 
A Trucker's Tale

By Roddy J Dryer

Copyright 2012 by Roddy J Dryer

Smashwords Edition

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Introduction

Oh, come on. All you do is sit and steer.

How often is it the Professional Driver hears something like that? It's easy to admit most trades and professions are somewhat mysterious to those not directly involved, but it's also easy to admit most love to interject their opinions into things they deliberately intend to never know anything about. This is particularly true when it comes to positions and places they do not find attractive. And wow, does the position of truck driver catch some serious opinion slinging.

Yes, there are plenty of people who show their appreciation for the job and the sacrifices made by the unique people who can endure the job, but there are so many others who sneer and scoff. Those who show their appreciation understand the role of the trucker in the larger scheme of things, and they're also intelligent enough to recognize why the job (like virtually every job and ability) is harder than it looks.

Therein lies some of the challenge. From the outside, it's difficult to have an accurate idea of what it's like to spend the day in the seat of a tractor-trailer. More people than many realize they haven't the first idea of what it is the trucker is doing or even why. Most people seem to possess the wherewithal to recognize the how important the job is to the realm of commerce (although there are plenty who haven't the first clue), but the process itself remains inexplicable. It's funny to see the expressions on the faces of grown adults who first learn the driver lives in there, spends his nights in there, and doesn't go home every night to the comfort and love of family.

Sometimes even the Professional Drivers forget that a percentage of the pay is paid because of the sacrifice made and not just the labor. In other words, it has to be worth something or nobody would do it. But it doesn't seem to be worth as much as it used to; once upon a time, the trucker was the highest paying blue-collar trade out there. It's doubtful this is still the case. But the sacrifices are still there. This is a very lonely, isolating job, often leaving one to their own company most of the time. Sure, there are teams, but so many single drivers. Some have pets, some have volley balls with bloody hand prints, and many enjoy the company of imaginary friends. Many would sing the accolades for the invention of the satellite radio.

While this novel was written and intended for a broad audience, the professional truck driver has been my primary focus group from the start. I had every intention of writing this in a manner enjoyable by an intelligent readership from all walks of life, but I still viewed the drivers out there on their break (or driving, if this makes it to audiobook) as my most likely reading demographic. So, while this introduction can be read and enjoyed by all, I would like to dare take this opportunity to address the professional drivers directly. And, for those of you enjoying a different career choice, please join me within this introduction as it will provide some insight to the mysterious world of the professional driver.

One of my biggest motivators of writing this novel with us in mind is because I, just like all of you, see a lot of transformation and fundamental changes coming into this industry. We all see this going from the free-spirited and independent soul pursuing a career choice nestled nicely with the comfort of being one's own dog, to an ultra-controlled blue collar job with a number of government thumbs pressed firmly down on the back of the industry's neck. Once upon a time, this was where the modern day cowboy found his sense of peace, but alas, it appears the cowboy's place in the world is again shrouded in a miasma of doubt.

Just about everyone doing this job today, regardless of how long one's been doing it, has seen an ever-increasing diligence on the part of the government to rummage their dirty hands through this industry, and they've continually done so largely under the notion that it's all for public safety. While that may have been the primary motivator all that time ago, and this was certainly a commendable purpose, it is increasingly difficult to believe that anymore. Well, unless one substitutes the word _safety_ for _easy money_.

To be clear, there's nobody with a proper IQ who would ever assume safety should be compromised, particularly when it comes to the operation of a big truck. The truth of the matter is that there are virtually no small or minor mistakes with equipment that big and heavy, and it's just that simple. Safe and proper operation is not just vital, but the most efficient route offering the best mileage. There's never a good reason to allow a situation that could create or allow property damage or personal injury under any circumstances. Because of these facts, rules, regulations, standards and safe habits must be in place and exercised at all times.

But the philosophy that this industry is being driven by utter morons who need continual and pervasive supervision or else they'd somehow become a menace to civilized society is ridiculous at best, and largely built upon a foundation of mistruths and disingenuous rhetoric. Just about every driver out there knows that most incidents between eighteen-wheelers and four-wheelers are usually the result of the ignorance and lack of proper training on the part of the one driving the four-wheeler. But what do the reports demonstrate? What do the statistics show? The big truck almost always takes the blame, and often because of the attitude of the professional driver's training which was supposed to prevent the incident from occurring. In fact, this training prevents an untold amount of accidents and tragedies, but there's no statistic for that.

Then, when there is an incident with a big truck and that professional driver is truly at fault, these occurrences are nearly always newsworthy. We've all heard several horrifying stories of people being hurt and killed, families torn apart or lost entirely, and monetary costs skyrocketing. There is no way around the fact that the rules and laws must be in place to work towards the elimination of these occurrences. But, it appears that what we have is just more confusion and chaos coming from those who want to control every aspect of the industry.

My argument is that their actions are not building stronger and safer ranks between the seat and the wheel, but quite the opposite. These invasive rules are only becoming more confusing and complex, and this is driving the better drivers out of the driver's seat. My concern is that eventually this industry will go the same way the custodial and security industries have gone; from being manned by humble and hardworking, honest people to being manned by those who don't have the desire or ability to do anything else. If they keep this up, the roadways will become more hazardous instead of safer, mainly because those with the wherewithal to do it right won't put themselves through it anymore.

I could go on for pages about my concerns for the industry, so rather than do that, I went on for pages with a positive story and with making a driver a hero. Heaven knows we need a hero in this industry. Presently, we have hoards of good people within the rank and file who are at their wit's end over what's being done by innumerable control freaks, most of whom could never negotiate a big truck out of a parking lot, let alone demonstrate a proper example.

So, to offer some definite morale and an example to attain by all good drivers, I have created Gunnar 'Brick' Brickendale. Brick is a career driver with a deep-seated and bottomless love for the job he does, and a firm understanding for how important it is to our society's way of life. We've all seen the bumper sticker reading _without trucks America stops_ , and this rings so true. What's far truer is that these trucks must, must, must be driven by the best of us, not the least of us.

For far too long have we drivers endured the sneers and scoffs on the part of our society, stating that truckers are nothing more than dirty, grimy loners with a profound disability to do anything else. We put up with endless rudeness and disrespect on the part of just about everyone we deal with, and far too often from those we work for.

