1. Excerpts from the GUB Journal, Final Updated Edition.

December 31, 1999.

The days tick away and Christmas is past. I fear that none of us will
survive another year in this dead place. Some of the volunteers who are
sent up to approach those gang leaders managing to gain control over
several cities simply disappear forever; others come back without
succeeding. Only twice has the password been given to a leader, and both
times these were heard of no more. My men and I will try to hang on for as
long as we can, but many dangers exist and the hope for a new century
diminishes. All we can do now is wait.

February 13, 2000. Maybe we have a chance. One of my men spotted a leader
whose gang was in control of eight cities; he was given the password. Later
this man used it, thus getting our address.
Conditions in the north of the land have slowed him up significantly; also
I hear he's been very close to being defeated by a concurring road gang and
has decided that an increase of tactical insight is needed so he may
effectively control more vehicles.

September 1, 2000

Helgron has our only radio. If he doesn't return with the last two agents,
our chances at success are close to nil. Some of my staff feel that I've
made a mistake in trusting a non-conformist like Helgron; others agree that
he's our only chance - and that the very extremity of his character may
well be his greatest asset. But our time's running out; if we don't hear
from him very soon, it will be too late to save this diseased, mutated,
starving country.

October 27, 2000

He did it. Today Helgron returned with our last missing agent - and now we
can start healing the state. He doesn't know it yet, but as of tomorrow our
country will once more have a leader: Jonathan T. Helgron, President of the
United States of America.

GUB director Herrell

2. Excerpts taken from the Report as presented by the C.O.T.

For months I had lived as a healer. Ever since the invasion health
conditions in our city had grown worse. Our hospitals were all destroyed;
only some of the basements and laboratories in the outer perimeter had been
partially preserved. After weeks and weeks of gathering all the working
equipment we could find, aided in our efforts by the Guardsmen (ours had
not left the path of justice), we managed to establish some improvised
clinics.

But more and more people died of this strange disease, and as the mutants
proliferated, we desperately tried to find ways to make an antidote. It
took us a long time, but finally, in the winter of 1999, we came up with a
reliable antitoxin. Making this antitoxin requires great amounts of
chemicals, and as we lack the means to make some of the ingredients
necessary, we can only fabricate the antitoxin when we get our hands on
adequate other medicine.

Then, halfway through April in 2000, our town was visited by one of the
many roadgangs that roam the streets more and more frequently. But where
some gangs persist in looting and destroying all they can, these people
were sufficiently polite to send envoys, scouting the city. One of the
patrolmen told them how things stood, and this seemed to satisfy them -
they said they'd leave the city as soon as they'd found some people to take
the places of those who had died of the disease. That night I talked with
my collegues, and although some called it insane, I decided to help these
people, to see what I could do to heal their ill (or keep them from
contracting diseases) and to aid them in their quest for G.U.B. agents.

In the morning of April 18 in the year 2000 I joined Helgron's Highway
Hoppers.

Rebecca Laramie, MD.

Training is essential. If you can't convince whoever's in charge of running
things of the fact that, without training, there's no military basis (let
alone prowess), then you know you're on the losing side. Which is the wrong
side in any ol' war, from my point of view.

The Muthuh Truckers certainly weren't the best outfit in the country - but
at least they had the common sense to pay attention to battle techniques,
as well as an extensive knowledge of sound engineering. Their cars were
always rolling, most of them substantially altered with regard to engine
capacity, maneuvrability and protection. Also they took a lot of time
looting cities, trying to find speed shops and such. Of course, a sound
engine is no good if the man operating it is an undisciplined over-the-edge
egg-head. Which leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that the Muthuh's
organisation held room for improvement.

One day in May, we were on the road in the West Central when we ran into
this group of six vehicles. Unlike our own team, whose leader insisted on
uniformity and therefore used the same type of vehicle for everyone, this
road gang had anything from a sportscar to busses - even a trailer truck.
And while the Muthuh's laughed at what they called "a circus parade", our
enemy took its positions.

