By Junior Remy Haring

Junior Remy Haring continues with his fifth installment of his serial fiction inspired by The New Order–a mod for Hearts of Iron IV. If you recall, Remy visits an alternate dark history here, where, in WWII,  the Axis powers have won.

Chita Wilderness. No Idea what the day is.

I am lost. I don’t know what day it is or where I am. I tossed my dog tag into the bushes and ripped off the Double Eagle on my uniform. All I have is my rifle and an old bowie knife. The dense pines seem to just keep going and going. I can’t tell if I’m going east or west because the sun is completely blocked by the trees. I know one thing for sure; I cannot go back. If I was found to be a deserter, I would be hanged or worse.

There is no sign of human activity here. No tracks, buildings, not even a dirt road. I think it has been a day since the war began? But, I can’t be sure. My stomach feels hollow. My head feels hollow. Everything feels hollow. I need food and water, and fast. I make my way through the forest. The pine trees go up forever and ever. It is absolutely quiet. No birds, no raccoons, nothing-until I hear crackling and voices.

It doesn’t sound like Russian, Chinese or, hell, even Nivkh. As I advance closer to the sound, keeping a low profile, I see two men: both in their 20s wearing Japanese uniforms. They are huddled, sitting by a fire, clasping what looks like a bowl of soup. An army truck is behind them with the Rising Sun emblazoned on its side. I must have crossed the border into Mengkukuo.  

I don’t know what to do. I desperately need food and water, but these two look as lost as I am. Then, I remember that the Japanese government is helping Amur’s full-scale invasion of the other warlord states, but these two are not involved. More likely than not they are a lost patrol or something. But, then I realize the first rule out here on this edge of the world: kill or be killed. I’m not proud of what I do.

I leap from the bushes, point my rifle at them, and shout aggressively in Russian. The two are too startled to reach for their weapons. They put up their hands in surrender, and in broken Russian one of them replies, “T-take wh-what y-ou n-need, d-dont k-kill us.” I lower my rifle, steal some rice, soup, and, without another word, I slip back into the wilderness.

What can I say? I am desperate and starving. I must have scared them though. Night is falling fast, and I need shelter quickly. Fortunately, it is still light out. The trees just keep going and going with no end in sight. I’m pretty sure I am going west; the shadows of the trees point east. Out of the corner of my eyes something glints, starkly contrasting to the cold, dark forest.

As I look closer, I realize it is the skylight of an abandoned log cabin. There is a small, decrepit chimney that looks more like a pile of stones protruding from the snow than anything else, but it will have to do. Thankfully, the entrance isn’t snowed in, and I can open the old, splintered door. Inside is an old wood stove, a pile of wood and an old cot. Dust blocks my vision, but I find shelter at last.…

*Lost