Guns.

They had big guns, little guns, black guns, shiny guns, shotguns, handguns, rifles and even a few beanbag guns, though who the hell wants to shoot somebody with a less-than-lethal round?

"Holy shit, Shoestring, take a look at this," I said admiringly.

"What is it Pops?"

"This is better than I could have hoped for from these lunkheads!"

"What is it?" she asked imploringly.

"It's glorious," I said as I presented my find to her. "It's a Shoestring sized Whisperer."

I couldn't believe my luck. Quickly I knocked on the wood of the crate before Fate could cast Her jaundiced gaze my way.

She took it lovingly yet carefully. The diminutive girl finally had a weapon that she could hold and shoot comfortably. The .38 caliber pistol looked like it was made especially for six year old warriors. It looked deadly beautiful in Shoestring's hands. This was a Kodak moment if ever there had been one.

"Can I shoot it now?" she asked quietly.

"Let's find the shooting range."

With a spring in our steps and a smile in our souls we went to find some targets. Of course I grabbed two huge boxes of ammunition for both of us before we closed that treasure chest. I had plans to kill hundreds, nay thousands of Regency bastards soon and I didn't want to run out of bullets before I ran out of bad guys.

The day passed quickly. Shoestring put hundreds of rounds through the miniature Whisperer and never missed a shot. The girl was a natural. I beamed with pride. At one point another soldier came to practice but was so awed by Shoestring's marksmanship he ended up gawking instead. She drew a crowd before too long and bets were made. Money was worthless so they used chores as bids. Private Hucklebee was going to be doing latrine duty long after we were all dead. He never won a single wager because he was convinced it was dumb luck and that girls couldn't possibly shoot that well. They sure do breed them dumb in Texas.

We finally stopped for supper. The cook at base camp was passable and, after I showed him how to use the spices he had, was well on the way to becoming a top notch mess-hall chef. I did have to tell him not to put rosemary and basil in our breakfast oatmeal again but otherwise he caught on real fast.

The night faded pink and purple. I don't know if it was a good sign or a bad one but it was pretty and Shoestring 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed until darkness fell. It had turned out to be a wonderful day. I knew that meant the next was bound to be rotten. I was right.

☺

Shoestring and I got bored so we took a walk through the outlying scrub that surrounded Gen. Warren's camp. I felt uncomfortable surrounded by so much discipline and organization. It was against my religion to do so much unnecessary work and practicing. I was a devout Laziest.

Birds sang, squirrels chittered, the sun shone and all seemed well with the world. A soft wind blew through the trees keeping us cool. There were a few puffy white clouds in the azure sky to keep us company. If it hadn't been for the sound of a body dropping I would have never noticed the Regency scout until it was too late. As it was, Shoestring had made her first kill with her new weapon. I knew these idiots always traveled in packs so we searched for the rest of his party.

They were easy to spot. Three more of them were still sleeping. They looked so cozy tucked into their bedrolls that it was going to be a shame to kill them. No it wasn't.

First I counted sleeping bags. There were four and only one was empty. Unless somebody had already packed their gear we were in luck. The bad part would be reporting this to Gen. Warren. I was sure there would be tons of paperwork to fill out.

I woke the closest dipstick by pissing on his head. He sat up fast, coughing and spluttering. He had just enough time to register what was going on before his brains were splattered all over his friends.

"Rise and shine!" I shouted to wake the other two.

Shoestring giggled as she and I each dropped one of the remaining soldiers. We robbed their corpses and left the bodies for the crows. Now it was time to make our report to the leadership. Dread grew in my breast. If there was one thing I was afraid of it was filling out forms in triplicate.

☺

When we got there Warren was briefing his troops. Again. He was going over troop movements and strategies. Again. He gave orders to follow that would in turn generate more orders. Again. The term 'deja vu' had never been so appropriate.

"So let me get this right," I interjected. "We're leaving _Nash_ ville to go to _Ashe_ ville to kill the Regent? Isn't that a bit too poetic to work?"

"I heard you were a soldier," Gen. Warren growled at me, "but I didn't realize you were a fucking comedian too."

"There's a lot about me you don't know," I said despite the intense glare of hatred he directed at me. "I'm a Taurus, I love the color blue and when I was a boy I loved to..."

"I don't give a rat's flying fuck, Chapel," he interrupted. "State your business before I decide you're a traitor and hang you like a dog."

"You're so cute when you're angry," I said before quickly continuing. "I just thought you'd like to know that Shoestring and I just killed a couple of Regency scouts a few miles from here. It seemed like important information to me."

Private Hucklebee was in the crowd. He still looked dubious but I knew that cleaning toilets until he retired would convince him he was wrong. The rest of the assembled crowd took our news much more gravely. Gen. Warren had to yell to get them to quiet down enough to find out where we had stumbled across them. He wanted a full report. I gave it to him, though I left out the part about peeing on them. He seemed to have no sense of humor and I didn't want to take the risk that he was serious about hanging me.

Immediately three squads of soldiers tramped into the woods to verify my report. I was too hungry at this time to be offended so I took Shoestring to find some lunch. The smells issuing from the cook tent were making my mouth water in anticipation. I was guessing chili and crackers were waiting for me inside. I only hoped it was spicy enough to clear my sinuses. I was getting congested from all of the pine pollen.

☺

When the men returned a flurry of activity ensued. The whole camp was in an uproar. Gen. Warren demanded to know how the scouts had gotten so close without being spotted. He promised punishment for whichever of his sentries had let his guard down to allow this travesty to happen. One of his lieutenants pointed out that the Regency's men were outside the perimeter of their sentries. Instead of calming him down, it only infuriated him further. He gave orders to widen the perimeter. By this time his face was beet red and he appeared to be in danger of a heart attack. Finally he stalked off to the command tent and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The next morning was busy. Everybody was running to fulfill the orders they had received. Sentries were posted and the perimeter had been immediately widened after our under-appreciated report. Supplies were checked, re-checked and checked again. Apparently Gen. Warren didn't trust his men to do their jobs right the first time. It would have been disheartening if they hadn't completed their tasks with such obvious vigor. These fools enjoyed being peons. They'd make fine citizens someday.

I expected to find out that we were leaving immediately and that the date of the Final Battle (you could hear the capital letters when Warren and his men said it, as if this was the last battle mankind would ever fight) was being moved up. It didn't happen. Things stayed right on schedule though there was more urgency now. Shoestring and I quit taking walks in the woods too. We didn't want to become victims of 'friendly' fire.

The remaining weeks dragged. The soldiers trained constantly and I barely got to see Sgt. Suzie at all. She was busy in her role as a leader of the Army of the Republic of North America and Gen. Warren relied on her expertise. I tried not to feel neglected but I had gotten used to having her warm body against mine as we lay in our sleeping bags. I kind of missed her.

Eventually I had to bite the bullet and meet with the good general one on one. He insisted. I trudged sullenly into the command tent escorted by two burly soldiers. There was no doubt that any funny business would be met with punishment. They had balked at Shoestring coming along but I had ignored their protests and she came along anyway. The general waved his hand to dismiss our escorts and they disappeared so quickly I began to doubt they had ever been there at all.

Warren looked haggard. He hadn't left the tent in days and was in bad need of a number four. A number four is when you add a shower and a shave to a number two. If you don't know what a number two is you probably need a major enema by now.

All of the battle maps looked old and worn. He had probably been going over them incessantly for weeks. This fight was important to him, to all of us, and he had no intentions of being caught unaware again. Those scouts had really rattled his cage.

"Do you know why you're here, Chapel?" he asked me somberly.

"No, hopefully not to get hung," I spouted. "I'm guessing you're about to tell me though."

"Cut with the wise cracks. This is important. All of our lives depend on the outcome of the Final Battle," he said as if I hadn't realized. "We need good men, men like you, to lead other men into the fight. If you're going to lead the nation when this is all over you'll need to win the hearts and minds of the men."

"What??" I couldn't believe what I had heard.

"I need you to lead the Third Battalion, Mr. President."

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds. It was only a couple of days ago that he was threatening to hang me and now he wanted to put me in front of the caravan. It figured. All I wanted was to go in with Shoestring by my side and kick some ass. Now I'd be babysitting a bunch of green recruits. I guess that's about all any leader really is, a babysitter. Since there didn't seem to be any way to get out of it, I acquiesced.

"Okay, tell me where they are so I can address them," I said reluctantly. "I might as well get to know them a little before I lead them to die."

"Marvin will be your lieutenant in this campaign. He'll take you to your men."

"What about Easy and Crake? What will they be doing?" I asked the general pointedly.

"They'll be leading battalions of their own."

"Is Easy still sick?"

"No, I had one of our medical staff provide him with enough Penicillin to cure cancer. He'll be healthy by the time you reach Asheville."

"Who the hell is Marvin?" I asked and shook my head. It just kept getting worse.

"Marvin, come on in now," Warren commanded through the tent. "I know you're used to working with Sgt. Hillard but I need her other places now. Marvin here will be able to guide you through the plan."

I started to protest when a huge mountain of humanity walked through the tent flap. He had to duck way down just to make it. He was at least six and a half feet tall. I wondered how I had missed seeing him around. He was dark-skinned, what would have been called 'black' before racism was outlawed in 2079. He had dark eyes and a shaved head that gleamed in the lamplight. His gigantic muscles rippled when he moved. If his keen eyes hadn't sparkled with merriment I would have felt terribly inadequate as opposed to somewhat puny. He was easily the most intimidating man I had ever seen. I wanted to be him.

"Chapel, meet Marvin, your second-in-command," Warren intoned almost pleasantly.

I put out my hand to be engulfed in Marvin's for a cautious handshake. Since he didn't crush any of my bones I figured we were friends. I still didn't consider any man a replacement for Sgt. Suzie but I had no choice. I decided to make the best of it.

"It's nice to meet you Marvin. I'm Chapel and this delightful drop of femininity is my daughter, Shoestring."

"It's nice to meet you both," he said in a voice much less booming than I had expected. "Your daughter is lovely and quite talented I hear."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I said while Shoestring blushed.

"It's only flattery if it's not meant sincerely," he explained. "When it's the truth, it's a compliment."

"Marvin, you and I are going to get along just fine," I said smiling.

"Before you go _President_ Chapel," Gen. Warren said, "I want you to remember one thing. These men look up to you. Do your best not to disappoint them."

"Yes sir," I said morbidly.

☺

Shoestring and I retired to our tiny green tent for some shuteye. We were both tired from the day's exertions. Neither one of us was awake very long after our heads hit our pillows. It was blissful until the dreams started.

The first one wasn't too bad. I was walking through the woods alone. Some Regency soldiers appeared and got the drop on me. Luckily their guns shot rotten fruit instead of bullets so I got punished for my jokes instead of killed for my bad attitude. That one faded and the second started. That's where things went bad.

