The Alice Marshall School’s new cemetery rested in a little valley, ringed by boulders and little cliffs rising six to eight feet on three sides. Four rough crosses made from pine limbs marked the graves of Portia Keelin, Casey Hayes, Stephanie Ollins, and Harold Gates.

“We must find strength in one another,” said the chaplain as he continued the funeral service. “We must remind one another of what our Lord Jesus promises us in the Holy Gospel according to Saint Matthew, chapter twenty-eight, verse twenty, ‘Behold, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.’ Won’t you join with me now, and with those around you, in a word of prayer?”

I bowed my head with most everyone else. In church, before the war, prayer came easily to me. I could focus on what Chaplain Carmichael was saying. It wasn’t as easy now. Too many bad memories rippled through my thoughts. I squeezed my eyes closed and forced myself to concentrate.

“… We ask you to please bring us together, Lord, as brothers and sisters in Christ. As a family. In the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.”

The sound of sobs and sniffles followed us as the funeral service began to break up. The cool mountain air sent a shiver through me, even with the sun shining, my sweatshirt on, and JoBell’s arm around me.

Sergeant Kemp found us as the crowd departed. “Good news and bad news.”

“I don’t know if I can take any more bad news,” JoBell said.

Kemp laughed a little. “Well, compared to everything else, this news isn’t that bad. The guys are having trouble getting the generator started, so we can’t get power anywhere, but especially where we need it — in the fridges in the kitchen. So, because some people have steaks and pork chops in the coolers, we’re going to cook all that up on the grills tonight and eat like kings. Pierce figures it will raise morale to have a sort of ‘welcome to our new home’ feast.”

“And we have to eat it now before it’ll go to waste,” said JoBell.

“I know engines,” I said. “I can help them with the generator.”

“Nope,” Kemp said. “I need you two to get to the front of the line and eat first and then hit the rack early and try to sleep.”

My shoulders slumped. I knew the bad news. “When do we go on?”

JoBell must have figured it out too. “What? Oh, come on, Tom.”

Kemp held his hands up in surrender. “What do you want from me? I have to put together a guard roster. The overnight is when the guards are most important, and you people have the most experience. You’ll be on from nineteen hundred to zero one. Then again at zero seven to thirteen hundred. I doubt we’ll have time to dig in established fighting positions by your shift, so it will be a roving patrol kind of thing.”

JoBell held up her Springfield M1A. “I’ll never be able to put this thing down.”

“Sure you will,” I said. “While you’re asleep. Anyway, rule number three. We have to make sure what’s out there doesn’t make its way in here.”

“Will you two be able to keep a lookout if I pair you together, or will you be too” — he smiled and raised his eyebrows — “distracted?”

I flipped him off. JoBell wrapped her arms around me and rubbed her leg up and down mine. “I don’t know, Sergeant Kemp. You see how hot my boy is. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Good. Then I’ll put you two out in the front parking lot, covering the trail we came up on.”

“She’s kidding,” I called after Kemp as he walked away.

JoBell nibbled the bottom of my ear. “I am not,” she whispered.

“Then maybe we should skip the steaks and get right to bed,” I said. “That guard shift will come early.”

“Forget that,” JoBell said, letting me go and walking down the trail toward the chow hall. “I’m hungry.”

I laughed and followed her. Cal caught up to me. He was holding hands with Samantha Monohan, but he whispered something to her and she nodded. “Hey, Jo! Wait up!” She ran ahead to catch up with JoBell.

“You get the night shift too?” Cal asked.

I nodded. “It’s cool. I’d probably be up all night with bad dreams anyway.”

We walked along in silence for a while. Ever since we were kids, Cal was the fun-loving, wild, and crazy one in our group. Sweeney’d be all, “I don’t know, Cal. Maybe the ravine is too wide,” and Cal would laugh, rev up his dirt bike, and gun the engine to make the jump.

That was before the war. Now … I’m not gonna lie. Ever since Cal found out the truth about the Brotherhood, he was like the midway at the county fair with all the power shut off. He used to walk like a tank, but now his arms and shoulders were slumped, and he dragged his feet a little.

“How you doing?” I asked.

“You believe in God?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Like the chaplain was saying, I mean?”

“Sure,” I said.

“My old man never gave a shit if I went to church or went to jail,” Cal said. “He was never around, always on the road. But I … I always believed in the Big Man Upstairs, you know?”

