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Authors: Charles E. Yallowitz
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to Interstate 80 without another disaster?”
“Sure, but you’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Seatbelt.”
“Shut the fuck up, Lloyd.”
You’re in Our Armies Now
Cassidy and Lloyd sit on the hood of the jeep while the two groups of armed locals carefully check the vehicle. Disarmed and guarded by a pair of machinegun carrying soldiers, the pair can only wait for an opportunity to escape. There is tension in the air as the men and women try to do their job while watching each other. One group is dressed in gold and black fatigues, which make them stand out in the forest instead of blending into the scenery. The green and dull silver uniforms of their enemies are only slightly more effective, both squads having their faces and guns painted to match their army colors. Every soldier has their last name stitched onto their jackets, the patch sealing a pocket that holds the rest of their vital information. It is obvious that most of them were regular citizens before the collapse, which gives Cassidy and Lloyd a glimmer of hope that they can get away soon.
The real danger are the squad leaders who are hanging back from their hard-working soldiers. Standing in matching poses, they keep their arms crossed and watch the prisoners for signs of trouble. The huge man with blonde hair and a sleeveless uniform of silver and green routinely adjusts his stance to copy his rival. White steroid patches are on his veiny muscles, which flex whenever he adjusts his assault rifle. Something about the giant makes him seem less of a threat than one would expect from a person of his size, but only those who have seen real battle can sense the façade. In contrast, the slightly out of shape man with a black, military-style haircut shows signs that he is a veteran. He favors his right leg, the knees trembling if he stays in the same position for too long. Not wanting to come off as dangerous, he keeps his rifle on his back and his handgun remains in its holster. A black and gold painted hand grenade is clipped to his belt and he lets his hand routinely falls to rub the explosive.
“We’re only passing through,” Cassidy finally says for what must be the tenth time in the last hour. Seeing the towering leader snort and spit at a tree, she assumes she will get the same response as her previous attempts to negotiate safe passage. “We aren’t citizens of Pennsylvania, so your war doesn’t involve us. Just let us be on our way. I can even take us north to New York, which shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
“I’m still confused on what’s going on here. Probably because the explanation happened during the break,” Lloyd admits, earning strange looks from the surrounding soldiers. Gazing at a soldier’s watch, he licks his lips at the thought of night being only four hours away. “Never mind. Can somebody just tell me again about this whole civil war? It doesn’t make any sense, especially since you guys aren’t shooting each other.”
“As a Petty Officer, I have the highest rank. So I’ll do it,” the towering man states, cracking his knuckles and taking a step closer. The squad leader backs up when he notices Cassidy is eyeing his large handgun. “Sergeant Noah can add anything that he wants, but we all know those from Pittsburgh are liars. That’s why this war is going on. Philadelphia should be the true capital of Pennsylvania. We have the best trade system, which your precious factories would be useless without. This superiority is also why my squad should get the vehicle, weapons, and new recruits.”
“For the last time, we are evenly ranked, Firestone,” Noah replies, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Having had multiple encounters with the other man, he has to remind himself that starting a shootout could damage the much needed supplies. “Philadelphia still has riots and burned down their own ports. That’s why all of the trade is over land through Long Island and New Jersey. You people are
“Sure, but you’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Seatbelt.”
“Shut the fuck up, Lloyd.”
You’re in Our Armies Now
Cassidy and Lloyd sit on the hood of the jeep while the two groups of armed locals carefully check the vehicle. Disarmed and guarded by a pair of machinegun carrying soldiers, the pair can only wait for an opportunity to escape. There is tension in the air as the men and women try to do their job while watching each other. One group is dressed in gold and black fatigues, which make them stand out in the forest instead of blending into the scenery. The green and dull silver uniforms of their enemies are only slightly more effective, both squads having their faces and guns painted to match their army colors. Every soldier has their last name stitched onto their jackets, the patch sealing a pocket that holds the rest of their vital information. It is obvious that most of them were regular citizens before the collapse, which gives Cassidy and Lloyd a glimmer of hope that they can get away soon.
The real danger are the squad leaders who are hanging back from their hard-working soldiers. Standing in matching poses, they keep their arms crossed and watch the prisoners for signs of trouble. The huge man with blonde hair and a sleeveless uniform of silver and green routinely adjusts his stance to copy his rival. White steroid patches are on his veiny muscles, which flex whenever he adjusts his assault rifle. Something about the giant makes him seem less of a threat than one would expect from a person of his size, but only those who have seen real battle can sense the façade. In contrast, the slightly out of shape man with a black, military-style haircut shows signs that he is a veteran. He favors his right leg, the knees trembling if he stays in the same position for too long. Not wanting to come off as dangerous, he keeps his rifle on his back and his handgun remains in its holster. A black and gold painted hand grenade is clipped to his belt and he lets his hand routinely falls to rub the explosive.
“We’re only passing through,” Cassidy finally says for what must be the tenth time in the last hour. Seeing the towering leader snort and spit at a tree, she assumes she will get the same response as her previous attempts to negotiate safe passage. “We aren’t citizens of Pennsylvania, so your war doesn’t involve us. Just let us be on our way. I can even take us north to New York, which shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
“I’m still confused on what’s going on here. Probably because the explanation happened during the break,” Lloyd admits, earning strange looks from the surrounding soldiers. Gazing at a soldier’s watch, he licks his lips at the thought of night being only four hours away. “Never mind. Can somebody just tell me again about this whole civil war? It doesn’t make any sense, especially since you guys aren’t shooting each other.”
“As a Petty Officer, I have the highest rank. So I’ll do it,” the towering man states, cracking his knuckles and taking a step closer. The squad leader backs up when he notices Cassidy is eyeing his large handgun. “Sergeant Noah can add anything that he wants, but we all know those from Pittsburgh are liars. That’s why this war is going on. Philadelphia should be the true capital of Pennsylvania. We have the best trade system, which your precious factories would be useless without. This superiority is also why my squad should get the vehicle, weapons, and new recruits.”
“For the last time, we are evenly ranked, Firestone,” Noah replies, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Having had multiple encounters with the other man, he has to remind himself that starting a shootout could damage the much needed supplies. “Philadelphia still has riots and burned down their own ports. That’s why all of the trade is over land through Long Island and New Jersey. You people are
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