ClanWolf
09-23-2006, 14:43
We lost…
A short story by Clan Dire Wolf/Hunting Wolf/ClanWolf.
******
The Cultural Wars or cultural Marxism won. Take your pick. I had been a veteran of the short-lived rebellion. All 2 and ˝ years of it. I bagged my number of Federal police and soldiers. So did my partner, Paul. My name? You can call me Max. We were the ones that nailed that ******* Jackson in Detroit. But Paul got killed by one of the last A-10s still flying. Ever see someone killed with a 30mm auto cannon? Poor Paul, he had been all of 20. I still say a prayer for him on his birthday.
I fought on for the next six months. The last hold out in Michigan. I think Idaho and Texas were the only ones that last longer and they beat me by just two months. I didn’t quit, I got caught. Who would have thought that they would send a whole SEAL Team for little old me? Hell, I was 52 years old.
I was sent to a special Federal Super Max Prison in Alaska. Took a train all the way from California straight to it. Trial? Please! I spent ten years there before I got my left leg busted by a White Aryan Resistance goon. Didn’t like me being Catholic. Nor that I would not give up info on a friend I had made there. A medic from the John Wayne Brigade from Texas did his best to set my leg, but it didn’t heal right. Probably didn’t help that I was 62 and had been eating very poorly over the last decade. Nothing but vegetarian meals. Yuck! No, there was no doctors or sick ward for us. Think more like the Soviet Gulags.
The powers that be decided I wasn’t much of a threat. Just an old man with a gimped leg. So I was given parole and sent home on one of the supply trains. Took three months traveling across Canada to get back to Michigan or should I say Region 5. We hadn’t had any TV or radio up in Alaska. If we had, I might have made them keep me there.
******
We lost…
Everything. It was 2022. How badly things have changed! The roads were starting to have weeds growing in them! Propaganda posters were everywhere. It looked like Nazi Germany.
Do your part to save Mother Earth, go to your local Euthanasia Center Today! Said one of the posters.
Report any one with illegal meat to your local Regional 5 Security Police! Said another.
Dear Lord, what’s happened to America? Little did I know that when we lost the rebellion the cultural Marxist went into overdrive. Mandatory birth control, reeducation, completely open borders, forced euthanasia, and so on. It was a world gone mad.
And the UN and America was gone. The Union of Terra was in charge.
******
We lost…
Our children’s souls. 2037
“Here, little guy. Drink this.” said Max as he held the new born child in his arms and gave him a bottle. Another blond baby. They sure had something against blond babies. The Union Doctor must have put him there just like all the others. The little guy was lucky; Max didn’t always make it in time. Sometimes the animals got the babies before he did. Once the ******* had even stayed to watch a baby being torn apart. Max would have given anything to kill the *******. But his punishment would be more than anything Max could do. Max made sure that any of the babies that got killed, got buried and he said the Prayer for the Dead over them. He didn’t know what was going on with TPTB. He had been rescuing newborns here for the last five years. The new elite lived in walled communities like the one six miles down the road. He had heard rumors that medicine was getting harder to find. Perhaps contraceptives were no longer available? Maybe there wasn’t enough meds to perform an abortion. So like the pagan Romans, they were leaving their unwanted babies to die out in the wilds.
But he knew that soon, there would be no more to save. The elites were going to leave and head for the last great city in what had been once America. NYC, no that’s how it’s called now. Must be about half a million people living there now. Region 5 was being left to go back to wilderness. There were no cities left in what had been America. Hell, almost no people either. According to the rumors.
Looking at my old winded up watch. I see that I got two hours to get back before Recess. God, who knew that word could fill a man with such dread? It wasn’t as bad as thirteen years ago when there had been legions of Brats. But the last big flu had sure cut their numbers down, they seem to have such outbreaks every three years. Always cuts their numbers by half. Use to be thousands running through the streets in their little Mao uniforms destroying any machines they saw, smashing windows, and killing any old person that got in their path. He remembered when they had killed that old lady, screaming; “Die, Die, you useless eater!” With a couple Union Security goons cheering them on. Now there must be only about 30 Brats or so.
Got careless once myself. Still got that cut on the back of my head from that chunk of concrete a Brat had whacked me with. Didn’t hurt as badly as when I got caught by a couple Union Security goons. Sliced my left eye open and left me to die. Lucky, I didn’t. But I do wear an eye patch now. Old man of 72 with a gimped leg and an eye patch. Sounds like something out of an old black and white movie from when I was a kid. Just need a hook for one of my hands!
Better hurry before Recess starts.
******
We lost…
Nothing.
