{"id":919,"date":"2015-08-24T00:41:47","date_gmt":"2015-08-24T06:41:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/?p=919"},"modified":"2015-08-24T00:41:47","modified_gmt":"2015-08-24T06:41:47","slug":"its-harder-this-way-chapter-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/?p=919","title":{"rendered":"It’s Harder This Way – Chapter One"},"content":{"rendered":"

And finally tonight, many, many, MANY readers have been waiting for some sign of life concerning a sequel to “It’s Better This Way.” Well… “It’s Harder This Way” is getting dusted off and is in the queue. Here’s a sample. Keep in mind, it hasn’t been heavily edited (or even lightly edited). Enjoy! I’ll update as more gets written ;).<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

1. Onward and Forward<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u201cMr. Greggs, sir?\u201d Spider asked, skidding to a halt in front of me.<\/p>\n

\u201cSpider,\u201d I said, trying not to laugh at his name, \u201cjust call me Evan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEvan, sir,\u201d he said, fumbling the words. I could tell that it was hard for him to keep the Mister title from slipping out. \u201cThere\u2019s an army scout coming up the road.\u201d He looked back, as if the scout had been stalking him, then back at me. I nodded for him to go on. \u201cHe\u2019s coming to you and Mist\u2026 Tony.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said, glancing over at Tony Galliardi. He shrugged. \u201cMake sure he finds his way to us, and make sure no one says anything. Go.\u201d<\/p>\n

We watched him run back down the road, an all-out sprint at first, then after a sheepish look back at us, he smoothed out into a jog. I picked up my pack, shouldered it, waited for Tony to do the same, then began walking south again along the Willamette Highway.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho do you think taught him manners like that?\u201d Tony asked as we put one foot in front of the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo clue,\u201d I said with a chuckle. \u201cIs he a Farm kid, or from one of the outer reaches?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s one of the Davies\u2019 kids. From up on the northeast edge.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh,\u201d I said, trying to place the family to the location. \u201cI don\u2019t remember them. Seems like a good kid, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s just hope he doesn\u2019t fall on his knife while trying to slice into an apple.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed, imagining the gangly teenager tripping over his own two feet, especially around council members. We stopped when we came to the small bridge over Big Marsh Creek. Tony gave the halt signal to the\u2026 soldiers behind us. I didn\u2019t want to call them soldiers, as they definitely weren\u2019t that. They passed the signal back down the line, where it would eventually reach the rear, almost a mile behind us.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t really sure what the seven hundred men and women following me should be called. Humans, for sure, but beyond that, they were Tony, Jenna, Mitch, Branda. A couple of the older men had been soldiers at some point in their lives before the Bulls arrived and nearly put a stop to humanity. The rest of us were as trained as a small outpost of civilization after the collapse of mankind could offer, which was little more than limited shooting lessons and some survival training.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t like we were going up against an organized military unit with ultra-modern equipment, communications, and weapons. Based on what we\u2019d extracted from David Hamida, Corporal Hackett, and Sergeant Waters, the \u201carmy\u201d soldiers we were heading toward weren\u2019t any better geared than we were, and most had only received the barest minimum of training. Kyle Holloway and Larry Mellon, two ex-army vets, had spent two weeks attempting to rouse eight hundred men and women into a cohesive unit, while Kember Freemont, an ex-drill sergeant in the Marines, did his best to scream and insult them to tears. And to get them to quit.<\/p>\n

Nearly one hundred of the volunteers hadn\u2019t made it through the first week of running, jogging, walking, and more running. I barely made it through the first week myself, and I was in great shape. Twenty or so had ended up with a serious injury, though nothing life threatening. Sprains, a broken finger, a broken ankle, and a serious concussion from taking a head-first trip into a solid log were the worst cases, with most dropouts centering around the person simply being too out of shape to continue. When a dozen quit during the first day, I had laughed and made snide comments to Tony and Arn about them. By the third day, Tony and Arn were laughing and making snide comments about me. By the end of the week, everyone wanted to murder Kyle, Larry, and especially Kember.<\/p>\n

All three had lamented to me, the unspoken leader of this company of armed vigilantes, that they really needed at least four weeks to make real soldiers out of everyone. They\u2019d all hinted that six to eight weeks was a more realistic time frame to get the entire group to think and act like a military unit. Part of me wished we had waited a month before marching south, but another was glad we\u2019d only received minimal training, which was mostly getting everyone in shape to walk for days, spend maybe thirty minutes of sheer terror shooting or being shot at, then walking for more days. The Farm didn\u2019t need seven hundred citizens who were suddenly under the impression they were real soldiers.<\/p>\n

