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It seems funny, doesn't it, that a few thousand people can tie down the million-strong army of a modern, industrial country. And these are ordinary people. Sure, they may be packing guns, knives, and RPGs. Sure, they may have joined violent gangs. Most of them probably took a life at some point. But in the beginning, before this happened, they were ordinary people.

It makes me wonder, what "ordinary" really means. I'm hardly ordinary; I'm an heir to a mining empire who became an artist, then a worker, then a fugitive, then a soldier. I also have come to be in the company of people who's DNA differs from mine by less than 1%. It's a crucial difference though.

Anyways, you'd think that being an outsider from the normal world would give me a good view of what's "ordinary" and what isn't. Unfortunately, I don't really know. I want to say "there's no such thing as normal," but that's corny.

As soon as Kent, Scott, Oquendo and the doctor had left the room, I tore up Manny's letter. I tried not to think about it, but I had to wonder why he wrote, much less how he figured out where I was. Had someone here sent word to him? Did he want Dad's Bowie knife back? Well if he did, I'd throw it in a river sooner than see him get it.

My father's bowie knife is my pride and joy. Its blade is 10 inches long, enough to run a 'yote clean through, not that I've tried it. The blade is shiny and reflective, so I usually keep it in its custom-made sheath when I'm on the ground in a combat zone.

My father gave it to me as a parting gift when I was exiled from Karlov. I'll be damned if I know where he got it, or what he did with it, but he hung it in our house like it was the Mona Lisa. It had some kind of special meaning to him, which has now transferred to me; it's the only thing I really have left over from home, so I keep it close.

Manny had always wanted it, I remembered.

Go to hell, Jason. I thought, as I threw the halves of the letter into the wastebasket.

Suddenly, I realized that I did not have the knife with me. "Doctor!" I yelled.

After a short interval, the Fox nurse I had frightened the night before appeared in the doorway.

"Y-y-yes, what d-do you need?" She stammered. Obviously, she was still a bit scared of me. Who could blame her? It's not every day you meet someone by having them nearly assault you.

"That Fox that came in has a knife I gave him before I blacked out." I explained. "Could you see if he left it for me?"

"A knife?" She asked, surprised. Judging by her expression, she probably imagined I would use the knife to murder her.

"Yes ma'am." I said, nodding. "It means a lot to me."

"I don't know about that, I think I'd better ask the-"

I cut her off "Please, ma'am!"

"Get the man his knife." A familiar voice said. It was the Collie doctor; once again, he had managed to enter the room without my noticing. "Why don't you bring up some breakfast for him, too?"

The Fox nurse strode out of the room briskly, while the Collie smiled at me and strode a bit closer.

"I've been a medic on the front lines, you know." He said, his smile vanishing. "One time, they brought in a Wolf who'd taken a bullet wound to the thigh and one to the shoulder, and nearly one to the head. His helmet saved him."

I looked down respectfully, realizing the Doctor might be having an emotional moment.

"His whole platoon was ambushed, they lost 50." As the Doctor said this, I tried not to think about Stokes. "The poor soul was barely conscious, we were out of anesthetic, but we had to get the bullets out. He kept asking about his squad mates, Were they all right? Where were they? Then he kept trying to get up, sayin' he wanted to be with them when he died."

It sounded all too familiar.

"We held him down, and managed to bandage him up, pull the bullet fragments out, but somehow he got wind of the fact that everyone he knew in the platoon was dead. He grabbed a scalpel right out of my hand and stuck it in his throat."

I shook my head slowly. "Were you thinking I might do the same?" I asked him.

"You've got those three buddies of yours, I know that." He said, looking up. "But I know you aren't here by choice."

Did he know about my background? Had he been reading my mail?

"I'm sorry to have troubled you." He said, turning away. "I got transferred here after that incident, and I just... don't want to have anything like it happen again."

"I understand." I said blankly.

At that moment, the nurse returned, carrying a tray.

"I'll come back later, and we'll take a look at your burns." The Collie doctor said as he left the room.

