Graveyard 1

I

“No one can really remember how the war started. No one can really remember who struck fist, or for that matter why it all started in the first place. What we do know is that the war was great, and if it wasn't for the trinity's foresig-”

“We know about the trinity! Our teachers have told us that! We wanna know about Graveyard 1. Our teachers say that we'll learn it next year, but we want to know about it now!”

“Quite you,” said the old man to the small herd of children that had recently invaded his living quarters. He stood up from his chair, and glared at the children. Under his intense glare, the children quited themselves and returned to silently sitting on the carpet in his den. As the old man slowly slid back into his chair once more, the children's attention became riveted upon him. After a couple moments, he cleared his throat and began.


II

The room was dark, as the only sources of light were various screens set up around the room and in the table. The table itself resembled a gargantuan oval television laid flat, rather than a piece of furniture. Around the table, dark chairs were arranged, and shadowy figures occupied them. The table itself was one large screen; displaying pictures of battlefields, reports of losses, and battle plans. These images and many others glided across the table from one chair to the next, only pausing for a moment for each of the chairs occupants to examine them. Every few minutes, the table would emit a low wine and a flashing, red item would appear on its surface and immediately proceed to one chair or another before entering the long parade of information cycling the table. Suddenly all the images stopped, and one of the figures stood from his chair. The light from the table only hinted at the appearance of his face, but it mattered little for all the rooms occupants knew him well. He was the learder of the United States, one of the three nations that had sworn to an alliance when the war broke out. The other two nations, China and Canada, also had their leaders in the room, but they remained seated. The United States President spoke in a low voice,

“I think we've seen enough. It's been six years since we formed this alliance, and six years since the British unleashed their sick weapon upon the world. In those six years we've seen the world consumed by nuclear fire and then torn asunder again by the fusing of human and machine. We all see the reports, we now we are losing. Its not fast, but our lose of this war is eminent. I propose that-”

“I disagree,” said one of the figures, and he rose from his chair. He was the Chinese prime minister. “Our, scientists have nearly bonded human and machine flawlessly. With a few more years we could have a sustainable hybrid.”

“And then what? Fight a long, drawn out war with the rest of the world? How much would we lose? No, I think its time we implemented project graveyard.”

The room suddenly burst into an uproar.

“Impossible, it can't be done.”

“We'd have to abandon everything we've fought to protect!”

The American President tapped the table and a large diagram appeared on every screen in the room. He spoke loudly.

“It is possible, and it's there before your eyes. All that is needed is your cooperation in building it.”

For a few tense minutes the diagram was inspected, and then, as if driven by some silent order, all the occupants began furiously tapping the table sending orders to their underlings to begin immediately. And so so project Graveyard was born.

III

The sun was high, red, and oppressive, and somewhere in east Virginia eight soldiers sat in a trench. At the moment they were taking cover from the sun rather than their enemies weapons. These soliders were gaurding section E4 of the battle line lovingly refered to as Hell's scratch; just as they had been for the last six months following the Pan-Euro invasion of north America. As of late the fighting has grown sparse, as the invaders were less and less willing too risk a major assault on the Hell's scratch. The Americans had dug in, and each bloody assault had been turn back with no progress made by either side. However, the Pan-Euro forces know that they stand better supplied and manned, and so they bide their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Thus these American soliders sit under the sun waiting for the inevitable attack.

In the trench, Sgt. Paul Lander sits on an upturned box, and glares at his canteen in front of him. He longs to drink what water remains in it, but no, he has promised himself it would last till four today. Grimacing, the Sergeant picks up his targeting goggles from the ground beside him, and glancing at the small read out displayed in them reads the time. Curling his lips into a silent snarl he tosses the goggles to the ground again.

2:23

Pvt Jeremy Starks watches his comrades from under the meager shelter made from his rifle and a towel he nicked from Rodgers. He watches as across from him, Lander loses his internal battle and grudgingly drains his canteen. Idly, Starks leers at his own canteen lying out in the sun. Out of reach from his shady shelter, empty, dry, and useless. He mutters under his breath.

“Why must it be some damned hot.”

2:24

Cpl. Tom Wilks reads the headlines of the newspaper he smuggled out of the city.

Super Hybrid Born!

Chinese Win Crucial Victory!

Super Weapon tested in the Rockies!

Closing the newspaper, he thinks to himself.

“Lies, why so many lies? Is it to keep the peoples hopes up? Or to keep them tame?”

2:25

Breaking the silence,

“Sarge,” grunted starks

“What,” murmured the half sleeping Lander

“Rodgers is coming back,” replied Starks.

Sure enough, the scraggly man identified as Rodgers was slowly jogging his way towards the others through the trench that led away from their section and back to the main base.

“Does he have our booze Stark? Tell me he brought the damn booze.” pined Wilks.

“No, he doesn't have it.”

Several moments passed as the watched Rodgers approach, and soon he ran up winded and panting. Lander looked balefully at Rodgers, groaned, and fell back on his box.

“Why, Rodgers, why don't you have it,” he moaned.

“Damn the alcohol, Sarge. Theres something bigger going on!,” shouted Rodgers. Startled by Rodgers uncharacteristic fervor, Lander rose and asked,

“Well, Whats going on out with it? Are the Euros making their push?”

“Sir, I was sneaking off the base to get to Old Williams still like normal, but when I came up through the sewers, I couldn't find a soul in the city. All the people are gone! I broke into several houses, and still I couldn't find anyone. The whole city is empty, desolate, and barren!”

“Did you hear anything from command while you were passing through base?” Questioned Landers, but before he could respond the com sets inside their helmets began to blare.

“Attention all units... attention all units...”