But, (and this is vital, my friends) we must recognize that their attacks on our character is not a reflection of our character, but theirs. While this is not often a backbreaking job, it certainly has more challenges than most could shake a stick at. Being stuck in a sedentary position (that seat) for hours at a time demands incredible stamina if one is to remain focused and safety conscious. Then, one must have a high degree of understanding of the rules of the road, the variant rules from state to state, and the mechanical function of our equipment, including that equipment's limitations.

Further, the driver must have a premium work ethic. This is not a job where one can wake up feeling lazy and call in sick. The demands never stop and the rush never ceases.

I felt it compelling to write a story about a professional driver and his tale because of all the continuous concerns and complaints we all hear daily while on the CB or at the truck stop. We cope with jerks, the weather, and the consistent gauntlets known as inspection stations and weigh stations, and constant questioning of our intent and honesty when something goes wrong or goes beyond our control.

We're supposed to be the captains of that eighteen-wheel ship, yet the respect we receive often comes down to so many places where we're not even allowed to use the restroom. I have heard and read stories of drivers suffering immense sickness yet only to find real help as difficult to find as the whereabouts of Bigfoot. A major irritant for most of us is the inability of the industry to place accountability on the shippers, who load heavy and then bully a driver to move on. A simple fact is that if shippers were held accountable for the proper and legal weight of a load, the loads would never, ever be overweight. I can't see how that's anything but common sense and I thank those shippers who take the time to understand this.

Oh, how about having to meet a ridiculously tight appointment time, just to wait nearly all day to get loaded or unloaded? But I'm griping...

_A Trucker's Tale_ is a story about one of our best. Brick is a courageous and honest man with the true desire to be the best at what he does. But, the difference between Brick and most of us is that he is recognized for his actions and efforts. How's that for 'jumping the shark' in the realm of literary drama?

My intent was to write an entertaining and enjoyable read, but my hope and desire is to create an inspiring hero for all of us to find inspiring. After reading this story, I hope you find it in your heart and mind to look upon our profession as one of incredible service and importance, and aspire to attaining such a stance of pride. Soldiers have heroes. Police have heroes. There are heroes in just about every walk of life.

It's time the professional driver has a hero. I hope Gunnar Brickendale can be our hero.

Salutations and Dedications

First of all, this book is dedicated to my lovely wife, Mary, and my daughters, Sierra Jade and Margaret Evelyn. They are the reason I find a reason to bother doing anything at all, and they make the world a better place. I love all of you very much.

I would also like to dedicate this work to my father, Texas Jack King. He was a man who also knew the unique world of the Professional Driver, and found out the hard way that some roads in life are rougher and dustier than others. He was also well-loved by many and left this world a better person than he was when he came into it. If only everyone could make such a lofty claim.

This work is also dedicated to my colleagues, friends, and coworkers within Trucking and the Transportation Industry. Be safe and happy trails. May you profit from your work and dedication, and may the DOT end up in a ditch, contemplating a career in fast food.
Chapter One

The mid-afternoon sun shined bright onto open, dry roads, perfect for a load not too heavy or too light pulled along a highway as challenging as Donner Pass. Although the rig scaled out close to seventy-five thousand pounds, Gunnar Brickendale felt little more than the pure thrill of his new truck while hauling the load out of Sacramento, California, destined all the way to Binghamton, New York. He smiled while thinking the beast felt as though it could easily take on another fifty thousand pounds, it was so strong.

Damn, but these are some good miles, Gunnar thought. He was Brick to those who know him and his handle, and Brick knew he'd need plenty more runs like this in order to keep up the payments on this new Peterbilt 379. He felt the pride of achievement with each mile accomplished, as this was his first truly new truck. Sure, Brick's bought a few used trucks over the years, some of which were better than others, but this Pete was the first to be truly his own. It felt great to see the odometer start with so many zeroes rather than so high in the six figures like all the others. In fact, when Brick first saw it, he struggled to recall whether he'd ever seen an odometer read so low on any truck ever before. It felt marvelous to see it on a truck called his, and it felt like victory.

On a smaller scale, it felt victorious to hold a job where one could see and appreciate the scenery and weather, and this day was exceptional with blue skies and puffy clouds over gentle breezes blowing through the forests blanketing this region of the Sierra Mountains. So it seemed everything came together just right for Brick to enjoy a marvelous drive through the mountains, particularly when being paid to do it. Making his way as a professional driver since he left the military several years prior, a good drive makes a good day in Brick's way of life. Occasionally, he reminisces how his career choices are not just jobs but ways of life and he's always enjoyed that.

While moving east on I-80, Brick knew it was a big step harboring plenty of risk by buying the new Pete, but he measured the risk with the confidence he would pursue his future doing this well beyond the horizon. He's long since settled into the realization he would be a driver going forward, likely for life, so he knew he had to make such a future truly his own.

If there was one thing he admired since he started driving, it was some of the awesome trucks driven by successful Owner/Operators out there, enjoying their version of the American Dream. He occasionally fantasized about seeing a Cat Scale collector card featuring equipment with his name and picture on it. Early in his career, it felt right to leave the droning position of Company Driver behind to become an Independent. It wasn't that he had a specific problem with working for a company, but he developed a bad taste in his mouth with how some (hell, most) companies treat their drivers and how the gulch between driver and non-driver positions flows with the rubble of awkward imbroglios while the philosophies of what a proper position in life entails become increasingly unbridgeable. Thus, while a trucking company could never succeed without good drivers, a good driver can succeed without a company just fine.

Brick's done just that with one used truck after the next, each coming with their fair share of problems and compromises as he's moved from his first truck, which was a Western Star he purchased looking beaten up and ugly as hell but running like a champ. It wasn't easy to look at and a number of things on it that used to work long before he bought it didn't when he completed the sale, but it was truly his. When he crawled into the sleeper after a full day and another six hundred miles on the odometer, he felt he had a right to feel at home. The old Western Star smelled like someone else and their brand of cigarettes, though, so he mashed on the fuel with the intent to work towards something better. He knew there would be several used trucks between the Western Star and his new truck of choice, and there were, but that was just fine by Brick.