“I guess.”

“You know how Carmichael was talking about Jesus forgiving and stuff?” He got real quiet. “You think that’s true? Like even after all I done, joining the Brotherhood and everything, picking up the rope they hung —”

I grabbed him under his arms and shoved him back against the trunk of a big tree. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if Cal had resisted, but his back hit hard. “Hey!” I was right up in his face. “There ain’t no way either of us could have known what Crow was gonna do with that rope he sent you to pick up. Jesus forgives you for it, and I forgive you. But you don’t talk about any of your Brotherhood stuff around here. One thing I learned in the Army is that the fastest way to make sure the whole unit knows about something is to tell only one or two trusted friends. In a group this small, if you mention hot gossip to one person, everybody is going to know it in a few days. People might not be so understanding.”

Cal opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but only a weak sigh escaped his lips. “But … Jaclyn. How do I tell her?”

“You don’t,” I said. “She can’t handle that right now. It doesn’t matter anyway, because, you big bastard, it isn’t your fault. If some guy shoots up a store, is it the gun company’s fault?”

Cal frowned. “What? No. That’s stupid gun control crap.”

“If a guy sells a perfectly good car to another dude, who then gets in a crash and dies, is it the salesman’s fault?”

“Okay, I get what you’re saying,” Cal said. “But if I hadn’t —”

“Cal, they would have done it anyway. With or without you.”

He finally nodded and stood up straight.

“I wish I could go back in time. Do things different,” he said.

The ghost wound in my left hand flared with pain as I thought of the Battle of Boise, the death of my mother, and a hundred other things that had happened in this war. Why was it so easy for me to forgive Cal and accept God’s forgiveness for him, when I couldn’t let go of all the wrong I’d done? “I hear that, man.”

We walked down the long trail toward the chow hall. Most everyone else was way ahead of us now.

“You were right,” Cal finally said.

I kicked a rock down the trail. “About what?”

“When we were hiding in Shiratori’s basement, and I was covered in blood from cutting the hell out of those Fed assholes.”

“Maybe we ought to let the past be the past,” I said.

“What I mean is that, you tried to warn me about getting too far into it. Into the war or into fighting. And you were right. I loved the fight too much. The thrill. That adrenaline rush. And yeah, sometimes, lots of times, the fight was for something good, like saving you and JoBell outside of Lewiston. But the power to take out the bad guys and do something good is still power. I think I got hooked on that.” He drew his sword and pointed it ahead of him.

“Would you watch it with that thing?” I said.

“I got like addicted to riding in like cowboys and shit and being like” — he stabbed the air — “ ‘You’re done, asshole! I’m Cal Riccon, and I’m going to tell you how things are going to be.’” He shook his head. “It’s like a drug, man. And I think my old man was addicted to it too. That’s why I knew I couldn’t talk to him before we left. It’s the thrill of the fight. The power. I gotta give it up.”

*  *  *

Chow was kind of messed up. There weren’t close to enough seats or plates, so people sat outside on the rocks or on logs. A lot of people ate caveman style, just holding their whole piece of steak or chop in their hands and biting into it. Mr. Morgan’s wife had her flute and his daughter brought her violin, and they played a couple songs while we ate. When I first heard about it, I thought bringing the instruments was a stupid waste of space for the trip, but then I realized how long it had been since I’d heard music, how much I missed it. With our playlists from our comms all in the cloud and the Internet all jacked up, our songs were basically gone.

After chow, we hit the rack. The school had sixteen rooms in the big guest dorm, nine student cabins, and six faculty cabins, but space was still scarce, so people had to pack it in. Kemp wanted the people scheduled for guard rotation in the big guest dorm building, so me and JoBell wound up sharing a room with two twin-sized beds with Sweeney and Cal. Sweeney had tried to get Becca to crash with him, but she wanted to spend some time with her family, who was bunked in faculty cabin four.

In the past, we all would have bitched about having only two racks for the four of us, but all of us had been through hell and dealt with worse. Sweeney and Cal insisted JoBell sleep in one of the beds, an offer she accepted right away. She fell across the bed and pulled a ragged quilt over her head, using her sweatshirt for a pillow. Us three guys argued for a couple minutes about who would get a bed and who would get the floor. I didn’t want Cal or Sweeney to be screwed over just because I was dating JoBell.

