Faster on My Own: Chapter 39
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Conversations with the Dead
Tara Roman, ULF soldier and self-professed “best murderer”
I: So how did you die?
TARA: It was a cheap shot, write that down. Fake dead ass idiot, stand up and try to shoot me like that and see what happens. Fuck. One right through the head I guess. Gonna haunt his ass forever until he kills himself.
I: What if he’s already dead?
TARA: I’ll go haunt Nina then. I know she’s not dead. I’ve seen her dodge bullets. Multiple.
I: Nina is alive, that’s true. What happened before you died?
T: I found that fucker playing dead cuz he got way too far into our zone and knew he messed up. And here I am, thinking, you ambush us and you can’t even hold the space? This is gonna be easy. So I’m skipping down trying to cut some throats: dead’s not dead until it’s dead, you know? And he picks up his gun and that’s it. Pop.
I: And before that?
T: Oh you want the beginning-beginning. I got you. So we’re cruising through the mountain, I’m on guard watching the president because he loved me and Nina so much from the last time we met. We made him swooooon. Ha! Anyway I’m punching him a little cuz he’s whining about his hand, like we can trust him to stay in the truck without cuffs. When we know he tried to get the hell out last time. Uh-uh. No way. So he’s bitching and me and Nina are laughing our asses off, she’s talking about how she’s gonna piss on Lincoln’s grave and I’m saying it’s not even in DC, and she’s saying she’s gonna piss on something, and then we turn the corner and our cars stop and it all went to shit. Guns going off, explosions, no one knows what the hell’s going on.
I: Did the president know what was happening?
T: He damn near pissed his pants. That dude didn’t know a thing. Never did, never will. Did he live?
I: He did.
T: What the hell? How? Me and Nina left him cuffed to a truck bed. He was begging and begging us to let him go, talking about how he was gonna die. And I thought he was right, but no way I was sitting back and guarding that dude while all my friends got to do the fun stuff. So I get into the mix and it’s a whole damn battalion or whatever, just chilling in the mountains. They got the jump on us. I’ll give them that. But it doesn’t make sense.
I: Do you want to know what the outcome of the battle was?
T: Nah, I’m sure we won. One hundred percent. We fought and beat bigger armies.
I: Is there anything else you want to talk about?
T: I’m sure you got the rest. I’m tired as hell all of a sudden.
I: Go in peace, spirit.
Brett Wilson, 1st Lieutenant of the 1st Division of the 1st Army loyal to the president
INTERVIEWER: Hello Brett. How did you die?
BRETT: Well, uh, I received bullet fire at oh-nine-hundred hours, which pierced through the leftward leg on my body, causing an outflow of blood. I ascertained that I should try to shift my position out of the sight-lines of the enemy targets, in order to evade further perforation. In so doing, I encountered a Toyota truck, a Tacoma to my recollection, which could offer me a barrier to protect myself from gunfire. I tied a tourniquet around my leg to prevent catastrophic blood loss, and then the Toyota truck exploded, incinerating me and my gear and causing me to cease my efforts to apply the tourniquet as I no longer had the capability and my blood was no longer required.
I: How did the battle start?
B: We were bivouacked in the pass, having just evaluated our previous base site for landslide potential. Discovering a near-guarantee of future rock-based damage, we gathered our living materials and transported them up the mountain just enough to be confident that we were secure. As we co-ordinated our efforts to navigate our new residence situation, the ULF’s automobiles appeared and immediately gunfire was exchanged. From there the tactical situation developed into chaos.
I: What was your goal, during the combat?
B: At the initiation of combat, my evaluation was that the most efficacious tactical maneuver was establishing a perimeter from which we could fire without concern that we would be fired upon. However, I saw the president making an egress from the ULF forces, and his rescue became my primary objective.
I: Did you succeed?
B: Negative. I was in a hurry because his injuries looked damaging to his health, both physical and mental, which applied counter-pressure to my instincts about taking caution on a battlefield. When he tried to engage in a tactical barrel roll and succeeded in covering his ruined suit which appeared to be a couple sizes too big, likely caused by malnutrition, I knew I had to act. Combined with the state of his left hand, which is beyond description. That’s when I was wounded, which later led to my death.
I: What did his hand look like?
B: It was beyond description.
I: Do you want to know how the battle ended?
B: No thank you. I know with the fullness of my heart that my brothers and sisters in arms were victorious. Nothing can compare to the might of our faith in our president Steven Williams.
I: Even after he did that gay little roll in the dirt?
B: Even so.
I: Thank you. Go in peace.
Ashwin Shethi, alleged mastermind behind the revolution
INTERVIEWER: Hello Ashwin. How did you die?
ASHWIN: *the howl of a powerful wind flowing through barren mountain peaks*
I: Do you know how the battle started?
A:
I:
A:
I:
Bret Willson, self-identified “freedom warrior”, Private in 1st Division
INTERVIEWER: How did you die?
BRET: I drove a truck into another truck and that hit another truck and then first one blew up, then the second one blew up, then I blew up.
I: What stands out to you from the battle?
B: Those commies fought like hell but it was so fuckin’ weird, man.
I: I’m not a man, for the record.
B: Oh, my bad. What are ya then?
I: I’m the interviewer.
B: Alright alright. Anyway we managed to get our shit together just enough that we had them scrambling, but damn, they fought real hard. So I’m flanking around, about to get in the truck–
I: The one that blew you up.
B: The one that blew up the one that blew up the one that blew me up. I feel like you gotta blame the first truck that blew up, once that happens two and three’s just dominos, you know? So that truck killed me. Anyways, I’m getting in this truck and I see the president hustlin’ by the side of it. Doin’ all kindsa maneuvers, real operator shit. He knew he needed to get the hell outta there, and he wasn’t about to let himself get shot. I was proud to call him my president, seeing that.
I: What about the roll? Did you see that?
B: Yeah I saw it.
I: Do you have thoughts on that gay little roll?
B: Nah. It is what it is, we all fuck up sometimes. The rest of the moves were golden.
I: Do you want to know how the battle ended?
B: No need, United States Army rolled those fuckers. Woo!
I: Go in peace, spirit.
B: Later player.
Arnold Cook, former last remaining leader of the ULF
INTERVIEWER: Hello Arnold, how did you die?
ARNOLD: *laughs* I wish I could tell you. One moment I’ve got him in my eyes, the next, lights out. I assume I took a bullet to the back of my head.
I: Who did you have in your eyes?
A: Williams. Right in front of me, trying to see the road through tears. And he was right to be afraid. I would’ve killed him.
I: But you were shot?
A: I was. I didn’t think that was how I would go out. I had dreams of growing old in a peaceful world with my husband. We were winning. We were winning.
I: What happened during the battle?
A: Bloodshed. Chaos. I don’t know what anyone else has told you. People like to embellish. It’s their nature.
I: So you didn’t do anything heroic?
A: I screamed and shot and cussed and died. That’s all anyone else did either. And they had people in a better position to do the shooting, so we did more cussing and dying. I wanted to kill Williams to break their morale, because they were winning.
I: Do you think your forces lost?
A: The fascists had us pinned against a mountain, all of our trucks were on fire or off the cliff, our captive got away, and I couldn’t go ten seconds without watching a comrade catch a bullet. Until it was my turn.
I: So…?
A: You know what I think. And I know what you know.
I: Do you want to know if the president survived?
A: That slippery bastard lived. I saw in his eyes the moment he realized this battle would end if he died, but he’d give up anything to live. His hand attested to that, the ugly thing. Mangled like nothing I’ve ever seen.
I: Did you see the gay little roll?
A: Please. Let me rest.
I: Go in peace.