Now that he had the new truck, a stunning red Peterbilt pleading for the chrome shop and looking as though nobody ever owned it but him (although the bank truly owned more than eighty percent of it), he felt good in making himself at home. He had his personal choice of station playing on the satellite radio, and the cozy seat has never long known another ass but his. Brick's place in the annals of genuine success was still several more miles down the road, but he could see its lights brilliant in the sky as he pulled this load of Spiedie and picnic ingredients to the Binghamton area.

What with Spiedies (mainly just marinated pieces of shish-kebob meat) being such a major part of festivals and backyard barbecues in that neck of the woods, Brick felt his place in the world through contributing to the way of life in community after community. With a wagon full of Spiedie spices and a myriad of other things needed for the seasonal festivities, Brick figured there would be plenty of smiles widening when he arrived, even if they didn't recognize his place in the equation. As he crossed the border of California and Nevada, he knocked back the miles while Jimmy Buffett and friends kept him company via the radio.

Rolling down the steep downgrade, a seven percent decline if not more, he was impressed with how the truck felt at home with the hills even with this much weight. The hearty engine under the long-nose hood would surely bank up miles into the seven figures while traversing the American landscape and culture between that moment and the unforeseen future, and Brick considered the day the title would be in his hand and the truck would truly be his, even when the busload of screaming children passed him by on this steep grade going more than thirty miles per hour faster than he was, and he was allowing his confidence to press on his luck.

Brick's jaw fell slack as the bus sailed past him and his eye caught but a fraction of a second's worth of panicked expression on the face of the bus driver. What he then saw as the bus pulled away fast was the terrified expressions on the faces of several kids pressed to the windows, seeing what they could before their lives ended and they would see no more.

The bus was obviously out of control and Brick knew these roads enough to know a sharp curve wasn't far enough ahead that, at that speed, might bring the bus off the road and into calamity. He flipped off the jakes and mashed the fuel, not knowing what to do but knowing he had to do something. He accelerated more than he felt comfortable with, but he thought he at least needed to be there when the bus crashed so he could do what he could for any potential survivors. He wanted to call 911 but needed both hands on the wheel.

Brick's adrenaline amped up with the speed and RPMs on the dashboard, and if there was a gauge reading his adrenaline levels, it would be moving for the red. This absent gauge also indicated Brick needed to do more than just witness the crash and make an ugly call. If nothing else, he might be able to make eye contact with the bus driver and help prevent a tragedy before it occurs. A high hope, to be sure, but that bus was moving far faster than it should down a decline like this and he assumed the situation could get worse. On that assumption, he was correct.

The downgrade, Brick knew, had some way to go before it leveled out, and it appeared as though the bus driver had no other choice but to ride it out. He couldn't see anything obviously wrong but assumed a complete brake failure despite not seeing any smoke or smelling burning brakes as he caught up. He knew he was running out of time as the downgrade would soon veer right and the bus could be tires-up unless it decelerated a good twenty miles per hour, which didn't look likely. Brick geared up and stepped on it despite the notion he might have all eighteen wheels off the ground, too.

Just then, Brick felt concern for oncoming traffic lumbering up the grade, still as yet out of sight. The last thing he wanted to see was the bus run headlong into another vehicle and send the entire calamity into the unforgiving trees. He couldn't dare grab the phone and attempt to dial, but he grabbed the CB mike and said what was on his mind.

"If you got it on, watch for a bus coming in hot eastbound. If you can hear me, drivers, there's a crash in the making and a lot of kids on a school bus."

He let go of the mike and kept his foot on the fuel, creeping in close to the bus. Once he had less than a truck's length between them, he realized he could be a part of this craziness, making himself more of a menace rather than any help. He knew if that's how it went down, he would go down in history looking like an irresponsible idiot rather than a concerned citizen, and nobody would know the truth. Then just as he was about to step on the brakes and fall back, he spotted a runaway truck ramp blaze by.

"Damn, driver. You need to pull it into one of the runaway ramps," he said out loud.

This bus driver was likely just that- a bus driver used to lumbering along, never facing this sort of challenge. In fact, the bus driver is probably panicking and not seeing the option. From what he saw of this driver in the fraction of a second when they were nose-to-nose, he saw a frantic woman struggling to maintain what little control was left. Most truckers negotiating these slopes are used to seeing the runaway truck ramps, confident they never want to have to use one. Brick's talked to a few drivers who have seen trucks pushed into a runaway ramp and one driver who had to use one. That driver told a tale detailing how much it sucked, particularly with the laundry list of fines and violations after the authorities and tow truck arrived on the scene.

But the driver didn't bother leaving out how the alternative would have sucked a lot more.

Right at that moment, though, a runaway truck ramp seemed to be the only thing between the lives of those kids and a gruesome tale Brick never wanted to tell. So, one way or another, he wanted to get alongside the bus and try to communicate to the driver to take advantage of the next runaway ramp. He knew the ride would be rough, but it might be the difference between bumps and bruises and broken bodies and new tombstones. If there was anything positive about this, the runaway ramps were frequent along this stretch of road. There was still a chance of this ending less than tragically.

Thankfully the Pete had the power to get alongside the bus. Brick tried to get the driver's attention, but the driver was only focused on the dismal future. He waved and yanked the air horn but couldn't get her to look his way, even as they passed yet another runaway ramp that could have surely saved a lot of lives.

"Come on, driver," he yelled as he pulled on the air horn again. "You need to look at me!"

On the verge of panic himself, Brick had to accept the driver was out of her league with this. Hell, he couldn't think of any driver who would know what to do by now, including himself at this point. But he quickly realized he still had a chance to do something just as they rounded the bend enough to see another big truck just up ahead, with him and the bus taking up both lanes.

"Well, shit," he muttered.

Brick saw the only way out of this was either fall back and watch the horror show or push the Pete to get ahead of the bus. He might never know where the idea came from and whether it was heroic or stupid, but he decided to use his truck to make this happen the way he knew it should.

He geared up and moved ahead of the bus and then directly in front of it, bracing for the impact. As soon as he was in front of the bus, he flipped on the jakes and let off the fuel, easing back to the bus. He felt the bus bump into his trailer and he took tight hold of the wheel to maintain control. Once he had contact, he applied steady pressure to the brakes and quickly mopped the sweat from his eyes, praying he'd have enough stopping power to bring both his rig and the bus to a halt.

