Fetcher gang warfare

This brief account of a skirmish between the Fetcher gangs outside the areas of Atlanta not controlled by Mars Tribe.  This account is given in an interview done by the Argentinian news service to a Fetcher named "Bliss."  Though the news team is English speaking, they were forced to use a translator because Bliss is a near-mute moldy, though of average human intelligence. (See Moldies or Man-2). 

News Agency of Argentina:  Start by telling us your name and a little background on yourself.

Bliss:  My name is Bliss.  I'm a second generation Man-2 and I work in hazardous area salvage.  Some would call me a Fetcher.  That's slang.  Slang is when you use a special word you like to use.  You apply it to something that already has a name. 

I grew up near Stewy (Fort Stewart).  My folks weren't part of Atom Bomb Eaters (a large local tribe) so we didn't have much.  We lived near a pond and ate fish.  My mom and dad grew corn.  One year it was too dry.  Our crops died and the pond almost dried up.  It became just a big mudhole and all the fish died.  They left to talk to ABE about use going to live in Stewy.  There was some kind of trouble going on there.  Must have got caught up in it.  Neither of them ever came back.  My brothers and sisters went south down the road, looking for help.  I don't know what happened to them.  Basemodels probably killed them, that was all that lived to the south.  A basemodel is like you men with the cameras.  No offense. 

I went north.  I got in with a new family on a farm outside of Atlanta or Toxic City or CT.  Good people.  Most of them were Originals like my parents but weren't too bad off.  They traded with Mars Tribe sometimes.  Those guys were loaded.  I knew from an early age that I wanted to be loaded too. 

News Agency of Argentina:  Describe life on the farm, away from your parents. 

Bliss:  Wasn't bad.  They told me about God.  I learned how the man who owned the farm and his wife both had cancer.  Something in the soil, they think.  They became moldies during the war.  No more cancer.  That was 20 years ago or more.  I won't say his name because he doesn't believe in what I do.  But I believe in God and his miracle.  Have you ever seen a miracle?  The farmer did and he thanked God everyday that he woke up without cancer.  That was everyday.  He also thanked Jesus.  Him too. 

Work was hard but it was rewarding.  What I mean is, it felt good to do the work.  We grew all kinds of stuff.  Had pigs too.  Basemodels tried to rob us a few times, stole a couple of pigs.  We killed one and put another one out of his misery.  Stomach shot.  Did him a favor.  But the farmer felt bad so he built a church.  We also took some warning sighs from around the outskirts of Atlanta a placed them around the farm here and there.  I'm not sure what they said but it was about chemical hazards.  Nobody tried to rob us after that.  Farmer and his wife says it was the church and me and the other hands say it was the signs. 

One night the farmer saw us burning a field we'd harvested.  Said he saw the devil's face in the flames.  He and his wife said at church that the devil had been summoned by one of the farm hands or the house women.  That next day someone trashed my room while I was working.  Maybe they were looking for something, I thought.  They might think I summoned the devil.  It seems like if the devils face was in the fire, we who were closest to the fire would have seen him.  I told the farmer that and he asked me how the devil had tempted me to evil. 

I have never drank alcohol, cursed or stolen anything from a living person.  The devil tempts me like anybody but unlike a lot of people, I do not give in.  Some do, maybe some of you, and that doesn't mean you are evil.  You just have to not let him tempt you a second time or a third or a fourth or a fifth.  Even the old Bible says that. 

So I left the farm and go in with a Fecter gang.  I was good at it.  Brave.  Strong.  Fast.  High chem tolerance.  DD (Death Dust) didn't phase me.  Wasn't long before I had a real share in the gang. 

News Agency of Argentina:  How long had you been in the gang?

Bliss:  Let's see, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold, hot and cold again.  3 years? 

News Agency of Argentina:  What can you tell us about the battle at Shoe Warehouse?

Bliss:  Everything.  Most Man-2 don't wear shoes.  Some do but don't need to.  Some like sandals, give the feet air.  Feels good in the sun.  Mars Tribe didn't care about a warehouse full of shoes.  It was even called Show Warehouse.  Battery Bob, the leader of the gang, he said it even had words that spelled "Shoe Warehouse" across the top of the building.  If you could read, you'd know it said that and that would tell you what was inside the building.  Every Fetcher gang that does well has someone that can read.  You also need at least two guys who can speak loudly.  Those are the facts. 

Mars Tribe told everybody who was fetching that they could have anything near Shoe Warehouse.  They put a green mark on the road signs to let people know that it was a free area.  That is how you know.  Orange or Red means their stuff:  stay out or die.  They didn't want the shoes and had taken out all the food they needed from a food store across the street. 

You can sell shoes to Basemodels and get good stuff.  They always need shoes.  If your stuff is chemical free and not radioactive, they'll take it.  We knew we could make out good after we found out about the place.  Mars Tribes sends guys out, you see.  You pay them and they'll tell you what areas Mars Tribe has opened up to Fetcher gangs.  Rules though.  You've got to have rules.  No more than two Basemodels per party.  No automobiles.  Only what you can carry and don't leave traps. 

