A House Divided: A Jericho Fan Fic

[Gen. Chris]

Hey everyone. I know this isn't Stargate but I have talked with the mods who say non-Stargate fan fic is okay.

This story is set in the universe of Jericho, a show that lasted for two seasons. The story is set in the aftermath of Season 2. To put the story simply without too many spoilers, there has been a large nuclear attack on the United States, and in the chaos after the attacks, two governments have risen. The remnants of the old, and a new one. Due to certain revelations, the two governments are now at war.

I will be frank...This story, especially the first chapter (which gives a hefty amount of background information later on) is extremely spoiler heavy for the show. I have not read the graphic novel continuation...This is not related to it at all. If you have ever planned on watching the series and don't want to be spoiled (it isn't too much, you could probably guess some of the stuff that happens before it does), please don't read this.

I actually have nine chapters completed; I have been writing for another forum, and I am currently working on chapter ten. I will release more if reaction is favorable.

For now, enjoy.

Spoiler:

The sun was setting as Jack Griffin lined up his sight on the party of men approaching his position. He was holed up in a long-abandoned house, aiming his Mini-14 at fellow Americans who simply fought under a different American flag. He counted about ten men in the approaching party, all displaying the flag of the Allied States in some form or another. He did not know the men, as they came from the other side of the Mississippi River, but he felt pity for them. They knew not that the government they were fighting for was the wrong government. These were not soldiers. They were militia, just like him.

A bullhorn erupted from the top of the house.

“Men of the Allied States, you are surrounded. Lay down your weapons and surrender. We do not wish to harm you.”

The statement was only partly true. On each side of the street a squad of the 3rd Pennsylvania Militia unit occupied a house, and both squads had their arms pointed directly at the men of the Allied States. The men raised their arms, unsure of where the voice had come from.

“Please lay down your arms. If you do not, we will be forced to open fire on you”

The voice was their company leader, Lieutenant Warren Adams. He had a threatening voice without the bullhorn, but with it, his voice and his tone was clear. They meant business.

All of the sudden shots rang out. Two Allied States militiamen opened fire on the other house across the street. The order rang out: “RETURN FIRE!”

Jack, with a man already in his iron sight, opened fire immediately, with his squad mates joining him. Jack’s first shot was a resounding thump, and the bullet went through his target’s chest, bringing him down quickly. About half of the men of the Allied States dropped immediately, bullets riddling their bodies. The other men quickly retreated, but the order was no hostiles were to be left alive. Jack fired two more shots, both missing. He jumped out of his open window onto the wooden porch and ran down the stairs into the street. He did not want to let these men get away.

Ignoring shouts from upstairs as well as the gunfire erupting from both sides of the street, Jack ran directly into the middle of the street. He raised his gun, sighted the men running away, and squeezed the trigger. One man fell, a wound to the lower back. He sighted the next man and fired, missing. He fired again, the bullet hitting him in the left shoulder. By now two of Jack’s squad mates, James and Chuck, had joined him in the street. The men of the Allied States were too far away for Chuck’s shotgun, but James fired his M1 Carbine, hitting another fleeing man in the back and another in the leg, bringing down both.

The skirmish was all but over. Other men were joining Jack and the others in the street. There was only one man left, fleeing for his life. Jack took aim, the orders clear in his mind: No survivors.

Jack squeezed the trigger, the shot breaking the silence. The back of the man’s head erupted with blood, ending his life.

The others searched the dead and dispatched the survivors. The lieutenant was on his radio, discussing the skirmish with their captain. Jack walked the hundred and fifty meters or so down the street to his last victim. Jack gazed down at the guy, who looked to be about the same age as Jack. Jack searched the body, finding nothing but the man’s wallet as well as a sheathed machete. Jack searched the wallet, finding some Allied cash as well as a picture of the man and perhaps his girlfriend. He placed the picture in the man’s jeans, but kept the wallet and the cash. He figured he never knew when he would need some of the enemy currency. He also claimed the machete as his own.