In the second dream Shoestring was dead but for real this time. The Regent had crucified her for daring to be my daughter. Her wrists and ankles were nailed to a huge oak tree and her entrails had been torn out with a sickle in order to divine the future. He was shouting his upcoming victory to the sky as he painted himself with her blood. I tried to run up to him, to kill him, but I couldn't move. That's when I noticed the pain in my wrists and ankles.

"Welcome to my victory Colin," the Regent said sweetly. "It's so nice of you to join us. You can help us revel in my conquest. You can witness the dawn of a new era."

I spat in his face. "You haven't won shit. You may have me and Shoestring but the rest of my friends are still out there and they're coming for you."

"Really? You sound so sure of yourself. This is probably going to be a shock for you then."

He indicated the clearing behind him with a sweep of his arm. Easy, Crake, Sgt. Suzie, Gen. Warren, Leader, Marvin and Private Hucklebee were kneeling in the mud. Their hands and feet were bound and their mouths were gagged. They had been beaten badly. Even without seeing the guns pointed at their heads I knew what would happen next. I began to get scared.

"You've got this wrong," I muttered.

"Which part do I have wrong exactly?"

"Those aren't all my friends," I explained patiently. "As a matter of fact I hate half of those people with all my heart."

"And which ones would that be?" he hissed.

"Well, those four there are miserable fucking assholes," I tried indicating with my hand which was still nailed to the tree. "The world would certainly be better off without them."

"Hmm, seems we have a quandary here." He paused to consider. "I guess we'll still have to kill all of them though."

"Why don't you just kill me and let them go?" I hated hearing the whine creeping into my voice. If I hadn't already shit myself I soon would.

"You'll get your chance soon enough. But your friends will precede you."

With that statement gunshots rang out. The captives' heads all exploded in a burst of blood, brains and skull. I screamed for it not to be real. I pleaded for reality to return. I didn't know then that I was dreaming or I would have been less distraught.

"Bastard. You miserable bastard," I moaned.

"My parents were married when I was born so that term doesn't really apply. Still I get your point," he said, musing. "I guess we'll have to do another reading to see what to do from here on out."

"Reading?" I panted.

"Entrails of course," he said just before he swung the sickle blade toward my abdomen.

That's when I woke up screaming in the tent. It scared Shoestring awake and she screamed too. Both of us had our Whisperers in hand. Soldiers bristling with weapons soon filled the opening of our tent. They looked confused when all they saw was a scared old man and an even more terrified little girl pointing guns at them. Apparently they didn't consider us a threat worthy of their talents and they left muttering. I didn't bother trying to sleep again that night.

☺

I went looking for Marvin at dawn. Shoestring was still asleep so I left her to finish her slumber. I felt like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag but there was no way to fix that that. I had to press on with the day no matter what happened. I found my second-in-command standing near the command tent. He called me over to listen to whichever officer was debriefing the troops then. If this war could have been won with speeches we would have been an unstoppable juggernaut. As it was we were just men. Words would win us no battles.

When the meeting dispersed we found a quiet spot to talk. He looked like he had something on his mind and I wanted to know what it was.

"What's on your mind my friend?" I asked.

"Warren has issued orders for the Third Battalion."

"And...Are we washing cars or what?" I was a bit impatient due to the fact that I knew any news was bad news.

"We leave for Asheville tomorrow," he said excitedly.

"Shit."
Incarnadine

If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. I had been a good cop. I'd like to think I was a good man. All I had wanted was a pretty wife and a good pension. I didn't want to be mankind's savior. I just wanted to be a superhero for the new age. Well the old age actually, the one where justice and freedom still reigned supreme. Now I was sticking my head into the lion's mouth and I could hear his stomach rumbling. The last time I had felt this bad was when I'd picked up a good case of food poisoning from Wong's Seafood Buffet. Then, as now, there was only one thing to do. I had to push forward and get through the problem.

"The problem is there's no way to move the men safely," I was explaining to some faceless lieutenant for the third time. "Those scouts prove the Regent knows we're here. He's bound to be watching all the roads from here to Asheville."

"You're just making excuses sir. If he knew we were here he would have sent his own army to crush ours by now," the fresh faced officer retorted. "You'll be perfectly safe until you reach Clyde. The Regent has an outpost there and they post normal sentries as well as Hidden Eyes. At that point you'll have to be on your toes."

"You say we'll be safe until we reach Clyde but how do you know? Are you sure? It's our asses on the line here, not yours! Who the hell is this Clyde character anyway?!" I was fuming but I didn't care.

"Clyde isn't a person, it's a town in North Carolina that's directly on your way to Asheville," he explained in a frustrated tone. "Our intelligence shows..."

"Intelligence can be wrong! Or faked! Just look at the war in the Middle East at the turn of the century," I spouted as if history were my strongest subject, which it wasn't. "We were there for decades embroiled in a civil war that started because of bad information!"

"Whatever sir. You seem to feel that your butts are the only ones on the line here," he said, ruffled, "but I assure you that all our butts are out on this one. You're not the only battalion going in now. In fact you're not even the first."

"What? Damn it, now you've ruined a perfectly good argument with logic! You're as bad as a woman," I stated flatly. Looking down at Shoestring I hastily amended my statement. "A horrible, angry woman whose ex-husband is late paying alimony again. Not just any woman of course."

"Mr. President, I would suggest you do as you've been told. I've seen Gen. Warren hang men for less."

That settled it. We were leaving the next morning whether we liked it or not. At least Marvin was making all the preparations to leave. All I had to do was show up at the head of our caravan and pretend to lead. My enormous friend would do the rest. I nearly felt sorry for the Regency troops who would soon be facing him in battle. He was going to rip out their spleens and feed them to the vultures.

I tried to mix with the soldiers but word of my supposed cowardice had spread through the camp. Instead of happy anxiety, apprehension clouded the faces of my men. I knew I had to fix this shit fast or I would be dead before we got anywhere close to Asheville. A demoralized soldier going to war is more dangerous than a puff adder.

I found Marvin and told him to assemble the men before dinner. I planned to prove I was no yellow-bellied chicken and to rouse them into a froth. I wanted them to go into battle like rabid dogs not whipped puppies. I mentally prepared my speech by determining what my points were and repeating them until I knew I could remember them.

As the men gathered I began to get nervous. Public speaking had never been something I enjoyed. I hated formal speeches of any kind. Once I had won an award for bravery and stammered so badly in my acceptance speech that I was actually booed off the stage. My self-esteem was badly battered and my career as a motivational speaker was dashed to the rocks. I didn't mind at the time. I didn't know then that I was going to eventually be elected President against my will.

My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry. If my hands and saliva glands could cooperate all of my moisture could be sent to the proper places. As it was, I suffered. Things were made worse by the knotting that began in my intestines. I felt like I was going to spray diarrhea into my pants in about three seconds. If that happened I was likely to win an award for the all-time shittiest speech ever given by a reluctant world leader.

By the time Marvin signaled that all the men were there to hear the Confucius-like wisdom that I had to impart my vocal cords were engaged in mutiny. I pretended to be gathering my thoughts as I tried to unlock the rebellious flaps of cartilage. Eventually I knew I would just have to chance it and try to talk. If my voice cracked like a teenager's I would play it off as a sincere emotion rather than performance anxiety. They already thought I was a coward. I didn't want to reinforce that idea.

"Men, I've asked you here this evening to set a few things straight." So far, so good, my voice sounded calm and steady. "Some things I said earlier were misconstrued and taken out of context."

I paused to let the disbelieving mutters dispel themselves. It gave me a chance to decide where to hide my shaking hands. I ended up just grasping the podium in a white-knuckled death grip. When all was quiet again I continued.

"I've been branded a coward. There's no other way to say it. You and your brethren think I'm scared to fight." I was in fine form, a fact which surprised me mightily. "You think I'm afraid to face the Regency in the Final Battle. This couldn't be further from the truth. Yes, I expressed concerns. Yes, I fought to delay our departure. I nearly went so far as to contradict Gen. Warren himself!"

The assembled soldiers were listening intently. I wasn't sure how to proceed. Usually people were throwing peanuts at me at this point and demanding the strippers start their act. Since my intestines were settling I knew things were going my way for once.

"I was _not_ doing this for myself. I wasn't doing it for any personal gain or misplaced sense of self-preservation. I was doing it for you. I know you're distrustful of that; of me. I did argue the necessity of leaving so soon to face our implacable foe. But I did it because I was afraid for you. I did it because I do not want you, my loyal and brave men, to be meat for the grinder. I do not intend, and will not allow, the Third Battalion to be a human shield for the rest of this military!" I was getting revved up. It felt good. "No sir, we won't die just to waste the bullets of the Black Regency! We won't die unless we die heroes! I expect each and every one of you to kill enough of those black-hearted bastards to earn your place in Valhalla! We are not cowards! We are not afraid to die for our country or the freedom for which it stands! We're soldiers of the Republic of North America! If that doesn't mean everything to you then you'd better get up and leave now! If your heart isn't true, if your adherence to the cause isn't complete, you're a traitor and deserve a traitor's death! Are you cowards?!"

"SIR NO SIR!!!" the men answered in unison.

"Are we scared to spit in Death's eye for a chance to take the Black Regent down?!"

"SIR NO SIR!!!"

"Are we going to run from the Final Battle with our tails tucked between our legs?!"

"SIR NO SIR!!!"

"THEN LET'S GET OUT THERE AND KICK SOME ASS!!!" I shouted with such vehemence that spittle flew from my lips.

"SIR YES SIR!!!"

The wild cheering that poured over the stage energized me. I felt like we had already won. It was a perfect way to end a horrible, rotten, shit-ass, miserable day. I left orders with Marvin to be sure the men ate a solid breakfast before we left in the morning. It seemed like the only thing left to say.

☺

"You did real well there sir," Marvin congratulated me. "The men are ready to eat nails and shit bricks after that speech."

"Thanks Marvin. Even the Reverend Jimi Blue couldn't have topped that one!" I was floating on adrenaline.

"Who is Reverend Jimi Blue?" Shoestring asked.

"He was a hopped up televangelist when I was a kid," she still looked confused. "Never mind, it isn't important. Marvin, can I tell you something?"

"Yes sir, anything."

"Make that two things. One is an observation and the other is an order." He looked at me quizzically. "First, you have the best elocution I've ever come across. Listening to you speak is a delight. Second, quit calling me 'sir'. You're making me feel a hundred years old. Call me Chapel. That's an order soldier."

"Yes sir President Chapel sir," he said and giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Better but it still needs some work," I said and giggled right along with him.

"Miss Shoestring, you look tired. Maybe you should convince this sadistic father of yours to take you to bed now," Marvin suggested.

She looked up at me with a plaintive look. Exhaustion was etched on her tiny little face. As I looked into her big blue eyes I realized something. She was taller than she used to be. I didn't have to look quite as far down to look at her. Tears misted in my eyes as I realized my little girl was growing up. One worry I didn't have regarding her had to do with boys sniffing after her. She was a better gunslinger than I was and I knew she could take care of herself.