News Agency of Argentina:  Were there other gangs in the area?

Bliss:  Yeah.  That was the problem.  There had been hard rain lately.  That brings out the Basemodels.  Toxics in Toxlanta aren't as dangerous then.  DD is harmless when wet.  Wet with water.  Or soft drink.  Or soup.  It wouldn't matter. 

Like I said, rules are rules and they are there for a reason.  Basemodels don't think our rules matter.  They want us to obey their but they don't act like ours mean anything.  Not you all but most.  We came across a party that was nothing but Baselines, all wearing chemical suits.  Some call them "chem suits."  Chemical-suits is the proper word.  We saw them over at the food store.  One waved at us and we waved back.  No problems so far.  Battery Bill said for me to stand outside Shoe Warehouse and keep an eye on them.  I didn't mind but I wish I'd had a gun.  All I had was a sword, the same one I have now. (a cheap Samurai sword, made in India but with a good edge---ed). 

The other 5 guys went into the dark building and started loading up shoes.  Four guys carry, two walk security.  You need six people.  Four plus two is six.  I lost sight of the Basemodels.  I was going to walk in and tell Battery Bill but then something happened.

KA-Boom!  I heard an explosion and then screaming.  It wasn't the loudest but loud enough to scare the piss or urine out of me.  I heard the guys shouting at one another.  "Bring him into the light!" somebody called out. 

It was Cricket Cap.  He always wore a hat with a cricket on it.  Fishing hat or something.  Let me start by saying this was the first time I'd ever seen anyone with both hands blown off.  Just blood stumps...like bloody tree stumps after a tree has been cut down.  He was in shock too.  Shaking, cold and talking nonsense.  He tried to say that a pair of boots at had exploded.  Battery Bill tried to tell him, no it was a bomb or a booby trap.  After just a few minutes, Cricket Cap was dead.  They couldn't stop the bleeding.  Battery Bill cried and said he blamed himself.  I actually blame whoever set the trap.  That seems like the person who you'd consider guilty. 

News Agency of Argentina:  Who set the trap?

Bliss:  I don't know.  Everybody immediately said it was Basemodels who did it.  Them across the street.  So Battery Bill says two things,  they are there illegal and they set the trap.  King was a good fetcher and he says, we should just go find a Mars Ganger and tell them.  Anger can make things hard to figure out.  Everybody has been mad before and anyone who has been mad over a killed friend knows how hard it can be to think.  Think about what you are doing at the time.  Everybody but King said the Basemodels set the trap and everybody was getting mad at King too, so I kept my mouth shut. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What happened next? 

Bliss:  We didn't have many guns.  King had a shotgun, pump action.  Battery Bill carried a mini-14.  Very nice gun.  Only two mags though.  Joker, King's younger brother, carried a .380 pistol.  Me and Locks carried just swords and a couple of good knives.  Locks had a couple of fire bombs.  Molotov Cocktails people called them.  Invented in Asia, the home of China. 

Battery Bill told me to follow Joker and Locks to follow King.  He'd stay nearby with his rifle.  He told us to sneak around to the sides of the buildings and wait.  When the Basemodels came out, whoever was closest ambushed.  That means to jump out and attack someone.  Jump out from hiding.  Whoever was not closest was to come running once they heard shooting.  If they tried to run, they'd run into the others or him.  Dead meat, we all thought. 

Me and Joker hid between a couple of old cars.  I hoped that the Basemodels didn't come out where we were but they did.  Joker was excited and popped up from over the hood and started shooting his .380. 

I looked up but had nothing to shoot.  All I could do was watch.  Don't know why I was even there.  Blap-Blap-Blap---a Basemodel in a green chemsuit grabbed his arm and dropped the rifle he was carrying.  It was a nice AR-15.  Those are the best for a lot of reasons.  (Edited---Bliss trails off talking about the benefits of carrying an AR type rifle until we got him back on the subject---ed)  I wanted to rush out an grab it but didn't. 

Joker shot 8 times or maybe 9.  All that shooting and he only hit one person from just a few cars away.  The other Basemodels, must have been 10 or so, more than we'd thought, fired back at us.  Plunk, plink, plunk!  Bullets were making Swiss cheese out of the cars we were behind.  Swiss cheese is made in Europe.  Or America.  Or anywhere I guess. 

Joker reloaded his pistol so fast that he even dropped a few bullets on the asphalt.  He didn't bother to pick them up.  He just raised his head to shoot and all I heard was something that sounded like someone dropping a melon off the roof of a house.  Joker just stood there leaning over the hood of the old car.  He was fine except he had no head.  No head = dead.  It doesn't matter who you are and how tough you are supposed to be. 

I pulled Joker's headless body back down.  You guessed it, shot in the head by the Basemodels.  I tried to get the pistol out of his hand but he wouldn't give it up.  I think his last thought was "I have to hold on to this pistol no matter what."  I gave up and started climbing under the cars away from the shooting.  The shooting stopped though and I heard shouting.  Boom!  Someone, either King or one of the Basemodels fired a shotgun.  I heard Battery Bill shooting from where he was across the street. 