Kember had assured me everyone was at least proficient with their weapons, and they\u2019d all been able to grasp the concept of keeping silent and letting me, Tony, or their squad leaders do the talking. When it came time to actually shoot at another human being, most wouldn\u2019t hesitate, since they knew the stakes as well as anyone. We couldn\u2019t afford to let the men playing army down at Crater Lake attract the Bulls\u2019 attention, and we couldn\u2019t let them seek revenge on us for murdering their delegation. I had to wonder, for the hundredth time since we left The Farm, if what we were about to do was morally acceptable\u2014or not\u2014regardless of the fact it had to be done.<\/p>\n

Ten minutes later, two of our scouts came up toward us from the south, a man in dark green camo between them. I had gone over the plans with the entire group before began our journey, and again with the twenty or so squad leaders three hours earlier. With only a week to get everyone acclimated to working in small groups while coordinating with the larger group, it was an unknown variable as to whether or not everything would break down if and when shit hit the fan.<\/p>\n

\u201cCommander Greggs?\u201d the soldier asked after coming to a stop in front of us.<\/p>\n

I glared at Spider, sure that he\u2019d put the idea into the soldier\u2019s head.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just Evan,\u201d I said. I held out my hand, and he shook it with a firm grip.<\/p>\n

\u201cCorporal Myers, Sir,\u201d he said, giving me a salute. I was sure Tony would burst out laughing, but when I glanced over, he looked as serious as I\u2019d ever seen him. \u201cYou\u2019re from the community up at Waldo Lake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCorrect,\u201d I said. \u201cColonel Hardaway gave us the speech, and we rallied just over five hundred to join the fight.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was hopeful the other two hundred who were shadowing us would be able to remain undetected until we needed them, though we\u2019d made a contingency plan that allowed for them to join us if necessary. It would play into the army\u2019s expectations perfectly if we had to explain the other two hundred as citizens who had rallied another batch of recruits after we\u2019d departed.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive hundred\u2026\u201d Myers trailed off. I watched his face for any sign of suspicion, but his expression seemed more surprised that such a large number of people existed in one place. \u201cDamn. That\u2019ll bring us up to almost a eight hundred. Going to be a bit of a pinch for all of you until we get more of the base set up, but at least you\u2019ll have a place to sleep and a hot shower.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCorporal, we\u2019re used to hard living,\u201d Tony said. \u201cBesides, fifteen hundred arms and legs can get a place fixed up a hell of a lot faster than six hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myers frowned. \u201cLess than that. There\u2019s at least fifty of us either scouting or actively recruiting. General Pryor is gonna go apeshit when five hundred new recruits show up all at once.\u201d<\/p>\n

He reached into one of the pockets along the leg of his pants and pulled out a two-way radio. I felt the pang in my heart at the sight of it. Other than the video projector Colonel Hardaway and his crew had brought with them, none of us had seen a working piece of technology for two decades.<\/p>\n

\u201cBase, this is Rover-4, over.\u201d Myers looked up from his radio and grinned at us. \u201cWhen\u2019s the last time you saw one of these that worked?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t even remember what that is,\u201d Tony joked, and I chuckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cRoger, Rover-4. Status?\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice coming from the radio was crystal clear, which surprised me, especially if he was all the way down at the Crater Lake area. There had to be at least fifty miles distance between the two radios, which could only mean the army techs must have somehow tapped back into the old cellular towers, using them as repeaters or boosters.<\/p>\n

\u201cIncoming recruits,\u201d Myers said into his radio. \u201cEstimated number is five hundred. That\u2019s five-zero-zero bodies.\u201d<\/p>\n

