Love you, your brother Jack.

January 21, 2059

Dear Jazz,

I miss you so much, especially today. Happy 17TH birthday! I can't believe it's been 4 years since I last saw you. How tall are you now? Do you look like mom or dad? Did one of the aunt's make you a cake? If not, I promise I'll make you one when I get back. I'm on my way to another scouting mission. This time we'll be in the Northeast Coastal Region of our territory. I remember dad telling us stories of his childhood in that area and how he and ma meet at the "Mall." Whatever that is. Anyway, it'll be nice to see the ocean finally; he always talked about it, it'll be like seeing them again. I wish I had a camera to take pictures to show you, but I'll draw you one instead. This is the 27th mission I've been on in the three months since I last wrote. I'm sorry my letters have been so infrequent. It's hard to find clean stationery, let alone stamps. The Postman only comes around every few months or so, leading to very lonely months without any news from home. But rereading your anecdotes about everyone back home on the settlement always makes me feel better on my darkest days. BTW, how's the victory garden going? Have you harvested anything yet? Are the chickens still alive? Well, I have to say goodbye, for now. My squadron is about to move out. I hope all is well, give the aunts my love and I'll write to you as soon as I can.

Love you, your brother Jack.

***

August 4, 2059

Dear Jazz,

Unfortunately, my trip to the ocean didn't go as planned. The squadron leader sent us right into a Morg ambush. It was a blood bath. They killed half my squad and captured the other half within their ships as prisoners. I avoided capture by slicing a Morg's head off with my light sword and running like hell. I don't know or understand what these grotesque translucent things are, but I hope every last one of them dies a horrible death for what they did to my friends. Two other guys escaped with me, and it took 4 months for us to get back to base camp. During that time, we survived off of wild animals and whatever freshwater we could find. I'm so grateful for those survival books dad made us read. My memory of what was in them kept us alive and able to reach camp. You would think we would have gotten a hero's welcome. No, we were separated, and I was interrogated and damn near starved for a month because the geniuses who run this circus thought I was one of those disgusting shapeshifting Morg's. Don't worry, I'm fine. After spending another 3 weeks in the infirmary, they were finally convinced that I was human due to my weakened state and let me back into my squad. The other guys, I don't know what happened to them. I hope they're ok.

Today I was finally able to read your last 5 letters. Congratulations on passing your competency examination. Which sector have you been chosen to work in? I'm happy to hear your garden is flourishing. I'm so proud of the work you're doing. Your preserved crops will definitely help feed the settlement during the next round of sanctioned food shortages. Did you know mom used to have a garden? Sorry to hear about old Mrs. Hernandez's dog killing 2 of your chickens. At least they were the scrawniest of the bunch, and now you can use them for some good winter broth for when your big brother gets home. It sucks that the settlement Police won't do anything about that mangy dog. He's been a menace for years, but I guess with all of the border threats from the Morg we've been having lately, they have more pressing things to worry about. Two dead skinny chickens don't factor into that. Next time try putting them in the hen house I made for you before I left. You know the one you begged me to make. Lesson learned, huh?

Also, who is this Dax guy you mentioned? I don't remember him from back home. Did you get a day pass to visit another settlement or something? How did you meet this guy? Does he own a light sword? Don't let him borrow yours. I worked hard for that, and I'll be damned if some punk is using it while my little sister walks around helpless with hordes of murderous Morg lurking about. That reminds me, stay within the settlement. Things on the outside are not what they seem to be. Stay safe.

Love you, your brother Jack.

P.S DON'T LET HIM USE YOUR LIGHT SWORD!

***

December 5, 2059

Dear Jazz,

Sorry I know he's not a punk. That was just big brother talk. I don't have long to write. I just got called up for a mission, but I have exciting news. I'M COMING HOME! Well, not today or soon even, but after 4 years, I finally got my release papers. I will be home on December 8, 2060. Tell the aunts to be ready. I know that sounds like a long time, but it's only a year. That will go by in no time. I wonder if Camille is still single? Anyway, I have to run. Just wanted to tell you this real quick. The Postman is waiting on me.

Love you, your brother Jack.