"Off to bed now Shoestring. We both need to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to start early and end late." I was yawning myself and even Marvin appeared to be fading.

By the time the sun rose we were in full motion. Dawn pinked over my battalion in waves of painful light. My eyes were grainy and crusty from lack of good sleep. Shoestring only fared better because she was asleep in Marvin's arms. As for my second-in-command, he looked ready to eat raw grizzly bears. I was still in awe at the sheer size of that man. He was HUGE!

The first day's march was uneventful enough to be boring. My scouts reported in, I gave orders and the Third Battalion marched on. Our plan was to stay in full formation until we spotted Regency troops or one of our scouts didn't report back which would most likely mean that they'd run afoul of Regency troops. Either way, at that point, we would spread out into the hills.

I didn't halt the column until well after dark. We had a lot of ground to cover and very little time. Gen. Warren wanted all of the battalions in place before he led the attack. There could be no screw-ups. Too many good men would die if a single mistake was made. We needed every man we had to win this battle.

Since we were still so far from Asheville I allowed the men to have small cook fires. This would probably be the last time we had a warm meal for a while so we took advantage of it. I had Shoestring hunt some game and soon enough we were feasting on deer and rabbit. All of the men seemed to be in good spirits. I wondered silently how many of them would survive the upcoming conflict.

The next few weeks were appallingly dull. We woke up before sunrise and walked until we were too weary to go any further. We made camp and slept for a few hours before doing it all again. I was going to order the men to rest for as long as possible as soon as we were in our assigned position. I needed fierce warriors, not exhausted kids.
Jejune

Marvin, Shoestring and I were all standing on top of a hill looking down at Clyde, North Carolina. It was one of those little burgs where the one traffic light started flashing yellow after dark and they rolled up the sidewalks at dusk. They probably didn't sell beer on Sundays. It was that kind of town, or at least had been before the Regency moved in. Now it was mostly empty.

"Did Warren issue any orders as to what we were to do when we reached Clyde?" I asked my second-in-command.

"No sir," he said and grinned slyly, "he just said that this is where we would probably first encounter the enemy in any sizable number. He didn't say whether we were supposed to sneak by or wipe them out. I guess he's leaving it up to you to decide."

"I say we crush them like tiny little bugs but let's vote since that's more fun," I decided. "Marvin?"

I made a fist with my right hand but left the thumb sticking out and held it sideways just like the Roman emperors did when determining the fate of a fallen gladiator. Marvin and Shoestring both followed suit. I pointed my thumb down indicating my desire to see the end of the enemy troops below.

"I agree," he said as he pointed his thumb down toward the ground too.

"Shoestring?" I prodded.

My lovely daughter took great joy in jabbing her thumb down. The vote was unanimous.

"Take no prisoners, take no shit," I declared ominously.

Marvin turned and left to issue orders. I stood there grimly surveying the target. Shoestring sidled over and took my hand in hers. I gave her tiny digits a reassuring squeeze and tried not to share my fears with her. I knew that if she started crying I would too. Together we returned to camp. Never had such a short walk been so draining.

When we arrived the men were preparing to fight. Marvin could easily be seen towering over everybody else and I made a beeline for him. I needed him to assemble the men one more time before we headed into battle. I had a few things to say before some of us died.

"I'll keep this short since I know you're all ready to go kill some Regency bastards," I started. "You men are the finest soldiers in the world. You've been training for years to do exactly what we're about to do. Usually making speeches makes me nervous as hell but with such fine folks as you to talk to that's changed. I'm a better man than I've ever been thanks to all of you but each one of you is still a better man than I."

I paused to collect my thoughts. I knew what I wanted to say but I wasn't exactly sure how to get my point across. The delighted smiles from the Third Battalion raised my spirits and I was able to continue.

"You've already proven your loyalty and your dedication by following me this far. Now it's time to finish the journey. At the bottom of this hill is an outpost of Black Regency troops. They stand directly in our path.

I had a difficult decision to make. I had to decide if we should sneak past them or if we should kill every single one of them. As I see it we have no choice but to engage them and to eradicate the threat they represent. If we leave them alone they'll be able to flank us and possibly prevent us from achieving victory. That's unacceptable. Instead of slinking past them like weasels we're going to go down there. We're going to put the fear of the righteous into them. We're going to kill them all with no mercy and no regrets. The Black Regent took our families, our lives and our freedom from us. It's time to take it all back.

Any order given to you by me or Marvin comes before any sense of self-preservation you currently carry. We'll be fighting alongside you but we'll also be watching the battle as a whole and we will be seeing things you won't see. Anybody who fails to obey instantly will be given over to General Warren to face punishment. I have faith that none of you will do anything that makes that necessary.

I have one warning for you before we get down to this dirty business. I need you to listen very closely now. If any one of you dies without killing _at least_ enough bad guys to carry your casket I will personally raise your asses from the dead and kill you again. We have enough bullets with us to kill a hundred thousand people a hundred times over so don't worry about wasting ammunition. Shoot, reload, shoot. As long as the target isn't one of our allies pull the trigger until your clips are empty. Let's get down there and mow these motherfuckers down."

Nobody cheered but everybody returned immediately to their preparations. I walked through camp surveying the activity. I praised every man I passed for something no matter how small it may have seemed. I didn't care if they loved me but I did need to have them respect me. It also gave me a chance to show Shoestring the reality of all-out war. I didn't want her to freeze up at the moment of truth.

Strategy had never been a strong subject for me (tact either for that matter) so I just had the men fan out and hit the outpost from all sides. We found their sentries easily and dispatched them as quietly as possible. Every member of my battalion carried a personal fire-extinguisher to use to detect Hidden Eyes. Whenever they had an opening they would spray foam into the air in all directions in the hopes that some of it would stick to an invisible enemy. This tactic had been outrageously successful in previous skirmishes so we were going to continue to use it.

I had briefly considered having the men charge into battle with a huge war-cry. After a short conversation with Marvin I decided against it. The element of surprise might be more valuable than any attempt to instill fear in a fearless enemy.

I was almost surprised when Sgt. Blake trotted up to me with news of our victory. We had very few casualties and even fewer injuries. Even though there had been dozens of Eyes and hundreds of regular enemy soldiers we had come through mostly unscathed. I gave Blake orders to send the men into every building and ferret out any concealed combatants. Nobody who opposed us was to be left alive. This was a war without quarter. By nightfall it was done. We re-supplied ourselves from the Regent's own stockpiles. Anything we could do to hurt this most deadly of foes was something to be proud of.

I didn't quite dare to set up camp in the midst of enemy territory so we marched a few miles out of town before we tended to our wounded and buried our dead. Not a single member of my battalion was left behind to be food for crows. I gave them all a burial that befit their status as fallen heroes. Shoestring wasn't the only one crying as the bodies were lowered into the ground. I felt the weight of their deaths fall onto my shoulders.

☺

We posted double sentries every night after that. We were behind enemy lines and every precaution was to be taken. I didn't want to lose any more men before the Final Battle. The Third Battalion was still in mourning for those we had already lost. Even though we had picked up a few of our own who had joined the Regency as spies our numbers were still fewer than they had been.

Vengeance could be a great motivator but it could also cloud judgment. I knew I would have to give another speech to boost morale and to prevent the men from making stupid mistakes. Marvin felt the same way I did about the subject so we shared some ideas on how to address it before it became a problem.

At breakfast I made a brief speech. I told the men not to forget our fallen brothers but also to remember that we only do them honor by not getting ourselves killed needlessly. Marvin shared some ways to temper that vengeful anger into useful energy. The men all looked thoughtful and nodded knowingly. I felt like another possible disaster had been averted. I also felt like some jackass, baby-kissing politician who only made speeches to hear his own voice. It seemed all I did lately was talk.

After we broke camp we started the final leg of our journey to Asheville and the Regent's headquarters. We had a full day's travel ahead of us with the prospect of a hugely important battle only days later. We were all tense yet full of giddy anticipation for what was to come. Win or lose it was nearly time to give everything we had for the betterment of all.

By the time we made camp at the outskirts of Asheville we were road-weary and foot-sore. Due to the proximity of the Regent's stronghold I put the entire battalion including myself on rotating six hour shifts for sentry duty. Fully fifty percent of us took the first watch and the other fifty percent took their places after that. This meant sleeping until lunchtime for many of us but I had already given orders for the men to take it easy until we heard from Gen. Warren.

Just as I was trying to decide whether or not to put Shoestring to bed a familiar voice called out from behind me. Little Colin responded alarmingly quickly so I hoped I wasn't hallucinating. A visit from Sgt. Suzie was just what I needed right now.

"Hey there Tiger," she purred. "How's things?"

"Things just got much better," I said through an idiotic grin. "I was just about to put Shoestring to bed. Would you care to join me?"

"Joining is exactly what I had in mind," she whispered seductively into my ear.

☺

By the time it was my turn to take watch I was worn out from my exertions with Sgt. Suzie. It was a good kind of tired though so I went to my duties with a smile. My red-headed beauty had gone to great lengths to show me how much she had missed me. I had done my best to reciprocate the feeling since it was very mutual. If she missed me that much every night I'd be too tired to charge into battle.

Warren arrived the next day with the remaining battalions in tow. Now the entire army was camped in a huge circle around the city. He expressed satisfaction when I reported our destruction of the Clyde outpost and even complimented my decision publicly. I puffed out my chest with pride but deflected all of the praise toward the men of my battalion. They deserved the credit more than I did anyway. All I had done was pretend to know what I was doing. They had actually done it and done it right. As men from other sections of the army clapped and slapped my men on the back I knew that any budding morale problems had just been taken care of.

We had two days to make any last preparations for the Final Battle. Guns were cleaned and polished, knives were sharpened, tales of bravery were swapped and goals of life after the Regency was destroyed were shared. It was wonderful to see everybody feeling so chipper. I had a few things I wanted to do between now and then. Suzie was only one of them.

There was a tiny rivulet near our camp so I took the time to wash my crimson trench-coat and boots until they actually regained their original color. I also did my best to clean the Armor-Skin's smooth surface. I had become a symbol to the men of the Republic of North America and I was going to play the part to the hilt. I wanted to shine when I led my men, and Shoestring, into battle.

As I had hoped, Sgt. Suzie met me in my tent that night. She had sneaked into camp so as not to arouse any envy from my men since most of them would be going without sex until we returned to base camp. Very few women had enlisted in Gen. Warren's army.

"Is there any news of Easy or Crake?" I asked her after the third time while looking over at Shoestring to make sure we hadn't woken her up.

"Yes, actually. Easy's leading the First Battalion and Crake the Fourth," she said sounding like one of those boring sergeants from all of the stupid pre-planning briefings. "Crake's directly across the city from you and Easy's men are off to your left. They've taken to calling you the 'Fifty-Turd President."

"It fucking figures. First they elect me President of Jack Shit then they pick on me for it," I fumed. "With friends like that who needs enemies? Which battalion are you leading?"

"I'm in charge of the Second, Warren the Sixth and Seventh."