The three of us stared at each other for at least thirty seconds before whoever was on the other end finally replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cRoger that. Base out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myers turned off his radio and slid it back into a pocket. I gave him a raised eyebrow, and I noticed Tony giving him a strange look as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey probably think I\u2019ve been drinking,\u201d Myers said with a laugh. \u201cOn a good day, we get maybe two, sometimes five recruits showing up. The most we\u2019ve ever had was a group of twelve who arrived after one of the recruiting crews helped them defend their little commune down near Chiloquin. Lost one of our guys in a firefight, and about fifteen of the commune guys, but they drove off a gang of scabs after killing at least thirty of them. The survivors decided with only twelve left, they\u2019d be unable to defend themselves if the gang or another pack of brigands showed up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess hearing five hundred new recruits showing up would warrant them thinking you might be drunk,\u201d I agreed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can walk with you as far as the Little Deschutes River, not that you need my protection.\u201d He laughed again, staring down the road behind me as if he might get a glimpse of all five hundred of us in a huge clot. \u201cRover-2, Corporal Yates, will meet up with you somewhere along the line. That\u2019s his zone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure we\u2019ll be fine, Corporal,\u201d Tony said, a genuine smile on his face. \u201cYou can proceed as you were, unless you\u2019re bored or lonely. If so, you can fill us in on the details while we march.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure thing,\u201d Myers said, looking happy to have some company. \u201cNot much to talk to other than trees and broken highway out here. Besides, I\u2019m a lot safer with you should anyone come along.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou get a lot of bad guys out here?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

I had no clue what was beyond our current location. I\u2019d ridden up U.S. 97 twenty-three years before, still fleeing from the madness of the apocalypse. An old couple, Barney and Barbara Rush, had taken me in after I\u2019d stumbled onto their property near a tiny hamlet named Rome, a hundred miles southwest of Boise. I had somehow made it out of the Treasure Valley and through the hard scrub desert of eastern Oregon unscathed. After Barney died of a heart attack and Barbara was killed by an infection three months later, I wandered up and down the coast for more than a decade looking for my sister, Sandra, who had been a student at Oregon State University, though most of my searching had been between I-5 and the Pacific Coast Highway.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot really,\u201d Myers answered. \u201cWe definitely don\u2019t get any from the north, thanks to you guys. There was a pretty ugly power struggle that had the folks from Redding and Red Bluff going up against a warlord named Griffin, who had control of everything from Orland and Chico to pretty much all of Sacramento. That lasted almost seven years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tony nodded involuntarily, the same as me. We\u2019d heard bits and pieces from the network over the years, but only a handful had ever fled as far north as The Farm. The few who came through ended up becoming citizens. Most of the refugees were ready for a safe, structured life after a decade of chaos when the Bulls came, only to be followed by another near decade of terrible fighting between humans. Humans who, for the most part, had learned to kill each other without gunpowder again.<\/p>\n

I shuddered at the thought of being part of a mob trying to murder another mob with homemade axes, swords, spiked clubs, chains, knives, rocks, and bare hands. Not that shooting another human was somehow better or more noble, but at least I could stay semi-detached from it. It was a terrible thing, no matter the situation, to kill another human being up close and personal, to feel their blood on your hands, their last breath on your cheek. The only thing worse was to lose the fight and end up as a haunting nightmare for the rest of your killer\u2019s life. I\u2019ve learned to co-exist with my nightmares, but I had no intention of adding any new ones of that nature.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe army stayed out of it,\u201d Myers continued as we walked up a slight rise in the road. \u201cWe stayed out of every conflict that we happened across for the first twenty years.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave him a puzzled look. Corporal Myers couldn\u2019t be more than half my age. He grinned at us.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was only four when the Bulls came,\u201d Myers said.<\/p>\n

He stared at nothing for a while, as if remembering the fear, the panic as the world became a hellish struggle for survival only hours after watching cartoons and eating Double Sugar Chocolate Bombs soaked in chocolate milk. I felt the familiar sadness course through me. I\u2019d lost the memory of what my childhood cereals tasted like a long time ago. The only memory I had left was how my mother had called them \u201cDiabete-O\u2019s,\u201d her name for any cereal not made of twigs, stones, and seeds, and refused to buy them for us. My sadness was tempered by another memory, this one of my father, sneaking boxes of the worst offenders into the house. My father, Sandra, and I would gorge ourselves on the stuff as if we were jackals feasting on a fresh kill whenever Mom wasn\u2019t around.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe still have about six miles of your company,\u201d Tony said, hinting for the corporal to continue.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Myers said with another grin. \u201cI can\u2019t tell you anything about our plans for the Bulls. That\u2019s for General Grayson to fill you in on. But I can tell you the story we\u2019re all told, which is about how the generals and admirals who survived came to the conclusion that the Bulls were too advanced for us to fight. Especially without a communications network, fuel and supply sources, or weapons and a strategy to counter their overwhelming force.\u201d<\/p>\n

