{WARNING: Contains strong language. Proceed with caution.}

Rule #1: Trust no one but have everyone trust you.

They called themselves The Pack, and at first I didn't know what to make of them: a group of kids with curious faces inspecting me as if they'd never seen a gunshot wound before. Then again, it could've been how I held onto Arch as if he were my lifeline, though he lay unconscious, his head lolling to one side while blood oozed from some hidden wound on his person. My throat felt like sandpaper and my tongue, next to useless, so I simply looked at them, wondering what happened to their parents and whether they'd go off for help or wait and see how long it'd be before one of us kicked the bucket. Their expressions showed indifference; it occurred to me they'd seen their share of blood, maybe even death. I noticed they were all armed. Hell, even the kid with the afro who looked no older than nine had a Glock strapped to his leg, and something told me he knew how to use it.

The heat became unbearable, and the bullet in my thigh made movement impossible. I looked over the crowd that encircled my companion and me, trying to convey to them I was leaning on death's door. Arch had probably already made it there, but I still held him-he was all I had left and we'd always been a ride-or-die kind of team. It was likely the latter, but that didn't bother me; we'd been through some crazy shit, most of which were dangerously fun, but I had no regrets. All stories have an ending, don't they?

Eventually, the kids made way for some guy who looked to be in charge. A pair of Ray-Bans hid his eyes from the abusive sun and a scarf covered the lower part of his face. The red and black badge depicting a wolf's head on his arm struck me as an odd addition to his attire, and the AK-47 strapped across his chest gave him a menacing look. A girl followed close behind him wearing the same badge and scarf over her face, only she carried an M19 and kept a heavy revolver in her thigh holster. The army knife in her boot didn't escape my observation either-these kids clearly did not take kindly to fun and games.

The girl leaned over me, checking my pulse and that of my companion, then said something to her comrade. He waved her away and squatted before me, removing his sunglasses. His green eyes pierced me for some time before he said, almost as if challenging me:

"Rule number one of The Pack: Trust no one but earn everyone's trust," and without taking his eyes off me, "Bag 'em and let's roll out."

Rule #2: Hunt for the pack and only for the pack

Arch and I learned quickly that the group of mercenaries made up mostly of kids literally lived by the one rule: Hunt for the pack. And this was an order carried out to the extreme and the consequences if they ignored, jeopardize, or bent the rule, I had reason to believe, were dire ones.

"You hunt for The Pack and only for the pack," said Wolf, who turned out to be the leader of this vicious group. "And that means that whatever you find belongs to the pack. Whatever you steal belongs to the pack. Whatever you're given belongs to the pack." His menacing gaze pierced every member of his team and though I wasn't yet officially a member yet, I received his withering gaze like the rest. It made me feel good to know I was at least considered important enough to look at.

"In here," he pointed to the rough cemented floors of what they called The Den, "there is no his, hers, or mine. It's 'ours'!"

He pointed to one of the low windows covered in grime and dust.

"Everything you do out there is for The Pack. DO I make myself clear?"

And with maddeningly loud voices, everyone yelled, "Yes, sir!"

This rule was perhaps one, if not the most important rule of The Pack. Killing for self gain was out of the question, and it was hard for one kid called Sabbath; the raiders murdered his folks for carrying valuable documents that would incriminate some important people in government regarding the Breach of Peace of the Red District. This weighed heavily on Sabbath and I never blamed him for wanting revenge. Fortunately, Arch, who had once had a family of his own, kept him from doing something stupid that would ruin him in the eyes of his new family.

Rule #3: Give more than you take.

In my eyes, Rule 3 seemed contradictory to the one before it, but I later decided that it gave The Pack at least some trace of humanity. Now I'm not saying they were nothing but a group of bloodthirsty killers (but know that putting a bullet between someone's eyes wouldn't faze a couple of seven-year-olds in this group), but they did in some aspect of the word have a heart. And Snipe (the girl who'd checked my pulse when I'd first met them), showed hers more frequently than the others. She and Glass, an albino dude that never missed his shot in the dark and was crazy about his Blaser R93 and Beretta 92, took charge of a lot of things; that kid always had good joke to tell too.

