The toughest part about being The Postman in post-apocalyptic northwest America? The darned Holnist Army. You know, those jerks led by General Bethelhem whose sole duty seems to be being assholes to everybody. Somehow my job has turned from "delivering mail" into "delivering mail and fighting an actual war" with these…

A lone rider appears off in the distance. The sun is setting, and his horse is tired. As he approaches, it's clear he's carrying a large leather bag, and that he's wearing the tattered uniform of a U.S. mail carrier. He knows that in his bag is the only thing keeping human society from devolving completely into…