The Fox set the tray down, and instantly turned to leave. I examined its contents: some sort of meat, probably spam, and some white mush that I could only guess was supposed to be a potato product - typical hospital food.

"They don't serve anything better here, eh?" I said, with a casual air.

The Vulpine nurse stopped in her tracks. I'm not all that familiar with canine body language, but I was pretty sure her rapidly swishing tail indicated she was still nervous about having a dialogue with me.

"Even the hospitals are on food rations, you know." She said.

"I know all about those rations." I said, grinning. "So, no knife for me?"

"No... your friends left already." She explained, only now turning to face me.

"Hey, listen, I'm real sorry about scaring you, and getting mad last night." I conceded. "Am I the first Human you've ever met?"

"Yes." She lowered her head a tiny bit, and her tail's motion had nearly ceased.

"I just don't want you to think we're all crazy bastards." I said.

"Oh, that's... all right." She giggled, and I would think that if she were Human, she would've been blushing.

"So, what's your name?" I asked, though I already knew part of it from the tag on her scrubs.

"I'm Sadie. Sadie Hutchings." She said, coming a bit closer to me. "What can I call you?

"You can call me Walker." I said, remembering to use my army name. "So, Sadie Hutchings, you're sure there's nothing better to eat around here?" I pointed at the tray containing my mediocre breakfast.

"Well, I suppose I could look around downstairs." She said with a smile.

"That'd be great!" I said, smiling likewise. "Really, thanks, you're nicer than most of the medics I've ever met."

As she walked out laughing, I noticed that her tail was swishing again, but the emotion it represented was very different this time.

* * *

"Darry, where've you been?"

This was the greeting Darren recieved the moment he opened the door of Lars's cabin. It would be not far off the mark to say that his brain melted. He had run many more miles, and he would've killed for a chance to sit down and catch his breath in peace for five minutes.

But meanwhile, his neurons were attempting to deduce why Lars had been expecting him, and why Lars had half of the cell in his cabin, and why they had guns out, while simultaneously trying to come up with a witty response.

In front of Darren stood Lars, his "mentor" and fellow Badger. Behind Lars stood perhaps a dozen others, mostly Coyotes. One of them was named Ann Paulsen. The sight of her triggered a memory in Darren's mind that he didn't even know he had.

There had been an old Coyote kicking him around, askin' about Annie.

"Annie's daddy was kickin' me round." Darren said in slurred speech, pointing at the female Coyote. Then, he collapsed in a chair, mouth hanging open.

"Ha!" Lars guffawed, moving to Darren and leaning into his face. "No shit, Darry, we've been waitin' for you."

"Whatchu... talkin'... 'bout?" Darren said, in between breaths.

"Holy shit!" Lars exclaimed, focusing his attention on Darren's forehead, which now had grayish stripes on it, instead of being solid black. "You started to wash that paint off your face! Good boy!"

"Jas 'n Bryan... they got... seperated... in Pilaco." Darren was making a mighty effort to steady his breathing. "Town's... all locked... down."

"What?" The inquiry didn't come from Lars, but from Garth Mayhew, the Brother of Jas and Bryan's father. He stepped to the front of the crowd in the small cabin.

"Stay outta' this." Lars said, looking over his shoulder momentarily at Mayhew.

"Who you tellin' to stay out? Those are my nephews!" Mayhew yelled, clenching his fists.

"That's right, they ain't your pups." Lars said.

"Ain't mine?" Mayhew stamped on the ground, enraged. "They're family, they're my kin!"

"Garth, we've got more important things right now." Lars turned from Darren, to face the dissenter.

"What good's family?" Ann Paulsen huffed.

Mayhew turned to her. "Whadda you know about it? Runaway bitch!"

Ann tried to rush at him, but someone behind her held her back.

"It's a sorry bastard that turns his back on his family." Mayhew stared straight into Lars's eyes. "I don't know about you Lars, but I intend to watch my own."

"You tellin' me you're walking out? Leavin' the Black hammers?" Lars stared back.

Mayhew sighed and looked at the floor. "Ya know, I got half a mind to." He said, the anger now gone from his voice. He turned and surveyed his comrades. "Lookit' us. It's been 'bout three years since the bruisers rolled in. And whadda we done to stop 'em, huh?"

