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IDAHO:
Retired Army Colonel George Blackwood stands before the bathroom mirror in his private cabin, examining his naked body. He notices a slight bulge around the waist. Not bad for a man of fifty-six. He runs a hand through his short-cropped salt and pepper hair and adjusts the black patch over his left eye. With a grin of satisfaction, he turns and goes into the bedroom, opens the closet door, and grabs a crisply pressed, olive green uniform.
Once clothed, he turns sideways to the mirror to check his profile. On the left sleeve of his shirt is a custom patch with a circle of gold leaves and three lightning bolts coming together in the center to form a ‘Y’. In gold letters around the circle are the words, ARMY OF SURVIVAL.
When he hears the short array of bugle notes from the camp’s public address system, Blackwood peers out the window at the crowd of two-hundred men and women assembling in neat rows on the parade ground. He waits for his second in command to give a subtle signal that everyone is in place, then throws back his shoulders and stretches his body ramrod straight. He yanks the door open and struts out onto the large front porch overlooking the parade ground. At the top of the steps he stops and slowly turns his head to study his troops.
Major Robert Conrad snaps to attention. “All personnel present and accounted for, Sir!”
“Thank you, Major,” Blackwood begins, his voice deep and slightly raspy. “At ease. Men and women of the Army of Survival, we are under attack!”
Muffled conversations of surprise erupt from the crowd and Blackwood waits a few moments before continuing. “The civilians in the surrounding cities have turned against us. They have cut off our supplies in a vain attempt to shut us down. This cannot be allowed, and the time has come for us to make our presence known. We will show them we will not be dictated to by a bunch of cowardly civilians. We will acquire the fuel and supplies we need to survive by any means necessary. Report to your company commanders at thirteen-hundred hours for instructions. All company commanders report to headquarters at eleven-hundred hours.”
Blackwood studies the faces of his troops for several moments, and when he sees most of the people give their approval, feels a great sense of pride and hope for his army. He snaps to attention and gives a smart salute, spins on his heels, and walks back into his cabin.
Conrad turns to the men and women on the parade ground. “Dismissed,” he shouts.
As the crowd breaks up, several of the company commanders approach him to ask what’s going on. Conrad is as much in the dark about Blackwood’s plan as the rest of the troops and frustrated he wasn’t consulted ahead of time. “You’ll all be briefed at eleven-hundred hours!”
Conrad hurries across the parade ground and up the steps to Blackwood’s cabin. He reaches out to rap on the door, but before his knuckles hit the wood, Blackwood hollers to enter. He opens the door and steps inside. Blackwood is leaning over a desk in the corner of the room with his back to him. He closes the door. “What the hell’s going on, Colonel?”
Blackwood continues studying the maps. “We’re broke, Robert. Or damn near it, anyway.”
“I knew we were losing contributions, but I thought we still had enough coming in to keep the camp going.”
“Not anymore.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“Come over here and see for yourself.”
Conrad moves across the room and looks down at the maps. Blackwood points to the one of Idaho, indicating two red lines drawn from east to west. “Interstate 90 to the north and Interstate 84 to the south of us.” He slides a map of Nevada below the one of Idaho and points at the red line near the center of Nevada. “Interstate 80. These will be our battle grounds.”
Conrad looks up at Blackwood. “I don’t follow you, Colonel. What do you mean by battle grounds?”
“These are the three main transport routes to and from the west coast. Every commodity imaginable is trucked across these roads. Food, dry goods, and fuel. Everything we need to survive. These roads are where we are going to get our supplies.”
Conrad’s jaw drops. “Are you talking about hijacking?” Blackwood grins in reply. “That’s crazy.” Conrad stops when Blackwood’s stare turns savage. “But Colonel, the police would be onto us in a heartbeat.”
“Not if we have a plan. Where there are truckers, there are truck stops. We hit them hard all along the interstates. Just one night and we’d have enough supplies to last us a year. Maybe more, if luck’s on our side.”
“It’s still a big risk.”
“Damn it, Robert! Would you rather risk losing our army? Everything we’ve worked so hard for?”
Conrad hesitates to answer. He doesn’t like the idea at all. “If some trucker suddenly finds his rig gone, he’ll be talking to the highway patrol before we’re ten miles down the road.”
Blackwood smirks. “Not if he’s dead,”
Conrad’s eyes go wide with shocked disbelief. This isn’t his army. It’s Blackwood’s, and he does not intend to kill some innocent trucker. “Look, Colonel. When I joined this army, I did not sign on to become a cold-blooded murderer.”