Jack was nearly twenty two years old, and he had just shot four men. A little less than a year ago he was attending university in his home state of Pennsylvania when the attacks occurred. Jack witnessed the mushroom cloud from his dorm room, coming from the direction of Pittsburg. Jack had rushed home to his small town and discovered an empty house: His parents and his little brother had been in Pittsburg. The news that followed was equally as devastating: Over twenty cities around the nation, including Washington DC, were gone. What followed was several chaotic months as the nation tore itself apart as numerous national governments tried to establish themselves in the wake of the attacks. Eventually, it came down to the remnants of the national government being set up in Columbus, Ohio, while a rival government was established in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Both governments claimed to be the legitimate government, and the one based in Cheyenne established the Allied States of America.

Comprising twenty one states, it claimed all the territory West of the Mississippi, with the exception of Texas, as its own. The remnant United States government held its power over the Eastern half, while Texas had established itself as an independent Republic yet again. The two powers remained in an uneasy peace until it was revealed that the Cheyenne government, headed by a former Senator named John Tomarchio, may have not only covered up the origin of the attacks but also that elements within the new government had orchestrated it. This revelation caused Texas to side with the remnant administration in Columbus. Texas, with its large military presence as well as oil reserves, gave the remnant government a chance. From there, war was declared, and the United States entered the Second American Civil War.

Jack was not a military man. He had been a simple small town guy who had been attending college when the attacks happened. When it was revealed that elements of the government in Cheyenne might have been behind the attack, a call for volunteers was issued for all states still loyal to the federal government. Jack immediately signed up and brought his father’s Mini-14 and H&K P2000 pistol with him to Camp Liberty, on the outskirts of Harrisburg, which had escaped the nuclear attacks unscathed but had suffered much during the chaotic dark months after the attack. There he met with his new squad mates, and they were organized into the 3rd Pennsylvania Militia.

The declaration of war brought with it a veritable blitzkrieg of attacks from the Allied States. Small armies of both regular military and militia alike spewed across the Mississippi, the main target being Columbus. Battles had been erupting in urban as well as rural areas all along the Mississippi for the past couple months. Much of the nation’s forces were bogged down, Texas especially having to retain its forces for a good while, leaving the rest of the United States to fend for itself against the onslaught. The 3rd Pennsylvania, not quite fully trained, was rushed to Indiana to defend against the thrust towards Columbus that traveled along Interstate 70. Jack and the rest of his regiment ended up in Terra Haute, Indiana, along the eastern bank of the Wabash River. Failing to blow up the main bridge there, the forces of the ASA fired artillery onto the town and breached through the defensive line, slaughtering many hundreds of men before continuing on. The ASA left behind a small garrison to defend the bridge as well as root out any surviving defenders, with the undestroyed bridge allowing supplies and reinforcements to stream through to the front lines. The ASA garrison was headquartered in the Terre Haute Federal Correctional Complex.

The 3rd Pennsylvania, battered but not broken, hunkered down in the town with its remaining supplies, while elements of the remaining defenders scattered throughout the city. Every day they conducted partisan attacks on different parts of the town, taking out small parties of ASA soldiers wherever they could. There were only about one hundred of them left now, but they had plenty of ammunition as well as supplies to keep fighting for several more weeks. They killed ten Americans on Helen Avenue, a bit outside of the center of town.

The bullhorn rang out.

“Jack, get your ass back here. We’re heading back.”

Jack looked at his victim again.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, and he turned and walked back to his waiting comrades.

[min min light]

I love Jericho - I'll bookmark this.

[Gen. Chris]

Ah thank you.


Feedback is appreciated greatly

[Gen. Chris]

Perhaps another chapter?


I'd really like some feedback guys. Even if you hate it, please tell me why.