That was when something under one of the cars caught my rig.  I had left my pack behind across the street but still had my rig on.  I started to take it off then thought about how much I liked it.  So I just struggled with it. 

The shooting stopped and I heard the Basemodels talking through masks.  They killed King, I knew that and they weren't sure they had killed Joker but pretty sure.  I was sure he was dead.  Both brothers, dead and gone, I thought.  It was sad but I had my own problems, you know. 

All they had tried to do was make a little money and it amounted to getting bombed and shot.  I knew Battery Bill and Locks had taken off, I was sure of that.  Gone.  I didn't blame them.  You know, problems of my own. 

I had just got free from whatever had me hung up.  That was when I see a gas mask face staring looking right into mine.  Someone looked down to see if anyone was hiding under the cars and it was me.  It scared us both but I did something I didn't even think about doing.  I reached with both hands and yanked the mask off the Basemodel's face as hard as I could.  It slipped off and out from under his hood.  I saw his face for a second.  Surprise was how he looked.  He put his hand over his mouth and nose and tried to snatch the mask out of my hands.  I don't know about you but I have a good grip.  I can hold a coffee can full of lead for an hour.  Maybe not an hour. 

He finally choked and died, almost as quick as having his head blown off but not as gross.  I heard the other Basemodels saying, "Jackson?  Jackson?"  Then they came running.  I crawled out quick and took off through the parking lot.  Bullets whizzed by me, close too.  I knew I'd get hit but there is something you'd do well to learn.  Most people don't shoot as good wearing a gas mask.  They shot worse than Joker.  At least he'd hit somebody.  If they would have hit somebody, that somebody would have been me. 

I got to where I thought Battery Bill and Locks might be.   They were no where to be found.  Just poor dead Cricket Cap.  The Basemodels were behind me but going slow, cautious.  They thought I might have a gun. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What did you do then?

Bliss:  Hid in the shoe store.  I didn't think about it until later but the reason they didn't follow me in was that they saw Cricket Cap and figured out what had happened.  They knew the trap that had killed him had been inside the building.  They knew there might be more.  And besides, nobody wants to go into a dark building not only full of traps but with someone doing an ambush somewhere inside.  I already told you what an "ambush" was. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What did you do after they left you alone?

Bliss:  I don't know why, but I followed them.  I thought maybe I'd see someone from Mars Tribe maybe and be able to show them where the Basemodels were.  We all have to stick together, you know.  It was easy to follow them too.  They had a hurt man with them and even though he was bandaged up, he was still bleeding.  I think it must have been the one Joker shot in the arm.  When the suits get punctured, the Basemodels don't stick around anyway.  It was a drop here and a drop there, but it was plenty enough to track them.  You also learn to look for smudges in the dust, poison kind and regular kind.  It had been dry for a while too, even easier to track somebody.

News Agency of Argentina:  Did you eventually find them?

Bliss:  Yes!  I'd lost them for a little while but then found them again.  They were under a bridge making camp.  But when I saw them, it all made since.  They had been tracking Battery Bill and Locks.  They had caught them too.  I didn't know it but I'd been on the trail of my friends and my enemies at the same time.  Battery Bill and Locks looked like they'd been beaten up, but were standing beside a tall metal pole or pipe sticking out of the ground.  It went all the way up to the top of the bridge.  Each had one hand handcuffed to a chain that ran through a metal loop that was bolted onto the pole. 

The Basemodels had a camp set up there but it was temporary I think.  There was a huge water tank or something turned over with a door cut into the side.  Over that door was a showerhead, maybe so they could wash off the Death Dust.  You always know a regular human place since they have to keep the DD off of them.  I don't care for it either and it taste terrible.  It kills them though.  Quick.  Everybody knows that around here.

A few of the Basemodels came up with some old car tires.  The tires could have been from trucks too.  Hard to tell from where I was hiding.  They cut the tires and put them around the pole, just a few feet between Battery Bill and Locks.  There was a big stack of them. 

That was when one of them said, "This is payback for our friend you did like that."  Or something like that.  I could hardly hear them. 

They took one of Locks' own firebombs and threw it into the tires.  It caught on fire but only burned in the middle of the tires. 

"We can stand this all night!" was what Battery Bill shouted. 

"Just wait," said one of the Basemodels.  "When it gets going, you'll pull one another into it.  The one who lives can go free!  Sound like a deal, mold-trash?" 

They said "mold-trash" a lot too.  They were all derma-phobes.  Dermaphobia is the worst thing that can be wrong with anyone.  You can't hate somebody just because they an physical improvement of yourself. 

"We're good friends," Lock hollered.  "You'll never make us do that!"

"Just wait," the evil Basemodel said again, from under his ugly looking gas mask. 

