Roadwar 2000


1. Excerpts from the GUB Journal, Final Updated Edition.

December 31, 1999.

     The  days tick away and Christmas is past. I fear that none of us
will  survive  another year in this dead place. Some of the volunteers
who  are  sent  up  to  approach  those  gang leaders managing to gain
control over several cities simply disappear forever; others come back
without  succeeding.  Only  twice  has  the  password  been given to a
leader,  and both times these were heard of no more. My men and I will
try  to  hang on for as long as we can, but many dangers exist and the
hope for a new century diminishes. All we can do now is wait.

     February  13, 2000. Maybe we have a chance. One of my men spotted
a  leader  whose gang was in control of eight cities; he was given the
password. Later this man used it, thus getting our address. Conditions
in the north of the land have slowed him up significantly; also I hear
he's  been  very close to being defeated by a concurring road gang and
has  decided  that an increase of tactical insight is needed so he may
effectively control more vehicles.

September 1, 2000

     Helgron  has  our  only radio. If he doesn't return with the last
two  agents, our chances at success are close to nil. Some of my staff
feel  that  I've  made  a  mistake  in  trusting a non-conformist like
Helgron;  others  agree  that he's our only chance - and that the very
extremity  of  his  character  may well be his greatest asset. But our
time's  running  out;  if we don't hear from him very soon, it will be
too late to save this diseased, mutated, starving country.

October 27, 2000

     He  did  it. Today Helgron returned with our last missing agent -
and now we can start healing the state. He doesn't know it yet, but as
of  tomorrow  our  country  will  once more have a leader: Jonathan T.
Helgron, President of the United States of America.

GUB director Herrell

2. Excerpts taken from the Report as presented by the C.O.T.

     For  months  I  had  lived  as  a healer. Ever since the invasion
health  conditions in our city had grown worse. Our hospitals were all
destroyed;  only  some  of the basements and laboratories in the outer
perimeter  had  been  partially  preserved.  After  weeks and weeks of
gathering  all  the  working  equipment  we  could  find, aided in our
efforts  by  the Guardsmen (ours had not left the path of justice), we
managed to establish some improvised clinics.

     But more and more people died of this strange disease, and as the
mutants  proliferated,  we  desperately  tried to find ways to make an
antidote.  It took us a long time, but finally, in the winter of 1999,
we  came  up with a reliable antitoxin. Making this antitoxin requires
great  amounts  of chemicals, and as we lack the means to make some of
the ingredients necessary, we can only fabricate the antitoxin when we
get our hands on adequate other medicine.

     Then,  halfway through April in 2000, our town was visited by one
of  the many roadgangs that roam the streets more and more frequently.
But  where  some gangs persist in looting and destroying all they can,
these  people  were  sufficiently  polite to send envoys, scouting the
city. One of the patrolmen told them how things stood, and this seemed
to  satisfy  them  - they said they'd leave the city as soon as they'd
found  some  people  to  take  the places of those who had died of the
disease.  That  night  I  talked  with my collegues, and although some
called  it insane, I decided to help these people, to see what I could
do  to  heal their ill (or keep them from contracting diseases) and to
aid them in their quest for G.U.B. agents.

     In  the  morning  of April 18 in the year 2000 I joined Helgron's
Highway Hoppers.

Rebecca Laramie, MD.

     Training  is essential. If you can't convince whoever's in charge
of  running  things  of  the  fact  that, without training, there's no
military basis (let alone prowess), then you know you're on the losing
side. Which is the wrong side in any ol' war, from my point of view.

     The  Muthuh  Truckers  certainly  weren't  the best outfit in the
country  -  but at least they had the common sense to pay attention to
battle  techniques,  as  well  as  an  extensive  knowledge  of  sound
engineering.   Their   cars   were   always   rolling,  most  of  them
substantially  altered  with regard to engine capacity, maneuvrability
and protection. Also they took a lot of time looting cities, trying to
find speed shops and such. Of course, a sound engine is no good if the
man  operating  it  is  an undisciplined over-the-edge egg-head. Which
leads  me to the unfortunate conclusion that the Muthuh's organisation
held room for improvement.

     One  day  in May, we were on the road in the West Central when we
ran into this group of six vehicles. Unlike our own team, whose leader
insisted on uniformity and therefore used the same type of vehicle for
everyone,  this  road  gang  had anything from a sportscar to busses -
even  a  trailer  truck.  And  while the Muthuh's laughed at what they
called "a circus parade", our enemy took its positions.

