They grant honor and prestige to all those who are strong and brave enough to join the King's army. Show your will, your grit, your pride, and you will be a hero. A person to be praised and sung about. Glory comes to all who join the King's Army!
"Glory comes to all who join the King's Army." Trevor barked a laugh at the memory. He heard those words spoken to him only one year ago when he was nineteen. He was fresh out of high school, and naïve.
He wasn't naïve anymore. Oh no, he learned his lesson.
Those two recruiters decked out in military fatigues were fake. Trevor should have known the moment he saw them. No real soldier smiles like that. With a glint in their eye and their whiter-than-white teeth. Their faces were smooth, young, and too handsome.
The two men stood on top of the broken fountain in the middle of the town square on Market Day. The townspeople crowded around them after being sucked in by one of their eager, friendly waves; their shopping pushed to the back of their minds.
Once a decent crowd was around them, that's when their lies flowed. "We have fought on many battlefields! But there was one most terrifying," the brown-haired man said. "We were on a flat grassy plain in the dead of night. The only source was the moon above to show us the way." He pointed upward to where the boiling sun hung.
"Aye," the blond-haired man nodded, his eyes lost some of its twinkle. His voice barely above a whisper, though no one had any difficulty hearing him. Most people, including Trevor, leaned forward to listen to the man. "In the dead of night, they ordered us across the field. None of us wanted to cross that long patch of grass, we knew the rebel had attacked that area before. Despite that knowledge, our superiors gave us orders. We crept silently, our weapons in our hands, our eyes wide with fear. Prayers sent to the gods above so that we would not find any rebels. The prayers did not answer us."
Rebel. Those were the people of the Wastes. The ones that cross into the King's lands and cause chaos wherever they go. They come to burn down farms and homes, to murder families and children, to steal clean food and fresh water.
"A rebel shoots up from the waist-high grass!" The brown-haired man cried. Shrieks from women echoed his yell. The man jumped from the fountain into the crowd. His arms raised for people to keep an eye on him as he snaked through the crowd. His voice carried above the heads of the townspeople. "We fought the rebels. Our bullets blazed across the ground toward the enemy. Toward the very evil itself. Our grenades found their bodies and exploded them into smithereens! There was nothing left other than smoke and mist of blood."
The man neared the spot where Trevor stood with his friends. Him and his friend's faces mirrored each other's. Awed, a gapped mouth. Wide eyes. Their bodies leaned forward to not miss a word.
From the fountain, the blond-haired man stood alone. His arms at his side, his head down in prayer. His words soft. "That day, we lost many good men. Only three of us survived. But all the rebels died. Killed at our hand." A few claps echoed around the town square.
"The next night," the man went on, "We did it again. Attacking the rebels." A few more cheers.
"The night after that, we infiltrated a rebel base, and each rebel died. We lost no men." The man's words were still quiet as cheers around the square swallowed them up. "We continue every night until all the rebels are out of the United Region. Until every single rebel is out of our home! Until we can safely let our children play outdoors. Until our wives can walk safely to the market without fear. The army will continue to restore safety to our land, but we need your aid. We need more men for the King's Army to protect this land. To protect our wives, our children! For glory, for honor and prestige! Join the King's Army!"
Trevor smirked. The image of the two men from a year ago slipped from his mind. Before him, reality set back in.
There was no glory in the King's Army. There was no heroism. No songs with his name.
Shit.
All he had was a sore body and a bored mind.
Trevor stopped his march. Further down the way, another Barricade Guard stopped his march. Another guard stopped a few yards past that one. Each one of them seemed just as tired, hungry, and bored as Trevor was.
That was what the army gave him; the graveyard shifts to protect the Barricade from the rebels. He mindlessly marched beside the large Barricade and tried his best not to fall asleep.
It was hard not to doze with the world around them. The only light source was the large flood lights posted a quarter of a mile from each other. Each guard was to march between the two light poles during their shift to keep an eye on the fence and the Waste beyond.
There was no heroism where he was stationed. The job was uneventful. But there was honor and prestige. When he and his few friends went to a bar in Chicago, they had prestige then. Girls fawned over their Guard fatigues and asked if it was scary being so close to the Barricade. To the delight of Trevor, the girls would eat the stories out of his hand, much like how he did with those two recruiters a year ago.