Not even Ann Paulsen said anything as he made his speech.

"We stole some stuff, blew up a building, let some bombs fly, and did a fair 'mount of shootin'. But they're still here, and some of us ain't. We ain't stopped 'em. They shot my brother Johnny last year, and you, Hodges, what happened to your boy?"

"That's enough." Lars said, but Mayhew continued.

"Think 'bout it! Whaddaya think woulda' happened if we'd just tried to get along with 'em? Now I don't know about ya'll, but-"

"Shut up!" Lars yelled. "We haven't won anything yet, but we sure as hell haven't lost."

"We lost plenny'!" Mayhew yelled back, his anger returning in a mighty surge. "What big fat prize are we s'posed to win, Lars?"

"You know damn well, and if you'd shut your trap and grow some balls we'll have a piece by tommorow!" Lars was yelling so loud Darren thought it was a miracle that the cabin was still standing.

"Oh, hell! What in tarnation are we gonna' do with a few bigass guns anyhow, Lars?" Mayhew threw his hat on the floor.

"I gotta mind to stuff your scrawny ass in one and blow you to Mancitoma!" Lars snarled.

"What in hell are you guys yellin' about?" Darren said, sitting up in the chair - he had caught his breath, and had listened to enough of the conversation to deduce he was missing something.

Lars sighed and turned around to face Darren. "Listen Darry, we-"

Mayhew cut him off. "There's a bunch of trucks carryin' some arty that Lars wants us to jump."

"Where are they?" Darren asked, before Lars could re-ignite the argument.

"Headin' down Route 7. They'll cross the Fairview railroad junction tonight. That's where we want to get 'em." Lars explained.

"If they're on 7, wouldn't they go through Pilaco?" Darren asked, getting to his feet. "Yeah, but they'll be there in just a few hours." Lars said.

"If we hustle, we could make it!" Darren exclaimed.

"Darry, what in hell are you talkin' about?" Lars asked, hands on hips.

"The Pilaco garrison is canvassing the town lookin' for Jas and Bryan. They'll be lookin' in, not out. We could sneak in and blow the shit out of them, easy." Darren said, then added "We can get Bryan and Jas out of there, too."

"Then we should do it!" Mayhew blurted out. "You know the code, Lars."

"Some regard you have for the Code, Garth." Lars smirked.

"Can it already!" Darren yelled, kicking over the chair. "Are we doing this or not?"

Mayhew unshouldered his rifle, and aimed it at Lars. "A member of the Black Hammers will never leave a comrade behind."

"Garth, that isn't neccessary." Darren said, trying to sound calm.

"A leader of the Black hammers is the one who can best represent and care for his comrades." Garth Mayhew continued, reciting the creed memorized by all Black Hammer members upon initiation. "Should a leader cause harm to come to the comrades under his command, through carelessness, recklessness, or ignorance, he should be removed from his position..."

Mayhew pulled the bolt of the rifle back. "...With force, if necessary."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Lars looked at his watch. "Fine. We stop the convoy at Pilaco. That means we leave here in three minutes."

The room was alive with movement as the assembled anarchists left the building, heading for their trucks. Lars tossed Darren an RPG launcher, and a backpack full of warheads.

"Where's your shirt, Darry?" Lars said, noticing only now that Darren was barechested.

"It's in an orchard somewhere near Pilaco, I assume." Darren replied, as they walked out, heading for Lars's old truck.

"You'll have to tell me all about what happened. We need a plan." Darren took the passenger side. The seats in the truck were warm, but not that warm; the windows of the truck were tinted a dark black, which blocked most of the sun. The tint also kept Lars alive - if anyone sympathetic to Balfor saw a Badger driving around, there would be hell to pay.

As Lars fired up the truck, the other Black Hammers, the Coyotes, hopped into two other trucks. Being canines, they didn't have to fear being seen, so they could ride in the back, in the open. They did have to keep their weapons out of sight, though.

