“We did a background search to make sure you were really in the army like you said. You checked out okay.” He sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. “What’re you running from, corporal?”
“What makes you think I’m running from something?”
“Hell, everyone’s running from something.”
“Guess you’re right, General Hak. I joined the army to get away from West Virginia. When the army let me down, I ran away from everything.”
“How’d the army let you down?”
She told him about going to Iraq, her enthusiasm for army life, and how her career hopes were dashed when she was attacked and the army not only didn’t protect her, but punished her with a discharge. She didn’t have to fake the emotion in her voice when she related how she had retreated to the desert isolation of southern Arizona, and how she went aimlessly on the road after her house caught fire and burned down.
The general’s features hardened. “Every one of those bums who dishonored you would have been shot under my command.” He sat forward in his chair. “Sorry to hear about your house. Probably some damned illegal Mexican torched it.”
That set him off, and for the next half hour Sutherland sat at the table and tried to feign a tacit approval as Kurtz displayed his warped version of reality. He weighed in against the objects of his ire one after the other. He talked about restoring the honor of the Kurtz name and fortune, which must have been a veiled reference to the failures of his playboy father. She heard echoes of her own paranoia in his ramblings, when she had raged against imagined forces that were out to get her. She almost felt sorry for the pathetic old man, but she reminded herself that he was unpredictable and dangerous. He reaffirmed this when he slammed his fist down on the table so hard it made Sutherland jump.
“The only thing that’s going to stop this great country from going down the drain is the militias. Are you ready to join us and make sure that doesn’t happen?”
Sutherland could only nod.
Kurtz’s manner changed completely. His thin lips widened in a broad smile.
He brought his hand to his chest. “I’ve got a bum ticker. Doctor says I could go any second. One foot in the grave the other on a banana peel. We need soldiers like you to carry on the cause when I’m gone. The militia movement’s had some hard times, and it’s up to folks like us to rejuvenate it. The government’s been cracking down, trumping up fake charges to get us in trouble with the law. We’ve been trying to bring the militias together, but all this takes money. You got any money, corporal?”
“A little, General Hak.”
He gave her an avuncular wink. “Just jerking your chain, corporal. What you’ve got is even more valuable. You’ve got military training and enthusiasm for the cause. You got the stomach for an intervention to help victims of the government?”
“I think so, sir.”
“Good enough. In the meantime we’re keeping a low visibility.” He furrowed his brow. “One other thing I’ve got to ask. You’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No, sir! I’ll take a polygraph test if necessary.”
“We caught you on camera yesterday. Why were you snooping around our gate?”
“I’m a trained soldier, General Hak. I was doing recon.”
He burst into laughter, stood up and extended his hand.
“That’s the kind of fighting spirit we need. You can stay here as long as you want. We’ll try you out. You’ll take our pledge. Most of the people are in the militia part-time, but we’ve got a small full-time cadre here at the base. You met a couple coming in. They’ll give you a tour of the camp, get you outfitted, go through some physical tests to see where you fit in. Mess is at sunset and it’s early to bed.”
She shook his hand.
“Thank you, sir. I was wondering about my motorcycle.”
“You’re free to leave any time, but we can’t have people constantly going in and out of the compound. Besides, it’s dangerous with the high voltage fence and the sentry dogs.”
He snapped off a salute. She did the same, but by then he had already turned and was striding back to the French doors.
As she stared at his back, she again remembered her father’s advice.
In for a dime, in for a dollar.
She tried to ignore the fact that Pop had lost his shirt at cards.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Rambo led the way to the quartermaster where she picked up a couple of uniforms then to the barracks to drop off her bag and change. The man’s camouflage uniform was too big, but she cinched the belt tight round her waist and rolled up the sleeves and pants. They rejoined Kurtz who proudly showed off the refurbished barracks, mess hall and the auditorium where he gave his pep-talks. Sutherland nodded like a bobble head doll, but she was more interested in the surrounding territory.
The camp was on several acres of rolling land at the base of a mountain. It was surrounded by forest that covered the lower slope of the mountain, rising to the bottom of a sheer rock face that soared up to the summit. Kurtz saw her looking at the road into the woods and said it led to the old copper mines scattered around the slopes of the mountain.
He ended the tour and dropped her off at the obstacle course which is where she met her trainer. The athletic woman was in uniform and her short blond hair was tucked under a drill sergeant cap.
“I’m Sergeant Paine, corporal, and my name is what I am,” she said in introduction. She gave Sutherland a once-over, shook her head, and said: “Let’s see what you are made of.”
She started off with push-ups, prisoner squats, jumping jacks and planks, then Sutherland ran through the obstacle course. After she crossed the finish line, doubled over from exhaustion, Paine escorted her back to the women’s barracks, told her to shower and report to the mess hall. After dinner there was a training film in the auditorium. Then it was bed time. Sutherland drifted off the moment her head hit the pillow.
A sharp-edged blast of a bugle playing reveille roused Sutherland from a sound sleep. She sat up in her cot and stared bleary-eyed out the barracks window, wondering what fool would be tooting a horn in the middle of the night. Then a woman’s voice barked over the loudspeaker:
“Rise and shine, grunts!” Sergeant Paine said. “Time to stretch!”
The strains of the Washington Post March blared over the PA system. Sutherland put her head under the pillow which failed to muffle the rousing beat of the John Philip Sousa composition.
She sat up again and glared at the wall speaker as if she could melt it with her eyes.
There was a pounding on the door and Paine shouted, “Five minutes, Corporal Sutherland.”
She pushed away the blanket and got to her feet. She was only wearing her underwear and the crisp air in the unheated barracks raised goose-bumps on her pale white skin. She got into uniform and pulled on her boots, jacket and floppy hat. Her basic training in the real army kicked into gear and she made up the cot to military standards without even thinking. Someone knocked once and the door swung open. Two people strode in. The man she called Rambo and Sergeant Paine who shouted, “Atten-shun!”
Sutherland stiffened her back, tucked her plump chin in and stared straight ahead, arms tight to her side.
The sergeant circled Sutherland, hands behind her back.
“Not bad for a newbie,” she said. “At ease.”
Sutherland relaxed, but kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.
“You’ve already met Captain Krause.” She put her face close to Sutherland’s. “We will be your teachers and your tormentors. When you leave here, you will have been transformed from your current sorry state into a hard-assed sonvofabitch who eats nails for breakfast.”