It was funny how things could change so quickly. Nicole walked the southern boundaries of Palo Alto, California with four others following behind her. When the New California Directorate was formed, she remembered Director Dumar preach about preserving the American democratic ideals when anarchy overcame their country when the lights went out. In the beginning it was exactly as he said. People were happy. Months later, though, everything changed. For better or for worse, Nicole couldn’t say. Safety through oppression she thought to herself.
Rounding a corner, Nicole signaled the four to stop as she looked around. Her grip on her rifle was far too tight. She knew. Never in her life did she ever dream about holding a gun. Why she was the biggest anti-gun advocate anyone could have ever met. Whenever the girls and her had time to kill when they were off their shift at the office, conversations led to politics, and politics eventually led to the heated topic of fire arms. How ironic that the Director allocated her to the NCD Sentinels. She considered herself lucky that it wasn’t to the Regulars instead.
As if the world wasn’t already majorly screwed, Dumar was hellbent on recreating a fantasy empire. Men and women were all forced conscripted with regards to their age, past experience, and health. The Regulars were vanguard force that led the NCD’s vision of expansion. Multiple skirmishes with the old government and other new nations had circulated within the population. The propaganda painted the tale of victor and glory while the regulars who made it back told a different story. While dissent was there, Dumar had a way with words. He could make the most rebellious fall in line with the promise of peace through militaristic victory. That kept the conscript lines full and brought out the fanatical devotion soldiers carried with them on the battlefield.
On the flip side, the NCD borders were heavily patrolled by the Sentinels, the group she was given. Lightly outfitted compared to the regulars, the sentinel’s acted as a shield to repel invaders and keep non-NCD citizens out. She hated the job, but it kept her tokens coming.
“What’s wrong?” One of the sentinels walked up to her, his face shrouded by a balaclava. “See something?”
She wasn’t sure why she stopped. Nicole kept staring straight ahead. There was an abandoned building — a food mart of some type. She swore she saw something in there.
“We’re still well within the border,” said the sentinel. “Should I send a runner to South?”
Nicole shook her head. She tilted her refurbished helmet up. The military vest — dyed black and red — seemed to constrict her chest as her long sleeves felt suffocating. Why was she so tense?
“First Sentinel?”
“Se—“
The echoing blast from a discharged fire arm shook her to the core. On instinct, Nicole dove to the nearest wall. One of the sentinels was dragging back another was the woman wailed from the wound. She was bleeding fast. She peeked around the corner. Dark silhouettes moved within the very building she was eyeing before.
“Second!” The soldier who had suggested a runner before looked at her. “Grocery store! I see two!”
“Another three to the left side,” he said. “I’ve got eyes on them!”
Bullets pelted into the wall forcing Nicole to break away. How the hell did they get so far in without a report? Which faction were they from?
Leaning to the side, she sighted with her rifle and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped in her hands as the recoil pushed back against her shoulder. The damn thing had a kick. She heard yells come from the store’s location as she saw targets drop. Richter, her second, was always the dead eye when it counted.
As the skirmish drew on, footsteps bounded towards her. Nicole turned her weapon in their direction. A group dressed in black and maroon fatigues held up the Sentinel and Regular’s sign of allies. She pointed her weapon down as the masked figures came to stop by her. Several fanned out, but the CO stayed with her.
“Report.”
“Five confirmed targets in the store straight ahead. Two counted pegged.”
The Legate nodded as he signaled his team. They gave signs of acknowledgement as they opened fire. Slowly, they began to move up.
“Have your team secure the rear and flanks,” said the Regular as he stood up. “We’ll clean out the trash.”
—
It hadn’t taken long for the threat to be subdued. The regulars milled about as Nicole stood over her injured cohort member. A bullet had entered the woman’s abdomen. It was a grim wound, but she’d live, for now at least. Richter stood to the side as he talked to the fourth member who leaned against the wall. That expression. It was shell shock.
“First Sentinel.” Nicole turned around as the legate walked over. “My team will take over from here. The borders have been notified. We found the area patrol. They were executed with the knife. Bad way to go.”
“Did you find out the faction responsible for this?”
