This short story is an entry for 
The prompt was:
I am looking for a science fiction/horror/fantasy (fiction of any sort) story, featuring a visit to the last forest.
Enjoy.
The Last Forest
“I’ll put it to you bluntly, Daniels. I owe you that much respect. A decorated war hero like yourself? You’ve got places to go. High places.” McKenzie ashed the cigarette out on the ivory tray. It was a Panda. High quality tobacco from China. Deng Xiao Ping’s favorite brand. Hundreds of dollars for a single pack, even in his time. Panda cigarettes? Not around anymore. Just like their namesake.
“You get this done?” McKenzie continued. “Not even cleanly, mind you. We have the media handled, okay? They're all on the same page. Nothing to worry about. You get this done, and your life as a military man is over.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” General Lee Daniels replied. “I’m not going to trial as a war criminal because you can’t contain the natives.”
“Natives?” McKenzie leaned back, shaking his head. “They’re traitors. Cowards. Afraid of going where this society has to go. Natives…” He scoffed. “That’s what they call themselves.”
“Addressing your enemy by the title they prefer is basic respect. It’s something you politicians wouldn’t understand.”
“I detect a high level of resentment and suspicion in your tone of voice, General.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide, and nothing to prove. Especially not to you, whether your the CEO of the New States or not. My men are loyal to me, and that security lets me sleep at night.”
CEO McKenzie gave a nod then lit another cigarette. After taking a drag, he inspected Daneils. Wearing the uniform of a general, the man’s left chest was adorned with medals from shoulder to navel. This man should be dead. Instead he fought in China, the Pacific, the Arctic, Brazil, and came back to win the war of the New State Secession. By all rights, he should be the head of state. But that’d be the old way. And this was the new.
“Why bother to meet with me, then?” the CEO asked.
“I’m just curious. Did the others outright refuse?”
“General Garcia demanded benefits above his station. General Brasky is addicted to methamphetamines. Generals Lopez and Williamson are busy teaching those Spics down in Argentina the reason our flag is superior. And, well, your position as war hero outweighs the demands of these anarchists. Morally and politically speaking, of course.”
“Who is next on your list?” the general asked.
“Fischer. The Butcher of Atlanta. Not everyone has managed to keep their hands as clean as yours.”
“Fischer will carpet bomb the entire area.”
“A regrettable action to contain a deadly political plague. History will be kind to his judgment, because we’ll write the books. Wont even matter, considering nobody will read them.”
“Give me a Panda,” Daniels said. “I’ll have my men ready within the hour.”
“I knew you a were man of reason.”
Daniels lit the cigarette with a golden lighter off McKenzie’s desk. “More than can be said about your kind.”
“Whose kind is that?”
“The kind that killed the world.”
McKenzie scoffed. “And you’re not? You’re removed from responsibility because of the chain of command? Is that it? You were just following orders, and then just giving the orders?”
“Oh no. I have sinned. But while you were away in your enclaves, hiding from the stench of death. I was looking at it in the face.”
——
The Last Forest, he thought. The remnants of the once great Amazon. Not all that was left were the patches of landscape hidden away in the mountains of Bolivia. To the west, nuked out Chile. To the east, an utterly defunct and dead state once called Brazil. Then the Barony of His Majesty The Pope. Then the Quarter States. Then Brazil, again. Then Bolsonario. And now, like so many others, a nameless shithole.
Argentina still held. But they’d fall eventually to the Black White and Blue. Everyday with a new star, representing a new land liberated from the old world. Argentina stood, and like all the others, they’d fall.
General Daniels overlooked the Last Forest on the holomap. His men had combed through the radioactive jungles, taking and giving fire from guerillas. From the ‘Natives’.
Who were they, exactly? Nationality wise, a hodgepodge. But they were anarchs-primitivists who claimed the territory for themselves, and wanted nothing else then to be left alone. Maybe they could have gotten that much. But, the New States and their exuberantly rich land lord clientele, the Stockholders. They wanted a little place to take a stroll and enjoy the view. Wasn’t much to see in the desert that was once the United States. Canada was a shit hole blown to pieces. Only one place left with trees. That was here. And they wanted to take in the sights from the safety of their fallout suits without worrying about gunfire from guerillas.
“General,” a staff sergeant said as he entered. “We have them surrounded.”
——
“He’s here,” Michele said. “I have him in my sights. I can-“
“Don’t,” Castro ordered. “We need him.”
Michele tensed and he saw her, eager, to squeeze that trigger. He put his hand on her shoulder and repeated the order. “we need him.”
She relented. “If you’re wrong, sir. You just wasted our only chance to make a difference.”
“This will make all the difference,” he said.
The General approached with his retinue. Their pulse rifles at the ready, they were killing machines, flanked by hover tanks and protected in the skies by drones.
“I didn’t expect a surrender,” General Daniels said. “I expected you to die as you lived and go out fighting. I can’t guarantee you won’t hang, but I can guarantee not all of you will.”
“General Daniels. The ground you’ve all walked on is heavily mined and at my will, can explode, killing all of us on this mountain.”
“Bluff.” Daniels said as he continued. “I respect the move-“
Castro lifted his hand, pointing to a mountain off in the distance. He waved his fingers and the ground shook, sending them all prone and screaming as it caved in on itself. The General’s fascists were ready to obliterate Castro into dust when the General ordered them to hold their fire. They obeyed.
“It’s not a bluff,” Castro said. “Now come with me. Leave your men here.”
“Like hell,” Daniels replied.
“I’m not here to kill you, General. I’ve already lost. But maybe you can win.”
Castro, with Michelle at his side, headed off to a cave and Daniels followed, ordering his men to take point. They wandered through the rocky abyss. It was a mile down into the earth until they reached it.
“This is a bunker,” General Daniels said. “This is a pre-war bunker.”
They stopped at the door.
“Neither of us have it,” Michelle said, removing her helmet. Castro did the same, as they were now deep enough to be relatively safe from the above ground radiation. “But you do.”
“Have what?” Daniels asked.
“The entrance is too thick. We can’t blow it without losing the payload inside, or trigger the earthen mines. It only responds to what its maker considered pure.”
“This an Aryan model?” Daniels asked. “That what you’re telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what’s inside.”
“El Dorado,” Castro said.
“And you expect me to do what with that, exactly?” Daniels approached the entrance, taking off his helmet. Michelle activated a control panel and the scanner descended from the ceiling, checking Daniel’s irises. It identified him, claiming his blood was pure.
The bunker opened to a security locker and they entered it deeper inside. They came across a computer system, hooked up to the network. The prized network that all countries and militaries thought was lost forever.
“It’s enough,” Castro said. “To wipe it all away. And from there, restart.”
Michelle had her rifle at Daniels’ back.
“You can hit the New States’ neural network. Shut down the drones and completely annihilate their military bunkers. All the ones you know. It’ll be enough to end it. Once and for all. Argentina will win.”
“I get it,” Daniels said. He reached into a suit pocket and Michelle readied her weapon.
“Easy,” he said. “You can lower that damn gun.” He produced a cigarette. American Spirit. Perique blend. “I get the plan. But you’ll need to hit more than that network. There’s multiple nodes. But lucky you, this son of a bitch knows them all.”
General Daniels activated the terminal.
“Pity we can’t it go down,” he replied. “It’d be a hell of a show.”
The End