"That leaves a missing Fifth. Who has that one?"

"The leader of the Freed Men."

"Great. Where is that bunch of yahoos located?"

"Directly to your right," she said apologetically.

"It fucking figures."
Kill-zone

Gen. Warren spent those last two days circulating amongst the battalions giving orders and explaining tactics. Since our plan was about as simple as it could get this didn't take long. The purpose of him making his rounds was more to unify the army than anything. He needed all of his soldiers fighting as one force and not like a band of howling ruffians. Only through solidarity could we hope to succeed.

He encouraged the troops to ask questions, to voice concerns. Time after time he was asked how we were going to win against the Regency. These poor, tired, bedraggled warriors had lived for so long underneath the oppressive weight of the Black Regent's reign that the possibility of overcoming the tyrant seemed distant. He assured them that we had everything we needed to win. We had the men and the firepower. We also had the element of surprise. He oozed the confidence that it was enough.

Crake, Easy, Col. Suzie (Warren had promoted her); Leader and I all followed him as he made his rounds. He said he wanted the support of all his battalion commanders to show the men that we were all in this together. I tried to radiate victorious thoughts to everyone present. If the common soldiers didn't think we could win their negativity would doom us all.

Finally somebody voiced the question that had been burning in my brain since I had arrived in Asheville. "How do we tell our own men on the inside from the real enemy?"

The young sergeant seemed afraid to ask but Warren thanked him for raising such an important topic. This put the soldier at ease and gave the general a chance to share a vital piece of information in front of all of his commanders as well as the rest of the army.

"That's simple Sgt. Emery," he addressed his underling as if he had known him since childhood. "If they're shooting at us they're Regency. If they're standing with us they're friends."

Some of the men laughed at that but all of them took it to heart. Most of them had already fought alongside Gen. Warren in other battles so they knew that in the heat of a fight it was often hard to discern friends from foes. Being hit by friendly fire was an unfortunate by-product of the ugliness of war. Nobody wanted to kill a friend but it happened and there was nothing to be done about it.

When we completed the rounds he dismissed us. We needed to return to our own battalions to make all of the final preparations for the battle. Whatever wasn't done by dawn the next day was never going to get done. Supplies had to be distributed, ammo needed to be readily available and there was still the matter of keeping the sentries alert for one more night. We hoped to be sleeping under the blanket of freedom by this time the next night. Either that or we would all be dead.

"Chapel, will you walk with me for a second?" Warren asked as I turned toward my encampment.

"Sure thing boss," I replied through gritted teeth.

I strode over to where he was waiting for me. None of our talks had ever been pleasant and I was dreading yet another locking of horns. I knew he had a lot on his mind but I didn't like being told what to do. I had survived for this long by ignoring others. Still, if there was a chance of finally toppling the Black Regent for good I was willing to knuckle under another man's discipline for a little longer. Warren was a good man despite his rough exterior.

"I have a few questions for you if you don't mind," he began as we walked.

"No, go ahead. You're the boss."

"Fuck that noise. You're the President and I'm just a man," he returned humbly. "I'm tired, hungry and scared just like everybody else. If it weren't for the men I'd probably have fled into the woods screaming mad by now."

"I doubt that. You want this Final Battle as much as the rest of us do," I observed. "One more day, one more fight and this whole thing will be decided. Either we'll be the Republic again or we'll be worm food. Either way it'll be closure."

"That leads up to one of my questions," he said hesitantly. "How do you feel about being elected President? I know you only heard about our decision after it was made. Are you willing to accept the post if we actually do overcome the odds and win tomorrow?"

"I'm willing to wear a pink dress and high heels with a licorice stick as a weapon if that will win this thing," I said sincerely. "If you all think I'm the right man for the job then I will gladly serve. I don't like it but I'll do it."

"Thanks Chapel, that makes me feel much better. You're a hero to all of us whether you know it or not. Your conquests against the Regency are legendary," he said unaware that all of this praise was making me uncomfortable. "When you killed the first Regent we thought this shit was all over. We thought you had single-handedly won the war. The fact that you dared to take her clothes, her badge of office, and wear them openly was quite a masterful stroke. Men and women flooded in to join my army after that. It was like they knew we would all be able to be human again. It was wonderful to see you spit in the Regent's eye like that."

"It was nothing," I said trying to hide my embarrassment. "Rachelle was a traitor and a truly evil bitch. I did what I had to do to survive. How did you know she was the Regent? I didn't even know until right before I killed her."

"We've had men on the inside almost from the beginning. President Crakehall and I watched her meteoric rise from Old Chicago crime lord. We knew this was coming so we made plans," he paused to look up at the stars. "It's so beautiful up here in the hills. It's terrible to think that by tomorrow night the ground will be slick with blood. All because of some greedy, power hungry Narc Squad cop. Not you, her I mean. We saw it coming and we did what we could. It wasn't enough."

"I don't know if anything would have been enough. She was deadly smart and ambitious," and sexy as hell which didn't figure into this. "One thing that I've always wanted to know is where she got all the fucking clones from. That must have been a major operation to produce so many so fast."

"That was our fault," he said as if he was admitting to capital murder. "We trusted her."

"Come again?" I was getting real tired of catching curveballs.

"Shit, Chapel. Without the government's help she could never have done any of this," he said and waved his arm to encompass the valley below. "She conned us into thinking she wanted to improve the army. None of them are actually clones though. They're normal soldiers who've been subjected to hormone and steroid enhancements. We started that clone rumor so that our soldiers wouldn't feel like they were killing their own comrades."

"Okay, that explains some of it. What's the rest of this lurid tale?"

"There's really not much else to tell. She convinced us to give her the resources she asked for in return for results. She trained the first recruits herself and they in turn trained the rest. She instilled a deep loyalty to the Republic and to the President in every one of them. I personally observed her methods for weeks and she had those men willing to eat dog vomit if they thought it would preserve the freedom and sanctity of our country."

"So what went wrong?" I had to know everything. My curiosity was burning.

"After we stopped watching her so closely she modified the training program," he sighed deeply before continuing. "She skewed things ever so slightly until these perfect warriors all believed she embodied the Republic. She elected herself President."

"That's what I thought you were going to say," I spat. "God damn it all! How could you be so stupid? Don't you watch TV? That's always how this shit starts! Fuck man, you fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book!"

"We know," he said almost too quietly to hear.

"You know?! You don't know shit! All of this is YOUR FAULT! My family, my friends, the entire fucking country is dead because of you! How the hell do you ever expect to be able to atone for a sin that huge? Not even your death would be justice enough!"

"Don't you think I realize that?! Do you really believe I don't know where the blame falls?" he sobbed. "It's all our fault! The President and I fucked up and we've all had to pay for the mistake! Our beloved Republic has fallen and our people have been tortured and murdered for years! There's no way you could possible hate me as much as I hate myself!"

"I don't think hate quite covers what I feel right now, Colonel Warren. Revulsion might be closer. I can't believe this shit," I shook my head disbelievingly. "How do you expect me to follow you into battle knowing what I know now?"

"I don't, I expect you to _lead_ us into this battle. I expect you to lead us into the future," he said sadly. "Crakehall and I both believe that we're unfit to lead. When this battle is over we'll both be stepping down from our positions and turning our command over to you and your appointed Cabinet. We fucked it up. That's why we want you to be President. We know you're the right man for the job."

"I'll lead the battle. I'll run the country for as long as the citizens will allow me to," I said through clenched teeth. "But I'll never forgive you for what you've done. If you survive this battle I'll expect you to report to me directly. Both of you. You're going to start paying for this mistake by serving in my Cabinet. You're going to atone for the past by helping me to create the future."

"What?! How can you possibly expect us to...to...to serve when we've failed so miserably?" he wailed.

"That's precisely why I want you to serve. I doubt you'll make the same mistake twice."

☺

I walked back through the picket lines deep in thought. This new information was a burden I wasn't sure I would be able to bear. The weight of the entire Republic had just settled onto my unworthy shoulders.

It was lucky for us the Regent didn't know his men from ours. Though many of the Regency sentries we came across were our men there were still many who weren't. After quietly dispatching those who belonged to the enemy we had our men don their clothes and report back to the enemy commanders. This kept our army's position a secret. Without that element of surprise we would never be able to win. We were at the gates of the Black Regent's stronghold but he still had more manpower distributed throughout the habitable parts of our country. He could call on hundreds of thousands of additional troops in short order. We wanted to cut off the snake's head so we could hack up its body at our leisure.

It was near midnight before I returned to camp. I took a careful walk through the trees to clear my head. I needed to alleviate some of my conflicted feelings. My thoughts were awhirl and I knew that I would never sleep until I calmed my feverish brain a little.

I spotted the tent I shared with Shoestring and headed toward it. I was exhausted. Col. Suzie would have to do without my company this night. I needed sleep. When I awoke I would be the leader of the free world. The last thing I remember before I dozed off was feeling a tear slide down my cheek.

I dreamed again. This time was even worse than the last. I watched as our soldiers fell before the Regency like wheat before the thresher. The Republic's army was slaughtered by the overwhelming might of the Black Regent. Wave after wave of good men fell. I knew that those who survived the battle would be tortured until they died in excruciating pain. Crake and Gen. Warren fought valiantly to keep the pieces of the army together but things were out of their control. I saw Easy bleeding in the grass of an abandoned park and the Freed Men were all being burned at the stake. It took me a few minutes to locate Suzie and Shoestring. When I did I sincerely wished I hadn't. They were being brutalized and raped by a steady flow of enemy soldiers. I ran to help them, to stop the horrors that were being enacted upon them. I screamed at the men to stop what they were doing. I shot those that didn't immediately move out of my way. I would have shot them all but I wanted to have enough bullets left to fight my way back out of the mob.

When they saw me approaching the men parted. They all came to attention and saluted me smartly. The brutes who had been too busy with their ministrations to notice me both stepped gingerly aside when I shouted at them again.

"I'm sorry sir," one of them said to me. "We should have let you go first."

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" I demanded.

"We throw ourselves on your mercy, sir. Next time you'll be notified when we have captured women to enjoy."

As he kneeled to grovel at my feet I realized why he had been so deferential to me. Judging by the clothes I was wearing, I was the Black Regent.

When I woke up I vowed never to sleep again.
Launch Menu

As I lay awake listening to the night I heard footsteps stealthily approaching. Silently I slid out of the tent and into the night. It was pitch black. I knew there was cloud cover since the stars this high up usually shone brilliantly. When my eyes adjusted I saw a man-sized shape leaning over my tent. I drew my Whisperer and placed it against the back of the intruder's head.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing sneaking up on an old man and a young girl?" I whispered to the crouching form.

"President Chapel? Don't shoot, it's me, Private Hucklebee," he drawled with his Texas twang. "General Warren's called a meeting. He wants all you leader types to attend."

"Shit," I hissed. I wondered what was wrong now. "Take me to him."

"Yes sir," the private hastily agreed.