“People’s Republic of Arkadia. How the hell did they get behind the expeditionary force?”
She wondered the same thing. How had they snuck behind the front? Also, why were the regulars here?
“Your squad heading to the lines?”
“The Communists have fight it seems.”
“So it does.” She looked down as a makeshift stretcher had been fashioned by Richter and the other sentinel. Finally doing something useful she thought. “I’m pulling my patrol back to South. Have a message? Least I can do.”
The Legate shook his head. “Just report this. More sentinel patrols in this area. The last thing the front needs is an attack from behind. You handle a rifle well.”
The two saluted one another as the regulars began their sombre march to what may very well be their death. A pity that Dumar couldn’t co-exist and preferred subjugation instead, and she was a part of the means to that end.
“Second, get the stretcher. It’s time to go home.”
Richter nodded. Slowly, the four made their way back to the Southern Zone Command Hub. It was a silent walk back.
—
Nicole had changed into civilian clothes as she walked into the ration center nearest her quarters. Being well into the evening, folks were already calling it a night. The chefs waved to her as she waved back. Old man Horace. Though his hair was a hodgepodge of brown and grey, his eyes twinkled in blueish glee. He used to be a college professor, agriculture to be exact. From the life of teaching college students, he had been shafted to this job. If he was miffed by it, he hid it well.
“Alright Horace?”
“I was beginning to clean for the night, but then your pretty face showed up,” he said leaning against the polished silver serving table. “Not much of a choice presently. Got some left over stew and some bread. Interested?”
“Meat?”
“Yes ma’am?”
Nicole reached into her pocket, taking out her pouch of tokens. “Can’t be cheap then.”
Horace grunted as he swooped down and grabbed a bowl. “Discount for you — try not to tell the Se— Oh …”
“I don’t want to get us in trouble with my branch,” she said. “So…?”
“Ten tokens.”
“Christ,” Nicole said as she placed ten tokens on the table. “Any chance of warming it up?”
Horace grimaced as he pushed the bowl and bread towards her. “Water’s over there. Feel free to have at it.”
She took her things as she stopped to get a water before sitting at a table in the corner. She tucked in, observing the room between bites. Even in Central — the safest place in the NCD — she was ill at ease. She laughed. If only dad could see her now. His little princess who was studying medicine turned into a soldier. The irony of it all.
Rounding a corner, Nicole signaled the four to stop as she looked around. Her grip on her rifle was far too tight. She knew. Never in her life did she ever dream about holding a gun. Why she was the biggest anti-gun advocate anyone could have ever met. Whenever the girls and her had time to kill when they were off their shift at the office, conversations led to politics, and politics eventually led to the heated topic of fire arms. How ironic that the Director allocated her to the NCD Sentinels. She considered herself lucky that it wasn’t to the Regulars instead.
As if the world wasn’t already majorly screwed, Dumar was hellbent on recreating a fantasy empire. Men and women were all forced conscripted with regards to their age, past experience, and health. The Regulars were vanguard force that led the NCD’s vision of expansion. Multiple skirmishes with the old government and other new nations had circulated within the population. The propaganda painted the tale of victor and glory while the regulars who made it back told a different story. While dissent was there, Dumar had a way with words. He could make the most rebellious fall in line with the promise of peace through militaristic victory. That kept the conscript lines full and brought out the fanatical devotion soldiers carried with them on the battlefield.
On the flip side, the NCD borders were heavily patrolled by the Sentinels, the group she was given. Lightly outfitted compared to the regulars, the sentinel’s acted as a shield to repel invaders and keep non-NCD citizens out. She hated the job, but it kept her tokens coming.
“What’s wrong?” One of the sentinels walked up to her, his face shrouded by a balaclava. “See something?”
She wasn’t sure why she stopped. Nicole kept staring straight ahead. There was an abandoned building — a food mart of some type. She swore she saw something in there.
“We’re still well within the border,” said the sentinel. “Should I send a runner to South?”
Nicole shook her head. She tilted her refurbished helmet up. The military vest — dyed black and red — seemed to constrict her chest as her long sleeves felt suffocating. Why was she so tense?
“First Sentinel?”