“Shut up!” JoBell finally yelled, holding up the quilt. “Danny, get in here. Sweeney, Cal, you’re both fully dressed. Share the other bunk. It’s not like you’re getting married or anything.”

“Um, right,” Cal said. “Plus, it won’t be weird because you can sleep under the blanket and I’ll be on top so —”

“Oh, good thinking, Cal,” JoBell said. “That way neither of you will get pregnant. Now go to sleep, or don’t, but shut the hell up.”

I laughed at that and then lay there on my back with JoBell pressed in next to me, her head on my chest. I breathed deeply, forcing air in and slowly and steadily letting it back out, trying to calm myself, trying to wipe all the bad thoughts from my mind.

*  *  *

Kemp woke us all up at about six. Someone had brought chow over from the dining hall, and coffee, heated over the fire, would be available down in the library all night for the guards. But when we got down there, we could hardly get to the food and coffee. The library was so stuffed with people that part of the crowd had spilled into the big, empty entryway right next to it.

Becca came up behind us and kissed Sweeney on the cheek. “Maybe they could hand us our food?”

TJ found us too. “Right? And maybe they could hurry? We’re on duty in less than an hour.”

“Screw this,” I said, starting to push my way into the crowd. “Excuse me. Excuse us. We just need to get in here to get … Excuse us. Can you just —” As I plowed my way through the mass of bodies, my friends followed close behind.

When we finally made it into the library, we found Mrs. Pierce and her family up by the fireplace. Other family clumps were crammed in throughout the room. The Robinsons were behind the Macers. The Grenkes were back in the corner by the table, Skylar perched up on one of the rolling ladders. The Monohans, Blakes, Beans, Ericsons. For a moment, I was kind of pissed that I had been left out of whatever this was all about. But then JoBell squeezed my hand, and I smiled. For me and my friends, the hard part was over. We’d helped them make it here. They could figure out the rest.

“Now, see, that just doesn’t seem right to me, ma’am,” said Mr. Robinson.

“Oh, come on, Dwight,” said Samantha Monohan’s stepmom. “You were a national champion fisherman. You’ve been on TV for catching fish.”

Mr. Robinson held up his hands. “I haven’t fished a serious tournament for years. Anyway, fishing is what I do for fun, to get away from work. I’d feel guilty out there by the water with everyone else working. I want to earn my keep.”

Mrs. Pierce smiled. “Mr. Robinson, we need fresh food. You can fish, and teach others to fish. We also need you to figure out how to make one of those old-fashioned icehouses. We’ll harvest ice from the lake this winter to use through the summer.”

“I saw some old photos of an icehouse at a bar once,” said Lee Brooks. “It’s a big pit with some shelves and an insulated roof. You pack the ice with sawdust. I can help.”

“That don’t hardly seem fair,” said Dylan Burns’s stepdad. “What if other people want to fish?”

“You want to fish, Mr. Ratcliff?” Mrs. Pierce asked.

The man looked down. “Well, no. It’s nothing I’ve ever enjoyed for myself, but, well, someone might like it.”

Tucker Blake’s dad spoke up. “Years ago I had this idea that I was going to be a chef. But you know how it goes. One thing leads to another, and I never found the time for culinary school. But if we’re picking jobs, I’d really like to work in the kitchen.”

“Please let him!” said Mrs. Carmichael. “We need a lot more help. We need people to help prep, cook, and wash dishes. And we’ll need people to fill in for the kitchen staff sometimes so the same workers aren’t in there all day every day. We need a rotation.”

Mr. Blake smiled. “My wife and I would love to help.”

An old man standing next to them held up his hand. “I used to be a butcher. You bring in that fish, I can prep it. Or if a hunting party bagged us a deer or moose.”

“Now hunting I can do,” said Mr. Ratcliff. “Never got into fishing, but I was always a good hunter. Got me a good-sized deer most years.”

More people started jumping in to volunteer to hunt. Me and my friends finally made our way to our food, meals on metal plates wrapped in paper. A little pork chop and a scoop of mixed vegetables from a can. It wasn’t much, but I passed the plates to my friends and we all scarfed it down.

“The other problem is that there’s a little gas left to run the ranges and ovens, but once that’s gone, we’re in trouble,” said Mrs. Carmichael.

“Can they be converted to wood stoves somehow?” Mrs. Pierce asked.