Made it with a few minutes to spare! Huh, take that! And thank you, God! “Shh. Little man. You’re safe.” I said as I pounded on the steel door side door of the old Costco building. It had been a good place to hold up in. It had been stripped clean years before I got there, but the shelving was still there and the security shutters still worked. And it was in an excellent location. Right on Hall Road, across from Lakeside Mall, named so because of the three huge man-made ponds there. The area had been extremely built up so salvage was good.
I pounded again. “Let me in!”
The peephole in the door open and I heard a muffed “Sorry, Father.” The bolts were thrown and the door open. There stood a 16 year-old brunette girl. She reached out for the baby and said; “Let me have him, Father. You have probably dropped the poor child a couple times already.”
“No! Just once. Come on, Ruth. Recess has started. Is everyone in?” I asked as I limped in. I nodded to the Point of Clan Warriors on guard and patted the head of one of the mutts. You had to get them as pups or they would remain wild.
“Yes, everyone except Victor and Katherine. They’re still on their way in from a salvage run from one of your caches.”
“All right then. Every one got their G.O.O.D. packs ready, just in case?”
“Aff, Father.” Said Paul. SaKhan to Clan Wolverine.
Ruth was already cooing to the new baby boy and taking him over to the rest of the girls so the could go gaga over him too. Women!
“The escape tunnels ready?” Max asked. The Costco was right next to an old sewer tunnel that ran near by. The boys had dug a tunnel to the sewer through the floor of the old building. They had found some old Oxy-acetylene torches and had welded shut all the manholes and grates in the area. Sections of the tunnels had been filled in so no one could sneak up on them. The old sewer tunnels had, in fact, made excellent root cellars and a perfect place to grow mushrooms. Even made good ranges for shooting.
“Aff. And the solar panels and windmills have been lowered so the Brats don’t see them. All operations have stopped. And our Warriors are ready.”
“Good job, Paul. Carry on.”
“Aff, my Khan!” Paul snapped to attention, then saluted and left.
Khan. The kids took to the idea of having their own Clan. So I took the idea of Clan Wolverine from my BattleTech books, did some major changes. And boom, I’m a Khan.
I swear, their idea, not mine. No, really!
Paul. He had all the spunk of the Paul I had fought with all those years ago. I had found him ten years ago. Scavenging through the ruins, barely alive, barely able to speak even. I gave him some food and he followed me home like a lost puppy. Took a couple months to get him to trust me. Food helped in that. He couldn’t remember his family or even if he had one. Paul had been the first. Ruth we had found next. Then Jesse, Simon, Hazel, Veronica, Victor and Katherine, till we numbered around 30. Yeah, I got to name them all. Then the babies started five years ago. They had been another eighteen I saved. Of course, once some of the boys and girls got old enough to marry, more came. More stragglers were found. We were getting close to 70.
Luckily, there were more “forgotten” people. We made contact with them about a year ago and they introduce us to more of the forgotten. Thousands in Michigan alone. And the best find was that the Society had survived the Burnings. The Catholic Church still lived on! Okay, so did the Protestants too. But we had finally learned that the real enemy wasn’t each other. The old bickering was over. For now I feared.
“Times up for Recess! Get ready people.” Said Mark, Paul’s second in command and the Loremaster. He walked over to me.
“It’s time for today’s lesson, Father.”
“Aff, I guess it is. Open the Vault.”
“Aff, Father! Come on you apes, lets crack this safe open!”
Mark and some of the other boys went over to the old safe door, dialed the combination, and opened it up. They had found the safe door in a old house and had brought it back. We had about a dozen salvage crews on the job. I had a book on working with cement and showed them how to reuse the old mortar. And soon, the Vault had been built. Inside were the most important items that the Clan had. The library and a working computer.
Max Limped his way over to the Vault: everyone else sat down around the opening. The skylights had been opened again. Max walked in and thought; “What day is this? Right, Friday. Mass was two days ago.”
He looked for the book: Our County’s History. The one printed in 1950. Max looked at all the thousands of books, CDs and DVDs stacked in the Vault. Most had come from his caches. Sealed in FoodSaver bags and place in Mylar bags and sealed. Others had come from the dumps were most books had been buried by the Union. It was amazing how many had survived.
Grabbing down the book, he sat down in the chair that his children had made for him. He opened the book and said:
“Time for History today, my children. This book was written 1950, before the country went bad. Today’s chapter on American History will deal with the War of Independence. Now, who can recite the original Bill of Rights? Show me some hands!”
Me! I know! No, pick me, Father! Said the many voices.
