Post by Mina Crow on Jun 20, 2006 9:31:56 GMT 12
My name is John Hagen. I'm sixteen, and American. Dai and Reason wanted me to write something down. For the record, they said. I don't know whether or not they'll read this, and honestly, I don't know if I care. Everything's relative, all the more in this city.
Most of them think I ran away from the army. Does it matter? They dubbed me "Commando" on that idea. I was never part of the garrison, but for all effects, I'm a runaway indeed. My dad is CSM Frank Hagen, and I had nowhere to go but to the army encampment when he was called.
That was two days after the Black Plague struck. They hadn't enough people to contain all the desperate civilians, and dad was called along with many others. I went with him. As simple as that. There were other kids; their parents wanted to be with them, and who can blame them, who can blame us? It was a tragedy, we needed to be together.
What I saw... Nightmares. Even today I can't close my eyes without those images creeping back. They shot down everyone who tried to escape the city. Everyone - men, women, children, grandparents. Every. Last. One.
Then the cleansing started. White Plague, v2.5. And the newcomers. Kids, mostly. The city was a graveyard, and they wanted to say their good-byes.
But they wouldn't let them in. Cleansed as it was, the city was still forbidden ground. The kids didn't care - they cut through the Wall anyway. The wars started, and now they couldn't get out anymore. Not without... quarantine, and trial for the blood spilled. When the mutations started, all those studies... Most kids never returned. I don't want to remember it.
It was... What, eleven months after the Plagues? I'm not sure. But I was too tired. Rob helped of out, even if he didn't want to. I miss him, but I'll never see him again. And Dad as well... Not with me here, and I'm not going out. Cruel as the city might me, these last four months I've been myself... I think. Not really sure about anything, now. Is that the true meaning of freedom?
Most of them think I ran away from the army. Does it matter? They dubbed me "Commando" on that idea. I was never part of the garrison, but for all effects, I'm a runaway indeed. My dad is CSM Frank Hagen, and I had nowhere to go but to the army encampment when he was called.
That was two days after the Black Plague struck. They hadn't enough people to contain all the desperate civilians, and dad was called along with many others. I went with him. As simple as that. There were other kids; their parents wanted to be with them, and who can blame them, who can blame us? It was a tragedy, we needed to be together.
What I saw... Nightmares. Even today I can't close my eyes without those images creeping back. They shot down everyone who tried to escape the city. Everyone - men, women, children, grandparents. Every. Last. One.
Then the cleansing started. White Plague, v2.5. And the newcomers. Kids, mostly. The city was a graveyard, and they wanted to say their good-byes.
But they wouldn't let them in. Cleansed as it was, the city was still forbidden ground. The kids didn't care - they cut through the Wall anyway. The wars started, and now they couldn't get out anymore. Not without... quarantine, and trial for the blood spilled. When the mutations started, all those studies... Most kids never returned. I don't want to remember it.
It was... What, eleven months after the Plagues? I'm not sure. But I was too tired. Rob helped of out, even if he didn't want to. I miss him, but I'll never see him again. And Dad as well... Not with me here, and I'm not going out. Cruel as the city might me, these last four months I've been myself... I think. Not really sure about anything, now. Is that the true meaning of freedom?