The tires began to blaze and the heat was too much.  Fire will make you do anything and say anything.  Battery Bill was trying to get away from the heat just a little at first but even just a little caused him to pull Locks closer to the raging fire around the pole.  Locks screamed as his shirt caught on fire.  I didn't want to watch but I did want to see who would win, so I kept watching. 

Locks was bigger than Battery Bill and gave a hard snatch on the chain.  It pulled Battery Bill right into the burning tires.  He let out a holler like you wouldn't believe and literally jumped the other way.  He was burned bad in his arm and face.  They say some Man-2 don't feel much pain.  That is only a few and that wasn't Locks or Battery Bill, I can tell you that. 

Battery Bill dug his feet into the ground and leaned back.  He pulled Locks into the flames, this time on purpose, I think.  He leaned back so far that he almost laid down on the dirt.  Locks jerked the chain so hard that he dislocated Battery Bill's wrist, you could tell.  I thought he might pull Bill's whole hand off.  But he didn't. 

Locks whole arm, shoulder and face was in the fire.  He thrashed around but couldn't get a good foothold to pull himself out of the fire with.  Battery Bill jerked on the chain with all his might, trying to pull it with his good hand.  Suddenly he cursed and let go.  The chain was red hot where he'd grabbed.  Locks fell out of the fire a little and dragged Battery Bill just a little closer.  But Locks was done for.  His whole face was burned and was nothing he could do even though he was still close to the roaring fire.  He tried to stand and instead just fell.  A few minutes later, he was dead. 

It was sad to me, so much that I cried as I crawled away from hiding place nearby.  Anyone will tell you that I don't cry easily either.  We'd tortured and killed dozens of Basemodels with fire but not that way.  When we did it, it was to teach the Basemodels a lesson like not to come on our land, take what was ours or not give us what we needed more than them.  It wasn't because they were "normal" and we were Man-2.  It wasn't because of hate. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What happened to Battery Bill?

Bliss:  I don't know.  I never saw him again.  He was badly burned and I knew even if the Basemodels let him go, he wouldn't be doing any fetching for a long time.  I had to make a living still.  Also, I wanted to get as far away from the Basemodel camp as I could.  Seeing a Basemodel burned up and hearing him scream was different.  You knew they deserved it and even if that particular one being burned or tortured some other way didn't deserve what they got, their kind did----all of them!  But seeing Locks burned that way and Battery Bill being forced to kill him was too much.  It was all over a simple misunderstanding. 

News Agency of Argentina:  Do you still believe it was that party of normals that set the bomb that killed your friend?

Bliss:  If it wasn't them, it was some just like them. 

News Agency of Argentina:  Do you want to kill all normals?

Bliss:  No, some are okay, like you.  But there can't be any peace until we are all Man-2.  At least there can't be any peace until we have everything we need.  When the war broke out and God punished Basemodels, they were so jealous of us that they killed us on sight, even little kids.  They are still jealous of us and they all hate us deep down, even if they don't show it.  Not you all though.  But Most, most all. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What if all the normals moved to South America or Australia and left all the Man-2 here?

Bliss:  They'd take everything with them, I've been told that.  They would take their farms, animals, vehicles, weapons and their women.  What do you call a Basemodel trying to swim with a rifle? A drowner!  You see what I mean?  They are the greediest kind of animal on earth. 

News Agency of Argentina:  What do you think of the Moldy tribes that are peaceful and trade with the normals?

Bliss:  Wait and see.  I heard a preacher say something once.  "Nothing lasts forever, nothing but extinction."

Someone who can draw.

I need a handful of sketches done for a small handbook-section of one of my books or just a new Cruel New World website.  They don't have to be very detailed but I get tired of using random pictures off the web to give the readers of this blog a basic visual as to what I'm talking about.  It works but I don't like doing it. 

The typical Moldy is the one I need a sketch of most.  Male or female would be fine.  And before anyone starts to draw one, keep in mind two things:  first, a moldy is in no way related to a zombie.  Second, whatever drawing I select for this blog will be the one others work off far into the future.  Unless I die, the Cruel New World thing is going on for a long, long time into the future.  I've got a lot of plans for it and social metaphore, high adventure and future-history are always on the table. 

Here is what a moldy looks like in words:

Height:  human ranges based on age, sex and former racial make-up.
Weight:  normally slender due to increase motabalism.
Eye color:  frequently gray, pink or black
Hair:  patchy or thin in places.  Many wear wigs or head wraps. 
Skin:  Covered in purple or red rashes or mold-like scars from said rashes.  Sometimes accompanied by unusual hair growth in the scar area.  Note:  the more heavily rashed or scared a moldy is, the more likely he or she is to have nerve damage.
Dress:  Many moldies have stopped wearing shoes due to loss of sensation in their feet.  This is esecially true in warmer climants.  Where foot hazards are present, they often wear rubber sandles made from automobile tires.  Most wear discarded clothing though some such as Warm Star Community were clothes made from hemp which resemble earth-tone pajammas.  Fetcher gangs wear backpacks and other load carrying gear as well as carry gas masks or homemade respirators.  Most Fetcher gangs wear old military uniforms though Mars tribe issues their own Fetcher gangs with brand new Urban camo uniforms with the Mars Tribe logo on an arm patch. 

