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DOOKIE: A COLOURFUL LIFE
CHAPTER 2
Careful; trigger warning / language
EYE FOR AN EYE
As morning broke, the military units and the southerners were all off in the distance making their way home or to find a new home, finally. Dookie and his small Company of Corps Warriors, now fifty strong, stayed put. They knew it wasn’t over for them yet.
As they cooked up some beans on the fire for breakfast a message came down the radio.
“Cpl Dookie. Survivors of India Company. We know who you are. We will break you. You are now disavowed. Cpl Dookie, we have your boy. Out.”
The radio went dead, and the Warriors stood firm. Dookie is raised to his knees. As he reaches for his rifle, Joey grabs it off the table, stands to his feet next to his buddy and proclaims he will remain at Dookie’s side until the boy is returned. The Warriors cheer and raise their bean filled spoons to note their solidarity. Dookie returns to his feet slowly. Then looks around at his fellow rabid Warriors. He nods his head slowly down, to accept their help and proclaims.
“I just want the boy back safe. The spoils are yours. Now let’s go fuck some shit up”
The Company of newly appointed mercenaries eat up and make their way north to track and trace the young stolen lad.
The Warriors now follow Dookie as some kind of leader, not that he feels it. But as they start out, he has them space out at fifteen-foot intervals and alternate their weapons left hand then right hand going down the line. The company keeps a steely eye out, ready for a GreenBack ambush at any time.
For weeks they follow a steady north march headed straight for the location of the radio signal from that GreenBack kidnapping fuck knuckle. They march on, carrying their precious ammo and hunting for their food. Weaving through small forest areas and grasslands to keep food plentiful. After weeks of walking, they hit the mountain range at the edge of the uninhabited land. Finally.
One of the guys knows these mountains.
===
Gunner
A warrant officer with twenty years in service. He grew up on the other side of the range on the lower slopes but went hunting and fishing for weeks on end with his old man all around these mountains.
===
The company follows Gunner through the maze of small cannons and up the rounding mountain. After days of scrambling up the shingled slopes, and climbing through driving wind and rain, they finally reach the top. Gunner tells the tired mercenaries the best way down is to take the nearby river. He reckons he and his dad hollowed out tree trunks in the past to get back home quicker. but it’s not like Warriors have axes. How are they gonna cut trees down?
Dookie steps back in and says he has an idea. He winks at Baron and looks down the line of men. Baron laughs and comes to stand with his pal. they look at one another and then point, as if to call out for two of the men, Pete, and Rees. These two carry the big guns! Baron tells them to load up their squad automatic weapons and plow the shit out of a section of forest.
“Oh… well… erm I guess that’s one way of doing it guys.”
Says Gunner.
Dookie and Baron stroll off laughing like naughty children and celebrate the job well done with a freshly cooked squirrel kebab each. The two chuckling morons grab a couple of their fellow mercenaries and our hero shouts to Gunner.
“You got this dude; we’ll go hunt dinner.”
Pete and Rees lock in new belts of ammo, and indeed plow the shit out of about thirty big trees and as many small ones. As per Gunners say so. Gunner, a bit of an eco-Warrior in his time off, wipes his sad little eyes and gets the company to strip the leaves and branches off the trunks with their bayonets. As they did so, the hungry warriors collected all the dead and dying little animals as a nice little snacky snack to cook over the fire, to keep them going ’til dinner.
The hillbillies amongst the company, surmised that maybe logging would be a good career move when all this mercenary work is done. What with the killing of trees, wildlife and the feeling of displacing the ones that survived as a bonus, those loggers must be really happy with themselves?
Gunner has the Warriors group the murdered trees by size. He then splits them off into groups, about 10 guys with three big logs each.
The Warriors then begin to weave any ropes and bendy branches between the big logs and place the small logs across them horizontally. They lash them together into makeshift rafts and by the time the sun is beginning to set they have five rafts and fifty makeshift paddles. They move the rafts into position by the riverbank just as the hunting party returns.
