Homefront: The Voice of Freedom (28 page)

They had lived another day.

APRIL 10, 2026

We made it back Home in one piece. Well, not all of us. We lost eight. Six from Boone’s cell and two from Nguyen’s. It pains me to say we had to leave them, lying in the streets of suburbia, bleeding to death or blown to pieces. Even worse than that was the number of civilian casualties. I don’t know how many there were, but a lot of adults and children were killed in the melee. Tragically bad timing for that school to let out just when the battle started. It will haunt me to my dying day
.

But on a happier note, I made my best broadcast today, the first of its kind!

No more music or half-assed news reports. That was all well and good, and it probably did a lot for morale, but it was time to get serious. I sure hope to God that someone heard me. And I hope they spread the word. At any rate, DJ Ben is dead. I dubbed myself the Voice of Freedom. It has a nice ring to it
.

Despite the horror of what happened today, I think we turned a corner. Sure, we’re all on the run and the Koreans have Montrose. But Kelsie and I accomplished something I hope will end up being important. I never thought I’d be a “real” journalist again. I don’t recognize myself when I look in the cloudy, dirty mirrors we have at Home. I’m a very different
person than I was eighteen months ago, back when I was a disillusioned, cynical celebrity/pop news reporter in Hollywood. Back then, I didn’t give a shit who I hurt or walked on to get a stupid story
.

Life and death meant nothing to me then. But now? I feel more alive than I ever have …

APRIL 12, 2026

We know the Norks are in town doing exactly what was foretold. They’ve set up checkpoints in more areas and there’s a massive presence on the streets. I guess when the guy Kelsie killed didn’t show up after his rounds, the shit hit the fan. Maybe they’ll find his body in the rubble of the radio station. Who knows …

MAY 1, 2026

They’ve started building the wall. It’s going to enclose the city and turn Montrose into one big concentration camp. Over the last couple of weeks, the Koreans have been busy constructing all kinds of crap. They turned City Hall into an “employment center” for shale oil mining operations. If you ask me, it’s slave labor. I have no idea if they’re actually paying people to work for them, but I’m not eager to find out
.

The cell made a couple of raids on the bastards since April 10th. Connor took a team and knocked out one of the construction sites where part of the wall was being built. Just blew it all to smithereens. Wish I could’ve seen it. I went on the other mission, which was last week. Connor and Wally led a group of us to one of the checkpoints not far from Home. Boone didn’t like its close proximity, so we took it
out. Wasn’t a big operation—just had to engage fifteen soldiers in battle and blow up their makeshift building. None of our guys got hurt. Took the bastards by surprise, so it was all over in five minutes. I know I shot at least one guy, but it’s hard to know for sure. I never knew how confusing and chaotic battle really is. You’ve seen war movies and all that, but you never get a sense of just how much of a mind-fuck it is. You go in thinking your team and your plans are organized, but when the shit hits the fan, all that goes out the window. When bullets are flying every which way, explosions are going off all around you, people are shouting orders, the enemy is yelling, and you’re running through smoke and flames and debris—it’s just crazy. It’s entirely possible to “run around like an idiot.
”

Anyway, Boone and Wally think Kelsie and I should stay out of the fight and concentrate on being the Voice of Freedom. The name stuck. We made two more broadcasts with Hopper’s portable radio and our transistor board. The first one we made from the old golf course and the second one we made from the west side of town in an abandoned McDonald’s. I reported how more Koreans had moved in to Montrose, and I also heard from two of my followers. They’re calling themselves “the Voice of Freedom,” too. Yankee Doodle in Washington State and Cecilia up in North Dakota said they’re part of the Voice of Freedom “Network.” That made me feel good. I think I really have started something
.

MAY 8, 2026

Nguyen was killed yesterday. I can’t believe it. I’m really broken up about it, too
.

He led a team to confront a large contingent of the
enemy at the intersection of Highways 50 and 550. Well, it turned out the enemy force was larger than they’d thought. We lost three people, including Nguyen, before the team realized they were committing suicide. They had to turn back and run away. I don’t blame them one bit
.