***

January 21, 2060

Dear Jazz,

Happy Birthday and Congratulations on your new post as settlement gardener. You look so beautiful in your uniform. You look nothing like the scrawny kid you were when I left. You look just like ma did when she was a young woman. Same golden brown skin, dark almond-shaped eyes, same smile. Where did you find her heart-shaped locket? I thought it was lost when the Morg invaded our old settlement. Btw aren't personal cameras contraband? Who took your picture? You know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm just happy to finally see what you look like after all this time. You have the pic the League sends you every year for identification, but we're not so lucky on this end. We only see pics when a family member has been killed by the Morg, and their body needs to be identified. Some of these guys don't even know what their own children look like, and to be honest, I like that they're jealous of my picture. I'm going to have to hide it before some creep tries to steal it. You don't want to know what these guys do to images of beautiful women. Anywho nothing new on this end. We've been in camp for about 2 months now without much action. Thank God. I hope it stays that way until I'm able to leave. I haven't started counting down the days yet, but I will in December. Hope all is well and that you were able to get all of your canning done. I'm happy to hear that Mrs. Hernandez's dog died. Long live the chickens. Give the aunts my love.

Love you, your brother Jack

P.S You still haven't told me who Dax is. You just said that he was clever. I need more information, please!

***

March 5, 2060

Well, we're back on the Northeast coast. This time, we had to intercept a group of insurgents trying to break into the United Leagues' office to assassinate the Chairman and her secretary. I don't understand what's going through these people's heads. Do they not know we're trying to help them, get them medical attention, food, education? Do they really think the Morg is here to help them when all they do is make them work for nothing and barely give them what they need to survive? The Morg even has these people thinking that Victory Gardens are bad. How did we get here? We were all on one human team, now we're fighting amongst ourselves. Dad was right. We didn't learn our lesson 40 years ago. Well, I have to go.

Love you, your brother Jack.

***

June 2, 2060

I know my last letter was short, I didn't have much time to write then, but I do now. I started to write this letter yesterday, but my squadmate told me an old wive's tale that doing things on April 1st was terrible luck. I don't remember mom or dad saying that, but they never really paid attention to dates anyway. They would always say, "every day was the same under the settlement, so why worry about the days when you only need to worry about the seasons." I guess if you lived through WWV, you would think every day was the same monotonous drudge. I completely understand what they mean. For the last few months, every day here in the trenches feels like you're replaying the same blood-filled day, every day.

Anyway, what's this I hear about you getting married later this month? What's the rush? You just turned 18 and just started your new post. Why now? Why not wait until you're able to move into your own settlement housing and not have to stay with the aunts in their tiny little house? What did the aunts say? How were you able to get permission so fast? You say he loves you and has a good post, but you haven't told me much about him. Is he nice? Who's his family? Where's he from? Does he treat you well? Do you love him?

I haven't asked the aunts about him because I was waiting on you to tell me, but I guess it's too late. You'll be a married woman by the time this letter reaches you, so I hope you're happy and that he's treating you right. Tell him I said welcome to the family and to keep my little sister safe.

Love you, your brother Jack.

P.S. HE STILL CAN'T USE YOUR LIGHT SWORD!

***

October 8, 2060

Dear Jazz,

I haven't heard from you in a while, how's it going? I guess married life keeps you busy, but we'll have time to catch up when I come home in two months. I've been writing letters to my old friends to see who's still in the settlement. I can't believe Camille is still there and that she's STILL single. Well, not still. She was married, but now she's a widow. Turns out her husband was involved in that Morg ambush last year that claimed most of my squad. He wasn't a member of my squad but another one that was on the same mission. His whole squad was killed, non were left as prisoners. It took 6 months for her to get the news, but she said she couldn't grieve for him. You see, theirs was an arranged settlement marriage. They spent 1 month together as man and wife before he was sent to the frontlines 3 years ago. So she really didn't know him. I don't mean to sound happy about the loss of her husband, but I'm pleased to know she never loved him. That gives me hope for us. Oh, btw, I wrote to the aunt's, and they told me that you guys moved out but didn't know where. So, I'm forwarding this letter to the settlement Chairman. They should know how to find you. Hope this letter finds you well.

Love you, your brother Jack.

***

January 21, 2061

Dear Jazz

Happy 19th birthday! I made your cake. The aunts and I received your picture today from the League's identification board. You look so peaceful. Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? I didn't know you needed me! Why didn't you tell me he hurt you! Why him? Don't you know I would've done anything for you? I promise, Jazz, I will kill Dax!

Love you, your brother Jack