Together, they and a few others nursed the wounded, shared out the rations and kept up with disinfectants, morphine, and other sanitary and medical supplies. Despite her harsh look and indifferent attitude, Snipe was gentle and careful in sewing up wounds and dislodging bullets and even sang to some of the younger kids who appreciated her melodic voice while we older ones played tough and enviously looked on, trying with little success to ease our pains. Glass offered to sing for us once. Everyone shot him down. That guy couldn't carry his own tune in a bucket if he tried. But this caring nature that often showed itself in the simplest form was, for some reason, rarely gratified. And once daring to speak to her, I asked Snipe why she never acknowledged my thanks. She frowned.

"The pack gives to those of the pack," she said. "I only did what needed to be done. Your thanks are unnecessary."

"Likewise, I give you my gratitude, so isn't it the same thing?" She only smirked, something she rarely ever did.

"Too sharp, Newbie. Not bad."

Rule #4: What happens in The Pack stays in The Pack

This rule didn't need to be said in words; actions were enough to make it clear.

One member of The Pack had been communicating with the raiders of the Kudojan Territory and they crashed into the den with guns ablaze one bone chilling night in October. It was a bloody war; the air smelled of iron, blood, and smoke. But Wolf was a born leader and counter-attacked with precision. By the end of it all, The Pack came out on top but not without losses. Eight of the thirty-two members had been KIA, and the sound of gentle sobbing stung me to the heart. The traitor, an eighteen-year-old girl who often took third watch, was dragged before the leader for her sentence. She had twenty-four-hours to get as from the Pack as possible. But I learned later that even after that time, the head trackers always found you out and finished you off. And seeing it for what it was, the girl blew out her brains before everyone. The Pack buried their loyal ones, took whatever trucks and guns the enemy left behind, and moved locations. Sabbath detonated the building once we were a suitable distance away.

What went down that day, no one spoke of, but Arch and I knew what would become of anyone who betrayed The Pack and you might as well say you've signed your own death wish.

Rule #5: Sacrifices are crucial to survival

Snipe had been against the idea, but Wolf was a hotheaded young man. We'd broken into the raider's facilities to steal a drive containing everything we needed to expose the bastards in charge of the Red District. The plan would've succeeded, but there was, as there often is, a mole among us and everything went to hell. I can't describe how much of a family The Pack had become to Arch and me; we'd earned Wolf's respect and created a bond with Sabbath and Glass. Even Snipe had softened up a bit and tagged us as 'worthy allies'. But Wolf's ultimate mission was full of risks-risks he was more than willing to take for freedom, for The Pack. Only a selected few were chosen, our mole too. Snipe had once told me that Wolf always had a reason for doing the things he did. Our mole was his chance, his opportunity and he knew the cost; for him, he knew there was no coming back.

He'd taken a spray of bullets for me, and pressing the drive into my hand with the little strength he had left, he begged me to look after his crew.

"Go! Upload the drive and get out of here."

I shook my head, ignoring all the blood and trying to get him on his feet. "There's no way in fuck I'm leaving you. Now come on, we gotta move!"

He grabbed my arm, stabbing me with a desperate gaze. "Look at me, man!" there was a brotherly glint in his eyes. "Rule number five: 'Sacrifices are crucial to the survival of The Pack'- and I've made mine. Now I need you to fucking make yours." He pressed his badge into my blood-stained palm. "For the Pack."

"For the pack," I repeated through my tears. He grinned genuinely.

"Now get out of here. Lead them and make those shitheads pay."

In the end, I suppose we accomplished our goal. Wolf died a hero and so did everyone else we lost that day. The explosion that had aided our escape killed Glass and left Snipe blind and scarred-both literally and figuratively. Fate was kind to me, and Arch came out of it alive, Sabbath too. I only wished it could've been for Snipe; she lost the two people closest to her. She was never the same since.

It had been a crazy ride, but things slowly changed. The people elected a new leader for the Red District and the future looked promising. The Pack received honorary badges and Snipe, after receiving hers, refused a place among the representatives of the Red District. With a few who were willing, she left The Pack to explore outside the Kudojan Territory since the boundary lines were passable.

And The Pack remained. Despite the persuasive and pestering attempts of the government to convert us into a fully desecrated military team, I declined the offer; The Pack had been formed by those who meant to survive the injustices of world they'd been born to, by the souls who said that enough was enough. I had fought too and had it not been for The Pack, I'd have been alongside my parents and baby sisters in the cold earth.

The Pack brought me back from the dust, and not a day passes and I don't remember how grateful I am to those who taught me how to survive the Kudojan Territory.