Spoiler:

Jack sat there on his computer, unable to think of what to write. He was writing a paper on the causes and consequences of the American Civil War, the first paper of his semester. Jack had often read about the Civil War, how hundreds of thousands of men died in order to settle a dispute over states’ rights. He could not imagine the horrors of a war where American fought against American. This writer’s block was absolutely killing him, and the paper was due tomorrow.

A bright flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The flash was coming from the window. He went to the window in a panic, and after several seconds, a giant mushroom cloud rose out of the light. “No…” Jack said. Not this again…

Jack awoke with a start. That damn dream had occurred again.

He rose out of his makeshift bed. Jack and some of his comrades were laying low in a residence over in the eastern part of Terra Haute. After their successful ambush the previous evening they had reunited with the rest of their company a couple blocks away and had reported to their commanding officer, Captain Aaron Jensen. After receiving some food from the mess kitchen, they retired to their quarters a few blocks away. Ever since the battle that effectively cut off the 3rd and the rest of the defenders of Terra Haute, men of the 3rd had taken to sleeping several blocks away from each other, both in an attempt to see all enemy movements but also so that a possible artillery or aerial attack would not kill them all. Every morning the company leaders would meet with the Captain and discuss the movements for the day. Due to the losses incurred during the initial battle, the regiment was down to only about one hundred men, far understrength. The captain had taken command after the previous commander, Colonel Mack, was killed. The company that Jack was a part of was drained severely in strength compared to the others, consisting of around thirty men the last that Jack had checked. The captain had almost folded the company into another but Lieutenant Adams had protested severely. As an understrength unit, his company would be more suited to covert operations farther into ASA territory, while the other two companies could be used elsewhere. The skirmish the previous day proved that.

Jack decided to take over the watch, convinced he would not be able to sleep. He grabbed his Mini and went upstairs and found Daniel Lewis, their company sniper, nearly asleep at his post. Jack’s sudden appearance caused Daniel to whirl about, pointing his scoped rifle directly at Jack.

“Daniel, it’s me, Jack” he said, his adrenaline pumping from the near fatal mistake of sneaking up on Daniel.

“Jack?! Christ…I nearly blew you away. What are you doing?” Daniel said, half asleep.

“Relieving you. What time is it?”

“It’s almost dawn, I think. I only have about forty-five minutes left on my shift.” Daniel said, finally lowering his rifle.

“Well, go get some sleep. I’ll take over.”

Daniel thought about it, shook his head “I s’pose I need a little bit of shut eye. Thanks Jack. Just don’t do that again”

Jack grinned. “Wouldn’t think of it”.

Daniel went downstairs, yawning as he went. Jack took up his perch by the window. He had a clear view down the street both ways. Even in the pre-dawn darkness he’d be able to see or hear anyone sneaking up the road trying to find the defenders of this town in Indiana. He patted his Mini. It was no scoped rifle like Daniel’s, but his aim was good enough at a few hundred yards that he could make an ASA soldier think twice about advancing any further up the street without backup. The shot would also surely awaken the other members of their squad in the house, as well as the observers in the houses nearby. Attempting to take this company by surprise would be a fatal mistake for any man.

As the sun began to rise, Jack couldn’t help but think of his dream. Why did he keep having dreams of that day? He felt guilty, but he did not know why. It was not his fault that terrorists decided to obliterate thirty million American lives that day, nor was it his fault that his family was gone. Jack had attempted to find his extended family in the chaotic dark months, but he never got close. As far as he knew, he was the only member of his close family to have survived the attacks as well as the months afterward. He felt guilty for that…but he would never be able to explain why to himself.