It took but a moment to realize if the downgrade wasn't so steep he might have been able to do just that. He also realized that despite the engineering expertise of Peterbilt, the brakes weren't enough to stop the truck and the loaded bus together. After all, the loaded bus had all those kids and its weight, and he scaled out close to seventy five grand.

Almost immediately, he felt the brakes fading and the smell of burning brakes and smoke came in with the scenery. With the upcoming promise of one hell of story to tell during dinner at any Iron Skillet, Brick felt this misadventure coming to an abrupt end as he spotted another runaway truck ramp coming into view just as he and his added freight passed by a Schneider truck and the stunned expression of its driver.

Just shy of enough time to consider how this stunt was going to ruin his day and surely cause plenty of damage to his brand new truck, a truck with less than fifteen thousand miles on it, Brick steered into the runaway truck ramp. He hoped the rough rock and the leveling of the downgrade combined with all of this weight would be enough to prevent the unnecessary loss of lives. It ought to, what with the sudden turbulence and loud crunching he immediately experienced upon hitting the ramp and all of its loose rock lining the distance before the heightened barrier rushing directly for him.

Although Brick had never enjoyed the privilege of tearing into a runaway truck ramp and all the legal ramifications, he quickly found it audacious, with virtually everything on the shelves and bunk behind him suddenly coming forward to see what was going on. The cacophony of displaced rock, gravel and two dozen tires plowing forward with what just might be fifty tons of metal, supplies and flesh was almost deafening, but the thing that really caught his attention was he incorrectly assumed he would come to a fast halt.

Upon entering the runaway truck ramp thinking this was the end of the road for this averted tragedy, Brick suddenly found himself bracing for impact after being wrong in thinking the loose rock would slow the impromptu train in a hurry. He actually felt a moment's concern of being bounced off the dashboard and steering wheel despite the seat belt, but instead only felt a rapid deceleration. However pronounced the deceleration was, he watched the end of the truck ramp approach quicker than he preferred, picturing in his mind the entire front of his truck plowing the chrome grill into the sloped end of the ramp.

While there was indeed a loss of speed, Brick felt certain this would come to a complete stop before reaching the end of the ramp mostly because he always assumed that was how it was supposed to be. But his prior assumption of things getting worse proved to be the correct one when he saw he was still doing better than thirty when the end of the ramp disappeared from sight below the top of the rattling hood. His mouth fell open as he witnessed his truck rush over the top of the truck ramp's end and catch some serious hang time as the nose of the Pete quickly angled down in a way he'd only seen on roller coasters, where screaming in panic was all part of the fun.

But this was far from entertaining and Brick noted how time seemed to slow down and go silent as the forest ground moved in closer and closer, and then came forward in a spray of debris, much like an ocean wave crashing on the rocks at high tide. Still silent and slowed, there was a sudden wash-up of debris within the cab as most of Brick's belongings joined the group in an effort to experience some aerial acrobatics and bounce around and off of Brick's body. Once the passenger side of the Pete's front end grabbed hold of solid ground, the entire truck sought that direction and, without a clear progression of time from flight to crash, Gunnar Brickendale found his perceptions of what should be next suspended until further notice, and then after feeling an abrupt thumping as his driver's seat and everything nearby in the cab bashed into him, things started getting dark.

Brick would reach the end of his days never remembering anything about the time his new truck toppled to its side and slid violently into the trees. He'd recall some fuzzy memories about a lot of forest debris when the windshields shattered, but in about thirty seconds after leaving the highway and entering the runaway truck ramp, there was nothing at all.

Chapter Two

The fact that there was nothing at all once the forestry of the Sierras brought a brusque end to Brick's otherwise very nice day didn't factor in at all once he regained consciousness. He wouldn't even know he didn't regain consciousness until four days after the incident until a nurse informed him of the fact late within the fourth day, when things started coming into place. What would factor in was, when he did come to and opened an eye allowing brilliant, sterile light through (the other eye was bandaged closed, and besides, the swelling wouldn't allow it to open, anyway), Brick experienced pain and confusion unlike any he's ever experienced before.

For a brief moment, he tried recalling a bachelor party or something similar from the night prior, but once he felt the extent of the pain and let out an audible moan, he looked around and saw an attractive but unknown woman approaching him. Noticing she was wearing a nurse's uniform brought back some memories regarding an adventure along Donner Pass.

"Good evening, Mr. Brickendale. I'm Marie Prado. I must ask that you relax and remain still for now, and we'll be able to answer any questions you might have very soon. I'm going to leave you for the moment so I can locate the doctor and let him know you're conscious, but I want you to know that you're going to be fine, okay? Please just remain calm and we'll be with you momentarily."

While Nurse Prado gave her motivational speech, he listened to her but tried taking in what he could from what was around him (he was clearly in a hospital room) and then recalled a rude introduction to a runaway truck ramp. Then, thinking of that brought back memories of several children on a bus...

"Oh, and just so you know, Mr. Brickendale, every one of the children who were on that bus are just fine. There were a few bumps and bruises and a lot of tears, but they are all just fine," Marie said. "I hope that eases your mind until the doctor and I return."

Between remembering the runaway ramp and then the busload of children, being told all of the kids were okay certainly did ease his mind. Consciousness and recollections brought in a lot regarding his adventure with the bus, the runaway ramp, and his beautiful Peterbilt.

"Damn it," he muttered. "My poor truck."

Brick remained still as requested, but he began a mental diagnostic of his body while laying there after the nurse left. It didn't take a lot to notice he could only see out of one eye and that prompted some concern for the other one, but everything in time. He attempted gauging what he could feel in his limbs but couldn't get an accurate reading past the pain after trying to move just a little bit. He could gauge well that he took quite a beating, likely aggravated by the fact that he was a truck driver. After all, drivers, who are forced to endure a lot of time sitting still and focused tend to get rather soft and loosely tied together. He might have felt differently if he went through this as a (younger) soldier and was in better shape, but at that moment he felt the depth of the impacts.

Fortunately, much in part because of his time and training as a soldier, Brick was a patient and thoughtful man. Rather than get antsy, resistant and angry, he knew enough to wait it out and trust in the situation. He also knew there was no real choice, since he could hardly move while recognizing his life has taken a major turn down some dusty, unknown road. But despite the patience, it wasn't easy to just lie there, broken and hurting all over, without wondering what the future may bring. So it was good to hear someone enter the room, hopefully with some solid answers with them.