Nguyen Huu Giap was a hero. I paid tribute to him in a broadcast about him last night. Derby, in Kansas City, acknowledged the report and forwarded it through the Voice of Freedom Network
.

There are about ten of us now that I know of. More and more people have repaired radios that work. The Voice of Freedom Network is spreading like wildfire. I’m really proud, but I’m going to miss Nguyen …

MAY 9, 2026

I’ve decided to leave Montrose. I think my usefulness with Boone’s cell has run its course. I had a long talk with Kelsie about it, and she agrees and wants to get the hell out of Dodge, too
.

Last night we presented our decision to Boone, Wally, and Connor. They’re sorry to see us go, of course, but they totally understand our intentions
.

The thing is, I want to see the Mississippi River. I have to. I want to see for myself the horror the Norks inflicted upon our country. I need to report it through the VoF Network
.

And most of all … I want to cross it. I have to see what’s going on east of the river. No one has heard anything from Washington. Nobody knows if our president is alive or dead, although the VoF Network reports rumors that he’s in the UK. We have no idea if the Koreans are present in New York or D.C. or Boston or Philadelphia
.

I have to know …

So tomorrow morning, Kelsie and I are heading out. The cell has donated a repaired 1999 Jeep Cherokee SUV for us to use, as well as a decent supply of gas. Hopper gave us his portable radio. The cell has two more, so he didn’t need it. We’re taking the hand-cart generator, too, so we can make broadcasts on the road
.

We’re going to head east toward Kansas City. Derby already said he’d meet up with us. From there I guess we’ll go to St. Louis and see about getting on the other side of the river. I don’t know how we’ll do it, but as the saying goes, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it
.

JUNE 18, 2026

It’s been Road Trip Heaven and Hell
.

Kelsie and I are in Salina, Kansas. I can’t believe it’s taken this long to get only this far
.

First, the good stuff. Interstate-70 is surprisingly uncluttered with derelict cars. The highway infrastructure is not a junkyard like it was a year ago when I was first traveling cross-country. Either people have moved them off the roads, stolen and repaired them, or whatever. We still see a few rotting hulks on the side of the highway, but not as many as before. There are also many more repaired vehicles actually driving. I was afraid our SUV would be too conspicuous, but so far we’ve blended right in with the light traffic—VERY light traffic. It still isn’t the kind of thing that was normal ten years ago, or even two years ago before the EMP. But I reckon a car passes us in either direction every five or ten minutes. We usually wave and they wave back. I’ve also seen some black market gas stations every now and then. I’d say that’s progress
.

More good stuff. The people we’ve come into contact with have all been nice and helpful. There’s not a lot of Korean presence on the road, but we do see a convoy of troops every now and then. They don’t bother stopping the cars on the highway. They act like they’re on a mission to get somewhere. We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us. I guess that’s good
.

Now the bad stuff
.

You’d think we were in the Great Depression again, only ten times worse. Kansas is deserted. Yes, there are pockets of people, and they’ve all been nice and helpful like I said above. But
finding
a pocket of people takes some doing. Maybe they’re all living away from I-70, or maybe they’ve just plain evacuated the state and moved to a big city somewhere. Apparently the Koreans have taken over a lot of the farms. They’re sucking our agricultural industry dry. And rather than being forced to help them do it, the farmers and townspeople just left
.

I also found out through the Voice of Freedom Network there was major trouble in Salt Lake City, Utah. Apparently there was a large uprising by the civilian population against the Korean military occupation, and it worked—at first. They took back control of the greater Salt Lake City area, commandeered Korean vehicles, and imprisoned occupational leaders! But on May 16th, the bastards responded by firebombing downtown with a series of Massive Ordnance Air Blast bombs—or MOABs, as they’re called (the “Mother of All Bombs”). I can only imagine how terrible it was. There were more civilians in the city than there were in Vegas when
it
got whacked. Then I received an even uglier report, and I sincerely hope it’s a rumor. In the ensuing couple of weeks of clean-up operations, the Koreans supposedly
executed any man they found who was over the age of sixteen
.