He led me back to Warren's main camp. There was a small fire burning. I was glad to note it was shielded from sight of Asheville proper. It would be real bad to ruin our little surprise so close to zero hour. I was the last battalion commander to arrive but nobody seemed to mind. Instead they waited tense and expectant to hear the reason for this last minute pow-wow.

I warmed my hands up by the fire even though it wasn't cold enough outside to warrant it. Rather it was a way to display my annoyance without being overtly rude. Things were a little too crazy already without me opening my big mouth and fucking it up even further.

"Thanks for coming everybody," Warren began quietly. "I hate to do this when we're so close to fulfilling all of our grandest plans but I think we have a problem."

"And what might that be?" I asked in my most even tone.

Others nodded; indicating that I had only barely beat them to the punchline. Easy looked much better I observed, no longer looking like death warmed over. Suzie looked amazing and I wanted nothing more than to take her into my arms one more time before we charged to the rescue of mankind. Knowing now wasn't the time I looked away from her blazing beauty. Sullenly I returned the nod the leader of the Freed Men sent my way. I still hated that cocksucker.

"Something's up. There's an increase of activity at the Biltmore Estate which, as you should all know, is the Regent's current headquarters," he said. "We may have to delay the attack."

"No way, pal," Easy argued. "There's no way we're puttin' off this war another day longer. Too many've died already ta go wastin' time. We fight today or not a' tall."

The others all murmured their agreement. Crake looked angry at the suggestion that we postpone. I wondered if he planned to die heroically in the impending engagement. He seemed like that kind of man. Of course, if I had been the one to cause this shit in the first place I'd want to die too. It's better to be a dead hero than a live dumbass.

"I knew you would say that but we need to find out what's going on down there," he said. "We can't throw ourselves at the Regency without every bit of information we can gather. Too much is at stake."

"We all know what's at stake General," Crake snarled. "But if we don't do this now we'll have lost years of planning. More than that, we'll have lost our confidence. What will the men think if we turn back now? That we're a bunch of puffed-up cowards, that's what! I've got enough to regret without adding to it."

"General Warren, if I may," I said in an attempt to placate the other leaders. "I understand your concern. If there was more time or less to lose I would agree with your assessment of the situation. Unfortunately we're in desperate times and we have to act appropriately. Easy and Crake are right. Either we fight now or not at all. Now is the time. Let's set things right."

Gen. Warren scanned our faces in the feeble light of the tiny fire. "Do you all feel this way?"

Everybody nodded. "Yes sir, we do," Leader said softly but firmly. "It's time to bring the wrath of the Lord and his Chosen upon the Black Regent and his demonic ways. We shall smite them with the hand of fury and we will not fail."

"Amen," Easy said automatically.

"All right. We attack at first light then." Warren looked ancient in the firelight.

☺

Without the stars it was difficult to tell when the sun actually rose. Just in case, I roused my men as soon as I reached my section of the camp. Marvin helped organize a quick breakfast so that no man went into battle hungry. I tried not to think of it as a last meal but I knew that's exactly what it would be for many of them. The pall of death haunted us all.

I woke Shoestring up and helped her prepare herself for the fight. Together we loaded our guns and sharpened our knives. It was an eerie sensation knowing I may be leading us all to our doom. I felt awful.

"I have something for you my lovely daughter," I chimed and pulled a set of tiny khakis out of my pack. "There's plenty of pockets for ammo but they won't slow you down. They even come with matching boots!"

She smiled and took the proffered gifts from me. I had to help her tie the combat boots but she managed the rest on her own. I put extra clips in every pocket and loaded our packs with as many bullets as we could carry. Our load would lighten up real fast as the day progressed so I knew the burden wouldn't be too much. Before we left our tent she carefully tucked the pink teddy bear and that hideous lime green monkey into her sleeping bag.

With Shoestring on my right and Marvin on my left we waited for any noticeable lightening in the sky. I had never decided what kind of signal to give so all the men waited for me to move. Behind us the men of the Third Battalion stood ready to follow us into war. You probably couldn't have cut the tense expectation with a laser saw. As black turned to charcoal we descended upon the valley.

☺

No order had been given; no battle horn had been sounded. When the moment came we went forth bravely. The battalions all approached the lair of evil in neat ordered rows. We were still too far out to actually see our objective but we all knew that if we just kept marching in a straight line we'd find it. Short bursts of gunfire rang out as enemy sentries were dispatched. Our descent into madness had begun.

We encountered little resistance at first. We were miles away from the main concentration of our enemy and the new Regent liked his men close where they could protect him. He was a coward and a bully which made him even more dangerous. The men of the Army of the Republic of North America took great pride in killing his toadies. I was already hearing the words 'confirmed kill' coming down the lines. We quickened our pace as the lure of trophies drew the soldiers on. When this was all over anything that wasn't nailed down was going to be a memento for some battle-scarred veteran.

As the day grew brighter the fighting became more constant until not a second passed without hearing rifle chatter from one direction or another. So far everything was going according to plan. I cast my cynical gaze far and wide to see what might be lurking to fuck it all up.

Thirty minutes into the fray it started to rain. It was a light, steady drizzle. I knew the mud that would soon follow would slow us down but Mother Nature had given us a huge advantage with the precipitation. Rain meant the Hidden Eyes wouldn't be hidden so well after all.

I worked my way to the back of my men while urging them forward. I needed to be able to see everything that was going on. Marvin and Shoestring stuck by my side. My hulking lieutenant shouted encouragement and orders in the same breath. Things were going our way so far. I did my best to keep it that way.

"Pops, when do we get to kill somebody?" Shoestring asked innocently.

"Soon enough," I answered distantly. "Soon enough."

I was trying to determine how best to shore up our weak left side when men from our neighboring battalion showed up and took care of it. I was too busy trying not to get good men killed to remember which of our allies was responsible for our flanks. It wouldn't matter anyway. When this was over we would all be free.

"Mr. President, we've got a prisoner," Marvin informed me.

"What? Have him brought to me instantly!"

"Yes sir."

I put Marvin in charge of watching our lines while I turned my attention to the brute my men brought before me. He looked like any of the other Regency soldiers I'd killed over the years. He was bulging with muscles and his red hair was cropped close to his skull. I had to resist the urge to shoot him as soon as I saw him. I wanted some information first.

"Stand up maggot," I ordered the wounded enemy combatant.

"Fuck you," he gurgled through a mouthful of broken teeth.

"You don't look so good my friend. Did some of my men rough you up a bit?" I wasn't even trying to sound sympathetic.

"No, I walked into a door," he mumbled sullenly.

"That's too bad. You should watch where you're going," I said after I pistol-whipped him and broke his jaw. "That's probably going to hurt in the morning."

Realizing I had taken away any ability to talk that he had previously possessed I shot him in the eye. He was no good as a source of information so there was no use keeping him alive. It was a waste of Republic resources to maintain prisoners of this sort. We left his body where it fell.

"Pops..." Shoestring started.

"What?" If things continued to go this smoothly our victory was assured. It was hard to shift my focus from my men back to my daughter.

"Well...wasn't that...well, kind of mean?"

"What, killing that soldier? It was either him or us," I explained patiently.

"No, Pops, I meant hitting him like that. He wasn't armed or nothin' and you hurt him real bad. It seems kind of wrong."

"You're right, it does. But violence is the only language the Regency speaks. If we try to be nice we'll just get ourselves killed."

"Okay, I guess I understand." Her ponderous silence told me she didn't understand at all.

I made a mental note to bring the subject up again when this was all over. Right now I had a war to win and a country to restore. Hastily I shifted my gaze back to the fight.

By now we were having to watch our steps so we didn't trip over corpses. Most were Regency but our own were present as well. I tried not to cry when I recognized faces. Mourning the fallen would have to wait.

"Marvin!" I shouted over the din of battle.

He materialized at my side like a phantom. He was bloody but not obviously wounded.

"Where have you been?" I asked him.

"Tending to the wounded sir," he explained.

"Okay, makes sense. I need to know how the other battalions are faring. How are we communicating with the other commanders?"

"With runners sir."

"Is that like an athletic shoe?"

"No sir, it's a soldier who runs from one place to another with orders and information."

"Don't I feel stupid," I said and slapped my forehead in the age-old symbol of ignorance. "Send some runners to the other battalions and have them report back to me as soon as they return. I feel a little cut off way over here all by myself."

He trotted off to do what I had ordered him to do. I felt Shoestring grab my leg and hold on tightly. She couldn't be tired already which meant something was wrong and she had seen it before I had.

"What's up Shoestring? What do you see?"

"A gun on a big black car," she said and pointed in the direction of the offending vehicle.

My heart fell when I saw the antique Sherman tank headed toward my men. We weren't prepared for this kind of firepower. The Republic's army wasn't carrying anything heavier than a Clint Big-Boomer. This was going to be trouble. Even as old as that thing had to be it represented might we couldn't hope to match. A dozen brave men died the first time it fired a shell. That thing had to be stopped.

My mind worked furiously to find a solution to the massive piece of artillery that was steadily mowing down my men. When I spied a vibro-grenade on a fallen soldier I got an idea. Gingerly I appropriated the grenade and turned to my daughter. My stomach lurched as I formulated my plan.

"Shoestring, can I ask an enormous favor of you?" I asked pleadingly.

"Sure, Pops! Can I kill somebody now?" she answered cheerily.

"Yes, honey, you get to kill somebody now."

Her brow furrowed as I explained my plan to her. Instead of the fear I expected to see on her tiny visage I saw excitement. As crazy as my idea was she thought it would work. And of course she would get to splatter some bad guys.

As the tank rolled to a stop so it could fire, Shoestring walked up to its side. She was so small they probably wouldn't notice her standing there and even if they did they wouldn't realize the danger they were in. She plugged her ears as another shell went off and then climbed up the treads like a little monkey. She pulled the grenade's pin as soon as she was safely balanced. After counting slowly to three she pushed that narrow explosive through the driver's slit and dove off the side into the mud. She rolled as she hit the ground and sprinted back toward where I was standing tensely watching her progress. I whooped with joy as the turret disintegrated into fragments of hot steel. Some of my men had also been watching the procedure. They shook their fists at the sky and started chanting 'Shoestring' over and over until the sound filled the air. In the midst of the rain and the guts and the blood, the men of the Third Battalion were rejoicing.

☺

The first of the runners returned just as I was trying to clean some dead asshole's intestines off of my boot. With so many corpses lying around it was getting difficult to walk ten feet without tripping. There was going to be one hell of a mess to clean up later. Cleaning up dead bodies would be somebody else's job, I decided. I'd be too busy pleasuring Suzie to worry about such details.

"Sir, news from the other battalions," the messenger declared.

"Go on, I'm listening," I said as I stomped my soiled footwear on the grass.

"Yes sir. Everything is going according to plan."

"It is? I mean, it is! You're dismissed soldier. Go kill some more bad guys."

"Sir, yes sir!" he said and trotted off to follow my orders.