"Hello, Mr. Brickendale," this balding and portly fellow said as he came into view. "My name is Dr. Merritt. I want you to know we expect you'll recover well and be just fine very soon, making a full recovery. You need to know you've experienced a serious accident and have numerous injuries as a result. You've suffered a concussion and have been unconscious for more than four days, but I think the worst is behind you in that regard. You've endured several other injuries, including some broken bones and significant soft tissue damage, but no internal injuries we've been able to detect. I'm rather sure you're probably sore as hell right now. But you're lucky in that we don't anticipate any complications, so I'm sure you'll be moving on with your life in a matter of weeks at the most. If someone has to go through with what you have, the way you did it was likely the best way, as this could have been so much worse."

Brick just looked at the man, who appeared old enough to have retired years ago and obviously had an affinity for good cooking, and took in what he said. He made a few mental notes while Dr. Merritt talked, but his mind touched on a few subjects elsewhere, such as how would he pursue his chosen career and take care of his responsibilities. Driving truck was the only thing he knew how to do, and to be honest, the only thing he wanted to do. He knew insurance and so forth would replace the truck (but at what cost?) but he knew there would be other issues, such as coping with the effervescent Department of Transportation and their streamlined methods at doing things.

Brick hoped Dr. Merritt's diagnosis of making a full recovery was accurate. He knew there were numerous drivers coping with high blood pressure, diabetes, sleep apnea and a slew of other maladies, and he's met plenty of drivers coping with former injuries. But Brick has long felt a sense of pride for having no issues or exceptions regarding his health. He does walk with a slight limp due to an old ankle injury and running can be difficult because of it, but it's never been enough of an issue to bring up. After all, he runs with the truck, not his feet. But this is more than an old ankle injury, so he couldn't help but to wonder how much of his life changed on that runaway truck ramp.

"So, if you can," Dr. Merritt said, "could you tell me how you're feeling?"

Brick discovered it wasn't easy to say anything, but he did assess he had all of his teeth and his jaw seemed in place. His face was sore and swollen and his depth perception was skewed due to only seeing out of the one eye, but he wasn't experiencing the perceptions some describe after enduring serious trauma. He hurt like all hell, but he didn't feel broken.

He worked his jaw a little and ran his tongue over dry and swollen lips, but managed to say, "I feel like I got my ass kicked. I don't feel like I can move much and I feel tied down, but I'm not noticing anything feeling out of place."

"Your left arm is broken, but the break is clean and should heal quickly. You've endured avulsion fractures in both femurs, which means there were breaks but the bones didn't break through. My greater concern at first was soft tissue damage and internal injuries, mainly because you turned your truck over and hit a tree. At least you had your seat belt on, or this conversation might be going differently, if at all. But even while restrained, what you experienced was very much like being a dice in a cup, and you suffered head trauma significant enough to knock you out for four days."

"Damn. Four days," Brick muttered.

"Yes, but somehow you escaped injuries serious enough to warrant complications. It's wonderful to be able to say you'll soon walk away from this with no permanent injuries. The biggest challenge will be coping with is the time it's going to take to heal."

Dr. Merritt smiled and said, "Here's some information that might help with the healing process, Mr. Brickendale. You might like to know your financial obligations regarding medical expenses are going to amount to around zero, if I understand things correctly. Also, while your truck was totaled and a complete loss, I'm told you'll see it paid for in full and replaced. Regarding everything we've talked about, the most important is you've saved a lot of lives. Really, my friend. What you did saved all the lives of those on that bus."

"Oh, yeah," Brick said. "So, how did that go and exactly what happened?"

"I honestly can say I only have a few sketchy details," Dr. Merritt said. "But I do know enough to know the bus didn't actually experience a complete brake failure. As bizarre as this sounds, the reason the bus didn't have braking power was because a bottle of some sort of sports drink got away from one of the kids and rolled under where the driver sat and then actually found its way under the brake pedal. The bottle wedged under the pedal in such a way that the bus driver couldn't see it and the pedal simply wouldn't depress."

"So, it was just a freak thing," Brick said.

"Yep. The children were out of Reno on a field trip and according to the bus driver, who vowed to never drive bus again, she saw ahead of them a curve she knew the bus wouldn't make at that speed without turning over," Dr. Merritt said. "If you had not done what you did the way you did and when, things would surely have been so much worse.

"So, the city of Reno intends to ensure all of your medical expenses are paid for, and the families of the children are doing what they can. In fact, people from all over the region are pitching in. You've gained a lot of fans, and I believe there is a prominent local businessman who will soon want your attention, but that's all I know."

Dr. Merritt continued. "I'm bringing these things up because I want you to know your life has not taken a turn for the worse, despite how you're feeling at the moment. You'll recover from this, but when you entered into that truck ramp you started a new chapter in your life. So, please try to relax and let your body heal, because once you're better, there will be a lot of kids who will want to see you, and plenty of others, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm just glad things turned out well," Brick said while trying to shift a little in the hopes of gaining at least some comfort. "But I didn't intend on doing anything heroic; I just couldn't let them get by and then watch it all go down. Mostly, I was just the guy there."

"Well, these things are never planned," Dr. Merritt said. "For now, Mr. Brickendale, you just need to take it easy."

"Everyone who knows me calls me Brick. Why is sort of obvious."

Dr. Merritt smiled and said, "Okay, Brick. These next few days are going to be uncomfortable since these injuries are still fresh and healing, but you've been showing signs of improvement since you arrived. I'll prescribe some medications to help with the pain. Oh, I can also tell you the city paid for and replaced your load, although no one around here knows what a Spiedie is."

"It ain't nothing but shish kebob meat marinated a certain way," Brick said. "I once knew someone from that neck of the woods, and they say they're great with some beer on a sunny afternoon."

"Okay. You just focus on getting better and out of here and everything else should fall into place," Dr. Merritt said.

Now in pain and tired despite how much sleep he's had over the past few days, Brick said, "I'll do it, doc. It looks like the only route I got."

Chapter Three

From what Brick could tell, Dr. Merritt's diagnosis about how the next several days would be uncomfortable was close to dead on, but the good doctor declined to mention how boring and irritating things would be. Because of the wounds and breaks knitting slowly at the cellular level, Brick couldn't really move much at all, so the days amounted to little more than eating and taking prescribed medications and really nothing else other than trying to end the day with a minimal loss of sanity.