He found himself wondering now about the plight of the United States government. Had it fallen? The last reports that reached them were that the Columbus government was rallying the troops that it could gather to defend the capital, but there had been no reports since. Had the government fallen? Had it moved to another city, rallying its people to defend the true, legitimate government? The 3rd Pennsylvania simply did not know. They could only do what they were ordered: Defend the town of Terra Haute, Indiana. Even though the town had been captured, they fought every day to gain control of it again. And though they were not successful so far, they had certainly caused the ASA grievance enough: One of the prisoners taken a couple days before informed them that the Cheyenne government had ordered the garrison be strengthened to guard against partisan attacks. Though there was no known timetable, the Captain knew their time could be short. The garrison was already strong enough that it could crush the resistance if they found it. There were only around three hundred soldiers left in the city that stood loyal to the true American flag, quite outnumbered. The thought of a larger garrison of ASA soldiers sent a chill down Jack’s spine.

The last orders of Colonel Mack to Captain Jensen was known to every soldier of the 3rd, as well as the surviving soldiers of other units: If they could not retake the town from the ASA, they were to use any and all means necessary to bring down the sole remaining bridge over the Wabash.

If it took every last man, Jack knew they would do it.

[min min light]

I haven't read it yet - I've got it bookmarked along with some other fanfic by someone on here. It's no reflection on you and I promise I'll read it and give you feedback. But I won't promise when. Because "when" is, "when I'm in the mood to read fanfic."

[Gen. Chris]

Spoiler:

Jack and several other men of the 3rd Pennsylvania were deep into ASA territory in Terra Haute. Though they had been in ASA territory the other day on Helen Avenue, they were not in an area commonly patrolled. Their orders were simple: Go into the main part of the city and attempt to collect supplies. Anything that was left was to be theirs. They had two days.

This was one of the most dangerous missions that they had gone on. The likelihood of encountering a similar party of ASA soldiers was high, especially considering the center of town was heavily patrolled. The scouts from other units had maintained that the ASA soldiers regularly came into the main part of town to gather supplies with a secondary mission of killing or capturing USA soldiers. They had supposedly already wiped out several streets of food and other sorts of supplies, and were beginning to more thoroughly search the surrounding streets. According to the scouts, the ASA garrison had also looted and burned much of the state university. Jack, having been a university student, took great offense at such a crime.

The sun was beating down on them. They had started at dawn and had walked several miles of streets trying to find food. So far they had only discovered a couple cans of dog food that had been left behind and some jerky. They also discovered some spray paint in a hardware store, along with some shovels and a few other tools. They bagged the dog food and the spray paint, shared the jerky and each took a tool and continued moving. Dog food may not be the best thing to eat, but it was better than nothing. And the tools, shovels, and the spray paint could certainly come in hand later.

Walking west along Walnut Street the party consisted of Jack, Chuck, James, and Daniel, with the accompaniment of Greg Yates and Roger Stephenson. Between them, they were quite well armed for a militia. Jack as always had his trusty Mini-14, his sidearm, and his knife as well as his newly acquired machete. He had fashioned it so that he could draw the blade from his back, lending him a quick draw in case he needed it. He brought along all his magazines fully loaded; it was almost all the ammunition that he had left. Between the rest of them there were two M-1 Carbine variants, a scoped hunting rifle, an M1A rifle which was fairly similar to Jack’s Mini-14, and finally a 12 gauge shotgun. Everyone also had their own side arms as well as a blade of some sort. They all had enough ammunition, water, and food to last them the raiding trip.

They passed a railroad line on their trek along Walnut Street, doing so quickly, as they would have been easy to spot in such an area. Luckily for them, they did so without incident. The party was mostly quiet until James began speaking.

“Hey guys, what do you call a bunch of ASA soldiers at a bar?”

No one responded.

James, not realizing that they were trying to be quiet, continued “A full set of teeth”.

Jack, though trying to be serious, couldn’t help but crack a smile. Always the joker.

The streets, though more untouched by the war that others, still showed some scars. Several buildings had evidence of artillery shelling, some buildings having caved in all together. Every once in a while they’d see bodies, Jack having counted ten so far since they started out this morning. The party had to continually avoid some streets because there was simply too much would have been prime ambush territory. Others were simply ignored. They did not travel in a set pattern; it would be too easy for enemy soldiers to track them.