I climbed a small hill to survey the terrain ahead. The Regency had erected barriers about two hundred yards in front of us to slow our advance. They had men stationed there with large caliber machine guns, waiting for us to get closer. I knew I'd have to do something about that before long. At the same time I was worrying about something else that I knew would be even more important. I knew the Regent had command of fighter planes and such but all he had thrown at us so far were some ancient tanks. It didn't make sense. It was obvious he knew something we didn't.

"Marvin!" I called to my lieutenant.

"Yes sir," he answered from behind me.

"How the hell does somebody your size move so quietly?" I waved him off as he tried to answer. "Doesn't matter. Have the men bring the Clints forward. There are some barricades ahead and we need to move them out of the way."

"Consider them moved," he said and whistled to attract the attention of a couple of our boys.

I looked down to check on Shoestring. I kept forgetting about her in the heat of battle. She was smiling and plugging enemies as often as she could get clear shots. One after another she took down Regency scumbags. Her deadly precision gave me shivers.

Off to our left a gaping hole appeared in our line as several of my men were picked off at the same time. I tapped Shoestring on the shoulder so she would know to follow me as I shored up our line. A gap that size could easily transform into a major catastrophe. This gave me a chance to show the men that I was here to do my part as well as allowing me to vent some frustrations on the enemy. It felt good to splatter their brains onto their companions in a spray of gray matter and gristle.

The men to either side of us smiled grimly as they helped us pull things back together. With their help we soon had the breach completely repaired. We pressed onward into the fray.

I watched as the soldiers with the Clint Big-Boomers jogged ahead of us and knelt for better stability. We were now close enough to the makeshift barriers for the 'Boomers to be effective.

"Fire!" I ordered.

They did. It was a fabulous sight. The high tech rockets flew in flawless trajectories and shredded the enemy barricades. The only trick now would be to keep them from rebuilding them before we had men through the gaps we had just created.

"Double time it boys! As you live and breathe you'd better haul ass!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I gave them an example to follow.

The big machine guns chattered and too many of my men fell beneath the onslaught. As I stopped to reload I felt one of those gigantic bullets graze my arm. I tried to ignore the pain but even a superficial bullet wound is extremely painful. Shoestring covered me while I recovered. I pulled myself away from the injury in a matter of seconds because I didn't have any other choice. Longer than that would probably get me killed.

"Marvin, take out those machine gun nests!" I called, furious.

I heard a distant 'yes sir' just before I heard the unmistakable sound of grenades going off. Those members of the Regency who had so recently been raking us with machine gun fire were meat salads in record time. Marvin was a soldier to be respected. And feared. He was a bad motherfucker and I was glad he was on my side. I wondered how many 'confirmed kills' he had racked up so far.

As my battalion poured through the break in the enemy line I turned my eyes to the sky searching for any sign of the absent air support. I was too cynical to believe the Black Regent had forgotten about his superiority of the skies. For him to have achieved his lofty position he had to be a crafty bastard. Something was going to go wrong for us if I couldn't figure this puzzle out. We had to be prepared for air strikes or we had no chance of winning the day.

I had Marvin send runners to share my concerns with the other commanders. Maybe one of them had an idea as to what we could do if (when) enemy planes started to drop bombs on our poor little heads. Knowledge was a weapon we had plenty of but anti-aircraft missiles were weapons we had a complete lack of. It was not a shortfall I wanted to be considering in the middle of a war.

I had my men shift the barricades until they protected us instead of our foe. I left soldiers to man the remaining machine guns; those we hadn't destroyed with volleys of grenades. It felt good to know our asses were covered in case we needed to make a hasty retreat.

We were gaining ground steadily. As the enemy forces threw themselves at us, as things got tougher, we fought harder and grew more determined. Most of the men in our army were veterans before this campaign and wouldn't be put off by the sights and sounds of a pitched battle. The siege of the Regent's headquarters was something they had been looking forward to for years. I probably wasn't the only one who had dreamed about it either, though I hoped their dreams had been better than mine.

"Watch out Pops!" Shoestring warned as an enemy combatant appeared on my left.

She couldn't shoot him without shooting through me. I was caught off guard so I had to squeeze off a shot without taking time to aim. My bullet caught him in the thigh. His bullet caught Shoestring in the arm. She screamed as she fell.

Immediately I holstered my gun and dropped to her side. Her sobs tore my heart out. I did my best to detach my emotions from the situation as I examined the wound. The bullet had taken a chunk out of her left bicep. As I was searching my pockets madly for a bandage one of my men handed me a roll of self-stick gauze and some antiseptic spray. I thanked him and bent back to my task.

"This is going to sting a little," I told my injured daughter as I sprayed her arm with the contents of the aerosol can.

I tried to ignore the names she called me, 'liar' being the only one with four letters that was fit for polite company. By the time her litany of profanity ended I had her upper arm totally wrapped in a bandage. I helped her to stand up and brushed some of the mud off of her uniform.

"Can you still fight?" I asked, worried.

"You just try to stop me," she replied through gritted teeth.

"That's my girl!"

We waded back into the fight. Our line had stopped advancing but my men were holding their ground. I had the men with the Clints brought forward to unleash a little death into the gathered enemy troops. As we began to inch our way forward again I heard the sound I had been expectantly dreading. The Regent's air force had arrived.
Maraudable

I could feel a headache building. All the noise and stress of the battlefield was getting to me. The sight of those two planes overhead had shaken me. They were too high to offer much of a threat but they were sure to descend soon. They were also bound to bring friends when they did.

None of my men seemed to notice the fighter jets or to realize the danger they represented. I tried to keep my eyes on the ground so as not to alert them to the situation. So far we were still outside the gates of the Biltmore Estate and it was time to change that. We had to crack this nut quick or all would be lost. We needed to put up or shut up.

With Marvin's help we slowed our advance long enough to tighten up our lines. Things were getting ragged and rough out there. Once all of my boys were in formation, we surged ahead toward the enemy. I had the men with the Clints stay behind the main line to preserve ammo. We would need them to open the gates for us. The rest of us killed as many bad guys as presented themselves. Guns were fired and grenades were thrown. It was a very brutal assault. I hoped the other battalions were using similar tactics so the army didn't lose its cohesion.

Runners came in from the other commanders telling me what I already knew. They had all seen the planes fly overhead. Most of them had shifted tactics the way I had but from the tones of the messages I knew they were worried. I was glad to hear that. They needed to be worried.

The rain was still falling which is the only reason I remembered to be on the lookout for Hidden Eyes; that and the fact that my men reported seeing them. I knew this meant we were getting close. In order to allow my men to focus on the visible enemy I gathered a small group of my sharpest soldiers and gave them specialized instructions. Me, Marvin, Shoestring and a couple of others were going to eliminate the Regency's ghosts before they could cause any trouble.

One thing that mankind had really perfected was the sniper rifle. They made them lighter and easier to use while also improving their range. The old .308's were nice but the newer models had twice the range and laser accuracy. That's because the Kingmakers were laser guns. They were only good for a few shots due to the heat but the point of sniping was to eliminate the intended victim with one shot or not at all. Our supplies included a dozen or so Kingmaker rifles and I distributed them among the five of us that would be shooting them. Shoestring was too small to handle one so she was going to play spotter for the rest of us. Her eyes were sharp and I knew the Hidden Eyes would have a difficult time sneaking past her.

The battle progressed. Regency soldiers threw themselves at us mercilessly and we mowed them down. My sniper corps was kept busy removing as many Hidden Eyes from our path as possible. The few phantoms that got past one of us were soon spotted by somebody else and taken out. An entire squadron of planes flew by, slightly lower than the first ones had. I knew this was meant to be a message. The Black Regent wanted to scare us into giving up. It was way too late for that now. We were committed to our cause and nothing would turn us back now. I was just beginning to get less worried when another messenger sprinted up with news.

"President Chapel, news from General Warren," he panted.

"Catch your breath and then tell me," I said without turning to face him. I could see a couple of Eyes headed my way.

"Sir, Gen. Warren says his lines are crumbling. There's been a big breakout of Regency troops. He doesn't know where they came from but he's in trouble."

"How bad is it?" I said as I shot one of the ghosts through the faceplate.

"Real bad sir," he sobbed.

I shook my head sadly. Shoestring took the rifle from me when I handed it to her and held it gingerly. The concern on her face was worse than the despair in my heart. I placed my hand on the runner's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Don't worry about a thing son," I said gently. "I'm headed that way now. You stay here with these good men and I'll personally go save Gen. Warren from those black hearted bastards."

He looked up at me with such hope that I felt bad for being so cocky in my statement.

"You can take my place in the sniper corps," I said as I took the rifle from Shoestring and handed it to him. "The rain's still falling so the Hidden Eyes aren't too hard to spot. Shoot them in the face. Do me proud son."

"Yes sir," he proclaimed proudly and trotted off.

"What do you think Shoestring?" I asked.

"I think we need to hurry."

"I think you're right," I agreed. "Marvin! You're in charge!"

"Yes sir," came his reply from right behind me.

I didn't even turn around to acknowledge him as I hurried off to see if I could help Gen. Warren and his endangered battalion.

☺

In order to get there we had to work our way to the back of our troops. The fighting closer up slowed us down and put us in danger of getting killed. Of course just being here put us in danger of getting killed but we needed to minimize the chances if we were going to be of any help. Warren's men were about to be run over and I had to do what I could to prevent it or we would have enemy troops at our flank. This was going to be tough enough without having that to worry about.

I passed through Easy's men without seeking out my old friend. I didn't have time for any chin-jaw and I was sure he didn't either. Most likely he already knew how Gen. Warren was faring and had sent men to assist. I hadn't thought to bring any of my own men with me. I guess I felt a little too much like Billy Badass for my own good. It was then I realized we were being followed.

I whirled and dropped low to catch our pursuers off guard. Shoestring copied my move with grace. If I wasn't so certain we would both be dead in the next few seconds I would have been proud of her. The men I nearly shot dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. I was shocked and delighted to see they were some of my boys.

"Shit son, you scared me," I snorted happily.

"Sorry sir, Lieutenant Marvin told us to follow you."

"How many of you are there?" I asked while trying to determine the size of their group.

"About a hundred sir. Col. Easy is sending a hundred more behind us."

"Wonderful! Let's go bail General Warren out of his near-death experience."

As my small group of comrades and I continued our trek to help our struggling brothers and sisters, the rain quit. The mud would still help our snipers spot the Eyes but it would be more difficult when they had to look for muddy boots instead of man sized shapes. Nature had done us a favor with the wet weather and I was hesitant to ask her for anything more. Instead I picked up the pace of our rescue party.

When we marched into what had been General Warren's part of the battleground we were met with a wall of Regency murderers. They were still fighting their way forward and didn't immediately notice our approach. It was a real ugly situation. Some of my men had brought some heavier artillery and began to massacre the enemy in astonishing numbers. Heavy caliber machine guns, Clint Big-Boomers, rocket propelled grenade launchers, they had it all. It was a grisly sight. Even with all of the firepower it took us nearly an hour to regain the equilibrium of our army. I was still nervous about the planes and tanks being conspiciously absent so I went in search of the general for a command meeting.