Blackwood’s face turns red with anger. “This is survival, damn it! I’ve worked years to build this army, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it together!” Blackwood moves his face to within inches of Conrad’s, fire in his eyes. “Now, are you with me?”
Conrad stares back and slowly shakes his head no. “You’re completely mad, Colonel. Count me out.” He turns and walks toward the door.
Blackwood shakes with rage. “You’re a coward!” he snarls, but Conrad doesn’t respond and reaches for the doorknob. Blackwood yanks open a drawer, grabs a pistol, and points it at Conrad’s back. “No one desserts my army!” he yells and squeezes the trigger.
The explosion echoes throughout the camp. Conrad is hurled against the door and slides to the floor. He rolls onto his back and stares up at Blackwood, stunned disbelief in his eyes. He tries to speak, but only a gurgled moan escapes his crimson-stained lips, then his head lolls to the side.
Blackwood stares down at Conrad and realizes what he’s just done. He doesn’t feel remorse, but realizes now he’ll have to explain what happened. “Damn!” he swears softly and tries to figure out what to do. If anyone finds out about this, I might have a mutiny on my hands. What can I tell the rest of my officers? Conrad was sent on a mission. Yes, that will work! But how do I get rid of the body? Wait until late tonight and take it deep into the woods? No, that’s no good. The sentries will see me. I’ll have to get somebody else to do it. But who could I get? None of the officers will do it. Possibly an enlisted man. A new recruit. Yes, if he gets caught, I’ll deny everything. He’ll take the blame. What is the name of the new recruit I met three weeks ago? There was something cynical about the man. He had a dead, cold look in his eyes. What the devil was his name?
John Everex, a thirty-five-year-old dishonorably discharged Marine and hardened criminal, is walking past Blackwood’s cabin and hears the shot. He runs up the steps and beats on the door. “What’s happened, Colonel?”
Blackwood grabs Conrad by the arms and drags him into the bathroom, leaving a long smear of blood on the floor. He hears the frantic beating on the door again as he spreads a throw rug over the pool of blood. “An accidental discharge!” he yells back. He opens the door two inches and sees the man he was thinking about and remembers his name is Everex. He already knows about the man’s background and indicates he should enter.
Everex stares at the blood on the door and floor. He doesn’t wait for Blackwood and follows the streak of blood into the bathroom. He sees Conrad’s body, then turns around and grins sadistically at Blackwood. “It seems you’re in need of a new second in command, Colonel.”
Blackwood studies the man standing before him. Everex is short, but muscular. He might have been good-looking at one time, but several thick facial scars have taken that away, and the crooked nose shows evidence of being broken several times. The eyes tell him what he suspects about the man. They are nearly black, and as cold and evil as he’s ever seen.
“That’s right. And someone to dispose of the Major.”
Everex leans against the door jamb. He realizes the Colonel needs someone to get him out of this situation, and decides to see how desperate he is. “What’s in it for me?”
Blackwood’s posture stiffens. He didn’t expect Everex to want something in return. “A promotion to sergeant.”
“Ha!” Everex laughs. “Sorry, Colonel. You’ll have to do better than that.”
Blackwood’s face flushes red with rage. “How dare you, you little son of a bitch! One word from me and you’re out of this army!”
“And one word from me and you’re whole damn army would lose their respect for you, Colonel. I have.”
Blackwood’s hands form into fists at his sides. This isn’t going the way he hoped, but he needs someone to get him out of the situation. “What do you want?” he says through clenched teeth.
Everex grins evilly and indicates Conrad. “I want his job.” Everex watches Blackwood’s eyes flash his anger and decides to push him to the limit. “And two friends of mine to be promoted to sergeant major.”
Blackwood’s eyes blaze with bitterness as he stares at Everex. He shifts his gaze to Conrad’s body on the floor of the bathroom for a moment, then back to Everex. If I don’t agree to Everex’s terms, I’ll have to kill him, too. Can I find someone else willing to get rid of two bodies? What about the raid on the truckers? I need someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands bloody. Someone who can kill without remorse and Everex definitely fits the bill.
Blackwood’s rage slowly fades, like the red flush on his face. “All right, but under two conditions.” He waits to see if Everex will back down, but the man stares back almost mockingly. “First, get rid of Conrad’s body so no one will find it and clean up this mess. Second, you follow my orders to the letter, no matter what. Understood?”
