The green radio came to life after a minute under the sun. The initial static was louder than a car exploding, but soon it settled to a more humane volume. We searched the airwaves and we found a couple of stations.

The first one was a Zipper propaganda station. We listened to it for a little bit:

***

To our loyal and brave listeners, I come bearing good news. The evil invaders who have come to take our tricycles and eat our young are losing control of the capital, which they claimed to have taken last night in a devious raid using helicopters and jets. Little did they know that our Spring Jackals were hiding in the shadows, waiting for our foes to become complacent and allow themselves to be ambushed. Hundreds of Scarvino scum died, some of them begging for their lives like crippled ogres. The Spring Jackals did the right thing and tore their heads off, laughing at the pathetic scum. Glory to the Spring Jackals! Glory to Zymos! Zymos above all!

***

Ugh. We scanned again after that, and the second station was one belonging to the rebels:

***

The day of the Eric Front has come! The capital is ours! The ZPP thought our soldiers were reinforcements but we killed them before they had a chance to retaliate. When we were done, the Scarvino paratroopers welcomed us and gave us our city, our dear Vonor, Vonor City, once home of the corrupt and mad, but now the home of the truly free. We, the people of Zymos, the TRUE citizens of Zymos and not the Purity Parasites, thank Scarvino and the Global Unity for helping us take care of our garbage. As we speak, Scarvino paratroopers are heading westwards to attack nearby villages taken over by the Parasites.

We have heard reports that Scarvino tank platoons are charging into the Parasites' supply lines along the Goton river, and have destroyed most of their food and ammunition. In a matter of weeks, the Parasites will be fighting with sticks and boogers, and they will be eating just boogers. Meanwhile, brave Eric Front warriors were able to assassinate the former Minister of Propaganda. She now sleeps at the bottom of Sotovalley River.

Coming up next: Live audio broadcasts from Vonor! You can listen to the ordinary people of Zymos give thanks to the Eric Front and our dear friends the people of Scarvino!

***

Wow. It was like listening to voices from two different worlds. We unanimously agreed that the station belonging to the rebels, the Eric Front, sounded a lot more realistic (and bearable) to us.

We spent the rest of the day half-sightseeing and half-ransacking what was left of the city. Some of us picked up tools like hammers and wrenches; not just for fixing things but also for close combat. Being an ex-thief who's had a lot of close encounters, I was able to give some advice on which items could work as easily-concealable weapons.

Some of us grabbed cans of food, mostly clams and potatoes. There were a lot of them, just sitting on their shelves. Maybe the locals just didn't like that stuff.

When night fell, we took refuge in another hotel, one with slightly better furniture and thankfully no corpses. It was the Chit-Chat Hotel, on Trident Street. The place was run-down, but didn't seem to have been hit by any bombs. A single car, presumably once belonging to some wealthy family, was parked in the garage. It was locked and the windows were shatter-proof. We decided not to waste ammo just to search the stupid car.

We raided the pantry for more canned clams and potatoes, then burned some phone books and pamphlets for warmth. There was no running water, but there were canisters full of distilled water in the hotel's garage and kitchen. Should last us for two months.

I stayed in room 808, with a roof and a reasonably clean bathroom. The rest slept in the other rooms, with similar living conditions. We figured that the city was mostly deserted, and together decided that we should try and ride out the rest of the war in this quiet but relatively safe city, at least until our supplies of potatoes and clams ran out.

I thought it was a good plan. Before falling asleep, I prayed for Angel and Mark... and my cat, Field Marshal Lord Silverskin, even if he was the one who sent me here to this awful hellscape.

The stupid cat should have assigned me to a less stressful post.