Last night I broadcasted this news over the VoF Network. If that doesn’t raise the level of outrage in this country, I don’t know what will
.

The last bit of bad news was that the SUV broke down near the Colorado-Kansas border and we were stuck there for three weeks before someone came along that happened to have a badly needed gas filter. It was a worrisome three weeks, too. The closest town was a ten-mile walk to Burlington, Colorado, and there was nothing there. No one around. So after trying that, Kelsie and I went back and stayed with the SUV. We lived off of crackers and apples and water. And love. I guess you could say that’s what really kept us going
.

In the end, a couple of guys in a tow truck (!) happened to come by. I couldn’t believe it. It was almost as if we were suddenly back in the good old days when motor clubs would send out guys to fix your car if it broke down on the road. Anyway, Benny and Charlie—that was their names—they had a bunch of automobile parts for emergencies, and they happened to have spark plugs that fit. They wouldn’t take anything for payment
.

America. You gotta love it
.

JULY 5, 2026

Salmusa never took a holiday.

The Americans’ former Independence Day proved to be a challenge for the KPA all over the nation. Protests occurred all over the country. Fortunately, Salmusa had received intelligence that such displays of disloyalty were going to occur. Where possible, KPA Light Infantry divisions dispersed the protests with tear gas, beatings, and arrests. In addition, resistance movements made it a point to celebrate the so-called “Fourth of July” by attacking various Korean outposts. Some were successful. Korean units in Dallas, San Diego, Montrose, and Oklahoma City were hit hard. The KPA simply couldn’t be everywhere at once.

Thus, the week leading up to the Fourth was a busy one. While minions under his command felt the need for a day off, Salmusa allowed no such thing. The GKR never rested, not until all goals and objectives were met.

Always setting an example to others, it was the crack of dawn when Salmusa stepped into his office at the Greater Korean Republic’s military headquarters in San Francisco’s old city hall. Other than the security guards who manned the building 24/7, he was always the first one there. The first hour he spent
exercising in the gym, for it was important to keep in shape. Salmusa believed the second most essential requirement for any member of the Korean People’s Party, after loyalty and allegiance to the Brilliant Comrade, was discipline over one’s body.

Following his workout, Salmusa spent a couple of hours analyzing intelligence reports from around America. Kim Jong-un had expressly dictated that resistance cells be squashed like bugs, so the operative was determined to locate every rebel hideout and destroy it. The task was proving to be more difficult than he had imagined. These simpleminded Americans had more fortitude than anyone in North Korea had predicted. Salmusa thought the military analysts in Pyongyang were fools. They had not lived in the United States as citizens, as he had done. Had he been the one to set military policy and goals in the New Democratic People’s Republic of America, Salmusa would have been much harsher in dealing with the population from the first day of the invasion. In his opinion, the approach was too soft. There was no need to build shelters for the homeless, provide food and clothing, or allow them to keep owned property. If he’d been in charge, Salmusa would have slaughtered all the men and male children. Best to keep the vermin from reproducing.

Of course, he knew that would have been an impossible undertaking, but he enjoyed the fantasy.

Salmusa checked the clock. It was time for a scheduled video call with the Brilliant Comrade. How privileged he was that he had direct access to Kim Jong-un! Only three other KPA men stationed in America could now claim such an honor.

After the usual satellite linkups and security checks, Salmusa was connected to Kim’s office in Pyongyang. When his handsome face appeared on the monitor,
Salmusa was reminded of the man’s godlike charisma. He had watched the leader grow and mature from the days when they were both toddlers. Even then, Salmusa knew that one day Jong-un would be a great ruler. One of the most meaningful moments of Salmusa’s life was when Kim Jong-un commented that he considered the two of them brothers.