First attempt

I have never written a story so I tried a little. I came up with this idea, and I like it a lot but it sounds unoriginal. This is more of a story outline as it is very short and has little to no story. I want pure unadulterated comments and suggestions, anything constructive. I knw no one can progress as a writer without a start and or criticism. Many thanks. (sorry for weird format, copy and pasted from docs) [2433 words]
The Enlightened Few
16 years. I have survived for 16 years. I am now privileged to fight for the great New West Beach Commune. We stand 314 men strong. We rebel against the old West Beach Empire. They control a large portion of the West Beaches, almost all of Monterey Bay, and stretching to Mt. Diablo, or the Concrete Fortress. We control some of Notley Landings. I am part of the New Men which are ages 16-21. They take the smaller jobs usually pertaining to prisoner care and small guard duties. Within the New Men, there are 5 generations for each year of survival. I’m of the B generation and the 27th born male within it meaning my identification is New Man 27B, or NM27B. We just restarted the alphabetical order last year back to A. We, the New West Beach Commune, or NWBC, are determined to make the WBE, West Beach Empire, pay for their attacks and greed. After our great victory about 31 years ago in 2192, we separated from the WBE and learned the true value of community. Our great leader, named the Supplier, gives us the weapons we need in payment for captured WBE gold reserves. More money, more weapons. More weapons, most assaults. More assaults, more money. The war cracks people. The other day a poor Wise Man soldier was hooting and hollering about some things with the Supplier- the usual craziness. Poor soldiers always get shot though. I’ve had to shoot a few but it’s for the cause. Shoot the traitors- the ones who try to question the Supplier, because if not, they could ruin us. Today there is a prisoner trade. We are meeting at the Camel River 2nd Bridge crossing point a little within WBE. We are going to send recon to the top of Camel Valley to scout the northern entrance. I’m part of delivery squad 2B. I work with NM28B and NM29B. We normally call each other by our assigned numbers. 28, 29, and I are 2 sending two Artillery Battalion soldiers from the WBE who have given us intel about artillery fortifications at the Concrete Fortress of Mt. Diablo. “ETA?” I ask. “2 minutes” 29 barks over the roar of the engine. “Supplier protect” 28 states to conclude our agreement. “Thanks be to him” 29 and I reply in unison to conclude the conversation. Conversation is considered valuable in West Beach Conservative Religion. Each agreement must end in a thanks to the Supplier for his infinite supply and support of our holy crusade to unite West Beach. It’s just hard to agree on how to unite it. WBE believes in West Beach Holy Teachings in that the emperor is more important than the Supplier. The NWBC believes that the community should all be equal with the Supplier always having the final word. We just can’t agree on how West Beach should be ruled. “Here.” 29 proclaims. I look around and see the checkpoint set up. We walk out of the Armada Transport Vehicle 1. “There’s some of the WBE pigs”, I spit. As we walk up, we talk about the deals of the negotiations and review our rights. One of the soldiers, however, informs us that there is a new group taking the west by storm. “They call themselves the Great West Alliance. They don’t believe in the Supplier though and He gives only to our two factions. With permission from Colonel Wise Man 12J, I would like to discuss a new alliance. We need to work together to preserve our two nations.” I recoil back in disgust thinking of those suppressors working with our glorious freedom leaders. But was it better than being controlled by a foreign power? “Well here’s the payment in these crates. We wish that you consider it. The Emperor be with you.” “Supplier with you” I snap back making my religion clear. We load up payment and 3 pull the prisoners out of the back. I check the crates which are filled with a mix of gold, food, and armaments. I get in the Armada with 28 and 29. “29, do you have any hydration?” I ask. “I have two packs of Hydration X2” he replies. “No, it’s fine” I say, defeated. “I think the water in this valley may not be as contaminated. I don’t think they dropped many bombs here” he adds. “I’d rather not risk it. Anyways, I think it’s ration time soon. They may give us some hydrations” I reassure him. “Didn’t you hear? We lost a few grain fields last week cutting harvest in half. Rations will now be every other day” 29 admits. “Every day we lose something. We just need to crack the Concrete fortress to the North and cripple the WBE” 28 chimes in, munching loudly on a squirrel carcass that he found. “Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to get back to base. There is some meeting in the main NWBC hall. Hopefully the Supplier will approve of our recent deal and give us new armaments.” I say as I speed up the Armadillo Transport. “Supplier protect.” 