"Stan? STAN!"

I looked up to see my father standing at the door of my bedroom.

"Are you ready to go, son?"

I glanced back at him, uneasily shifting the weight of my backpack onto my shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess so."

My father was fumbling with his own gear. He carefully adjusted the strap of his helmet, as I waited for him. The mere sight of my father attempting to be a soldier was enough to make me cringe.

"Let's go," he finally said, and I followed him downstairs. My mother was waiting by the door; she was wearing winter camouflage and carrying an M16. Her expression was a mix of both worry and complete resignation. Together we left the house; my father locked the door, hoping it would not be his last time doing so.

As we began to walk down the street toward the South Park community center, I could see many of the other South Park residents following suit. Passing a dark-green-painted house laden in heavy snow, I saw a heavyset woman fastening an overly-large helmet atop the head of a boy. The boy, who had a look of annoyance and fear on his face, was my age.

"Kyle?"

The boy looked up at me; he was happy to see me, but was embarrassed to have such a ridiculously large object strapped to his head. My parents halted their march as I walked over to meet him.

"Dude, I don't know about this. It's one thing for your Uncle Jimbo to go fight in California, but now all of our parents are going, too," Kyle mumbled at me. All I could do was look into the eyes of my best friend. He knew immediately that I understood and felt his distress.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Well, I guess we should get going, then," I said.

All the kids of South Park who were too young to fight were taking refuge in the community center. As I approached the building with Kyle, I could see many other families bringing their children in. The somber mood which had been rancid inside immediately infected the Marshes and Broflovskis as they entered the building. Everywhere, mothers and fathers were hugging their children as if it were the last time they would ever do so.

Meanwhile, many of the fourth-graders of South Park Elementary were grouping together in a corner of the meeting hall, and I could make out many familiar figures. A blonde girl named Bebe was whispering quietly to Wendy, their faces sullen and full of distress. Tweek was shaking more than usual with his hands clamped around a steaming Styrofoam cup. A mousy-haired and slightly husky boy named Clyde was busy making his bedspread next to him. Behind Clyde, Stan found Eric Cartman with his fat body hunched over a large duffel bag full of candy. He noticed me and Kyle and approached us. "What's up, fags?" he greeted us in his usual brash way.

Eager to relieve my shoulders of their burden, I heaved my backpack into an empty space next to Cartman. Kyle followed my lead, and we both began to settle in.

"All this shit so that Kevin and all his Asian fags can steal our land!" Cartman sneered.

Kyle immediately scowled at Cartman, and the two began bickering back and forth. I looked over my shoulder. I could see Kevin Chang, a short Asian boy with his hair in a bowl cut. Kevin was quietly playing his PSP -- most likely Star Wars, I figured.

"Well, if you can't stand it, go sleep somewhere else!" shouted Kyle as I instantly began to pay attention to their conversation again.

"Why should I leave when it's a Chinaman and a Jew fucking things up?"

"Because you're a racist and sadistic asshole who can't tolerate anyone!" Kyle retorted. He looked around for support, but to no avail; most of the others were looking at us pointedly with attitudes supportive of Eric, particularly Clyde.

"Whatever, Kyle. Time will prove me right again."

"Now, boys, let's try to get along. It's going to be up to all of you to work together and see each other through this," Randy Marsh said as he sat down beside me. At this point, many of the parents were now getting ready to leave.

My father gazed at me, a combination of admiration and sadness in his eyes. "Stan, I just want you to know that I love you. I am very proud of you as my son," he told me gently.

I quietly thought about this as my mom wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me with amazing strength. "Please stay safe, my angel. We will come back for you." With that, both of my parents got up and left me still sitting there.

Nearby, the Stotches were having a similar farewell. "Oh, Butters, I am going to miss you," Linda said, looking at her son sorrowfully as tears rolled down her soft cheeks.

Wrapped in her arms, Butters also seemed to be crying. "I'll be all right, Mom. T-tell Dad that I said hi."

"He never was able to tell you how much he loves you and how happy you make him." Linda gave Butters a final kiss on the forehead and got up to leave with the others.

With the room devoid of parents, the kids of South Park all huddled around a small radio to listen to the war news.

"The 101st and the 2nd still hold strong in Texas, despite many casualties. We also regret to report that San Francisco has finally fallen to the Chinese early this morning." The same grim shadow which had gripped the nation was now cast upon all of us. "Chicago is still in flames after enduring another night of carpet bombing. A critical shortage of jet fuel keeps many Air Force planes grounded."