Our old shop teacher, Mr. Cretis, raised his hand. “We brought that welding gear and other tools for a reason. With all that and the tools in the shed at the back of the rec lodge, we have a pretty good shop. I could probably figure out a way to rig those stoves and ovens to burn wood. Might not be pretty, but I bet I could get ’em to work.”

“I want to know what I’m getting for those steaks and chops,” Caitlyn Ericson’s dad said. “I had to trade my Harley for them. How am I being compensated now that everybody’s had something to eat?”

“Are you being serious?” Becca said.

“Well, I don’t see you complaining while you’re eating,” Mr. Ericson said.

My second-grade teacher, Mrs. Van Buren, put her hands on her hips. “If this is going to work, we’re going to have to share.”

“What are you going to share, Rachel?” Mr. Ericson asked. “Teaching?”

“Yeah!” said Mrs. Van Buren. “We’re going to want our kids to get an education.”

“And what about when my kids are too old for grade school?” Mr. Ericson said. “What then?”

A lot of people chimed in, arguing.

I didn’t come all this way to live in some communist compound.

What are we supposed to buy things with? Our money is useless.

We can trade! Trading works fine.

Then who gets the food in the kitchen?

What’s a fair trade for child care? Or for education for your kids?

What about the people too old to work?

I am not turning over my family’s food!

“Everybody shut the hell up!” I climbed up onto the big wooden table. “I didn’t bring any food, Mr. Ratcliff.”

“Well, Danny, you should have been thinking ahead.”

“Oh, I was,” I said. “I was thinking about the Brotherhood guys and other thugs we ran into along the trip. So I brought bullets. Me and my guys and Mr. Grenke here risked our asses to steal diesel from the Brotherhood so we’d have enough fuel to get here. So when we get the diesel generators working again, maybe you don’t get any electricity. Hope you brought candles.”

“Now hold on a second,” Mr. Ericson said.

“We are going to have to work together,” I said. “Like Mrs. Van Buren said, we must share to make it through this.”

“Just giving away what’s ours? That’s socialist-style,” said Craig Rankin. “That’s just un-American.”

JoBell climbed up and stood on the table beside me. “America is dead,” she said.

“Fine,” Mr. Keelin said. “But I’ve lived my whole life by conservative principles. Danny, you’ve been on the Buzz Ellison Show. You know how he stands for everybody working hard and then getting the rewards that come from that hard work. You’re sounding like some liberal Democrat.”

“Democrats are dead,” JoBell said. “By the millions. So are Republicans. There are no parties anymore.”

I felt weird up here above everybody else, so I led JoBell down to stand in the middle of the group. “Damn it. Don’t you get it yet? All that political bitching, the stupid arguments? They’re what got us into all this!” I shook my head. “Buzz Ellison … You know who used to love listening to Buzz Ellison? My business partner, Dave Schmidt. Now Schmidty’s dead! Ellison used to bitch about President Rodriguez all the time. Rodriguez is dead. Millions are dead, because everybody was busy trying to find someone else to blame instead of fixing the damned problems in the first place.” I put my empty plate down on the table. “Now me and my friends gotta go on guard duty to protect everybody through the night. We ain’t doing it to get paid, to see what people will trade for our time, but because it has to be done. I was a mechanic once.” I held up my M4. “Now I guess my main skill is fighting. I’ll do whatever you think I’d be good at. However I can help.”

“No offense, Danny,” Mr. Grenke said, “but the war was also caused by people trying to one-up other people, shouting them down like this.”

I was about to fire back when Mr. Shiratori cut me off. “Ryan brings up a good point, Danny. So did Craig. I’m not saying he should get direct compensation for his food, but say what you want about our old capitalist system, it provided reasonable order for our society, with the expectation of reward for hard work. If you take away the direct reward, do you also take away the incentive to work?”

“I had an uncle,” said Lee Brooks. “When he was young, he joined this artist colony commune. It was a whole bunch of hippies sharing everything. My uncle was a carpenter. He joined up for the free love, I think, but also because he wanted to spend his days making wood sculptures and stuff like that. The problem came when he kept getting tapped to fix up their ancient house. He and the farmers who spent their days plowing fields in the hot sun didn’t think it was fair that some of the others used all their time for painting or writing. The commune lasted for less than a year.”

“The alternative to these systems of sharing is to force everyone to work, often under the threat of force, like in the old Soviet Union,” said Mr. Shiratori.

