They came and thought they could put us in chains.
I almost pity them. Did they not remember-never learn-of Valley Forge? Of Normandy? Of Okinawa? Every tyrant we have faced, that has threatened to eclipse our liberty has fallen to musket and rifle, to bomb and gun.
What made them think they'd be any different?
Boston is in flames all around me, a pity. It was such a beautiful city before Gilead came. I dodge and fire again and the bullet pierces the helmet of the Guardian, ripping him out of his truck. His companion aims, but a stray bullet silences him forever.
Streams of tanks rush in, the American flag, Confederate flag and flags of seventeen allied nations fluttering the breeze. Gilead's forces are putting up quite the fight, but in the end it doesn't matter.
Gilead is dead. And the United States killed it. Not just us alone. The South declared independence and it took three months for them to drive Gilead out. The trees in Georgia were decorated with hanging traitors. One would not think the Ku Klux Klan and Black Panthers would unite to form one of the most frightening factions in the resistance, but as I look a white robed soldier and black man clad in green fire together into the battalion of advancing Guardians.
A tank fires and shatters a barricade into splinters. The Guardians run and the tank crushes them beneath its tracks. I speed up my convoy and fire wildly into the advancing Guardians. Hails of bullets send them scrambling back, inch by inch.
The Jesuits-recognizable by their purple body armor-fire from the roofs. The sniper fire throws the few brave Guardians into disarray as the bullets slash into the crowd, knocking them down like flies. The Catholic Church had not been at war for centuries until Pope Francis had declared war on Gilead and taught the world why Catholic warriors were once feared throughout the world.
It's over now. The Gilead soldiers begin a retreat. It's all over. Above the burning city, nineteen flags slowly rise. None of them are Gilead's. Nor will it ever be again.
I pause by one body and step out of my convoy. Then, I lift the helmet.
"Hello Waterford."
His eyes flutter open.
"My name is June Osbourne. And that is the last thing you'll ever know."
I put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.