There was a crack of static as another report began. "This just in: A large force of the Red Army has surrounded Ft. Collins, Colorado. General Watson of the 10th mountain division is in command and has vowed to hold the fortress at all costs."

"Dude, that's where our parents were going!" Kyle shouted with a terrified look on his face.

"They don't stand a chance now. We've gotta go stop them." I responded.

"They told us to stay here and stick together. If we go out there, we're going to die!"

"We have to try!" I got on my feet and looked around at the other kids of South Park. Most were debating with each other; some looked back at me, but they were unable to meet my eyes.

"Who will go with me? We must warn our parents if we ever want to see them again."

The uncomfortable silence lingered. Cartman had his hands crossed, he was resolved to staying here. Craig and Token, wanting to avoid any further attempts to get them to risk their lives moved away from the crowd.

"Please guys, please help me!" I cried in desperation.

Finally, Cartman joined the conversation. "Screw parents! We don't need them. I'm not going to get killed because of their stupidity."

All I could do was stare at them helplessly. Then, suddenly, a different voice chipped in.

"I-I'll go."

Slowly, a boy with short blonde hair and a heavy green winter jacket emerged from the crowd. I could feel my jaw drop. Butters never volunteered for these types of missions; we usually had to trick or force him into doing them, and he always got hurt or in big trouble as a result. Usually, I went along with the crowd; I never stopped him from doing them, either. A surge of guilt entered my heart at that thought.

"Butters, it's probably best for you to just stay here and be safe."

Butters looked down to the floor, nervously kneading his knuckles together. What he thought in those long seconds is still a mystery to me, but he finally looked back at me straight in the eyes and said, "Our parents are in m-mortal danger. If someone doesn't warn them, then we w-won't have parents. You can't go alone, so, by golly, I will help you."

"If the butthole wants to go, just let him. It's not like anyone else is dumb enough to go," Cartman finally yelled out in frustration.

"Fine. Come on, Butters."

As I swung my backpack over my shoulders and picked up my rifle, I heard slow footsteps behind me.

"Stan?"

It was Kyle. He was looking at me with a concerned face and his hands in his pockets.

"Dude, our parents aren't in trouble. Please don't go. You don't stand a chance out there with Butters."

I heaved out a long sigh and turned to face my friend. "Our parents are walking straight into a death trap, and I have the chance to stop them from doing it. If Butters is the only one who will help me, then so be it. He may be a dumbass, but I don't have much of a choice." With that, I turned my back and walked towards the door.

"Stan, please be careful," Kyle called after me. "You're my best friend, and I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

Butters was waiting for me by the door. I surveyed him; he seemed to be laden with an oversized backpack and an aged rifle that seemed to be from another era. Two sixth-graders began removing the furniture and debris that was barricading the door. Finally, the door creaked open, and I moved through it with Butters. One of the sixth-graders chuckled at me and grunted a "Good luck" as I passed by him.

The chill of the winter Rocky Mountain air hit me like a wall as I stepped outside, and it enveloped me as if I had jumped into a pool of ice. The door slammed shut behind us, and I could hear the thumps of objects being piled up against it. This is going to be a long trip, I thought.

The party began their march through the thick snow. The sun had already set, and the reflection of the full moon glistened on the frozen surface of Starks Pond. The snow-laden trees glowed a soft blue, casting a mystical shadow across the plain. Other than the soft whisper of the wind, it was startlingly quiet. Butters was following me closely behind, humming to himself in deep thought. I was also thinking, but my thoughts were on the mission. Fort Collins was only ten miles away from South Park, and hopefully the adults were only an hour or two ahead of them.

My train of thought was interrupted suddenly when Butters started singing aloud.

"He's tearing you apart, every every daaaaay.."

"BUTTERS!"

"Yeah, Stan?"

"Do you have to sing?" I could not hide my annoyance with him. He was always singing, and the songs he sang were always lame.

"Well, I just thought…"

"Just don't sing and avoid talking as much as possible!" I cut him off. "You know, I really didn't want you to come, but I am stuck with you anyway. Let's make this as painless as possible." I looked back at him; he seemed very surprised by my reaction.

He sadly stared down at the ground and gave his generic, "W-well.. all right, then."