Before Big Red Ralph could shout his battle cry, I warned him that these
guys were not, by the looks of their positions and division of personnel,
amateurs. But Big Red simply ignored me, laughed, and yelled,
"Clearrrrr.... the ROAD!" - and all Muthuh trucks attacked. We lost the
battle in no time flat - and our adversaries did not merely ram us; when it
became clear that we were losing, their chief gave the order to start
boarding our vehicles, keeping them in one piece. Theirs was a smart
leader.

The Muthuh's fought to the last man and lost. Me, I'm a professional - when
our cause was lost, I surrendered. And seeing that a military man without
an outfit is just so much wasted space, I offered them my services. Their
man Helgron accepted me, and for the first time in my post-war career I had
the idea I'd joined a group worthy of loyalty. Soon after that, I began
training their members and improving upon their car battle techniques.

Commander Raul Villiers

Everybody knows there are many kinds of politicians. Some of them are
merely slick, others lack integrity, still others are led by ambition only.
Perhaps most of us are weak, but surely we are all human. When I joined
J.T. Helgron's freedom fighters they were just about to rid themselves of a
man called Geoffrey Mulligan, a politician of the kind that might be called
"slick". His services had not been satisfactory to the group, and when I
offered them my own it didn't take very long before Mulligan was retired
and I became P.R.-representative and spokeswoman for the group.

As anyone with a tinge of perception could see, J.T. Helgron had the
makings of a winner. Not only did he have those qualities that we look for
in a leader, he also had the backup of a great team - a loyal military
advisor, a competent physician, and a well-trained well-equipped resistance
force. As advisor to the Chief, my first and most important job was
establishing and maintaining contact with other groups of people - whether
the individual neighbor or large gangs of mobs, mercenaries, street
gangsters, rabble or needy individuals; I was the one called on first.
Then, if my negotiations were either unsuccessful or just not the right
method, and contact was still required, Helgron would send envoys. Usually,
this would mean a couple of armsmasters and some bodyguards; sometimes he
would send escorts as well. I'm glad to say that in my time as go-between I
managed to make quite a few contacts that worked satisfactory for both
sides. The Secretary of State, Paula Jackson.

3. Helgron's Highway Hoppers

As a combined university graduate and ex-convict you can get to know a lot
of different people. After disaster struck our country, most of my friends
were dead or gone - and the ability to make social contacts and finding the
right people for the right jobs became essential to the survival of our
community. I was not exactly elected mayor of the city (it was more like an
appointment if anything), but the effect might have been the same. I spend
several months rallying all women, men and equipment that could be used for
building a new society - in the meantime expecting news from either our
government, or the invaders. But half a year passed and there was still no
sign of anyone taking control - all I received were unconfirmed reports
about cities being taken over by gangsters, invaders or satanists, and the
land terrorized by motorgangs.

Two more months I waited before I came to realise that the growing threats
from outside and the increasing disease-spreading mutants inside our city
were going to kill us all unless something was done about it. So I took the
initiave, asked for volunteers and started an entirely new road gang,
intended to link rather than separate our nation's cities, under the name
of Helgron's Highway Hoppers. We started off with no more than a sports car
hard top, six men including myself, and a very limited storage of
supplies.

The first thing I learned was that one vehicle wasn't going to make us a
formidable road force. So we skimmed the city of some of its surplus
ironware and put together a six-vehicle fighting force - not more because
it was hard enough feeding the people needed to man the cars and also I was
aware of the fact that I needed much more experience in battle contacts
before I'd be able to efficiently hold command over a larger number of
vehicles.

I was careful not to take too many small vehicles, but also not just busses
(good for shooting) or trailer trucks (great for ramming) because chances
were that people would outmaneuver us. When all was ready, I decided to
move up to New York, to see if there was any such thing left as the United
Nations Headquarters. From there on, we'd drive through the Northeast into
North Central, hoping that cities such as Pittsburgh, Indianapolis and, of
course, Detroit would harbor possibilities to enhance our mechanics.

Moving from city to city looked easy enough on the maps but turned out to
be quite a problem in reality. Some of the multitude of road gangs we ran
into minded their own business and steered clear from us, but the vast
majority of wheelers declared us easy prey and attacked.

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