Good Luck Charlie: The Forgotten Video Diaries (a Bob Duncan fan fiction)

Chapter 1: Bob's Bugs Be Gone

I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved—shit. I was reading the wrong intro. Anyways...

I can't even remember that last "normal" day of my life. Actually I don't even know what a normal day was considering the past two years of my life have been my only life-- that I know of. Then probably a normal day for me for the past 2 years has been training for this moment. My childhood memories are very blurry, but occasionally when I sleep I remember something small like getting an A on a test or eating ice cream. I don't even know what Ice cream is anymore, I just remember what it was like and it's taste. I remember more about ice scream than I did my own past life. When I also slept, I heard voices and I mostly assumed they were from my mother, her voice is so distinct, I know it isn't any of the girls back at camp, so I was certain it is to be my mothers.

I don't know my name, but everyone calls me Charlie. What I have been told is that I joined the army at 16 spent a couple years in a few foreign countries fighting for mine. There was apparently an accident in which I was hospitalized for a year and a half. And my last memory was that I was well enough to go back into combat, or so they say.

I was also told the war progressed into our nation, America is a war zone. It was told officially to me that this war shall also be known as World War III. Now, I'm living in that war zone. People also called it the Nuclear War or the Apocalypse. Everyone's lives are not the same as it was 5 years ago.

I am leader of my Flank, were a young group of kids between 16-23, me being the oldest because I just turned 23. At our base camp there are eleven other Flanks not including mine, all of them varying ages. The first couple are the oldest of men and women, some as old as 70, we need all the enforcement we can get. Almost anyone who was a US citizen is now a soldier. As the flanks get higher, the younger we become. There are about six flanks that have the same age as us, but we just so happened to be flank 10. Flank twelve have the youngest kids, between ages 9-13. Basically if you are born in these times, you were given a gun to protect yourself the moment after you learn how to walk. 

Due to what I know about myself, the concept of dying doesn't scare me because I have nothing worth living for. I am what they call me, Charlie. I am 23 years old and I am a soldier.

That's what I tell myself before every operation we run.

Someone shook shoulders and I woke up startled. "COME ON WE GOT A CODE RED! GET UP!"

I shot up from my bunk, hitting my head on the top bunk. I shook it off however, and continued to put on my clothes. I yelled commands to others and what to do whether it was to get the choppers ready, get the cars in or stock up on ammo. A Code Red is that an enemy is slowly making our way towards camp. We move around a lot, usually occupying past bases that were once bombed because it was less suspicious and safe. Our job is to take resources from all abandoned homes. On occasion there's people still occupying it, which is amazing considering how long they've survived. If the family or person occupying the house is a young male we take them under our care. They have intense background check, because some have known to be insiders and spies. Our other jobs, like this one, is to steer away enemies from camp before they find it and collect supplies.

In less than a minuet I was in all my gear. I called out to a girl, around 19 as I walked down the hall "Where are they," I yelled

"They are 20 miles from Section 45 sir that's the place where we haven't explored."

"I know. We need to move fast. They can take supplies and find the camp. LETS MOVE PEOPLE"

I clapped hard a few times and the people around me moved faster.