"Thanks for the help Mr. President," he greeted from where he was slowly bleeding to death.

"You look like shit," I said tactlessly. "What happened?"

"It was a classic case of too fucking many of them," he explained quietly. "There were just too many for us to handle. How did you...?"

"We killed them, what else? Where is your medic?"

"Tending to my men. I had him go take care of them first. Col. Jenkins has already assumed command of this battalion and Sgt. Hawkins has taken the other."

"Where are you hit you asshole? I'm not going to let you die here in the mud."

"Here Pops," Shoestring said and handed me the bandage that had been covering her own wound.

"Thanks Shoestring," I turned from her back to Warren. "Now where are you hit?"

"Shoulder. Hit an artery I think," he panted.

He was right as far as I could tell. We had to stop the bleeding or I would have a Cabinet position to fill as soon as the present conflict ended. I ended up stuffing one end of the bandage into the hole to try to staunch the flow and wrapped the rest around his shoulder the best I could. When I finished I had one of my men go find a medic.

"Don't do that! Stop that man!" Warren tried to shout. "It's a waste! Take care of my men first!"

"Shut up. That's an order," I barked at the wounded general. "We need you to win this thing. Just think of the effect it will have on the men to see you stand, to hear you giving orders. They know you've fallen. If you get back up morale will soar. Hell, I know it will make me feel better."

"You're right I guess," he sighed. "Can you help me stand? The medic can finish patching me up when he gets here."

He tried not to give any indication of the pain he was in as I hoisted him to his feet but a miserable moan escaped his lips. When he was standing, leaning against me, he took a deep breath and shouted " _Ranks forward!_ " The men close enough to hear cheered at the sound of their leader's voice and redoubled their efforts. They still weren't able to move forward but they were shooting more again. It had been getting quiet when they thought Gen. Warren was dead. As I had figured, just knowing he was alive and kicking gave them heart.

"Shoestring, you stay with me. The rest of you go help Warren's men," I told the soldiers that had followed me this far. "Go win this war!"

They smiled, saluted smartly and left to follow my orders. I didn't know if two hundred more men would do it so I sent messengers to the battalions on either side to ask for reinforcements. More men would be needed just to hold this position. Even if I couldn't move them forward I didn't want them to fall back. It might be possible later to trap some Regency troops in between sections of our army to mop up enemy survivors. When the day was over there wouldn't be any remnants of the Regent's troops to worry about. We weren't taking prisoners.

By this time it was past midday and the men were getting tired. We had been involved since dawn and there was no end in sight. I doubted we'd be stopping for lunch. Tired soldiers were less efficient than rested soldiers but we didn't have any second-string to rely on. We were on our own.

Instead of heading directly back to Marvin I circled through all of the other battalions. I spoke briefly with Crake and Suzie as I passed through their positions. My ladylove was dirty and bloody but she was still an amazing sight. I wanted to hold her but an unusual sense of propriety stopped me. It would be harder to leave her and go back to my unit if I got all emotional now. We had a job to do and we both knew it.

They were holding well and Crake was actually advancing steadily. Easy was the closest to the compound so I had him slow down so as not to get too far ahead of the rest of us. All three of them agreed to send troops to bolster Warren's group.

The Freed Men and their battalion were the last ones I passed on my way back to my own men. Leader's eyes were filled with self-righteous fire. He had things under control in his quadrant, or so he assured me. What I saw agreed with his terse assurances so I left off. He too agreed to send men to Warren, though not any of his Freed Men. I started to argue and didn't. I hadn't let Shoestring out of my own sight and I knew he and his brethren shared a similar relationship. I thanked him for his help and praised him for his good work as I moved off. For now we had to be friends.

I was trying to get close enough to Marvin for a report when the planes passed overhead again. This time there were a couple dozen of them and they swooped right over our heads. The men couldn't help but notice. I could see their necks craning as we all watched the fighters circle around our entire army. Still no fire rained down from above so I used this as a chance to rally my men.

"Did you see those chicken shits?!" I shouted over the din of battle. "They're so high and mighty in their shiny airplanes but they're scared to shoot! They know we're coming for them! We can't stop now because if we quit we can't win! Do you want to win?! Of course you do! Now get your eyes forward and kick some ass!!"

That helped shift their focus back to the task at hand. The last thing I needed right now was a loss of morale. We were perilously close to losing this whole thing already. I was bemoaning the appearance of the Regent's flyers when the pilots finally opened fire.

☺

It was instant madness. Rank upon rank of Republic soldiers fell beneath the brutal wave of gunfire from the sky. We had no protection against an airborne threat and we knew it.

"Faces forward!" I shouted to my men. "We can't stop those planes but we can stop their master! It's time to stop pussy-footing around and PUSH! RUN BOYS, RUN LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW! IF WE DON'T WIN HERE AND NOW THERE WON'T BE A TOMORROW!"

I had to shout at the top of my lungs to be heard. Marvin and my other inferior officers relayed the new order. Messengers were sent to the other commanders to do the same. We were in the final hour of the Final Battle and there was no stopping us now.

Every man who was able obeyed. Those who were unable to rise did their best to provide cover. With a mighty yell the army surged forward. Shoestring ran beside me trying not to get lost in the press of men. I would have to do something about her soon or she would end up getting crushed in the throng.

As we ran and killed I marveled at the sheer size of the land surrounding the Estate. It seemed like we had traveled leagues yet still we could barely see the tall iron fences in the distance. These Biltmores must have been richer than the Roman Church.

We ran so hard for so long that it was a huge surprise when we stopped. We were finally within an arrow's shot of the walls when we hit the main mass of the Black Regent's army. The planes continued to rain death upon us. They were hitting their own men as well but it was apparent they weren't concerned about it. I found Marvin and asked him what he could see ahead of us.

"Men sir, tons of 'em. There must be a million of 'em up there," he reported glumly.

"What? Give me a boost so I can see."

He hoisted me up on his shoulders like I was a child who couldn't see the parade passing by. I gave a low whistle when I saw he was right. I could see why the fighter pilots weren't worried about hitting their own. There weren't millions of course, but there were definitely more of them than there were of us. We were fucked. As soon as my feet touched the ground again I turned to Shoestring. I had to get her out of here. It wasn't going to be easy to convince her to leave me and the fight but I had to do it. If I could save her, just this one little girl, there was still hope.

"I'm not going anywhere Pops," she said as if she had read my thoughts.

"You have to. We're all going to die here," I was having a hard time keeping tears from rolling down my face.

"No way!" she screamed at me. "I'm not leaving you! I love you Pops and I'm not leaving you here to die!"

I grabbed her in a mighty hug and waited for her sobs to subside. The battle raged around us as if we were in our own pocket of reality. I soothed her the best that I could before setting her back down.

"I don't want you to go but I don't want you to stay either," I whispered into her ear. "But if you stay all is lost. I need you to grow up, to grow strong. I need you to start over. Don't let this die here with us. If you love me you'll go now and build your own army. Do you love me Shoestring?"

"Yes I do," she moaned. "I love you more than anything Pops."

"I love you too, daughter. That's the only reason I'm asking you to do this."

After a brief consideration she nodded. She hugged me again, quickly and tightly. We said no more after that, settling for a friendly wave before she ran for all it was worth in the direction of our camp. I wanted to run to her, to tell her to hide, but I knew she already knew that. After all, she had survived for years before I came along and complicated her life.

I watched her recede into the distance before I turned to face the wall of Regency soldiers waiting to kill me and all that I stood for. The thought of going back into battle without my sidekick nearly crippled me.
No Heroes

I immediately went to find Marvin. I needed to have a talk with the other commanders right away. It was time to decide the fate of our war against tyranny.

"Marvin!" I called after several minutes of fruitless searching.

He materialized out of the thick of battle, sweaty and covered in blood. He had taken off his uniform shirt and his huge muscles rippled as he approached me. Several wounds seeped blood on his arms and chest but he didn't seem to notice. Confidently, as if no bullet could touch him, he strode up to where I stood and waited for orders.

"Send runners to every battalion leader right away. Have them meet me here as soon as they can possibly make it. General Warren will probably have to be carried."

"Yes sir," he replied and trotted off to do my bidding.

Quickly I scanned for weaknesses in our defenses. Any place that a break-through seemed possible was where I could be found, mercilessly gunning down the enemy. When one fell, ten more rose to take their place. The planes were still raking us with gunfire and meanwhile a new menace had appeared to add to our troubles.

Sleek, beautiful and deadly, the Boeing BattleTank was the most amazing piece of rolling artillery ever invented. They ran quiet, had armor a nuclear warhead couldn't scratch and could be controlled by a single soldier. The controls were easier to understand than most twentieth century video games. Even an amateur could cut a swath through a trained army with minimal effort.

The gray tanks were emblazoned with the Regent's crow logo, as if we needed any reminder of who the bad guy was. Nearly silent, they rolled in and began pounding our lines. My men fell in record numbers. I gritted my teeth as I tried to determine some way to eliminate this burgeoning problem. A BattleTank had no slits for the driver to peer through. Instead they had hull-mounted camera screens which fed directly into the visor of the pilot's helmet. As with most things on the killing machine, the electronics on these babies were impervious to most kinds of attacks. Still, as long as I was breathing, there was hope.

I called one of the men with the Clints over. He was exhausted and near a breaking point.

"Hanley," I said quickly, "I need you to use that big gun of yours to drop one of those black birds from the sky."

"Sir?"

"Here's the thought. When one of our airborne buddies passes over I want you to pluck its tail feathers. Try to time it so that it falls on or near one of those blasted tanks," and on cue another shell went off, decimating our ranks. "I think it's the only way."

"Yes Sir! Me too," he said and began gauging a target.

The Regency air force was constantly passing overhead now, firing continuous barrages into our battalions. They were flying low enough that we could just about spit on them but I wasn't sure if a Big-Boomer packed enough punch to bring one down. I found out pretty quickly.

Hanley picked a target that was out over enemy lines, presumably to limit the number of our own soldiers killed when the plane exploded. His shot was perfect. The little rocket flew right into the plane's intake and the resulting explosion sheared the wing off. I cheered as the pilot and his flying machine plummeted out of the sky and into the main mass of the Regent's army. Unfortunately it completely missed the tanks but it offered some slim chance of victory. I told Hanley to keep trying before going to tell the other Clint carrying soldiers to do the same thing. Win or lose, we were going to play this one to the hilt.

☺

"Sir, they're here as requested," Marvin reported.

I turned to see the other Battalion commanders waiting to hear what I had to say. I hadn't realized enough time had passed to allow them to travel to my location. I shot one more foe before I turned to greet them. General Warren was leaning against my lieutenant for support and the others looked as if they would need the same help soon. Easy was black with soot and Leader looked like he had been badly beaten. Suzie still looked stunning but even she was in need of a good night's rest and a shower. I was certain I looked no better.