Brick watched more TV over the span of days than he had in what likely amounted to the prior three years, confirming that despite the addition of four hundred and seventy three gazillion new channels, there were still only thirteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from. Well, to be fair, the History Channel kept his attention for a while as did a few of the other documentary and educational channels despite their penchant for assuming a voyeuristic view into a damned pawn shop would interest any living soul on this planet. Otherwise, most everything else available to watch seemed designed to transform the brain into a zucchini.

In time, Brick had to tip his hat to the good doctor, though, since by the time two weeks had gone by, Brick felt good enough to make a daring escape. He still had a broken arm to contend with and both of his legs at the thighs were miserable as hell, but by then the hospital was offering little more than a place to hang out with nurses to admire, food that truly was better than the common complaints, and enough physical therapy to help make the passing of days seem bearable. Honestly, if anything like a home wasn't actually on the other side of the country, he likely would have checked out by that point.

It had been quite some time since Brick maintained any sort of home. Being a truck driver who didn't require a long-term base since his divorce was finalized, he didn't even retain so much as a PO Box anymore. He's been divorced somewhere near ten years and it just so happens he and the ex seem to get along just fine. The ex is Brandi, and she doesn't mind the rare mail he receives to come to her home. They divorced quite amicably, mostly due to the loss of their bond as they knew one another less and less with each passing day.

They met when Brick was a young soldier stationed at Fort Stewart, nearby Savannah in Georgia. Brandi was born and raised in the Savannah area and always promised herself and family she would never get involved with a soldier, but this guy named Gunnar and known as Brick was the charmer and truly so decent. Their one child, Amanda, grew to be a darling young lady recently reaching her teens, but rather than becoming certifiable she demonstrated the signs of being quite the overachiever.

Brick considered remaining in the Army for the long haul, but his position in combat arms wasn't working well for the marriage he valued, what with him being in the field a lot, so he looked into a change of career fields with less time on maneuvers and actual career value for the future. The Army of before his time might have entertained such ambition, but not the one he attended. So despite all of what the Army offered, Brick couldn't see trying to pursue such a career with a family. He stepped out when his contractual time ended and looked forward to pursuing a future better for his family.

Unfortunately, this wasn't something as simple as they hoped it would be. Brick was born and raised in the Panama City, Florida area and anyone with the sense of roadkill knew there was no reason to return to there. They decided to remain in the Savannah area because it offered more opportunity, but the level of opportunity was relative. It truly was a matter of what opportunities were available to a young man whose level of educational diversity was limited to the blue collar mindset.

But Brick kept his eye on the ball and his feet on the ground in order to find what he hadn't found yet, but this wasn't helping the young marriage. Brandi was actually working and established while this guy she picked up and then hitched to had no job and didn't even know the lay of the land. Further, he didn't have much in terms of job skills outside of something requiring small arms fire. Brick went into the Army and combat arms directly after high school, translating into he was someone bringing very little to the table.

With both of them being quite young and full of dreams, it didn't help matters that she wanted it all and wanted it now resulting from starry eyes focused on the ideal tomorrow, angry that he didn't see the way there. Brick looked into construction at first, buildings and roads, but then through talking to someone he knew when he was in the service, he received an idea that changed the course of history.

"I know it isn't something filled with rainbows and unicorns, but there's good money in truck driving. You'll likely be away from home a lot, especially at first, but if you play your cards right and keep your eye on the ball, you might land a great job with great pay," his buddy told him. "I have several relatives who've done this for years, and while they all have their share of gripes, they enjoy it overall. They own their trucks and have solid, respectable businesses. The best thing about it is the demand is always high. Like it or not, a big reality in life is you succeed doing what everyone loves or doing what nobody else wants to do. So unless you can be a rock star, being a truck driver ain't a bad option."

The lights and groupies were clearly not in his cards, so he found a reputable driver training school that wasn't too expensive (some of these truck training schools are scummier than payday loan franchises, charging fortunes for a job they claim beats out the rock star fantasy) and never had a reason to look back. The work lined up as soon as his CDL was in his wallet.

"Brandi, this could really be the ticket for us," he'd told her, feeling hopeful while hoping to see the hope in her pretty eyes. "I know I won't be home much at first, but good, steady pay will be rolling in and doors are sure to open up."

"Yeah, we'll see," was the common flavor of her responses, and it seemed that once she started drifting from him, the momentum was insurmountable.

Brick first hoped that if he gave her the space while bringing home some enticing bacon, she might come around to his way of thinking and see he was sincere. And the thing of it was, Brick really found a place for himself in truck driving. It felt really good and, like Brandi and Amanda, he couldn't help but to wonder where it had been all of his life.

Well, it all looked good on the drawing board.

The drawing board was wiped clean and all plans were replaced with those regarding divorce proceedings and custody. After a quick, civilized divorce despite the issue of custody (Brick allowed Brandi virtually anything she wanted because he swore he'd honor everything and Brandi was confident in that, so she didn't ask for anything unreasonable), Brandi quickly fell into a whirlwind romance with who was supposed to be the best of the best of all men.

Well, he was supposed to, anyway, according to the brochure. He was charming, very charismatic, and money somehow rained down all around him wherever he went, making Brandi think she found the catch of the century. She was concerned he might see her as a woman saddled down because of Amanda, but the two of them got along sweetly and always did. But if he was the best of the best and loved a little girl not biologically his, then why couldn't the woman in his life be the only one? It seemed one severe weakness he endured was he loved all women who appreciated his charms.

Brandi caught her second husband with his pants down far too many times and put a stop to things before they ended up getting worse than they were. Seeing her precious Mandy, she saw the child's honest father in those eyes and found comfort in crying on his shoulder during the rare times he was around, and when he was, he doted on his daughter as best he could.

So, things have a way of working out, even if it's with a method nobody planned. When Brick wanted to take some time off the road and spend it with Amanda, he'd park the truck at the Love's Travel Center in Richmond Hill, Georgia and the three of them would team up while he was home. Brandi did date now and then while Brick was gone and he was free to do the same (yeah, right. As a driver...), but for her it just wasn't clicking. So, since it seemed there was no hopeful to take his place while he was gone, she looked forward to when he came home, and little Amanda would have her family together.