After turning north onto Seventh Street, there was some sounds of movement; an engine. Jack raised his hand signaling the men to take cover. Jack ran behind a small car that had several bullet holes in the side, broken glass crinkling as he knelt. Everyone else took cover in a small alley across the street. Jack peeked around the car and watched: a small green pickup truck with the ASA flag painted on the hood turned from two streets ahead to drive south along Seventh. It was only going about ten miles an hour. In the bed of the pickup truck was a mounted machine gun. There were only two men, one manning the gun and the other driving.

Chuck saw this as well while peeking out around the corner of the alley. They looked at each other in disbelief: capturing this could be a far more relevant prize than any amount of food. Jack was technically in charge, and he quickly made up his mind. He motioned at Chuck, and made a “two” sign with his fingers, indicating to take out the gunner. With less than thirty yards to go, Jack closed his eyes, made a quick prayer, and bolted into view.

It was over in the blink of an eye. Jack lined up the driver in his sight before the driver even realized the street was obstructed and fired two shots. The first one went through the windshield and out the back window of the truck, hitting the gunner in the knee cap, while the other found its mark and hit the driver right between the eyes. The gunner, howling in pain from the sudden bloody hole in his leg, wielded his gun about to try to gun down the fleeing Jack, who ran behind cover again to avoid the now slowing down car, which began turning due to the dead drivers’ arms spinning the wheel. Greg ran out of the alley and fired two quick pops at the wounded gunner, both shots hitting the gunner in the upper torso. The truck, slowing down, came to a stop just past Jack, at a slight angle to the street. It was over.

Jack’s adrenaline was going through the roof. The skirmish was only part of the cause; it was the prize that made him feel like he had just won a marathon. They all went up to the truck, whose engine was still running. Jack reached in through the rolled down window and turned off the car. He looked at the driver, a single bloody hole in his face. “I’m sorry, brother” Jack said quietly. Behind him, he heard the men nearly cheer, stifling themselves just before. Jack put the keys in his pocket and checked out what was going on.

In the bed of the truck along with the extra ammo for the machine gun and the body of the gunner was a pair of civilian assault rifles along with several spare magazines, along with a Glock on the waist of the gunner. Assault rifles were quite rare among the militia: most had been turned over to the government in order to arm the regular army with weapons in the absence. Only a handful of such weapons were in the hands of members of the 3rd Penn when it was formed, and almost all were turned over. Captain Jensen had acquired his Bushmaster when Mack died, while the other two lieutenants also had their own variants of assault rifles. These rifles were obviously on of the many variations of the M-16.

Jack quickly had to stop the others from claiming them. He quickly went back to the cab and searched the driver, discovering another Glock. Jack was surprised: these soldiers were rather well armed for a clearly militia unit. Some of the men that had set out from Pennsylvania had been armed with lever action rifles. These rifles, he realized, should go to some of the better fighters.

“Okay, guys, here’s the plan. Chuck and James, I want you to drive this back to the Captain. This truck and the machine gun are far more valuable prizes. Daniel, Greg, Roger and I will continue on with the mission. And make sure those guns find their way into proper hands.”

Chuck and James both gave him a scowl, but reluctantly agreed.

“Why are we still going?” Roger asked.

“We still have a mission. And you never know, we may find some more valuable things to acquire.”

Jack technically was not in charge, but everyone generally agreed he was the more level headed member of the group. They all agreed.

Chuck nodded “Alright, come on James. I call backseat!”

James climbed in the front seat. Jack handed him the keys, and also checked the gas: nearly a full tank. Those ASA soldiers gave them a nice present. The other men threw the shovels and the tools into the bed of the truck.

“Wait, guys, what about the flag? If we encounter any of our own they may fire on us.” James said.

Greg reached into his pack and threw it to Jack. Jack grabbed it, opened the top, and sprayed all over the flag to conceal it. The hot sun made the black spray paint smell a lot worse than it needed to, but it did the job.