Most of the coastal moldies wear shorts to save on material and wear fewer animal skins than others living in rural areas.  White Buck Tribe has their own black and brown military uniform which is supplies to them by their trade partners, Mars Tribe. 

Cruel New World Breakdown 1: The Moldies, south eastern US.

Here are is the start of white might eventually become a sort of wiki for the Cruel New World series.  Let's start with one of my favorite subject:  the Moldies.


Moldies (aka The Afflicted, Man-2)

The Moldies came about as a precaution made by scientist in the wake of M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction).  After the cold war between the USA and USSR, science to toughen up man kind to survive after a full scale nuclear war, was put to the wayside.  Funding was cut and the idea of all out nuclear war was growing distant in the minds of the scientific community.  Genetic experiments of all types were still conducted and much advancement was made in the field, though little thought was put towards creating a more survivable human to live in the wake of a nuclear conflict.

However, relations between China and the USA soured soon after the economic near-collapse of America.  China not only built up its navy and nuclear arsenal but also its chemical and biological weapons stockpiles.  Interest in the changing people into tougher humans to survive a large scale conflict involved WMD was renewed.  But science had came so far that it was no longer about making a person more resistant to radiation and bio/chem warfare.  The idea was also put forth to include making a human who would evolve more quickly based on what may be encountered after a potential war.  A program was put in place to research how humans could not only largely survive such a war but reach new heights of intelligence afterwards.  Longer natural lifespans were also to be increase. 

The problems came about when the war approached at a faster rate than was previously expected.  When it was obvious that war with China was unavoidable, the project(s) were rushed out too quickly without proper testing.  People were given an injection of a serum which they were told was to protect against a deadly new strand of flu.  In fact, this drug was meant cause the person's genetic structure to alter the moment radiation levels rose or they were exposed to certain toxins.  This part didn't work and some people started mutating shortly after being given the drug.  Though this was blamed on bio-terrorism and few cases of "premature alteration" were ever reported.  It is difficult to tell what caused people to become "moldies" before the war or how many actual cases there were. 

What is certain is that after the onset of the war, moldies began appearing by the thousand.  The transformation into "Man-2" as it was code-named by the government, was a rapid one, taking anywhere between a few days to a week or more.  The more rapidly someone changed into a moldy, the less likely the person was to survive the transformation.  The slower cases appeared to retain higher mental function, sensory and motor skills than the "fast burners."  Some argue that the length of transformation into Man-2 was dictated by what harmful factor the transformee was exposed to and what levels.  Some reports state that no outwardly harmful factors were involved at times.  The transformation into Man-2 could be induced by high levels of stress, normal illness such as a common cold or without any noticeable factors at all. 

Most in the government weren't aware of the Man-2 project and mistook the moldies are victims of bio-chem warfare.  Some even thought their condition was contagious and orders were given to shoot on sight.  This was the start of the bad blood between moldies and humans.
The project was largely unsuccessful in most aspects.  Though Man-2 caused the affected humans to build up a tolerance to radiation, many harmful chemicals and most known bio-weapons, it had horrible side effect.  The most noticeable side effect was the horrible rashes which left unusual grayish green scares.  Hair fell out in patches and either partially regrew or never came back.  Often the rashes would invade the person's mouth and throat, causing them in some cases to lose the ability to speak or taste.  Some suffered partial or total blindness.  Roughly half to three quarters of cases originally suffered from some form of psychosis.  Damage to the nervous system also occurred in roughly 1/3 of reported cases, often causing the victim to feel almost no pain in most of the body and very little sensation at all.  Some reported that victims suffered from chronic thirst, dryness of the mouth and skin. 

There project did have some victories though.  Besides Man-2 allowing affected humans to live through man-made disasters and the aftermaths, it allowed them to also require resources for basic survival.  More food and water sources became instantly available.  Moldies can normally consume rotten food and drink stagnated water with no noticeable effects.  Most appear to need less food than the average human to stay relatively healthy, however, all seem to need more water than normal people. 

There are also reported diseases that seem unique to moldies.  A few cases have been reported over the years of moldies dying from coughing fits that last for hours or days before finally killing the individual. 

Baron of the Coast era Man-2 info:

Years after World War 3, moldies have somewhat adapted and in some cases, actually evolved into a somewhat higher functioning human than the original injectees.  Though none have reached the level of "super human" as was the project's original aims, many have either reverted to previous intelligence levels or have at least dropped to a lower level of psychosis and slightly higher mental function.  Children born to moldies have a 90% chance of being moldies themselves but have lesser rates of mental illness than their parents.  Multiple births are frequent and there are seldom cases of miscarriage. 