Everex remembers what he’d learned in the Marine Corps before being dishonorably discharged. Always agree to a direct order, then do what you want and plead you must have misunderstood. He grins at Blackwood. “Whatever you say, Colonel.” He straightens from the door jamb and walks toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
***
Blackwood is sitting at his desk when the cabin door suddenly bursts open without a knock. He jumps out of the chair and spins around ready to chew somebody’s butt, and sees Everex grin at him as he steps inside. A green duffel bag is draped over his shoulder and two men follow him in, both looking nearly as nasty as Everex. One carries a mop bucket, the other a mop.
Everex closes the door and stands next to his companions. “Colonel, I’d like you to meet your new Sergeant Majors. Davis, and Chapman.” Everex sees Blackwood’s scowl and smirks in satisfaction. “Just carry on with what you were doing, Colonel. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
Blackwood stares at the two men. Davis is short with bad acne scars and a crooked nose. Chapman has dirty brown hair, and an ugly scar from his forehead, across his right eye, and down past the corner of his mouth.
As Davis and Chapman mop up the blood, Blackwood follows Everex into the bathroom. Everex tosses the duffel bag onto the toilet seat, kneels, and lifts Conrad’s body off the floor without the least sign of straining. Everex dumps it into the bathtub, and with a speed that surprises Blackwood, a ten-inch knife suddenly appears in Everex’s hand.
Everex stares at it for a moment, as if studying a fine instrument. He looks over his shoulder at Blackwood with a look evil enough to make the devil cringe. “Now the fun begins.”
Everex’s tone of voice sends a shiver up Blackwood’s spine as he stares in stunned disbelief. It’s like watching a replay from his time as a POW. Everex starts dismembering Conrad’s body, holding each piece over the tub until the blood drains out before tossing it into the duffel bag. The coldness of Everex’s actions sends a shiver of fear through Blackwood as he realizes he’s probably just made the biggest mistake of his life by agreeing to this monstrous animal’s demands.
The reek of shit, piss, and bloody guts adds to the disgust he feels toward Everex, and the flood of memories from the POW camp are more than he can stand. He breaks into a cold sweat as a scene from his past takes over his last shred of self-control and he’s back in the POW camp. In his mind, the man who tortured him looks just like Everex. I have to escape! his inner voice cries out.
Blackwood bolts from his quarters and across the parade ground, oblivious to the salutes and voices as he passes through his troops and breaks into a desperate run down a well-worn path through the woods.
How far he ran or where he went he can’t remember, but Blackwood finds himself stumbling through the brush behind his cabin. His uniform is ripped to shreds and soaked with sweat. He feels like he’s just awoke from a nightmare, as he staggers up the steps and opens the door of his cabin.
He is suddenly frozen with shock when he sees Everex leaning back in his chair, feet propped on his desk, and a folded map in his hands. He stares slack-jawed at the demon from his nightmare.
Everex smiles, but it’s scorching. “You look like shit, Colonel. Better take a shower before you explain your plan to me.”
Blackwood glances at the closed door to the bathroom, a flood of horrible memories rushing through his mind again. He feels like he’s still fighting with his nightmare as he hesitantly approaches the door, expecting to find the mocking remnants of the grisly scene. He grabs the knob, holds his breath, and opens the door. He releases a great sigh of relief. The bathroom and tub are spotlessly clean and smell strongly of disinfectant. Without a backward glance at Everex, he steps into the bathroom and closes the door.
As he stands under the cold water, he realizes he must take command of the situation and show Everex he’s still in charge and a man to be reckoned with. He emerges from the bathroom twenty minutes later, completely naked. He glances at Everex, still leaning back in the chair.
“Get your damn feet off my desk!” Blackwood commands with renewed assurance as he turns and walks across the room to his dresser. As he grabs a pair of shorts from the drawer, he watches Everex in the mirror. When Everex doesn’t move, he turns and shoots him a menacing glare. To his relief, Everex slowly removes his feet. I’m still in command, Blackwood thinks with satisfaction as he continues to dress.
The clean uniform adds to his sense of command, and he feels full of confidence again. He strolls across the room and leans over the desk and maps. “Here’s what I want to do.”
***
11:30 P.M. INTERSTATE 90, IDAHO:
It’s a moonless night when the van pulls off the interstate at a truck stop and restaurant on the outskirts of a little town called Silverton. Identical to the rest of the twelve-person team inside the van, Blackwood is dressed in black pants and a black sweatshirt. He glances over at Everex, who has the same evil grin as when he dumped Conrad’s body in the bathtub.