Darren wasn't thinking about this, though. He was preoccupied with his fellow Badger. Lars hadn't cussed at him for 10 minutes straight. Darren realized that he had taken hold of the situation back in the cabin, and had probably prevented Garth Mayhew from shooting Lars dead.

Though Darren didn't know it yet, from then on he was regarded as the leader of the cell.

* * *

"Find anything?" I asked as soon as Sadie, the nurse, returned.

"I think you're gonna like it." She said, smiling as she walked in. She had a white paper bag with her. She set it down and indicated for me to open it. Inside was half a loaf of wheat bread. It didn't look like it was very fresh, but the smell of it made my mouth water anyway.

"Where'd you get this?" I asked, more than a bit surprised. The food shortages prevented most Balfor citizens from getting high-quality bread. Most canines preferred meat anyways.

"One of our surgeons has a stash of food in his office. One time, He even had steaks and--"

I cut her off. "Don't tell me about it, I'm hungry enough."

"We civilians are hungry, too." She laughed.

Even with her loose-fitting scrubs, I could tell Sadie was pretty thin. But then, so are most foxes I've known.

"Do you want any of this?" I asked, tearing off a hunk of the bread.

"No, I don't really like bread. But if you're not going to eat your spam..." She pointed to my untouched breakfast tray from earlier.

"Go ahead, fair trade, I guess." I said with a grin. "A bit of spam for stealing bread."

She laughed again. Sadie Hutchings had a nice laugh, I remember. Then, she shoveled the spam into her mouth rapidly, with her bare hands, as if I might take back my decision and decide to have it myself.

I watched with fascination. "You may be a Fox, but you eat like a Wolf." I said with a smirk.

"You'd better eat that fast, too." She said, after smirking with a full mouth and nearly spitting her precious meal across the room. "If anyone finds out I stole that, I'll get fired."

"Well, I know plenty about that." I said, my thoughts drifting back to Manny's letter. Maybe I should've read it after all.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

I sighed, wondering whether half my life's story was something I should go into details about.

"Nevermind." I said, with another sigh. But I'd done it. Now she was curious.

"Come on, What?" She asked. "You never held down any jobs?" She was lighthearted, and I knew she wanted me to feel the same way.

"What day is it, anyhow?" I asked. I wanted to change the subject.

"September 17th, I think." She said, looking up quizically. "Why do you ask?"

Just then, Dr. Wright, the Collie, stormed into the room, his black and white fur bristling, and a very troubled expression on his face. "We need to check your burns. Now." He said simply to me.

"Something going on?" I asked.

He was pacing the floor madly, as if he needed to come up with some sort of scheme. "I just got a Call from Marshall Irving's assistant. They'll be coming here at six o'clock tonight to see you."

Of course, he would be here to present me with a Distinguished service citation, and a medal. It was only then that I began to wonder why Irving wanted to see me in person - surely he had better things to do. The fact that Irving had a "Big plan" didn't sit well with me either.

"That means you'll have to be able to stand, and put on your uniform." He added. Only then did I remember that I was still wearing nothing but a hospital gown. "Well, where is my uniform?" I asked.

"That isn't the problem right now." Dr. Wright said, waving a paw. "We need to see if you can stand comfortably in a pair of boots."

He resumed pacing about, muttering under his breath. He suddenly stopped, and shook his head. "Nurse! Get me some bandages and the shears."

Sadie, who had until then been watching quietly, trotted out of the room.

Dr. Wright sighed. "Well, before we do anything, I guess we need to figure out if you've healed enough."

When Hutchings returned with the requested items, the Doctor propped my leg up and began to snip away the bandages on that foot. Hutchings watched with curiosity, especially once my swollen feet were fully exposed. She didn't look like she'd ever seen a human foot before, which made me wonder if she had been present when I was brought in, and therefore might've seen more. In particular, I wondered if she'd been there when that silly gown was put on me.

I blushed a bit, wondering what she thought of a Human's furless, clawless feet. I imagined they might've looked rather silly, especially being swollen and slightly burnt.

"Well, it was only a first degree burn, and you've been here about three days now." Dr. Wright said. "Burns like this usually can heal in less than a week."