Moldy society is a tribal one.  Moldies frequently group according to levels of mental function/illness.  The more mentally ill are prone to roving in packs, raiding and stealing from both the normal human population and other moldies.  The ones with decreased mental function yet less frequent or severe mental illness often find employment as scavenger gangs, entering areas too toxic or irradiated for humans.  These are often refereed to as "Fetchers".  Most of the time they will be led by a "Fetcher Captain," normally a moldy or normal human of average or above intelligence.  Fetcher gangs often work for a larger tribe as a way to make money from the tribal members who don't fit well into their settlements.  It can also be a form of punishment in the tribes.  One might serve in a Fetcher gang for 1 year for theft or for example, 3 years for the assault of another tribe member. 

It is not uncommon to find outcast humans living in Moldy settlements.  Most humans living among Moldies are outlaws, runaway slaves and deserters from various armies or paramilitary groups.  One intriguing aspect of Moldy tribes is their acceptance of normal humans with physical defects.  A crippled person is often welcomed into a Moldy tribe and cared for, if they are of average human intelligence.  Moldies also believe that mating with normal humans cause a more intelligent Moldy to be born as offspring, though this has never been proven.  Offspring of humans and moldies almost always bare no normal human traits.  The same percentage of normal humans born to moldies exist when one or both parents are moldies.  Many maimed and crippled war veterans have been known to live among moldy tribes, some even leading them.  However, Moldies have little tolerance for drug addicts, normal or otherwise. 

Slavery is legal in most Moldy tribes, though outlawed in most normal human settlements.  Normal human slaves are normally only found in the most isolated moldy settlements.  This is due to the fact that most moldy tribes don't want to draw unnecessary attention to themselves and avoid breaking most laws of nearby normal human settlements when at all possible.  Fetcher gangs are said to kidnap normal humans for slaves but this is most likely urban legend. 

Largest moldy settlements:

Fort Stewart:  Atom Bomb Eaters or ABE.  This tribe moved into what was left of Fort Stewart Army base in Georgia after an indirect hit from a highyeild nuke launched from a Chinese sub in the Atlantic ocean.  Tribe ABE, as it is normally called, became a beckon for thousands of moldies in the area after the first months of WW3.  Scouts were sent out from the half-ruined base to gather up the most desirable moldies from southern Georgia and northern Florida.  By the first year's end, the population of the tribe had doubled.  The US military made no effort to remove the moldies from the base not only due to the radioactive status of the area but also because of the containment it provided for Man-2 in the area.  Years later, various military factions bartered with the moldies for some of the heavier hardware contained in the base, most of which the moldies were unable to use.  After a bloody civil war (started for unknown reasons), the tribe became more isolated and stopped recruiting other moldies from the area into their tribe.  Rumors of Tribe Abe building strength to attack the coast city of Savannah are persistent.  Some speculate they may soon do so with Cuban support.

Northern Atlanta/North Georgia:  Mars Tribe.  Mars Tribe likely got its name from the fine Red Dust or powder (aka Death Dust) that was used in a massive Chinese chemical attack on the city of Atlanta.  Death Dust or DD has little affect on the Moldies except for giving them an uncomfortable burning sensation in the throat when breathed.  Most living in the toxic zones do so in relatively sealed environments and use respirators or gas masks while out in the open.  These areas are not advisable for normal human travel unless one uses a full chemical protection suit.  Some moldies of Mars Tribe are said to have built up a tolerance to the dust and use no protective gear in the city.  Mars has a loose confederation of Fetcher gangs called "Martians" though most Martians are only considered probates of the tribe for years.  Mars Tribe is one of the wealthiest of all moldy tribes occupying the Southern States.  They have extended their territory into northern Georgia where they frequently clash with normal humans living in the area.  Mars Tribe is famous for collecting DD and using it as a payload in make-shift rockets which are fired into normal human strongholds in the North Georgia mountains.  Though the dust is said to have lost a lot of its effect over the years, it can still be weaponized and used to deadly effect. 

Carolina Coast:  Tribe Iron Claw or TIC.  TIC is a medium sized tribe consisting of no more than 1000 members, occupying several islands on the coast of South Carolina.  Their symbol is a red crab claw on a black flag which is difficult to recognize at a distance.  They survive mostly by fishing and have little contact with the outside world, both normal and moldy.  Some have reported seeing large alcohol stiles on their islands protected by heavy machine guns and homemade cannons from under fortified shelters.  However, they have never displayed any open hostility to passing vessels and avoid contact if at all possible.  Their islands are surrounded by rusting ships, most visible during low tide.  Some say these ships (mostly military) were part of a Chinese landing force and others claim that TIC dragged the ships out and sunk them on purpose to create reefs.  Radiation levels around the sunken ships are higher than normal but not dangerous in the short term.