We lost nothing. We gained everything!
A short story by Clan Dire Wolf/Hunting Wolf/ClanWolf.
******
The Cultural Wars or cultural Marxism won. Take your pick. I had been a veteran of the short-lived rebellion. All 2 and ˝ years of it. I bagged my number of Federal police and soldiers. So did my partner, Paul. My name? You can call me Max. We were the ones that nailed that ******* Jackson in Detroit. But Paul got killed by one of the last A-10s still flying. Ever see someone killed with a 30mm auto cannon? Poor Paul, he had been all of 20. I still say a prayer for him on his birthday.
I fought on for the next six months. The last hold out in Michigan. I think Idaho and Texas were the only ones that last longer and they beat me by just two months. I didn’t quit, I got caught. Who would have thought that they would send a whole SEAL Team for little old me? Hell, I was 52 years old.
I was sent to a special Federal Super Max Prison in Alaska. Took a train all the way from California straight to it. Trial? Please! I spent ten years there before I got my left leg busted by a White Aryan Resistance goon. Didn’t like me being Catholic. Nor that I would not give up info on a friend I had made there. A medic from the John Wayne Brigade from Texas did his best to set my leg, but it didn’t heal right. Probably didn’t help that I was 62 and had been eating very poorly over the last decade. Nothing but vegetarian meals. Yuck! No, there was no doctors or sick ward for us. Think more like the Soviet Gulags.
The powers that be decided I wasn’t much of a threat. Just an old man with a gimped leg. So I was given parole and sent home on one of the supply trains. Took three months traveling across Canada to get back to Michigan or should I say Region 5. We hadn’t had any TV or radio up in Alaska. If we had, I might have made them keep me there.
******
We lost…
Everything. It was 2022. How badly things have changed! The roads were starting to have weeds growing in them! Propaganda posters were everywhere. It looked like Nazi Germany.
Do your part to save Mother Earth, go to your local Euthanasia Center Today! Said one of the posters.
Report any one with illegal meat to your local Regional 5 Security Police! Said another.
Dear Lord, what’s happened to America? Little did I know that when we lost the rebellion the cultural Marxist went into overdrive. Mandatory birth control, reeducation, completely open borders, forced euthanasia, and so on. It was a world gone mad.
And the UN and America was gone. The Union of Terra was in charge.
******
We lost…
Our children’s souls. 2037
“Here, little guy. Drink this.” said Max as he held the new born child in his arms and gave him a bottle. Another blond baby. They sure had something against blond babies. The Union Doctor must have put him there just like all the others. The little guy was lucky; Max didn’t always make it in time. Sometimes the animals got the babies before he did. Once the ******* had even stayed to watch a baby being torn apart. Max would have given anything to kill the *******. But his punishment would be more than anything Max could do. Max made sure that any of the babies that got killed, got buried and he said the Prayer for the Dead over them. He didn’t know what was going on with TPTB. He had been rescuing newborns here for the last five years. The new elite lived in walled communities like the one six miles down the road. He had heard rumors that medicine was getting harder to find. Perhaps contraceptives were no longer available? Maybe there wasn’t enough meds to perform an abortion. So like the pagan Romans, they were leaving their unwanted babies to die out in the wilds.
But he knew that soon, there would be no more to save. The elites were going to leave and head for the last great city in what had been once America. NYC, no that’s how it’s called now. Must be about half a million people living there now. Region 5 was being left to go back to wilderness. There were no cities left in what had been America. Hell, almost no people either. According to the rumors.
Looking at my old winded up watch. I see that I got two hours to get back before Recess. God, who knew that word could fill a man with such dread? It wasn’t as bad as thirteen years ago when there had been legions of Brats. But the last big flu had sure cut their numbers down, they seem to have such outbreaks every three years. Always cuts their numbers by half. Use to be thousands running through the streets in their little Mao uniforms destroying any machines they saw, smashing windows, and killing any old person that got in their path. He remembered when they had killed that old lady, screaming; “Die, Die, you useless eater!” With a couple Union Security goons cheering them on. Now there must be only about 30 Brats or so.
Got careless once myself. Still got that cut on the back of my head from that chunk of concrete a Brat had whacked me with. Didn’t hurt as badly as when I got caught by a couple Union Security goons. Sliced my left eye open and left me to die. Lucky, I didn’t. But I do wear an eye patch now. Old man of 72 with a gimped leg and an eye patch. Sounds like something out of an old black and white movie from when I was a kid. Just need a hook for one of my hands!
Better hurry before Recess starts.
******
We lost…
Nothing.