Myers shrugged, as if it was the most common sense thing he\u2019d ever heard. I had to agree. The Bulls delivered a knockout punch to humanity within hours, and we were still lying on the canvas in the dark, struggling to rise to our knees.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever was left of the military decided to go deep underground. Not to wait it out so much as to play the long game. They figured everyone would abandon the cities and join up with them, then spend the next decade or three plotting and planning while rebuilding their ragtag, decentralized units into a generational army.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey must have had their brains scrambled by the EMP blasts to think people were just going to join up and play army for twenty years,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d Myers said. \u201cThe first ten years of my life after the invasion\u2026 joining up with a ragtag military to fight aliens was the last thing on my mind. We were too busy avoiding humans who wanted to take whatever we had. I can\u2019t remember not being hungry, cold, or scared every waking moment. Even after my mother joined us up with a bunch of pot farmers in Broken Rib, it wasn\u2019t much different. Instead of being cold, we got worked to death like slaves. There was never enough to eat because I either didn\u2019t work hard enough or my mom didn\u2019t whore herself out to their satisfaction. Even sleeping wasn\u2019t a retreat from those assholes. They loved to wake us up in the middle of the night and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Myers looked away, his face full of embarrassment that he\u2019d wandered down old, painful trails. I clapped him on the back to let him know we weren\u2019t going to rank him out for it. We all had old, painful trails to walk down. I watched my mom die slowly, then watched my father die in a hail of gunfire. Sandra had been the cause of a major war in my mind for twenty-three years, with one half keeping her alive, somehow, and the other forcing me to admit I hadn\u2019t found her after two decades because she was long dead.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d Myers said. \u201cAnyway, they got that wrong, but they got a lot of stuff right. They waited patiently, and now there\u2019s a chance to finally do something about the Bulls.\u201d<\/p>\n

I glanced at Tony after Myers\u2019 consolidated ending to the history lesson. I had spent enough time with Tony to guess he wanted to roll his eyes up at the hope a thousand, hell, even ten thousand soldiers were going to boot the aliens off the planet. I kept my face neutral. Our goal was to get all the way inside the base with the majority of our people and do our best to shut down the entire operation, permanently, with as little bloodshed as possible. I felt another pang, this one of sadness at the thought we might have to kill Corporal Myers at some point. He seemed like the kind of guy I\u2019d pick to be one of my scouting partners.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d I said, \u201cin all that time, they rebuilt cities? Or maybe just bases? Got some water and sewage going, maybe electricity and a little manufacturing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou make it sound like they just picked up right where everyone had left off when the Bulls landed,\u201d Myers said with a laugh. \u201cWhatever that EMP was did a hell of a lot of damage. For a long time, from what I\u2019ve been told, there was no electricity. They were too paranoid the Bulls would find out and leave a smoking crater behind as a warning. I guess about ten years ago, word came through the network that other places had rebuilt to the point they had power again, yet the Bulls ignored them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess they don\u2019t equate light bulbs to guns,\u201d Tony said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey don\u2019t like motorized vehicles, that\u2019s for sure,\u201d Myers said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou guys have working cars?\u201d I asked, surprised. I hadn\u2019t heard the sound of a combustion engine in so long my brain had trouble digging deep enough to find a memory that hadn\u2019t degraded to muddled garbage.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but those are special things, you know? Mostly motorcycles. Cars have a hard time these days since the roads have all decayed. Plus, motorcycles are easier to hide if a Bull patrol comes along.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d think the noise would be a problem,\u201d Tony said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe try to run \u2018em as quiet as possible, but it kind of messes with the engines. Fouls them up or makes them weak. Plus we\u2019re pretty sure the Bulls use infrared as well as visible to see, and bike engines are like flashing beacons to them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tony frowned. \u201cSounds pretty risky to even use them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s horribly risky. But they run forever on a small amount of fuel. We don\u2019t even need gas. Most have some kind of setup that uses hemp oil, and I guess some are able to use propane.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. Propane was extremely useful, but because of its nature, it had to be stored in secure tanks. We\u2019d found thousands of empty LP cannisters over the years that had suffered seal failures, rust, or any number of misfortunes that had allowed the liquefied gas to escape. Amazingly, we more than enough that had held up. The brains at The Farm had gotten pretty creative at finding excellent uses for propane and kerosene.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe even have one rigged up to run on batteries,\u201d Myers added. \u201cIt\u2019s silent, doesn\u2019t put out much heat, but only has a fraction of the range the others do.\u201d He paused. \u201cIf the Bulls detect moving vehicles, they always send a ship to investigate. It rarely ends well for the rider, but at least it ends quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can imagine,\u201d I murmured.<\/p>\n