“Alright, good luck guys. I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope.” Jack said.

Chuck and James looked at their comrades. James fired up the engine, and with a wink, drove off, Chuck barely hanging on to the machine gun.

Jack smiled. Hopefully they make it back, he thought.

“Alright guys, let’s get moving. We still have a job to do.”

[Gen. Chris]

It seems as if this site has little interest in anything beyond Stargate fan fics. Understandable, given the nature of the site, but I am really trying to post something different than gate travel and the seemingly endless deluge of Sam and Jack fanfics. I am currently re-watching Jericho and it is inspiring me to continue working on this.

I'd really like some feedback. Though it is far too late to influence the state of the story as you guys have it (this is going to be chapter four, and the main site I am posting this to is up through chapter thirteen) I would still like to get more feedback from other writers. It will help me hopefully become a better writer overall as I continue this story.

If more people are interested I will post chapter five soon. Please, again, if you are reading this let me know what you think.

Spoiler:

Jack and the others were running. It was getting dark and they had not found a suitable spot to hole up for the night. It had been several hours since Chuck and James had left them, leaving Jack and his men to search for supplies by themselves. So far, very little had been scrounged.

They turned right, leaving Linden Street. With no street sign, Jack could not figure out where they were. “Guys, let us stop for a moment” Jack said, sighs of relief coming from the other three at the mention of rest. There was a large three story building right on the corner, and Jack decided it was as good a place as any to rest. Walking up the stairs of the front porch, they quickly broke into the residence. After doing a quick search of the building and finding no one, the rest of the men collapsed on the top floor, in a room with two windows, one facing south, the other east.

Jack got out his map and sat on the floor. According to the map, they were back on Seventh Street, now North Seventh, after going up and down innumerable streets. As best as Jack could tell in the fading light, they were close to Maple Avenue, which had a park nearby. Jack wanted to check out the park, then retire for the night. Jack wanted to rest, but knew his aches and pains would not let him get back up again should he lay down.

He roused the men. “Come on guys, just another block or so and then we can rest for the night”

Daniel got up first “Jack, do you really expect to find many more supplies?”

“Not really, but I don’t want to come all the way out here and not try just a little more. We return home a different way tomorrow, so we might as well get as much done today as possible.”

The other two got up. “Whatever you say, Jack.” Greg said. Roger just stood in the corner and grinned.

They went down the stairs and out the door they had broken into, and back into the dusk. The sun was almost completely down, but Jack figured there was still at least thirty more minutes or so before there would not be enough light.

“Alright guys, same set up as the last street. Roger and I will take the left side of the street, Daniel and Greg, you take the other. One minute in each house, tops. If you don’t find any food, look for anything else. Batteries, weapons of any kind, hell even bandaids, throw them in your pack. Anything is useful. Let’s go”

Roger and Jack ran to the next house, with the others running across the street. The first house, a small single story, yielded nothing at all, and they were out in less than thirty seconds. The next house, a big red double story, rewarded them with long rotten fruit and vegetables. Yum. They moved on.

After the second house, each house had broken locks and open doors, a clear indicator that people had likely already passed through. Regardless, they kept going.

After twenty minutes, all four of them met out in the street. Daniel and Greg had managed to somehow find some cans of SPAM, but hardly enough. Roger and Jack had nothing to show for their efforts.

Spying an alley way leading east, Jack directed the men to follow him. They walked for a few hundred feet, crossing 8th Street, before finding a suitable house on Maple Avenue to spend the night in. Finding the back door unlocked, they quickly but cautiously searched the house, finding no residents. With the light almost gone, the men each chose a spot in the house to stay. Daniel, as the sniper, picked a room facing the park to the north, while Roger and Greg picked a spot in the living room.