The boys brought a feast. Two wild boars, a bunch of fish from the river and some apples and berries. The mercenaries all sat around the campfire munching away for some time. As the night draws in, our hero places Firewatch duties at the edge of camp, each on two-hour posts and everyone else huddles up for warmth in the cool mountain air for a good night’s sleep.
As the first light of day breaks on to the idyllic riverbank (except for the large hole in the woodland where the lovely trees once stood), the Warriors wake from yet another hard earned nights sleep and slide the rafts into the cold river water. With some pushing and shoving and a lot of swearing, the lads eventually manage to get loaded up. Certainly, with some soggy bottoms, if nothing else, they begin to paddle slowly down stream. Wet or not, they were all thankful not to be walking again.
They paddle downstream for days on the lazy river, some fishing as they go, some with weapons ready, as they pass through high canyons and then dense forest, with branches and bushes hanging right over the river in places. They make dock where they could each night to dry off, rest and eat the day’s catch.
After what was, to the guys, a nice lazy week on the river, they finally get to the other side of the mountain range, and can see across a vast open landscape of a dirty desert. They spend one last night by the ever-decreasing river to dry off and clean their weapons, before hiking down into the miserable, hot and sandy desert.
Down a small hunting trail that passes through small wooded areas and big boulders alike, the men descend the last few thousand feet at a giddy pace.
They make their way into what they know, from reputation, to be an area of nomads, cast out from areas controlled by (what they now know to be) GreenBacks in the coastal basin area. The basin lies just below the desert drop off, marked by a lawless town of lights they can just make out on the horizon as they close in on it each evening. The radio signal seems to have come from just below the town of lights at the foot of the cliff.
Our hero spends the next few days walking through the desert brushland, telling his crew of Warriors to make friends with these nomads. He assures his company they will be good people, just scared and trying to survive. Dookie also knows they’re going to need the Nomads help, if the stories are true of this nameless place, they will hate the GreenBacks too. And he’s counting on it!
As they approach the outskirts of the town, Dookie orders them to rest in the bushy desert for the night. He reminds his men it’s better to approach in daylight in a place like this.
Morning breaks and Dookie and most of the guy’s head off. They leave the rifles, S.A.W’s and rocket launchers with a squad of ten, camo’d up in the bushes, just in case it all goes tits up. They enter the town from the east, just in front of the rising sun and by the main dirt road. As they walk down the high street, they pool the cash they have on them to buy some cheap food and drinks at a diner.
The Warriors find a nice but cheap eatery, ‘Danny’s’, and fill the place with their sweaty, dirty, smelly arses. They order a shit load of pancakes and coffee and apologize to the wait staff for the smell.
Dookie waits for an approach.
“In a town like this, they’re gonna come to us.”
He tells the guys quietly.
True to form, by the time the pancakes arrive a ruff as fuck toothless git appears at the table. He demands that the leader must go with him to see the town’s boss. But Dookie’s nobody’s bitch. He finishes his pancakes and coffee and tells the boys to relax there for a while. He stands his bulk to his feet and tells the awaiting git to lead the way.
The git rushes down the dirt road to the only two-story building in town, and impatiently waits at the door as Dookie strolls along behind. The bloated brute should’ve stopped at 4 pancakes! As he slowly waddles his swollen belly up to the door, the git tries to hurry him up, but Dookie burps a thunderous smelly burp into his face, leans upon the door frame and rubs his gut.
“Oooh that’s better”
Dookie states.
The git vomits over his own shoes, just a little, from the natural gag reflex. After all, Dookie’s eaten nothing but meat for weeks and weeks and hasn’t even thought about brushing his teeth! Once he recomposes himself the git leads the chuckling Warrior to his boss. Up the stairs and through a set of double doors.
A large old man sits silently in an even bigger leather chair behind a massive old desk. The git, clearly scared of the old man, introduces the old fella to Dookie as ‘Don Zukabug’, and looks to Dookie to introduce himself to this big wig. Dookie, clearly looking to make an impression, reaches out his left arm and grabs the git by the scruff of the neck. He punches him in the face with a rounding right hook, drags the man to the window and throws him through the glass onto the street below.