There hasn't been a night yet where Trevor didn't talk about how impressive and strong the Barricade was. He fabricated stories about a brick wall that was twelve feet thick and twenty feet high. The girls never questioned him when he said the Wasteland was nothing but a deserted desert with no trees, shrubs, or life in sight. Or that he saw a rebel with his own eyes. The rebels were like cavemen with wild beards and matted hair and only grunted as a form of speech.
Those girls would never know that Trevor lied about all of that.
The Barricade that divided the United Region and the Waste was not twelve feet thick and twenty feet high. The structure wasn't even made of brick.
The Barricade was a fence.
Trevor craned his neck to look at the top. Okay, a really tall fence. Trevor squinted at the razors on the wire that was planted on the top of chain links. From what he could see, he bet the razors were dull.
He also lied about the Waste. Of course, miles into the Waste, the land was a dead, fallout desert, but a few yards from Trevor's feet, the Waste was green and lively.
Trevor always found it odd that the entire continent wasn't one huge dust ball. The Last Great War was fought about... Trevor struggled to count the years... The current year was 2257 and the war started in 2050. So, two hundred and seven years ago, if he had done his math correctly.
The Last Great War, which was fought about two hundred years ago, involved most of the larger countries: Britain, Japan, Russia, the United States, Canada, China, and other countries that Trevor couldn't recall. He was never good at history class. All he really could remember was one of the dangerous countries that used nuclear bombs to bomb the shit out of the western portion of the United States. They chose the Midwest because the area produced the most food for the country.
It was smart, really. Trevor gave it to those old bastards credit for destroying the food and livestock first before attacking the people. People can't fight if they are starving.
"Guard Trevor!"
Trevor nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice that yelled across the quiet night. A small sliver of fear curled around his lungs. Before the voice spoke, Trevor stopped his march. If they found him dozing off or daydreaming, which he was, he would be in big trouble.
Trevor turned to the voice in small horror. A familiar smile approached Trevor, washing away his fear.
"Wayne, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Trevor snapped.
Wayne gave him his ever-present crooked smile. "Well, you were daydreaming. That can earn you a penalty." Wayne stopped beside Trevor. The man towered over him. He wore the same dark camouflage fatigues. The butt of the rifle was like a parrot poking over Wayne's right shoulder. Slung over his left arm were several black jackets.
"There's going to be a storm tonight," Wayne said. He handed Trevor one of the rain jackets.
"A thunderstorm or one of those radiation storms?" Trevor asked. He shouldered off his rifle to put on the rain jacket.
"Just a normal thunderstorm, but we got a call from the base in Chicago. It's going to be a bad one. Thunder, lightning, possibility of hail."
"Great." Trevor zipped up the jacket.
With his mind no longer on the two military recruits or that pretty girl, he met last night at the bar, Trevor's ears picked up on the howl of the wind.
Beyond the fence and the bright floodlights, the night sky was black. There was an eerie feeling in the air. Something felt off. The feeling of being watched. No one could be watching them. Only rebels were on the other side of the fence, and they would be stupid to attack here. Chicago was only twenty miles away. Nevertheless, the queasy feeling made its home in the pit of Trevor's stomach.
"You did it again," Wayne said.
Trevor pulled his rifle back on his shoulder. "Did what?"
"Go off in la la land. What is up with you?"
Trevor's eyes darted between the dark Waste to Wayne's brightly lit face. He didn't want to tell the truth that he was nervous. "I was thinking about those two recruiters from a year ago."
Wayne sneered. The older guard heard many stories of those two recruiters over the years. "Those two idiots. They were performers, you know that, right? I heard they were caught six months ago and are in jail. The king doesn't approve of propaganda. Someone paid them to go do some illegal recruiting. The rumor is that it was a general."
"Yeah, I know," Trevor said. After he found out those two recruiters were liars, he had passed basic training. He put so much work into being in the army that it would be a waste to quit. The wind howled again and along with it, the sensation of being watched.
"What's wrong?" Wayne asked.
Trevor glanced at Wayne. "There's been more rebel attacks recently."
Wayne shook his head. The older guard seemed to pick up on what Trevor was nervous about. "Those rebels wouldn't attack here. You know that. We can almost see Chicago lights from here. They would be stupid to attack. Nothing is going to happen tonight, just a thunderstorm. I need to keep going. You stay safe out here." Though Wayne's smile was supposed to be encouraging, Trevor did not feel encouraged. He continued his march as Wayne walked to the next guard.