While they were getting ready for bed, Jack took the opportunity to search the house immediately next door. The two houses were only separated by a small alley. He searched every room in the house, finding nothing useful. He walked out the back door and headed to the unattached garage, facing the alley that they had just come from. Finding the door locked, he kicked the door. The door stood firm. He kicked again, still nothing. He put his rifle on the ground, drew his pistol, and stepped back a few paces. He surged forward, putting his whole body into it. He connected with the door, and the force broke the lock. The effort hurt his shoulder, but he made it inside perhaps one of the few untouched places in the city. Even darker inside than out, his eyes took only a moment to adjust.

Inside the garage he could make out the shape of a small car, probably dead by now. He managed to feel out a workbench in the dark garage, and found a large flashlight. Flashlights were precious, as were batteries. Holding his breath, he found the button and the dark garage was suddenly illuminated with a piercing whiteness. He shined the flashlight all around the garage, seeing boxes mostly. The beam of light soon gave Jack a site that made his heart skip: A large tool locker to the left of the car. This could be good, Jack thought. He walked up to the locker and found the handle, opening it up.

Jack’s already quickening heart pumped even more with what he discovered: hanging on the walls of the locker were four differently sized sheathed objects, which Jack suspected were machetes. He grabbed all four, setting them on the car. Turning back to the locker, he found an axe as well as a couple sharpeners. He managed to find a heavy jacket in the garage as well, which he used to bundle up the tools. He then carried them and the now-off flashlight back to the house where the others were, picking his rifle up off the ground as he went.

Once inside, Jack found Roger and Greg already fast asleep. He shook his head: he hoped that Daniel was still awake, or else they could have been caught completely unawares. A soft voice coming from upstairs confirmed this, Daniel saying “Who is that?”

Jack spoke up. “It’s Jack, don’t freak out, I’m coming upstairs.”

Ascending the stairs, Jack found Daniel his perch, sitting in a chair and peering into the darkness. Jack sat on the floor and unraveled the jacket, uncovering the objects. He shined the flashlight at Daniel to catch his attention.

“What do you have there?” Daniel said.

“Flashlight and some other things” Jack said. He then grabbed the handle of one of the objects, and pulled the blade out of its sheath. He unsheathed the others carefully as well. By the light of the flashlight he found his original assumption to be true: they were machetes. But they weren’t shaped like normal machetes like the one Jack had on his back. He immediately recognized one of them: it was shaped like a gladius, the sword that the armies of Rome had used in their conquests of the Mediterranean and Europe. He also recognized the shapes of the others as well. The smallest one resembled a kukri, the curved knives used by the men of Nepal both past and present. The other curved one seemed to resemble the kopis, a weapon that had been used by the ancient Greeks, though not as often as some other weapons. The last, and the largest, seemed to resemble a katana. All four machetes as well as the axe were all made by a company called Cold Steel. The previous owner of the tools seemed to greatly appreciate them, as well as possibly history. He was grateful for that, and for the sharpeners. These things could be very useful.

He explained them all to Daniel. Daniel left his seat and sat down on the floor, grabbing the kopis.


“Mind if I keep this? I need something larger than my knife anyway.”

“By all means. I’m thinking of keeping the gladius, and giving this one to someone else” Jack said, reaching over his shoulder and tapping the blade strapped to his back.

That left the katana and the kukri. Greg was the larger man between him and Roger so it made sense to ensure he got the larger weapon. The katana’s sheath was attached a set of straps that could be slung over the shoulder, giving Greg a quick draw similar to how Jack had his set up. The rest would ideally attach to their respective belts. The older machete that Jack was giving up and the axe could go to Chuck and James once they got back.

“Alright Daniel, I assume you plan on taking the first watch?”

“That was my plan. While you were out I found Greg and Roger asleep before we could even get a chance to decide. You get some sleep, Jack. I suspect we’ll have a long walk tomorrow.”

Jack got up off the floor and yawned. That was definitely true, he thought. Tomorrow they return to the 3rd Pennsylvania, hopefully finding more supplies on the way. He took the gladius with him and went to find a place to sleep.