Don Zukabug slams his hands on the desk and shouts out.
“God damn it! I knew your face didn’t fit!”
Dookie turns to him and calmly sits down.
“It’s not about my face! It’s about what we can do together!!”
Don Zukabug listens to Dookie as he explains what happened to him, his men, and his kidnapped boy. He then offers Don Zukabug the chance to increase his townsfolk numbers, meaning more building work, more taxes, more jobs and less inbreeding. He just needs some armed people to help create the illusion of a much larger force than just the fifty Warriors he had. And any info on the local GreenBacks.
Don Zukabug agrees to exchange info, at this point.
===
The local GreenBack info:
The main GreenBack is a total twat. She goes by the name ‘Aska Aska’ to her followers. He points out of the broken window to show Dookie the edge of town and the ‘drop off’, as he called it; A cliff that marks the edge of the sandy wasteland. At the bottom it’s all lush green valleys and GreenBack controlled towns and villages. Would be great if not for their greedy green iron fist, he explains.
===
He tells of her troops always scaling the cliff at the edge of town and attacking the water supplies or fuel dumps.
“They try and make us go without so we will surrender to them and become another ruled over town. But we are free folk! Fuck em’!”
He calms down and shows Dookie pictures of an area, almost right below them, at the bottom of the ‘drop off’. He points to a location and explains that she has a massive compound ‘Las Ranchos’ down there, with slave guards and a small jail for anyone that gets out of line with her.
“That’s where your boy will be, I bet.”
He states.
Dookie shares his plan with Don.
THE PLAN OF ATTACK
While his armed town folk shoot up one side of the GreenBacks compound, Dookie’s men would concentrate quietly on the other side. As most of the guards will be forced to repel the town folks’ supposed attack, we will enter the compound and bring the fight straight to her living quarters. A few of Dookie’s Warriors would take care of the guards shooting back at the town folk, while the rest cleared their way through the buildings and jail house. Once clear, the town folk can offer the survivors of Aska Aska’s guards a safe haven in the free town above. They can then take what materials can be carried back up with them. Then, Dookie’s guys would blow the place to hell.
Dookie ends the plan with.
“If the boy is there, great, we’ll take him with us. Whatever cash or gold is laying around we split fifty-fifty between your town and my crew. That’ll be the end of our joint venture. If the boy isn’t there we will continue on to the next compound on our own. Deal.”
The boss jumps to his feet, holds his right hand out and shouts.
“Deal!”
The new teammates agree that both sides need time to prepare for war. Dookie’s Warriors need a few days to rest and recuperate. The Don says they can all stay in his hotel and the townsfolk will all pitch in with helping to feed them. He also states his townsfolk will use this same time period to sober up.
As the two men bond over their new venture, Dookie apologizes for throwing the git out the window. Don Zukabug assures him the git was a treacherous GreenBack spy, who he had been feeding false information to for months. They both have a good laugh about it, and Don takes Dookie around town to introduce him to everyone and tell them of the new plan.
The townsfolk welcome the news, as they hate the GreenBack bastards as much as anyone. They also hope to get some of their family and friends back from the cruel Aska Aska and her army of Money Grabbers, known as M.G.’s
Over the next few days, the townsfolk sober up and Dookie’s Warrior hoard rests their feet and backs and cleans their weapons. The towns folk also insist they bathe each day, and they wash the warriors’ clothes in efforts to rid the small town of the stench the men brought with them. Dookie and the guys are amazed at how friendly everyone is. Don Zukabug explains to them that whenever anyone moves on from the little town, we ask two things of them; to spread the word of how scary and lawless it is here. This keeps the marauders from thinking we are an easy target. The second is to never confirm our location. This helps other townships along the basin ridge too.
With all the prep work done, everyone sober and rested, Dookie and Don decide to strike early the next day.