"No doubt you all know we're screwed," I said, getting to the point. "We need to decide whether to fight until we all fall in battle or to instigate a strategic withdrawal."

"I don't think we have a choice," Crake answered. "If we run they'll hunt us down anyway. There are so many of them that it won't even take very long."

"He's right. We hafta stand an' fight," Easy agreed.

"I think you're right but I felt it was important for us to all be on the same page. Do we all agree?"

Everybody agreed. We would fight until the life had completely fled from our bodies. We had no choice.

"Where's Shoestring?" Suzie asked, concerned.

"I sent her away, for her own good."

She nodded her understanding. I tried to hide the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes then decided I didn't care and let them drip to the uncaring earth. Since nobody else seemed to have anything to say I dismissed them back to their respective areas.

Things went badly after that. Planes, tanks and hordes of enemy brutes smashed our defenses and sent our army sprawling. We regrouped and sprang back, each time with fewer comrades than before. Everybody was wounded but nobody quit. The Army of the Republic of North America bled and died together on the lawn of the Biltmore Estate without ever managing to set foot inside the gates of the mansion. Even with all the planning and the resources at our disposal, we were crushed. I was proud of the men for sticking with us even though it meant their deaths. As far as I was concerned my soldiers were the bravest there had ever been.

Eventually they surrounded us. We didn't try to surrender and they didn't ask us to. Both sides simply continued to kill each other mercilessly. My pocket of resistance shrank rapidly until there were barely enough of us left alive to fill a school bus. Marvin and I had gotten separated in the press. I was glad because it meant I wouldn't have to watch him die. I missed Shoestring terribly and almost wished I hadn't sent her off. I could only hope my daughter survived to grow up and return to topple the Regent with an army at her back.

Somehow, miraculously, not a single bullet hit me. Even when there weren't enough of my men left to put up any kind of a defense I remained unharmed. Dread filled my stomach. This could only mean that orders had been given to bring me in alive. In an effort to die on the battlefield rather than in a torture chamber I kept shooting until they overwhelmed with sheer numbers. I was grabbed by a dozen men of exceptional proportions who ripped my Whisperer from my hand and tied me up.

☺

Obviously the order not to kill me hadn't been extended to any of my friends. There were so many dead bodies my captors had to walk over them. I closed my eyes wished for death as I was dragged across my fallen brothers and sisters. I knew there could be no torture worse than the knowledge of the complete and utter failure we had been handed by the Black Regency. Our army had perished and our hopes and dreams with it. At that moment, the world was a darker place than anybody could have imagined.

Until then, I hadn't known how far I was from the gates. What had looked like a couple hundred yards was actually closer to a mile. The fences were much higher than the distance made them appear. The thick, black wrought iron was as thick as my wrist and tipped in sharpened spikes. What appeared spindly from the hills was actually a formidable barrier. I might have been more impressed if I hadn't seen the sign that hung over the main gates. It read simply _'There are two kinds of people'_ on the top line and underneath that _'us and them.'_

The significance of the motto didn't carry much weight until I saw the piles of bodies just inside the gates, bordering the broad driveway. Thousands of soldiers from my vanquished army lay haphazardly stacked in treacherous mounds. A huge hand-lettered sign labeled 'them' was propped up against the first heap we passed. Many of them were mutilated beyond recognition. As I watched, more limp forms were tossed carelessly to form a new pile next to the first. I turned away when I saw the limp form of Private Hucklebee carelessly thrown into the mass. That boy was stupid but he deserved better.

The rope I was trussed up with began to bite into my wrists and ankles. I tried to shift things so my circulation wouldn't be cut off but the rope had been tied too well. All I could do was go limp as they dragged my weary form up the steps into the foyer. My back was sore from the rough ground and I had the worst headache of my entire life. Even staring into the eyes of death, the discomforts of life persisted. I felt guilty for being alive when so many others weren't. I didn't feel like I deserved it.

When we got through the heavy double doors I was helped to stand. My ankles were freed though my hands were left tied. Wordlessly I was pulled deeper into the house through opulent rooms too beautiful and ornate to describe. The dirt, mud and guts on my clothes left a nasty smear on the tile floors. I silently wished the Regent would slip in the gooey mess and break his neck.

On we went until we reached what must have been the grand ballroom. Soldiers lined the walls in a solid mass of bone and muscle. They snapped to attention when we entered. As I surveyed the assembly I took the time to make note of all the exits, just in case an opportunity presented itself.

"Greetings President Chapel," a pleasant male voice greeted.

In the middle of the room was a small table covered in a white tablecloth. Sumptuous food had been served there on fine silver platters. There was only one chair and it was occupied by a medium-sized man in olive green b.d.u.'s like the ones my soldiers wore. He wore no sidearm so he must have been confident his men would protect him from any potential threat. He was a cocky bastard. His dark hair was crew cut to emulate the members of his army and no facial hair adorned his face. Brown eyes stared out from underneath his brow. He was a very normal looking man. If I had passed him on the street I would have most likely greeted him pleasantly and continued on, not realizing the potential for evil that lurked behind his unassuming features.

"Greetings you black bastard. I hope you choke," I returned, smiling.

"You're still in top form I see. Even though you're the only survivor of your pitiful army," he said. He stood up and walked over to look down at me. "It's good to see that you still have your sense of humor. You're going to need it."

"Listen, can we cut the bullshit and get to the point? I'm fucking tired from killing your beefed-up morons and I'm a little distraught by the loss of my friends."

"As you should be. If everybody I loved had just been brutally murdered I would be upset too," he said, commiserating. "Right now, though, you should be worried about your own fate."

"Yeah, yeah. You're going to torture me right? After that you'll have your men butt-rape me before you finally execute me publicly. Let's just get on with it!"

"You're in such a hurry, my friend. Who says we're going to kill you? We might decide to let you join our happy little family instead."

"You smug bastard. I'll never join you," I said furiously. "You stand for everything I despise!"

"Really? Like what? Order? Justice? My friend, I stand for all of those things. My country, my Republic, is more organized and just than any empire has ever hoped to be. My citizens walk the streets free from harm. There is no crime, no poverty."

"No freedom is what you mean. And don't call me 'friend' again or I'll kill you," I said quietly. "The only reason your 'citizens' walk the streets safely is because the only living people are your soldiers. Poverty? Pah! That word's only applicable when there's currency. As far as just, you may be right. The problem is you're _just_ a murderous tyrannical bully who kills everybody who opposes his rule. Fuck you and your so-called 'Republic'."

"That's quite a speech compadre. Were you up all night writing it? Is that why you're so tired today? Never mind, it doesn't matter," he said condescendingly. "Stand him up you morons."

I was immediately hoisted to my numb feet. I would have fallen back to the floor but the goons on each side held me in place. By the smiles on their faces I surmised a beating was on the menu; a bad one, maybe even fatal. I squared my jaw and waited for the blows to rain down. Instead of pummeling me into the afterlife the Regent came over to look me in the eyes. I watched conflicting emotions play across his face as he considered my fate.

"I must admit that I'm not quite sure what to do with you," he said, stroking his chin. "Killing you would be so anticlimactic. Letting you go is completely out of the question. What to do? What to do?"

"Can I make a suggestion?" I proffered. "You could go fuck yourself. After that you can eat the peanuts out of my..."

I was interrupted by a broken jaw. The bastard had pistol-whipped me. I spit my newly missing teeth at him, spraying him with blood and bone fragments. It was a weak comeback but it was all I had. Nausea gripped my stomach and I resolved to hit him with any puke that might arise.

"Nice. That is completely unsanitary and wholly unappreciated," he chided. "If determination was a weapon you could have killed me with less than that. You're a strong man, Chapel. I admire you, in a way, for your unwavering dedication to your cause. The modern world, however, has no further use for your misguided sense of right and wrong. You've become obsolete."

"I'm also getting angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," I growled, wishing my mouth wasn't filled with blood.

He chuckled at that. Obviously my threat didn't have its desired effect. I wanted to goad him into doing something stupid so I could either kill him or he would kill me, before torturing me if possible. He seemed more bored than anything and I was too tired and weak to keep up any kind of a dialogue for long.

"That's right, laugh you stupid motherfucker. Laugh while you can. In about three seconds I'm going to be free and you'll be dead."

"Really? How do you propose to accomplish that little feat?" he sneered.

"I would tell you but then I'd have to kill you," I responded smugly and smiled.

He walked back over to me briskly, finally losing his composure. His nostrils flared and indignation flashed in his eyes.

"You're already dead, you just don't realize it yet," he snarled, our faces barely an inch apart. "Your entire fucking army is dead. There are _no_ survivors. You're the last of your breed and soon you'll be extinct. I rule the day! As we speak, my armies are conquering South America and the Canadian Confederation. In two years the Black Regency will be a worldwide organization, millions strong. You have failed my friend, and I am VICTORIOUS!!!"

That was it, I was done. The fight had gone out of me. Not only had we lost the war for our own country, but for the whole world as well. Our failure had allowed darkness to descend upon our planet. I cried for the loss of freedom, for every baby that would be born, live, and die underneath the Regency's shadow, for every soldier that would die uselessly in the attempt to stop the invasion of his land, for all of my friends and for all of the soldiers that had died with them. I cried for Shoestring who had killed her own mother to save her doomed father. I cried for my daughter and the life she could have had where children laughed and dads watched too much TV, where moms scolded their husbands for leaving their underwear on the floor but went to bed every night still loving their spouse. I cried like a newborn baby for all of it, everything that had been lost today, and I never wanted to stop.

"Now you see the glory of my plan. The world is mine and you won't even live long enough to worry about it," he said, arrogance oozing from every pore. "Enjoy eternity asshole. Men, he's yours. When you're done with him be sure to throw him out with the rest of the trash."

With that he left the room with a half dozen bodyguards in tow. The first punches landed before he had completely exited the room.

"How do you like that?" one of my abusers asked after he had broken some of my ribs.

"That's just fine," I coughed. "I didn't realize your grandmother was invited."

"Fuck you buddy," was the witty response.

After that it was a history of pain. A line formed so that all of the men present could take turns beating the shit out of me. I bled. I broke. I fell only to be picked back up and held tighter. I tried not to cry anymore but failed at that too. I know I blacked out a couple of times and when I came to they were still hitting and kicking me. There was no way I could possibly live much longer. Any guardian angel or protective spirit that had been watching over me had long since fled.

The soldiers of the Black Regency enjoyed their new punching bag for a while. They shouted insults at me and spit on me. They tore off my Armor-Skin in order to hurt me more. There wasn't much more I could hurt. I felt ribs jabbing into my lungs and if I lived through this my balls would never again descend from my abdominal cavity. Of course, I wasn't going to live through this. They beat me for what seemed like hours before deciding I'd had enough. I think they must have gotten bored. As the two men holding me let my limp form drop, I vomited enough blood to give transfusions to their entire army. I lay there on the cold stone and waited for my pain to abate. In the end, they didn't even bother to kill me.