Central North Carolina:  White Buck Tribe (WBT) or White Buck Collective.  WBT boasts the highest mental function levels of any moldy tribe.  They occupy the smallest settlement tucked away in the NC mountains and maintain a close alliance with Mars Tribe to the South.  They are the most hostile to humans of any tribe and are known to be fierce fighters.  Unlike most moldies, they tend to posses good motor skills and are the most mobile of all the tribes.  They purposely keep their numbers small due for fear of breeding out their genetic advantage they have over the other nearby tribes.  WBT maintains a fleet of armored cars as well as dozens of motorcycles, modified to run on alcohol.  Unlike most moldies, they covet technology and will go out of their way to obtain it, often sharing it with other allied tribes.  WBT is rumored to have control of a remaining global-mapping satellite in orbit, selling access to it to other tribes.  They also sell valuable maps to other moldies, presumably made from their satellite data.  Most maps are covered with packing tape for water-proofing and have a drawing of the White Buck on the back, denoting their origin.  Numerous attempts by various human paramilitary forces have been made to destroy the White Buck Collective but all have failed.  As of recently, Mars Tribe has been cutting off trade with anyone hostile to WBT, even when WBT has initiated the hostilities.  WBT is also the only known tribe of moldies who refer to themselves as "Man-2", the government codeword from before the war.

Southern Florida:  Crocodile Clan.  CC's symbol is a crocodile holding the globe in it's mouth.  In addition to their holdings in southern Florida, they also occupy and control a large oil rig in the gulf.  What little oil that is produced there is normally sold to Cuba.  Likewise, anything that breaks on the rig and needs skill to repair is normally performed by Cuban engineers and techs.  Though considered a large tribe, they are known to be one of the least intelligent for their level of organization.  Cuba would be to blame for this since they frequently send advisor to assist the Crocodile Clan in running their tribe.  Part of the Cuban/Crocodile Clan's military and economic alliance includes the Cubans working constantly to put down or resolve civil wars which are fought among the clan every few years.  The frequent civil wars has left central Florida dotted with tribes of CC castaways and rebels.  Most of these small tribes are hostile to the human populations in the area with few exceptions.  Crocodile Clan maintains a small fleet of small ships, including a former Coast Guard cutter.  The cutter has since been refitted with more easily maintained weapons by the Cubans.  The cutter, name the "Hell Shark", has participated in escorting cargo vessels from Canada down to Cuba and has been known to randomly shell human settlements on the coast. 

Cuba/Dominican Republic:  El Gato de Noche Tribe.  This is not a real tribe by most standards but rather Spanish speaking section of moldies residing in the Caribbean and completely under Cuban control.  They are notably intelligent and receive various forms of special training from the Cuban government.  They are known for committing acts of sabotage and stirring up moldies near American human population centers.  They are "walking WMD" and are rumored to carry plagues into North America, which moldies are immune to but humans are certainly not.  Some have been spotty by spies wearing Cuban army uniforms while in Cuba.  All are devoted Marxist and are frequently seen attending state-funded communist rallies.  A black cat with an arched back on a red background is their symbol, often worn as a patch.  The Cats of the Night frequently carry Communist propaganda to the other moldy tribes, both large and small.  Most of this propaganda is in the form of video and cartoon books to save on the fact that many moldies have lost their ability to read and many of the younger ones are never taught.  Such dogma is often completely lost on wealthy tribes such as Mars, who essentially rely on capitalism to sustain itself. 

Southern Alabama:  Children of the Warm Star Tribe, CWS or Warm Star Community.  These relatively peaceful moldies operate several large farms and a scattering of smaller ones.  Most specialize in wheat, corn, soybeans and peanuts but one of the larger ones grow large amounts of hemp, though most of it goes towards producing rope and clothing for trade.  Warm Star are some of the most religious of all tribes, their religion coming as close to 20th century Christianity as moldies ever get.  This is not without their own spin on things however.  They claim that normal humans carry the "mark of the beast" and those who were transformed/born moldies are marked for Heaven and God's new Chosen People.  Their contact with others include sending out missionaries to various moldy tribes and trade with both moldies and normal humans.  The "Warm Star" is a reference to their status as an agrarian society.

My lost books.

The two completed books I rarely ever mention is "I walk the walk" and "Under the Mud."  Both of these were edited/coached by Vonbluvens aka Mike Blevins.  As I'm hearing reports that Vonbluvens is gravely ill or dying, I decided to talk about these two forgotten novels due to his involvement in the project. 

"I walk the walk" was lengthy novel about an American revolution against a Zoinist government.  It wasn't like the Turner Diaries in the sense that it was more geared towards things slowly slipping out of control for the government due to political/economic/social problems while nationalists fought an IRA-styled campaign to hurry along it's demise.  There were cameo appearances from the personalities of the day too.  The nameless main character's dedicated belief in Odinism probably somewhat annoyed Vonbluvens at the time.  In all, I don't think he cared for the book.  It had a few good scenes in it and one or two good characters that I might recycle one day.  The book lacked much dialog, which Von always told me was my strong point in writing. 

Ironically, I hadn't thought much about the book until Rick Remmer came up to me in Trenton, NJ and said, "You definitely walk the walk."  He was referring to my participation in the huge street brawl that had taken place the day before and how I'd rushed into the thick of it, knocking enemies to the ground before I came under a chemical attack.  That was the first time I'd heard anyone use that phrase outside me titling a book with it.  Remmer gave me a choice of any book he had for sale that day.  I picked one called "Panzer Battles", a paperback. 