“We’re nothing like them,” said Darren Hartling.

“Of course not,” Mr. Shiratori said. “We’re going to have to spend some serious time discussing how we’re going to make this little society of ours work.”

“And we’ll need to be patient,” Mrs. Pierce said, her eyes fixed on me.

I knew what she meant, so I nodded at her. Then me and my friends squeezed through the crowd, heading for a long night of patrols.

When we got outside the building, we found Jaclyn Martinez standing on the pathway, a tactical shotgun leaning back against her shoulder.

“Jackie, what are you doing? Are you okay?” I felt like an idiot as soon as I said it, and the look on Jaclyn’s face told me she thought the same thing.

“I’m pulling guard duty with all of you,” Jaclyn said. “I want to help protect everyone.”

I noticed Cal tightly gripping the wooden railing on the steps to the porch. He stared at Jaclyn openmouthed.

“Thanks, Jackie,” Sweeney said. “But we got this.”

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Becca said.

“Everybody’s been telling me to rest, as if that’s my problem,” Jackie said. “Not that my parents were murdered, but that I’m tired.”

“It’s not that,” said JoBell. “Just that you’ve been through a lot, and you should take some time to try to recover.”

“Spare me your psychobabble bullshit,” Jaclyn said. “They’re dead. There’s no recovering from that.”

Becca hopped down the steps and tried to put her hand on Jaclyn’s shoulder. “But we’ll be up all night, and you probably didn’t sleep much on the trip.” Jaclyn pulled away as Becca continued, “I know nothing can make up for what happened, but you have to take care of yourself. Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”

“No!” Jaclyn said. “Don’t you get it!? I can’t sleep! I don’t want to sleep! Whenever I close my eyes, I see the ropes around their necks. Too much jacked-up shit has happened for me to sleep!”

The murder of Jaclyn’s parents had been a nightmare for me. It had to be a thousand times worse for her. My mother’s death had been different, but even now, it still cut me deep. I knew something of what Jaclyn was facing. I saw the looks on my friends’ faces, and I hated like hell that they too understood what Jaclyn was going through.

“All right,” I said. “Welcome to the team.”

—• which might at first seem trivial, but is, in fact, becoming a serious problem. Before the civil war, there were nearly eighty million pet dogs and ninety million pet cats in America. Now many owners aren’t able or around to take care of their pets. The result? Dangerous packs of feral animals. The dogs have become a particular danger, with hundreds of reports of children being viciously attacked when •—

—• This is BBC Television from London. Normal programming has been suspended, and we now join Michael Lancaster in the news studio.”

“I’m instructed to advise you that the entire United Kingdom has been elevated to Alert Condition Three. All nonessential travel and communications are suspended. Be prepared to proceed to your local designated emergency shelter, but do not conduct movement to that location at this time. Moments ago, NATO’s automated missile defense system came online, warning of short-range missiles fired from Soviet-held Ukraine and Lithuania. Most of these missiles have been shot down, and it must be stressed that so far, these missiles are armed with conventional warheads. However, the world is on full alert against a possible nuclear attack. Soviet troops and armored units have entered Poland, Romania, Hungary, and Slovakia. Soviet bombers and fighter planes are attacking NATO positions in those countries, with some Soviet air assets headed toward Berlin. British and French aircraft are moving to intercept and join the fight. British Royal Marines have deployed to Germany to supplement the German defense and help secure Poland. The Soviet leadership is justifying this blatant aggression, saying, quote, ‘The Soviet people have a right to defend themselves against attacks from an unstable NATO.’ End quote.

“I’m also authorized to reveal to you at this time that the Soviet Union has signed a mutual defense pact with the People’s Republic of China as well as with Iran, Syria, and Iraq. They have dubbed this alliance the Free Federation of Nations. In response, all NATO member countries as well as Japan and South Korea have signed on to an alliance. Prime Minister Dennis Carman has confirmed that as of five a.m. United Kingdom time, World War III has begun. •—

—• Soldiers of the First Oklahoma Infantry Division, in addition to well-armed area civilians, fought a bloody battle in the city of Clinton against United States infantry and armor, finally pushing US forces back into Woodward and the Oklahoma Panhandle. President Fergus’s office estimates over two thousand Oklahoman casualties. •—

—• Frank Wood was a young man barely out of high school when he participated in the Allied invasion of Nazi-occupied France. Now in his nineties, Frank has depended on a wheelchair to get around for the last several years. But that has never stopped him from showing his pride in the flag he helped defend all those years ago. As a result, Frank Wood has not missed one Fourth of July parade in Bristol, Rhode Island, in over fifty years.”