     Before  Big  Red  Ralph  could shout his battle cry, I warned him
that these guys were not, by the looks of their positions and division
of  personnel,  amateurs.  But Big Red simply ignored me, laughed, and
yelled, "Clearrrrr.... the ROAD!" - and all Muthuh trucks attacked. We
lost  the  battle in no time flat - and our adversaries did not merely
ram us; when it became clear that we were losing, their chief gave the
order  to  start  boarding  our  vehicles,  keeping them in one piece.
Theirs was a smart leader.

     The  Muthuh's  fought  to  the  last  man  and  lost.  Me,  I'm a
professional - when our cause was lost, I surrendered. And seeing that
a  military  man  without  an  outfit  is just so much wasted space, I
offered  them  my services. Their man Helgron accepted me, and for the
first  time  in  my  post-war career I had the idea I'd joined a group
worthy of loyalty. Soon after that, I began training their members and
improving upon their car battle techniques.

Commander Raul Villiers

     Everybody knows there are many kinds of politicians. Some of them
are  merely  slick,  others  lack  integrity,  still others are led by
ambition  only.  Perhaps  most  of  us are weak, but surely we are all
human.  When  I  joined J.T. Helgron's freedom fighters they were just
about  to  rid  themselves  of  a  man  called  Geoffrey  Mulligan,  a
politician  of the kind that might be called "slick". His services had
not  been satisfactory to the group, and when I offered them my own it
didn't  take  very  long  before  Mulligan  was  retired  and I became
P.R.-representative and spokeswoman for the group.

     As  anyone with a tinge of perception could see, J.T. Helgron had
the  makings of a winner. Not only did he have those qualities that we
look for in a leader, he also had the backup of a great team - a loyal
military   advisor,   a   competent   physician,  and  a  well-trained
well-equipped  resistance force. As advisor to the Chief, my first and
most important job was establishing and maintaining contact with other
groups  of  people - whether the individual neighbor or large gangs of
mobs,  mercenaries,  street  gangsters, rabble or needy individuals; I
was  the  one  called  on  first. Then, if my negotiations were either
unsuccessful  or  just  not  the  right  method, and contact was still
required, Helgron would send envoys. Usually, this would mean a couple
of armsmasters and some bodyguards; sometimes he would send escorts as
well.  I'm glad to say that in my time as go-between I managed to make
quite  a  few  contacts  that  worked satisfactory for both sides. The
Secretary of State, Paula Jackson.

3. Helgron's Highway Hoppers

     As  a  combined university graduate and ex-convict you can get to
know  a  lot  of  different people. After disaster struck our country,
most  of my friends were dead or gone - and the ability to make social
contacts  and  finding  the  right  people  for  the right jobs became
essential  to the survival of our community. I was not exactly elected
mayor  of  the city (it was more like an appointment if anything), but
the  effect  might have been the same. I spend several months rallying
all  women,  men  and  equipment that could be used for building a new
society  -  in the meantime expecting news from either our government,
or the invaders. But half a year passed and there was still no sign of
anyone  taking control - all I received were unconfirmed reports about
cities  being  taken over by gangsters, invaders or satanists, and the
land terrorized by motorgangs.

     Two  more  months  I  waited  before  I  came to realise that the
growing  threats  from  outside  and  the increasing disease-spreading
mutants inside our city were going to kill us all unless something was
done  about  it.  So  I  took  the  initiave, asked for volunteers and
started  an  entirely  new  road  gang,  intended  to link rather than
separate  our  nation's  cities,  under  the name of Helgron's Highway
Hoppers.  We  started off with no more than a sports car hard top, six
men including myself, and a very limited storage of supplies.

     The  first  thing  I learned was that one vehicle wasn't going to
make us a formidable road force. So we skimmed the city of some of its
surplus  ironware  and put together a six-vehicle fighting force - not
more  because  it was hard enough feeding the people needed to man the
cars  and  also  I  was  aware  of  the  fact  that I needed much more
experience  in  battle contacts before I'd be able to efficiently hold
command over a larger number of vehicles.

     I  was  careful not to take too many small vehicles, but also not
just  busses (good for shooting) or trailer trucks (great for ramming)
because  chances  were  that people would outmaneuver us. When all was
ready,  I decided to move up to New York, to see if there was any such
thing  left  as  the  United Nations Headquarters. From there on, we'd
drive  through  the  Northeast  into North Central, hoping that cities
such  as Pittsburgh, Indianapolis and, of course, Detroit would harbor
possibilities to enhance our mechanics.

     Moving  from  city  to  city  looked  easy enough on the maps but
turned  out to be quite a problem in reality. Some of the multitude of
road  gangs  we  ran  into minded their own business and steered clear
from  us,  but the vast majority of wheelers declared us easy prey and

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