"Those must've been some good boots you had on." Sadie marveled.

"I think they're partly fireproof." I said with a grin. "The army makes good boots, but they sure don't know how to make tanks."

"Ha!" Dr. Wright and Sadie expressed their amusement simultaneously. "Wait, you're a tank crewman?" Sadie asked a second later.

"Yes ma'am." I said, and I couldn't help feeling a bit proud.

"No wonder." She said, shaking her head. "For some reason I just couldn't picture you marching around with the infantry."

"Well, actually, I've had to do my share of marching." I said. "That's why I'm here, come to think of it."

When she asked for further details, I relented and explained to her my Convoy's trip throught the Fairfax river canyon, the incinerated tankers, Lieutenant Colonel Ostin's ignorance, and with a bit of difficulty, the dead Rottweiler in the truck. That lead me to tell her the Story of Private Stokes, and by the time I had finished, Dr. Wright had put new gauze and ointment on my feet, and he was listening intently as well.

This prompted him to exchange another of his own stories, this time about an incident where a wounded Husky had lost his dog tags, and was never identified when he died several hours later.

Sadie didn't have any "interesting" stories to tell, and shamefully explained that to us when Wright was finished.

"How long have you been a nurse, anyways?" I asked.

"Only three months." She said, lowering her head, embarassed.

"Nurse Hutchings is actually still in medical school." Dr. Wright began to explain.

"Medical School? What do you mean?" I asked, a bit incredulous, but at the same time not wanting Hutchings to percieve I was insulting her.

"We have a program where students work in military hospitals as volunteers." Hutchings explained. "The government paid part of my tuition in return."

"A sort of patriotic thing, you mean?" I asked.

"Yep. Just like victory bonds and all that." Dr. Wright interjected. "We need to find your uniform."

"Damn, what time is it?" I asked.

"Two. Or should I say fourteen hundred hours?" Hutchings said this, giving a thin smile.

"Well, let's see if you can stand up." Dr. Wright murmured.

I sat up on the bed, taking special care to keep the short hospital gown over my groin. The thing was obviously a few sizes too small for me. I put my feet on the floor, and my nerves responded with a slight, irritating pain. The burns didn't hurt nearly as much as the night before.

Looking at myself, I looked awkward, to say the least. The whole situation was embarassing, I thought. Kent, Scott, and Oquendo had seen me in that state earlier. If I hadn't been on friendly terms with Sadie Hutchings or Dr. Wright, I don't think my stay in that hospital would've been very pleasant.

"How's it feel?" Dr. Wright asked optimistically, after seeing that I could stand without cringing.

"Could be better." I said.

"Try to walk around a bit, I'm going to see If I can't get your uniform." Wright smiled, as he turned and walked out.

I began to pace slowly about the room, it wasn't that easy because the floor was linoleum tile and the gauze was slippery on it, just like sliding on a polished wooden floor with socks.

After about 20 minutes of re-learning how to walk (Much to Sadie's Amusement), Dr. Wright returned with a neat stack of clothes and a box.

"We have the uniform you were wearing when you were brought in, plus some stuff your friends brought in this morning." He exclaimed cheerfully. "They just got back from the laundry, all clean and pressed."

"What about boots?" I inquired, Eyeing his box.

He opened the top of the box, and produced a pair of black combat boots. "Found these, they aren't yours, a size too big I should think, but that's so we can stuff some extra padding in."

He then brought out some more gauze, and lined the insides of the boots with it. "Add more of that as you need it." He explained, handing the roll to me. "Hutchings, let's give him some privacy."

And with that, they both left the room and closed the door, which I didn't notice at the time had a small square window in it.

At last, I was free to take off the gown, which I did so immediately. I tapped my stomach a few times, wondering if I'd lost any of my muscle mass while I was knocked out. I quickly turned to getting the clothes on, and did so rapidly. Once I was in the uniform, I put the boots on at last, and they fit all right without having to stuff more gauze into them.

I stood up and stretched, with no risk of slipping now that I had appropriate footwear. Then, I glanced towards the door, and I could swear I saw a curious eye dart away from the window