Though I just got for a general horror.

[rightwing401]

This just started rolling around in my marbles today. I thought I'd throw the concept out here and see what a few other authors think.
The concept is a short story based in a futuristic America, one that's completely fallen apart. Basically there's no central government anymore, and war has been raging across the land for decades. The central characters are a group of teen militia who have no concept of any kind of life other than fighting and killing. Basically, there's no grand ideal that they're fighting for, none of them really even know why they're fighting, it's just all they know in their lives. This will be shown when obviously some of them will die, and those that live show little regard for their lost commrades.
Any thoughts or suggestions?

[wyvern1096]

Interesting concept. How far into the future what level of civilization would remain? Are we talking "Road Warrior" or cave paintings of cars and airplanes?

[rightwing401]

I'm not so sure about the exact time. Since these are teenage militia/mercinaries, the exact period in the future is kind of pointless. The point is that since they've been old enough to carry guns, these kids have been fighting, so time, social, and moral concepts are kind of alien to them.
As for the level of civilization, not really quite sure. Certainly no central government left. There's obviously various factions vying for control/dominance, each differing in size and resources. And there are plenty of independent guerilla and lawless brigand groups. Basically, the majority of the land is on gigantic battlefield that lacks a defined 'front'.
But like I said, the children soldiers, not the overal society itself, are the main focus. I'm not really trying to make a statement or point about anything- other than it is not an impossibility for future American youth to one day end up like some situations we see in other war torn regions of the world.
But wyvren, if you really want a general idea of the world, picture something kind of like what Europe was like about a hundred years after the fall of the Roman Empire, except with guns, rocket launchers, tanks, ect.

[wyvern1096]

What I meant by time wasn't an exact date but more of an rough time frame. For example in the "Road Warrior" we gather that in some places at least factories are still running, things can be built, fixed, refined or whatever.
I once read a novel by SM Sterling (Can't remember the name of it, of course) where the people that built the office buildings were referred to as the "old ones" and all ties to that time had been lost. Horses pulled sledges over the remains of rail road tracks (but no one understood what a train had been) and the most advanced weapon available was a crossbow.

Two very different, but still interesting, concepts.

[Neil]

After a while things will start to wear out etc... If no one is make new car parts, cars will fail. Indeed if no one is shipping fuel around, nothing will run. Electricity? The national grid? Food supplies? Clean water etc etc... Things would break down quite quickly and quite badly once some basic networks started to fail...

[rightwing401]

(Here's what I envision the opening to be like. Keep in mind, I'm not really putting much effort to say how things got this way, only that they are. Thoughts and feedback are both welcome and desired. Also, please mind any gramatical errors. I didn't write this on a program with a spell check.)

The first rays of the rising sun cast gloomy shadows over the multitude of dilapidated and ruined buildings. A good many of them had been reduced to little more than piles of ruble. Almost all were hollowed out halves of their former selves. Rubble and garbage filled the streets, if one even bothered to try and call them that anymore. They had become little more than muddy lanes with a few broken patches of concrete. Only a pitiful few, and extremely small, avenues were clear enough to travel. And they were restricted solely for military travel.
Joseph didn't dwell much on the filth that surrounded him. His patchwork of grey and brown cloths were covered in several layers of dried mude that it was nearly impossible for any one part to be distinguished from the other. The faded verticle lines sown into the shoulders of his uniform that marked him as supply runner had little meaning anymore. As if rank or file had any place in this hell on earth. As if there was any hint of innocence left in the ruined world. But none of those higher concepts had once crossed his mind. The only thing he thought of was the day when he would become big enough to propperly wield a rifle and join his fellow brothers and sisters in arms.
This wasn't the way a seven year old boy should have been thinking.
But it was.
Joseph took his duties as seriously as anyone three times his age would have. Even those full grown fighting men at the 'front' were amazed with his ability to transport so much ordinance on a single bike. An AK-47 lay across the front bars, its strap wrapped around each handle to stablize it. Two more were tied to the bike's frame by simple duct tape, which could be easily removed. The makeshift vest Joseph wore held eight fully loaded bannana clips on the front, and eight more on the back. Two extra bangoliers were slung around each side of his bike's handles, giving him a full ten more clips. Just in front of him, his nine year old cousin, Marco, was laid down with even more ammo and guns.
He was an expert of these 'streets'. Every bit of smooth surface was laid out in an invisable map inside his head, and he knew how to navigate it with ease. That was why he held a fully loaded AK tucked under his arm with the end of the barrel braced against the handle bars.
Techincally, the two boys were riding through the safe zone, but danger lurked all about. And not just from the enemy. There were plenty of scavengers that would jump on any opportunity to sieze anything they could get their grubbly hands on.
Joseph wasn't concerned about that. Aside from the weapons he was carrying, a loaded Glock 17 was tucked safely inside a hip holster. Besides, no one, but no one, would dare to fire or hijack them. To do that would bring the full military arm of their revolutionary brothers down on the transgressor's heads.
Joseph was as sure of this fact as he was of the lethality of the weapon on his side that he almost thought nothing of it when his cousin's bike swerved wildly. Then came the echoing boom that resoninated between the desolate buildings, and the gurgled shriek from Marco.
The shock caught Joseph completely off guard. The front tire of the bike struck a pot hole, sending him crashing hard into the mud. Looking up, he blinked madly as grim stun at his eyes. Marco was on his back, his hands clutching his chest. He emmitted bubbling shrieks as blood soaked his brown vest. Joseph didn't think twice about his actions. Spitting out a small stream of blood, he unslung the AK from the front of his bike and rammed home a banna clip. As he rushed to his thrashing cousin, rage surged into him. How dare someone attack them. How dare they shoot his cousin. Whoever did this would pay. The knife tucked into his boots would make sure of that.
Rushing out into the open, Joseph fired a long burst from automatic rifle. Bullets sprayed wildly about, impacting dirt and concrete without discresion. He kept firing until he was by Marco's side. By now, Marco wasn't moving. But Joseph didn't bother to notice. He had helped drag wounded brothers and sisters from gunbattles before, and knew exactly what to do. He stripped the ammo vest off, and quickly set about removing all other things that weren't needed. It only took him a few seconds. When he was done, Joseph snatched up his cousin's rifle and fired wildly at all the surrounding buildings.
Amid the roaring rattle of the automatic rifle, another boom range out. Joseph fell atop his cousin, blood and brainmatter oozing from the hole just above his left eye.