“I come home from the war in ’45, married Beverly in ’47, and we moved here in the spring of ’50 when I got a job fixing boats. I marched with the other veterans behind our flag in every Fourth of July parade since then. ’Course, in … 1953, I was worried I’d miss it, but my daughter decided to be born July 2. She and her family were in New York when … Every year, we’d lose some of the old-timer veterans like me, but I never thought it would come to this.”

“This year, since Rhode Island is now a part of the independent nation of New England, there is no Fourth of July Independence Day celebration in Bristol. Worse, many Bristol residents have fled the city for fear of radioactive fallout from New York. Mr. Wood is making this year’s Fourth of July observation alone.”

“Some people say the radiation will kill me, but when you’re my age … You know, plenty of times in the war, at Normandy, in the Ardennes, I passed by the bodies of good men who didn’t make it, thinking it was a miracle I lived through that day. Another miracle the day after that. And I said to myself, at the end of the war, ‘Well, Frankie, you done it. The war didn’t take you. You gotta live good now. You owe it to those men who didn’t make it.’ Well, now here’s World War III, and I have outlived my country, outlived my family. I’m not going to survive this war. I look out there to where my friends and fellow veterans used to march. All gone now. ‘I’m right behind you, boys. Old Frankie Wood’s used up his last miracle.’ •—

—• The combination of this record-high temperature of 110 degrees and sporadic power outages is creating a dangerous situation in Chicago land. In Naperville today, residents endured the loss of electricity for several hours, and despite the efforts of Liberum soldiers to distribute water and run generators for air-conditioned public “cold centers,” twenty-six deaths were reported, including six in a Naperville retirement community.

Several hundred more are reported dead in battles along the Mississippi at Rock Island and at Muscatine and Burlington, Iowa. WGN’s reporters take you to the heart of the action with •—

—• For those of you just joining us here on NBC News, a recap on the stunning events in Korea. The rumors are true. Official confirmation came in a few hours ago. North Korea has fallen. The Korean Peninsula is unified. There is no more North Korea or South Korea, only Korea, controlled by the democratically elected government in Seoul. The Korean War, which officially began in 1950, has finally come to an end. We have reports that most of the remaining ranks of the former North Korean military have defected, and a united Korean military now stands by near the border with China, preparing for the possibility of a Chinese invasion.

“We go now to footage of the joyful reunions of many Korean families. Grandparents who were just children when their country was divided decades ago are seen here weeping with joy and introducing their extended families to their long-separated relatives.

“Elsewhere, over fifty thousand prisoners were liberated from the notorious Pukchang Political Prison Camp and other political prisons and reeducation camps across the former North Korea. You can see here the obvious effects of starvation and the scars and bruises of torture on the prisoners. United Korean troops are providing comfort and medical care.

“But we want to take you to this footage recorded just a few minutes ago. Here you see the former supreme leader of North Korea, Kim Jong Un, in handcuffs in the Great Hall of the Korean Supreme Court in Seoul. The elite members of the South Korean 707th Special Mission Battalion, who were responsible for the daring surprise capture of the North Korean dictator, are standing guard along those white columns. At the top of the stairs, standing under the statue of the goddess of justice, is Korean Prime Minister Jung Park. Here’s the prime minister now. I’m getting the translation.”

“Kim Jong Un, your reign of terror is over. No longer will you torture the Korean people. You will stand trial on tens of thousands of charges of crimes against humanity and many other violations of Korean law. Do you have anything to say before I remand you to the custody of your guards?”

“I am Kim Jong Un, the rightful leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea! I will lead our people in the march to victory and prosperity!”

“No, sir, you will not. You will be led by your jailers in a march back to your cell. •—

—• continuing our live broadcast of the American Freedom concert at the full to capacity World Arena in Colorado Springs. Here’s country music star Hank McGrew.”

“How y’all doing tonight? You enjoying this free concert? Are you ready to rock for America? I can’t hear you! You’re going to have to be louder than that if we’re gonna bring our country back together! Give it up for the USA!”

“USA! USA! USA!”