29 says. “Thanks be to him” we all say in unison. As we pull into the main base, we quickly get out and rush to the meeting hall. 28 parks the Armada as I sneak into the meeting room. There are at least 300 people in the room listening closely to a projection on the wall. It’s him. The Supplier sits in a nice suit. He’s well fed, pale, 4 and looks young. His well-done hair looks greasy as he stares at us. He speaks and details how we must continue fighting all who challenge us, must not let this alliance tempt us, and concepts like that. I listen and listen. But I feel something new- something horrible. I question his thoughts. I feel horrified, but still question him. I think, if the Great West Alliance is more democratic like us, why should we not join them? The idea cracks open in my head like a rotten egg polluting my mind with thoughts now questioning the great Supplier. As the Supplier ends his speech with more promises of victory and new armament deliveries, I escort myself out of the room. The sun is setting and the day is done. During the night, I illegally scavenge for food. I sneak into a cow-herding complex. I take an old helmet and scoop up some of the cow feed and run out hiding in a nearby bush. Scarfing, I quickly shove the feed down. It’s the highest quality food I’ve had in a long time. I go back to the barracks and check if I have any guard duties. I am given orders to guard the East border to the quickly approaching Great West Alliance. I stand my post for the night occasionally injecting myself with stimulants. I sit in a small bombed-out post from the Great War of ‘53. The night was pretty boring until he arrived. A soldier dressed in dark black gear and moving quickly charges my post but I swiftly gun him down with an old bolt action I had on me. His body violently jerks with my every shot and blood spurting from each wound. I run towards his body quickly but as I arrive he has already bled out and died. I check his belongings and see everything is labeled with the Great West Alliance. But something about him disturbs me and makes me question my life and allegiances. He is well fed. 5 I think of my conditions: the lack of food, the desperate situation, the similar politics of our two countries. I could still help the NWBC but maybe just from the view of GWA. I put his gear on noticing how all of it is loose-fitting. I take to my feet and run. Running fast until morning. I must find them, the new country where the Supplier is still praised but in much better shape than us. It’s a new life that I’ve been waiting for far too many years. What made me do this? I don’t care. Freedom is near. A convoy is on the road 300 feet ahead. Desperate, I scream out like some kind of monkey for them to stop. “Please take me out of here, comrades” I plead. They look at each other and motion me aboard. “Name?” He inquires. “Twenty-Seven,” I reply confidently. “Name?” He asks again. “27B” I nervously choke out. “Your name, not your nickname” he states. “Uh, Newmen” I quickly make up. He drives on not giving me any reaction. I’m not quite sure if I’ve just ended my life or started a new one. We arrive at what I assume is their base. “Supplier Protect” I sign off before they leave. The men driving both chuckle, “Ok, Mr. West Beach Commie”. My phrase almost gave me away but I start to question whether they believe in the Supplier or not. Panicked, I rush into the meeting center and see a conference room labeled ‘President’s Meeting Hall’. I hear noise and realize there is a meeting going on. As I fix my posture, I become aware that through all the adrenaline and running I have developed a horrible migraine. The 6 room is full of E-Cig smoke as I assume they also cannot afford classic tobacco cigarettes. E-Cigarettes cost about $40 for a year’s supply which is roughly two weeks of pay for a high-ranking officer. Tobacco cigarettes cost about $600 a pack. Cigars on the other hand are hardly ever seen because of their expense costing upwards of $5,000 each here. A chair is open near the back and I take my seat. The message flashes across the screen, ‘President Meeting.’ A timer counts down from 30 seconds as most stand and put their closed fist on their chest. Is this my new leader who will help me repair the NWBC through alliances and some convincing? My head rattles with ideas on how to convince him to ally with the NWBC as he appears on the screen. “Hail the Alliance!” he announces. I go pale. I’m so horrified I can’t even stand. Desperate, I run out of the room and away from the meeting center. This new life was dead before it even started. It was him. It was the Supplier in a different uniform. Three men try to stop me while I run to steal an Armadillo transport from the GWA. I shoot at them using the element of surprise to gun them down before they can stop me. One collapses instantly without even knowing what had happened. That was a good shot. The other two stumble and fall back. Both cry out but know they're only talking right now from the adrenaline. I hop in the vehicle and race away. I drive westward back to the NWBC desperate to break the news that the all-knowing Supplier is also working with our enemy. To think we’ve been paying him so much for weapons only for him to sell to our enemies as well. The sun is almost setting as I arrive and provide my identification at the gate. As I run into the meeting hall, I run to a Wise Man-ranking officer. Out of breath, I stammer out “When is the next meeting with the Supplier.” 7 “In 15 minutes. We’ve had an assault on our eastern border and captured more gold and ammo. The payment to the Supplier is being sent out after the meeting.” “Sir, I think the Supplier is working with the enemy in an attempt to make more money.” I squeak out. “NM27B, this is treasonous behavior. What is wrong with you? I do hope you don’t mean any of this!” he says with a stern and firm look. “Let me speak with the Supplier. It was probably a misunderstanding.” I ask. I wait in the lobby outside of the meeting room. As the minutes pass by, I get more and more tense. ‘He’ll have an explanation’, I say to myself though I also know what possible punishment could happen as well. “Come in”, the Wise Man hollers waving me in and then rushes out of the room looking scared. As the Supplier stares at me through the projection, I know my life is in his hands. The man I once considered Holy, I now questioned. With a calm, emotionless demeanor, he looks strong in stature. He has brown slicked back hair and is wearing a nice black suit. His blue eyes pierce the screen. In one hand he holds a cigar- the first I’ve seen. In the other he holds a glass containing a yellow but clear bubbly liquid. “What’s the issue, soldier?” He asks in a low, soothing voice like a father who truly cares although I know he doesn’t. “I tried to gather Intel on the GWA and the man I saw giving the orders looked an awful lot like you. They praised him too and paid him for weapons. Are you working with the GWA?” I say confidently knowing showing any fear could make me look criminal. 8 “No. Your militant groups are the only ones I support”, he stammers looking pale. Regaining his composure, he quickly adds “There are those who think that. They are what I call the Enlightened Few and they must be punished.” “What does Enlightened mean?” I ask, horrified. “Someone who is crazy and should not be trusted. Someone who is trying to bring my empire down”, he says through gritted teeth, “Guards, this man is crazy and threatens our cause! Firing squad!” I quickly stand up and look towards the door as guards rush inside and grab me. Fighting for my life, I scream “NO, NO. HE’S LYING TO YOU. DON'T BELIEVE HIM. THE SUPPLIER IS NOT HOLY! HE IS A BUSINESSMAN WHO EXPLOITS OUR WARS. HE LIES AND HE LEADS THE OTHERS TOO!” People start cheering for my punishment and tease me. “Looks like the war got him” some say. “Poor kid broke” another adds laughing. Horrified, I realized I was no better than them. I had said the same to others before but they weren’t crazy. They were the same as me. As I’m thrown outside, they push me against a wall and stand back. “Supplier Protect” one says as he cocks his gun. The light in the world goes out for me as I hear the laughter and gunshots of the ignorant guards. The war doesn’t stop until the rich can afford it to stop.