Made it with a few minutes to spare! Huh, take that! And thank you, God! “Shh. Little man. You’re safe.” I said as I pounded on the steel door side door of the old Costco building. It had been a good place to hold up in. It had been stripped clean years before I got there, but the shelving was still there and the security shutters still worked. And it was in an excellent location. Right on Hall Road, across from Lakeside Mall, named so because of the three huge man-made ponds there. The area had been extremely built up so salvage was good.
I pounded again. “Let me in!”
The peephole in the door open and I heard a muffed “Sorry, Father.” The bolts were thrown and the door open. There stood a 16 year-old brunette girl. She reached out for the baby and said; “Let me have him, Father. You have probably dropped the poor child a couple times already.”
“No! Just once. Come on, Ruth. Recess has started. Is everyone in?” I asked as I limped in. I nodded to the Point of Clan Warriors on guard and patted the head of one of the mutts. You had to get them as pups or they would remain wild.
“Yes, everyone except Victor and Katherine. They’re still on their way in from a salvage run from one of your caches.”
“All right then. Every one got their G.O.O.D. packs ready, just in case?”
“Aff, Father.” Said Paul. SaKhan to Clan Wolverine.
Ruth was already cooing to the new baby boy and taking him over to the rest of the girls so the could go gaga over him too. Women!
“The escape tunnels ready?” Max asked. The Costco was right next to an old sewer tunnel that ran near by. The boys had dug a tunnel to the sewer through the floor of the old building. They had found some old Oxy-acetylene torches and had welded shut all the manholes and grates in the area. Sections of the tunnels had been filled in so no one could sneak up on them. The old sewer tunnels had, in fact, made excellent root cellars and a perfect place to grow mushrooms. Even made good ranges for shooting.
“Aff. And the solar panels and windmills have been lowered so the Brats don’t see them. All operations have stopped. And our Warriors are ready.”
“Good job, Paul. Carry on.”
“Aff, my Khan!” Paul snapped to attention, then saluted and left.
Khan. The kids took to the idea of having their own Clan. So I took the idea of Clan Wolverine from my BattleTech books, did some major changes. And boom, I’m a Khan.
I swear, their idea, not mine. No, really!
Paul. He had all the spunk of the Paul I had fought with all those years ago. I had found him ten years ago. Scavenging through the ruins, barely alive, barely able to speak even. I gave him some food and he followed me home like a lost puppy. Took a couple months to get him to trust me. Food helped in that. He couldn’t remember his family or even if he had one. Paul had been the first. Ruth we had found next. Then Jesse, Simon, Hazel, Veronica, Victor and Katherine, till we numbered around 30. Yeah, I got to name them all. Then the babies started five years ago. They had been another eighteen I saved. Of course, once some of the boys and girls got old enough to marry, more came. More stragglers were found. We were getting close to 70.
Luckily, there were more “forgotten” people. We made contact with them about a year ago and they introduce us to more of the forgotten. Thousands in Michigan alone. And the best find was that the Society had survived the Burnings. The Catholic Church still lived on! Okay, so did the Protestants too. But we had finally learned that the real enemy wasn’t each other. The old bickering was over. For now I feared.
“Times up for Recess! Get ready people.” Said Mark, Paul’s second in command and the Loremaster. He walked over to me.
“It’s time for today’s lesson, Father.”
“Aff, I guess it is. Open the Vault.”
“Aff, Father! Come on you apes, lets crack this safe open!”
Mark and some of the other boys went over to the old safe door, dialed the combination, and opened it up. They had found the safe door in a old house and had brought it back. We had about a dozen salvage crews on the job. I had a book on working with cement and showed them how to reuse the old mortar. And soon, the Vault had been built. Inside were the most important items that the Clan had. The library and a working computer.
Max Limped his way over to the Vault: everyone else sat down around the opening. The skylights had been opened again. Max walked in and thought; “What day is this? Right, Friday. Mass was two days ago.”
He looked for the book: Our County’s History. The one printed in 1950. Max looked at all the thousands of books, CDs and DVDs stacked in the Vault. Most had come from his caches. Sealed in FoodSaver bags and place in Mylar bags and sealed. Others had come from the dumps were most books had been buried by the Union. It was amazing how many had survived.
Grabbing down the book, he sat down in the chair that his children had made for him. He opened the book and said:
“Time for History today, my children. This book was written 1950, before the country went bad. Today’s chapter on American History will deal with the War of Independence. Now, who can recite the original Bill of Rights? Show me some hands!”
Me! I know! No, pick me, Father! Said the many voices.
We lost nothing. We gained everything!