“All right! That’s better, y’all. Now … now I wanna get real serious, ’cause this one’s dedicated to the troops. It’s called ‘America, Help Us.’ ”

When I was young, my pappy drove a truck with a big gun rack,

A raised-up four-by-four with shiny six-inch chrome smokestacks.

He’d drive us down to Skippy’s Bar, drink beer, and get tanked up,

Then we’d go hunting possum with some help from my favorite pup.

Now Old Glory no longer flies at the silent baseball field,

and the church doors are all shuttered, so our spirits can’t be healed.

The eagle’s dying painfully, bleeding out on our ruined farms,

And the cowboys have stopped riding. Instead they take up arms.

Americaaaaaaaaa!

Listen to this country song.

Americaaaaaaaaa!

’cause this war is just plain wrong.

Sometimes getting back together don’t seem like it’s in the cards,

But we can work it out, my brother, if we only work real hard.

Americaaaaaaaaa! •—

—• Stand by for an important live announcement on ANN. Citizens of Atlantica, here is a special message from our leader, General Jonathan Vogel.”

“Moments ago, submarines under my command launched a devastating attack on Seattle and Joint Base Lewis-McChord just south of the city, firing two hundred Tomahawk missiles from the north end of Puget Sound. United States countermissile measures had no time to engage. These missiles destroyed all Seattle bridges, airports, harbor facilities, and US anti-aircraft gun batteries. Near total damage was inflicted on Joint Base Lewis-McChord. The carrier Obama and the destroyer Boehner have been sunk. Casualties from this attack, both military and civilian, will likely exceed one million.

“This is a message to United States Vice President General Chuck Jacobsen. You have threatened our cities with nuclear attack, but I have just destroyed your last seaport, using only conventional weapons. The difference between you and me is that I am strong, and as a result, the people of Atlantica are strong, and we are prepared to use our weapons to effect the total destruction of our enemies. Civilian casualties are not our concern. If you do not stand down your attacks on Atlantica, your military will be crushed and more of your people will be killed. Atlantica is victory. •—

—• The Chinese Navy had divided the Korean and Japanese navies in the Sea of Japan until the extraordinary appearance of the former American Rogue Fleet. Two full state-of-the-art carrier groups complete with submarine escorts have entered the war on behalf of the Allies. In the first minutes of Rogue Fleet’s air and submarine attack, a dozen Chinese destroyers and battleships were crippled or destroyed. Against official United States protest, Rogue Fleet has been granted full state recognition and safe harbor by both Japan and Korea. •—

—• My fellow Americans, I know the news sometimes seems to bring only heartache and despair. Certainly the death of nearly one million US citizens in Seattle has filled us all with the deepest grief and a quiet, unyielding anger. In such times, one of the first casualties can be our hope for the future. But, as your president, I’m here to assure you that the United States will prevail. Our best days are yet to come.

Even as I’m speaking now, United States officials are hard at work increasing food production as well as fuel and energy distribution. Citizens of the United States, know that you are not forgotten. A new, even more aggressive offensive is being planned, and victory is within our grasp. Until that great day, we must continue to sacrifice, and to find comfort in our unity. Thank you. •—

—• In a stunning surprise attack, United States forces have advanced much deeper into Texas. Early this morning, Marine infantry and armor followed close behind a heavy aerial bombardment moving in from the northwest. Within hours, they occupied what remained of the cities of Amarillo, Plainview, and Lubbock. Casualties on both sides, including civilians, are estimated to be over twenty thousand. Texas President Rod Percy, commenting on the events from his bunker in the capital of Austin, said •—

—• must thank the Republic of Idaho for special permission to make this report from Boise. Hopefully this is a sign of increased cooperation between the Republic of Idaho and Cascadia. I’m standing here at the intersection of North Capitol Boulevard and Bannock Street, in front of the partially collapsed dome of the Idaho capitol building, where one year ago today, August 27, National Guard troops opened fire on demonstrators, leaving twelve dead and nine wounded. This so-called Battle of Boise set into motion events leading to the present civil war and the deaths of tens of millions worldwide. It is a sad irony that the Guardsman alleged to have fired the first shot, PFC Daniel Wright of Freedom Lake, Idaho, has not survived to this grim anniversary. This war has cost everyone dearly, and yet, even after facing such terrible adversity, the Republic of Idaho and all the newly independent countries in the Pan American area fight on toward peace and freedom. Rebecca Cho, NBC News. •—