Brandi eventually landed this marvelous Human Resources position with a good company and was soon making a profitable income, so with that along with what Brick sent (he always paid his child support and sent extra funds when he could), things could have been worse. Brandi didn't have the idyllic life she hoped for when she was a young girl, but she knew she had it better than okay. Well, not much better than okay since she endured bouts of loneliness and beat herself up for cutting Brick loose too soon, but okay nonetheless.

For Brick, the passing of space and time confirmed that life on the road was good for him. There was an enormous place in his heart missing his daughter and wishing things had gone differently between Brandi and him, but it was what it was, as they say, and could be far worse. Dear God, but he knew many people whose failed marriages were a scourge replete with misery and terror. A small place in him wished he'd found trucking before he found Brandi, but memories of Amanda cancelled such fantasies quickly.

Life for Amanda seemed to favor her, as she does well in just about everything she pursues. For many people, it seems childhood is some rite of passage people must endure until life truly begins, but Amanda found an honest effort and simple focus made life good for her, and her parents couldn't be more proud. So, Brandi found her life focused on her daughter and her promising future, determined to ensure her transition into adulthood and independence illuminated rather than snuffed out her dreams.

Once Amanda (she reached an age where the nickname Mandy was too unsuitable for her) was officially in her teens, Brick wanted to be closer and around more often during these challenging times, so he worked to minimize how much he drove beyond the Southeast region. It was rare for him to venture north of Virginia, and exceedingly rare to cross the Mississippi.

But the Sacramento run came by him and the pay for the run was too enticing to turn down. It was easy to find a run taking him out there and everything seemed silky smooth, with intentions to head south right after delivery in Binghamton. The pay was nice and the simplicity of things even nicer, and since Brick hadn't been out that way in a while, it even felt some like a paid vacation.

Well, it all looked good on the drawing board.

Brick went through four days of unconsciousness and then several days of recovery with Brandi and Amanda having no idea what occurred. With him doing what he does, several days and sometimes more time than that passing by with no communication is rare but not unheard of. Things get to where Brandi is working, Brick is driving long and steady, and Amanda has her hands full with getting through her responsibilities. Everyone's busy and thinking everyone else is busier yet.

But Amanda tried calling her father a few times, to no avail, and soon grew concerned. She left several messages that went unacknowledged.

"Mom, I've called him several times and I can't get him on the phone or to even answer the messages I've left," Amanda said. "I'm getting a little worried about him."

"Well, I'm sure he's just wrapped up in something and whatever it is has him losing track of time," Brandi said, wanting to believe it.

Brandi's assumption was curiously accurate.

If Brandi was one to make time for the news, she would have known what occurred well before she actually found out. Brandi was at her desk and working through some payroll information that went awry due to some clerical error. Paychecks were to be cut and disseminated later that day, so if this wasn't corrected, virtually every employee's pay (except those on salary) wouldn't receive their pay until the next day at the earliest. Anyone with the sense of an armadillo would recognize such BS would go over like a lead balloon. The employees (known as associates here in order to dupe them into thinking they're more than mere employees, without success) did their jobs well, met demands when required, tolerated authoritive egos and bureaucratic bullshit, and produced results often better than requested. They would allow no excuse for the cubicle dwellers to screw things up to the point where paychecks were delayed.

So, Brandi worked at her desk through her lunch despite the company policy specifically notating such practices were highly discouraged. It's a slippery slope, it was indicated, because once it becomes a habit, it becomes expected. But it wasn't a habit with Brandi and this time was intent on avoiding a riot, and besides, Brandi was confident she could rectify the matter in time to make it look as though it never happened. What's one day missing eating in the boring and poorly lit break room when she could prove to be the hero and save the day?

Brandi felt as though she was in the zone while eliminating the errors causing the problems when her supervisor Pamela Mosteller leaned near her desk and asked, "How are things coming, Brandi?"

"I think it'll be just fine, Pam. I just need to stick to it until it's done."

"Yeah, okay," Pam said, looking pensive. "I do hate to bother you with something personal when you're so busy, but am I right that your ex's name is Gunnar Brickendale?"

Brandi stopped what she was doing and looked straight at Pam. "Yes, he's my ex-husband. Why?"

After about forty five seconds of Pam explaining what she saw on the news, Brandi was explaining to Pam exactly what she needed to do in order to ensure payroll's situation would be as good as if nothing went wrong. Yes, just do that and that, but he's my daughter's father and I need to go.

As she was making her way out, she turned and said, "If you have any problems with any of that, please don't hesitate to call me. But if this was serious enough to make the national news, I need to find out why."

"If it helps, judging by what I heard before I came down here, most of this sounds like it's good news," Pam said as she took Brandi's seat. "They said he got hurt, but saved a bunch of kids on a bus and is supposed to be okay."

"Thanks, Pam. But I may need to go to where he is, even if that's the case. He's my daughter's dad and the source of child support. Besides, he's a good man."

Pam waved her on and said, "You do what you need to do. Just let me know."

As she walked out to her car, Brandi ran through her head what she needed to do, and was subtly surprised by the heaviness on her heart. Hearing he might be okay was one thing, but hearing he was hurt caused her more pain than she would've first assumed.

The fact that the incident made the national news was why the local Reno affiliates jumped into the story with both feet. After all, this was a positive news story complete with a hero and a happy ending, so it makes for some feel-good news, which was newsworthy in its own right. Reno has long been known as a place that's plenty of fun, but also the sort of place to feel an economic crunch right to the bone. They need a story placing Reno on the map within the hearts and minds of the world.

Nobody could blame the media for hounding onto the story, but Brick felt hesitant in getting involved any more than he has to. He really desired to be left alone until he was a bit better, at least, but he really was not looking forward to the spotlight. Marie Prado offered him a different perspective to consider.

"I don't blame you for not wanting the attention, Brick," she said as she changed some bandaging. "But look at this from another point of view. This sort of thing is very much their business; it's exactly what they do and why they're there. Then there's the fact this had so much drama along with a happy ending. The newsies would have been happy to report the bus and everyone on it going up in flames, but this is so much of a better story. And hey, everyone loves a hero."

He moved, painfully, trying to ease some of the discomfort. "I don't feel much like any hero."