"Under the Mud" was the one Von liked and got interested in.  It was politically charged but more of a thinking man's novel than "I walk the walk."  It had a lot of sci-fi elements and left out most of the Odinist leanings that seemed to annoy the editor.  This book was about the later stages of the revolution and how a war profiteer became a revolutionary himself.  It goes into great detail of underground secret bases, abandoned because of plague research gone wrong.  It also talks about FEMA camps.  Vonbluvens had his name all over that part, so to speak.  In fact I brought Under the Mud to a rapid end so we could start a FEMA camp style book which was to be Under the Mud's sequel. 

The sequel, though we never decided on a name, was a brutal book.  It was about the camps set up towards the end of the revolution, which started out as a good idea to most people.  Life had been allowed to get so bad  outside the camps that people were all the more ready to go.  People who didn't want to go, hid and most often joined the revolutionary forces.  This book showed not just the ready and plentiful example of how race would play into the camps but also class.  Though never finished, the book was hot.  Vonbluvens went from dreading looking over the newest chapters to calling and asking why they weren't finished yet.  And bit by bit, the book climbed up to around 300 pages long.  Von would call up and throw out an idea or give a direction the next chapter should go in.  I'd type away for two or three days and send it to him to look over.  He'd often send something back and say, "don't let the person be beaten by a guard, let them be bludgeoned to death!"  In response, I'd tell him, have patience...both the interned prisoners and the guards are headed towards that point. 

And that is the line the book traveled down.  People went in, relieved to have hot water, plumbing and reliable electricity again as well as basic human safety.  Guards were glad to be off the front lines.  Resources got scarce, people got bored and guards got restless.  Then the rebels started attacking the camps, not so much to take human lives but to make things uncomfortable.  The more politically reliable prisoners were in the "green zone" while the yellow zone was for those who were unknown or the government was cautious about.  The red zone was for those deemed political dissidents or potential political dissidents who, who in the government's eyes, just hadn't got around to committing an actual crime yet.  Since the rebels only attacked the green zone, the prison officials eventually de-zoned the entire prison.  That is when all hell broke loose and life became very difficult in the camp. 

I may actually re-write that one someday.  Vonbluvens essentially wrote the original with me and since he's no longer wanting to be associated with politics, I'd have to take out the parts he came up with.  But the other two books, though read and liked by a few people, will probably never be published.  I'd certainly like to establish myself more as an adventure writer before I dive into politically charged adventure stories.  And even then, I may just continue to write books like the Cruel New World books, which are just adventure novels minus any trace of Marxist or Zionist propaganda. 

Right now, I'm concentrating on finishing Baron of the Coast while the second Cruel New World book is being edited.  I'm not sure where either books will be published and due to entry into the IPPY awards by In Search of Universal Truth Publishing, I might just go ahead and see about publishing the second Cruel New World book with them.  This way people won't have to hunt all over for the second book in the series.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the second book at this point. 

Operation Midnight Star

Operation Midnight Star was a success.  And as always the scenery was incredible. 

This is what is left from an apparently sucessful drug shipment.  The mules carry the stuff in on their backs, drop it off presumably to a automobile and then go on their happy way. 

This is me in an abandoned electronics factory.  It is beyond me why it was built so far out in the middle of nowhere.  The place is a fairly large complex of concrete domes, big enough to park a semi in.  The outside of most of them is covered in foam insulation, which I thought originally the entire domes were made from.  The complex is for sale to the tune of $750,000.

IPPY/Royalties from In Search of the Universal Truth Publisher

For the record, I am now receiving royalties from ISOTUT.  I'm not sure how the math works out but since a lot of people ask about it, there you go.  The first Cruel New World book seems to be doing well and I hope it continues to do so. 

Another neat thing concerning ISOTUT and Cruel New World is it's entry into the 2012 IPPY Award - National Book Awards nominations. 

The second Cruel New World book in complete but I'm going to wait a little while before I figure out what I'm going to do about having it published.  Right now, I'm working on Baron of the Coast full time.  That is the only book I've ever worked on where I've written a couple of alternate storylines and then just selected the one I liked best.

More of Baron of the Coast.

So far the people who have read over the rough draft of this book say that it is a better book than the first Cruel New World book.  However, I feel like what they like about it is the fact it is a more serious-natured book.  I don't think this fact makes it a better, just different.  Right now, I'm about 75% of the way done with the book, not counting adding in chapters which could stand on their own as short stories. 

The big difference between the first Cruel New World book(s) and Baron of the Coast is time frame.  In Baron of the Coast, the war has happened, more or less over with and the world has kept spinning.  Feudalism is slowly giving way to capitalism again, as the communist see it.  The US government is still around but they aren't strong enough to hold together the now balkanized United States.  Now a rush it on to grab as much power as can be held by warlords, pirate kings and the like.  That is the setting.  The people who are going to run the show from there on out are getting set up versus full scare war across the US.