Bull soldiers carried weapons powerful enough to vaporize human flesh. I didn\u2019t like to think about what the energy cannons on their shuttles were capable of. Humans had no radar to detect airborne threats, and up until today, I didn\u2019t think they had a way to communicate over long distances faster than a messenger on horseback. I could see the appeal of a motorcycle, though I had to remember none of the roads were like they had been in the old days.<\/p>\n

Growing up, I spent plenty of time watching videos of street bikes racing up and down freeways, eluding police, or racing for trophies. These days, the first rider to try to go faster than twenty miles per hour would be the first rider to end up bleeding to death on a deserted, broken highway. Bicycles were challenging enough on the old roads, to the point that I preferred using the dirt shoulders. I\u2019ve probably crashed on a bicycle a few hundred times since I fled Boise. All but a couple of those times were when I\u2019d foolishly tried to stay on the blacktop.<\/p>\n

We chatted for another hour until we finally came to the Little Deschutes River. Tony and I had done our best to avoid prying for information, as we figured General Grayson, whoever he was, would fill us in on the important parts once we\u2019d settled in. Myers seemed sad that he had to part ways with us and resume his patrol. He assured us Corporal Yates would keep us company once we met up with him, and we could expect the same thing all the way down the line until we arrived at the base. We assured Corporal Myers he\u2019d have plenty of company until the last of our people passed him, and even assigned a young woman named Kristin to keep him company for mile or two until she passed him off to someone else. Kristin was attractive enough to make sure he didn\u2019t pay too much attention to anything but her intensely green eyes or her disarming laugh. We shook hands and watched him begin his journey back up the Willamette Highway.<\/p>\n

Tony and I resumed the march, neither of us saying much until we encountered Corporal Yates an hour later. Yates was a gruff, older man, but he was as likable as Myers had been. He was definitely more skeptical of the army\u2019s ability to wage any kind of war against the Bulls, but he admitted it was mostly because he had seen what the aliens were capable of the day they arrived in orbit. Yates didn\u2019t badmouth the army or its commanders, and I could tell he was thankful they\u2019d been able to provide luxuries like hot showers and electronic entertainment, but when it came to the reasons we were marching and the army was recruiting, his opinion became more guarded, less positive. I got the impression he was onboard only because of the soft beds, guaranteed food, and the company of men and women who could hold off any of the typical bandit threats that were common these days. He didn\u2019t seem the type to lead the gung-ho charge to eliminate the Bulls.<\/p>\n

We linked up with several other army scouts along the way, each more impressed than the last at the size of our contingent. They had to have known how numerous we were, yet each encounter made us chuckle. One of the last scouts had made me wonder if her eyes would simply burst, or pop completely out of her head when Tony verified that five hundred humans were stretched out for a mile behind us. Private Ailes didn\u2019t look to be more than twenty years old, if even that, so I understood why five hundred humans in a small area would be so surprising. She had never known what it was like to live in a city, surrounded by tens of thousands, sometimes millions of others.<\/p>\n

I thought Spider\u2019s eyes would burst out of his head when he met Private Ailes. If she seemed like a bumpkin based on her experience with large groups of humans, then Spider would be considered an inbred mutant based on his lack of experience with members of the opposite sex. Tony had caught Spider\u2019s elbow at least three different times to keep him steady as he tried to stammer out a greeting to the attractive young soldier.<\/p>\n

I was sure he was going to throw up on her fatigues before he got more than three words out, but he kept it together. Well, enough to only turn a shade of red that edged into purple. Private Ailes earned my respect by keeping her laughter in, both during the attempted greeting, and again when Spider\u2019s feet tangled up after being dismissed by Tony. The poor kid was still picking bits of dirt and gravel out of his palms by the time we\u2019d all bedded down for the night.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And finally tonight, many, many, MANY readers have been waiting for some sign of life concerning a sequel to “It’s Better This Way.” Well… “It’s Harder This Way” is getting dusted off and is in the queue. Here’s a sample. … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[7,6,5],"tags":[96,70,36,412,532,243,39,94,275,73,533,403,93,68,277,33,202,133,303],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/919"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=919"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/919\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":920,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/919\/revisions\/920"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=919"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=919"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.angrygames.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=919"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}