“Se—“
The echoing blast from a discharged fire arm shook her to the core. On instinct, Nicole dove to the nearest wall. One of the sentinels was dragging back another was the woman wailed from the wound. She was bleeding fast. She peeked around the corner. Dark silhouettes moved within the very building she was eyeing before.
“Second!” The soldier who had suggested a runner before looked at her. “Grocery store! I see two!”
“Another three to the left side,” he said. “I’ve got eyes on them!”
Bullets pelted into the wall forcing Nicole to break away. How the hell did they get so far in without a report? Which faction were they from?
Leaning to the side, she sighted with her rifle and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped in her hands as the recoil pushed back against her shoulder. The damn thing had a kick. She heard yells come from the store’s location as she saw targets drop. Richter, her second, was always the dead eye when it counted.
As the skirmish drew on, footsteps bounded towards her. Nicole turned her weapon in their direction. A group dressed in black and maroon fatigues held up the Sentinel and Regular’s sign of allies. She pointed her weapon down as the masked figures came to stop by her. Several fanned out, but the CO stayed with her.
“Report.”
“Five confirmed targets in the store straight ahead. Two counted pegged.”
The Legate nodded as he signaled his team. They gave signs of acknowledgement as they opened fire. Slowly, they began to move up.
“Have your team secure the rear and flanks,” said the Regular as he stood up. “We’ll clean out the trash.”
—
It hadn’t taken long for the threat to be subdued. The regulars milled about as Nicole stood over her injured cohort member. A bullet had entered the woman’s abdomen. It was a grim wound, but she’d live, for now at least. Richter stood to the side as he talked to the fourth member who leaned against the wall. That expression. It was shell shock.
“First Sentinel.” Nicole turned around as the legate walked over. “My team will take over from here. The borders have been notified. We found the area patrol. They were executed with the knife. Bad way to go.”
“Did you find out the faction responsible for this?”
“People’s Republic of Arkadia. How the hell did they get behind the expeditionary force?”
She wondered the same thing. How had they snuck behind the front? Also, why were the regulars here?
“Your squad heading to the lines?”
“The Communists have fight it seems.”
“So it does.” She looked down as a makeshift stretcher had been fashioned by Richter and the other sentinel. Finally doing something useful she thought. “I’m pulling my patrol back to South. Have a message? Least I can do.”
The Legate shook his head. “Just report this. More sentinel patrols in this area. The last thing the front needs is an attack from behind. You handle a rifle well.”
The two saluted one another as the regulars began their sombre march to what may very well be their death. A pity that Dumar couldn’t co-exist and preferred subjugation instead, and she was a part of the means to that end.
“Second, get the stretcher. It’s time to go home.”
Richter nodded. Slowly, the four made their way back to the Southern Zone Command Hub. It was a silent walk back.
—
Nicole had changed into civilian clothes as she walked into the ration center nearest her quarters. Being well into the evening, folks were already calling it a night. The chefs waved to her as she waved back. Old man Horace. Though his hair was a hodgepodge of brown and grey, his eyes twinkled in blueish glee. He used to be a college professor, agriculture to be exact. From the life of teaching college students, he had been shafted to this job. If he was miffed by it, he hid it well.
“Alright Horace?”
“I was beginning to clean for the night, but then your pretty face showed up,” he said leaning against the polished silver serving table. “Not much of a choice presently. Got some left over stew and some bread. Interested?”
“Meat?”
“Yes ma’am?”
Nicole reached into her pocket, taking out her pouch of tokens. “Can’t be cheap then.”
Horace grunted as he swooped down and grabbed a bowl. “Discount for you — try not to tell the Se— Oh …”
“I don’t want to get us in trouble with my branch,” she said. “So…?”
“Ten tokens.”
“Christ,” Nicole said as she placed ten tokens on the table. “Any chance of warming it up?”
Horace grimaced as he pushed the bowl and bread towards her. “Water’s over there. Feel free to have at it.”
She took her things as she stopped to get a water before sitting at a table in the corner. She tucked in, observing the room between bites. Even in Central — the safest place in the NCD — she was ill at ease. She laughed. If only dad could see her now. His little princess who was studying medicine turned into a soldier. The irony of it all.