At the border between York State and the Neighboring State lay a canyon. In a sheltered spot hidden from prying eyes, a fire flickered.
A large group of young people had gathered together, eating all kinds of grilled food and gulping down beer and hard liquor. Typical federal highway music played from a radio, and smiles covered every face!
If one ignored their somewhat strange accessories, bizarre hairstyles, and the large tattoos covering their bodies, they looked just like a group of young people enjoying a picnic.
But that was not what they truly were.
The leader sat beside a heavy truck, biting down on a bullet as he watched the people celebrating behind the fire. Some of the young women had already taken off their clothes and begun the most primitive form of entertainment with a few Young Men.
They did not belong to a gang. Unlike gangs, they had no excessively strict discipline or hierarchy. They were all free, independent individuals filled with the spirit of federal freedom!
Every one of them was a piece of society that had been cast aside. Then they gathered together and formed a greater whole without losing themselves.
On every journey, they discovered others like themselves. Their numbers grew and grew, eventually forming a group of this size.
The leader was twenty-seven years old. He had come from a typical federal farming family. His father ran a farm of about six hundred acres in the western part of the federation.
His father also had the bad temper characteristic of westerners. He liked to drink, and whenever he drank too much, he beat his wife and children.
Even more unbearable was the fact that his father was interested in men. He maintained a long-term intimate relationship with one of the farmhands, and sometimes