Everex looks at Blackwood. “Now the fun begins, Colonel.”
Blackwood feels a chill run up his spine and looks away. The headlights of the van flick off as they approach the restaurant. Five civilian cars are parked in front of the glass windows, and he can see the sparsely filled tables and the waiter serving coffee to two tired looking men near the door.
The van drives past the restaurant into the parking lot behind, where several large tractor-trailer rigs are parked in parallel rows. The street lamps illuminate two fuel tankers, a refrigerated grocery carrier, and four freight carriers without markings.
According to plan, the van stops long enough for ten people to jump out, then it makes a U-turn and heads back onto the interstate. Everex and Blackwood run to the front door of the restaurant and wait while the other eight people run toward the trucks. Blackwood’s plan is to wait for each trucker to leave the restaurant and grab them as they enter their rig. He and Everex stand guard in case a highway patrol car happens to stop for coffee.
Suddenly Blackwood hears a diesel engine rev up. “What the hell’s going on?” he snarls at Everex.
“Change of plans, Colonel. We don’t have time to wait around.” Everex swings a backpack from his shoulders and reaches inside.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting them to sleep for a while,” Everex says as he removes two small metal canisters.
Before Blackwood can respond, Everex leans against the door to hold it open, pulls the pins on the canisters, and tosses them into the restaurant. The door swings closed, and Blackwood and Everex stare through the glass. The two canisters roll part way down the aisle between the counter and the tables, but don’t appear to be doing anything.
The server walks down the aisle and accidentally kicks one of them. The air in front of the closest canister instantly becomes distorted by the escaping gas. She bends over to pick it up and continues falling forward, sending her tray of dishes crashing to the floor. A tall man at the counter stands to help and collapses beside her. The other occupants turn and stare uncomprehendingly at the two bodies, and within seconds of each other, slump into their chairs or fall forward onto the tables and counters.
Blackwood feels a hand on his shoulder and looks at Everex, who is smiling.
“Let’s go, Colonel.”
Blackwood looks back into the restaurant. Are they just sleeping? A hand grabs his arm and spins him around.
“I said, let’s go!” Everex snarls.
Blackwood follows as Everex runs toward the trucks. More engines roar to life as the small squadron of men climb into the trucks and drive around the building, heading onto the interstate for the drive back to camp.
***
AOS CAMP:
Blackwood bolts upright in bed, his sheets soaked with sweat from the nightmare of his time in the POW compound and the torture from the camp’s commander. In his dream, the commander looks just like Everex.
Someone is knocking on his cabin door and he squints at the clock on the nightstand. 10:13 A.M. “Oh, shit!” he moans. Again, someone knocks. “Just a minute!” he hollers as he rolls out of bed and shuffles to the door. When he opens it, Everex is standing on the other side. Blackwood jumps back, stifling a scream of terror as he cowers against the wall.
Everex studies the Colonel for a moment. He isn’t sure what it is, but Blackwood seems scared to death of him. His once forceful composure and domineering attitude seem to be disappearing. Well, that’s fine with me.
Blackwood realizes it was a bad dream, but he isn’t dreaming now and knows from the grin on Everex’s face he’d better regain control of the situation. He draws himself up and steps in front of Everex. “What is it, Major?”
Everex waves a hand toward the parade ground. “A good night’s work, Colonel.”
Blackwood stares at the rows of trucks filling the area. “How many did we get?”
“Six have arrived and seven are still making their way here.”
Blackwood smiles. His army will survive. Then another thought occurs to him. “We’re going to need more room.”
“I’ve already thought of that. Several crews are clearing out sections of the forest. Just enough to drive the trucks through but keep them hidden from anyone flying over the area.”
Blackwood admits that even though Everex is sick in the head, he’s very clever. Maybe it wasn’t such a big mistake promoting him after all. “Very good, Major. Carry on.”
“When we have enough room in the forest, I’ll set up another raid on the truck stops.”
Blackwood stares at him. “Do we need more?”
“All we can get, Colonel. We’ll concentrate on fuel tankers next time. We’ll need fuel to keep the refrigerated trucks running. We don’t have enough room in our cold storage lockers.”
Blackwood smiles and closes the door. Yes, he thinks as he walks toward the bathroom. Promoting Everex was a very good idea, indeed.