Trevor's footsteps were hard on the dirt path that ran along the Barricade.
No. The rebels wouldn't attack here. The Barricade stretched west from Chicago down to the Gulf. There were hundreds of thousands of miles the rebels could sneak into the Regions. They weren't stupid enough to cross the Barricade this close to Chicago. Not when it was so heavily protected.
Trevor reached the light pole. He faced the Barricade and the dark abyss. The rebels wouldn't attack here. They couldn't.
A chilly wind breezed past Trevor from the direction of the Waste. The faint moon that was above his head at the beginning of his shift now hid behind dark clouds. If it was day, he would have been able to watch the storm roll in, then maybe he wouldn't be so paranoid.
Another gust of wind tugged at Trevor. Strong smell of rain and earth slammed into him. Past the floodlights and the chain-linked fence, lightning spider-webbed across the sky.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
Four Mississippi.
Five Mississippi.
Six...
A low rumble of thunder crescendo to the Barricade. The storm was six miles. Or that's what Mom told him. "Trevor, when you see lightning, count one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi until you hear the thunder. Each number is how many miles it is away." Trevor always questioned that science. How did she know it was a mile away with each second? When he asked how she knew that his mother would say it was an old wives' tale. When Trevor asked what a Mississippi was, that's when he usually got told to go play in his room.
Trevor's thoughts returned to the rebels while he resumed his march back to the other light pole. They wouldn't come here.
Thunder rolled across the plain.
Chicago was so close by. There was a whole small army there, ready to come out and fight.
He stopped at the light pole. There was only darkness on the other side of the glorified fence. Lightning flashed, that time much closer. The wind roared in Trevor's ears, but he ignored it and turned back to the other light pole.
There hasn't been a rebel attack for a while. Maybe they decided to stop being annoying.
He reached the other light pole, faced the Barricade, saw nothing, and continued back.
The cold front that carried in a harsh thunderstorm in tow set shivers down Trevor's back. Each minute, the thunder grew louder. That did not stop his march, or the other guards' march. Five minutes later, Trevor halted as a lightning bolt cracked just above his head.
He turned to the Barricade. The sound of rain was not far off. The earthy smell of dirt and rain was strong. The scent reminded him of rainy Sundays in his childhood. He would play in the yard with his siblings.
Life was so easy back then. Mom and dad always had food on the table. School was easy. Summer was meant for exploring and fun.
Lightning flashed above Trevor again.
One Mississ-
BOOM!
The thunder was deafening. He flinched and grabbed at the strap of his rifle that hugged his chest. With a glance to the other guards, they all too stopped their march, their heads up to watch another flash of lightning.
The floodlights above Trevor flickered behind him. Great. That's what they needed. Another power outage through a storm.
Trevor continued his march, his eyes forward as the rain fell and thunder cracked. A few yards before him, a young guard stood in his spot. The guard faced the Barricade, his mouth open.
"Hey!" Trevor yelled to the guard. The man needed to get moving or he would get yelled at.
The man did not turn to Trevor, he only raised a shaky hand toward the Barricade.
Great. Trevor was stuck with some kid on his first night shift during a thunderstorm.
"Snap out of it." Trevor stomped over to him. He had to yell over the thunder and the whipping of the wind.
The guard, who was some kid, did not take his eyes off the Barricade. Trevor turned to the fence. There was nothing but darkness.
A flash of lightning.
Someone stood on the other side of the Barricade.
Or that's what he thought. The lightning was too quick for him to see. What he saw could have been what looked like a man, but it was a tree.
It had to be a tree.
Trevor didn't move. He stood underneath the floodlight beside the young guard. His eyes strained to find what he thought he saw.
Lightning illuminated the darkness again.
A rebel stood a few yards away from the Barricade. It was far enough the floodlights could not reach him.
Thunder cracked.
Trevor's world dulled.
Darkness fell again only for a moment. A second lightning bolt spread across the sky.
This time, the rebel had his rifle raised. The barrel of the gun aimed at Trevor.
A wicked smile crossed the rebel's face.
The rebel's finger pulled the trigger.
Trevor did not worry anymore.