"Now, I know you don't feel like a hero. Nobody ever does, regardless of what they did. They're always doing what anyone else would have done. But you did it, and because you're a professional driver, you knew what to do with a bad situation on the road."

While taping what she had of the bandaging, she continued. "Look at it another way. In my family, there are a handful of truck drivers. I have uncles and cousins doing it, and my father even did it at one point in time. Anyway, if there's one common complaint I've heard, especially when you get them together, is they say truck drivers don't get much in the way of appreciation. It seems there just isn't much respect for the trade."

"That's just something you get used to," Brick said. "Nobody likes those big trucks in their way on the road, and where the trucks are going see trucks in and out all day, with most drivers wanting out as soon as they get there. But I'm guessing you're saying this is a way to bring some of the love back to the drivers."

She nodded and said, "Yeah, because this shows drivers being something other than what most people think they are. So, I think you should let someone from the media in to get their story. Just answer a few questions and maybe let them see what you're doing in physical therapy. Also, you need to let the town show their gratitude for what you've done.

"Brick, you saved the lives of numerous children. Children in this town. If you hadn't placed yourself in harm's way, so many of those children might have died. They're not going to just hand you fifty dollars in chips and say, 'thanks a bunch'. Ask yourself how you would feel if it was your child on that bus?"

Brick nodded his understanding. He'd always understood the point, but it wasn't easy to set aside the humility and accept what was about to flood in.

Wow, but did it flood in. At first it was a single reporter along with a guy carrying one of those enormous cameras, asking questions and doing their best to lead him in the direction they wanted to the story to go.

"What went through your mind when you realized you had to do something to save the lives of those children?"

"What's the last thing you remembered from that fateful day?"

"Were you frightened, or did your heroic determination rise above in order to prevent what was sure to be a horrific tragedy?"

"Do you plan to ever drive truck again?"

The questions were asked and Brick answered them while the camera rolled. "Oh, yeah. I have every intention on driving again. I wouldn't know what else to do."

Before long, though, the newsies and their people came from bigger and bigger news organizations. There was Fox, CNN, MSNBC, and others sending their troupes, all mostly with the same questions. A couple different morning talk shows sent their people for televised interviews. But it was GMA that sent their celebrities with a very pleasant surprise.

The cameras were there while most of the celebrity hosts were in New York, with the thing being live (and very early).

"While most have heard the amazing story regarding Gunnar Brickendale, whose handle, or nickname, is Brick, this morning we're getting a rare opportunity to check in on Brick while he's still recovering in the Walter Gordon Powell Memorial Hospital, in Reno, Nevada. How are things coming along, Brick?"

"They're coming along just fine, thank you. I'm in real good hands here, so I should be back in the saddle again in no time."

"That's great. So tell me, how does it feel knowing you've done something so wonderful for so many children and their families?"

"I'm just glad everyone came through okay."

"I would say so, with so few stories having such a positive aspect. For the few viewers who might have yet to know what's happened, would you give us a recount of what happened, in your own words?"

This was the part Brick hated about the whole thing. He already had a basic idea of what the questions would be and he was informed by those with him what they were looking for in his story. But he still tried to tell the tale as he knew it, from the moment the bus passed him to his last memory along the runaway truck ramp.

"That's such an amazing story, Brick. I can't help but to imagine it feels wonderful knowing you a part of those families' being ensured they would see their children home again, and doing well. And since you have a daughter of your own, does all of this have you missing your family, too?"

"I miss my daughter terribly whenever I'm out on the road, whether I'm in the hospital or just at the truck stop," he said, meaning it.

"We thought you might say something like that. Well, everyone knows the value of children and human life to you, so we felt it seemed right you should have the proper company. Amanda, would you please come in?"

Brick was truly surprised when he saw a tearful Amanda enter the room. The genuine nature of his surprise showed right away as his calm demeanor gave way to overwhelming emotion when Amanda rushed to him with a heartfelt hug.

"Hi, Daddy," she cried.

"Oh, God. Hey there, baby," he said as the tears welled.

The filming crew made sure they caught the entire scene, of course, and all viewers were given an emotional surge within this feel-good story. After allowing father and daughter their moment, the interview continued.

"Hi there, Amanda."

"Hello," she said as she wiped at the tears.

"We can't help but to imagine you must be so proud of your Dad and glad to see him doing okay. How have you been doing through all of this?"

"I've been worried but okay. Honestly, we found out about all of this much later than most everyone else," Amanda said. "After all, we're used to going several days or longer without hearing from one another. I tried calling a few times and when I didn't get an answer, I was worried, but figured things were just busy on the road. His phone was destroyed during the crash so there were no emergency phone numbers to contact. It was my Mom who heard about it through coworkers, who heard the news report."

"Wow. I imagine you must have been worried until you knew for sure he was okay, is that right?"

"When I first heard he was in a serious accident, I was scared to pieces. But when we found out what he did and then heard he was going to be okay, I was able to cope with it a lot better."

"That's really fantastic. Well, we're going to allow you two to get caught up, but we'd like to check in now and then to check on your progress. Would that be okay with you, Brick?"

He wiped his eyes and said, "I'll look forward to it." He didn't really mean it at all.

Once the cameras stopped rolling and they were off the air, he looked to his daughter and said, "So, what brings you out this way?"

In the Reno area, there was one person in particular who had a deep interest in seeing Brick back on his feet and behind the wheel. While this Gunnar Brickendale consumed a great deal of time on the news, locally and nationally, bringing the country a heartwarming story rather than another tragedy replete with inhumanity and outrage ( a blessed change over hearing of yet another monster killing a child), Allen Kelly kept a close eye on the coverage and how things progressed. Allen pushed the right buttons and contacted the right people, wanting to know as much as he could about this heroic driver known as Brick.

Thus far, the information he gained made him smile.

Allen Kelly is a prominent businessman who spent nearly all of his life living in the Reno area. He began in his chosen field as a young man developing his business interests in the Reno area as it grew, and he grew with it. But rather than remain focused on this little patch in the desert of Nevada, Kelly developed a string of businesses focused on construction and development from many aspects within those industries. He began with having great strides through developing a small construction supply business in Reno during a time when expansion was booming, and before long he was supplying equipment and materials across several states west of the Mississippi, and later enjoyed some expansion all the way to the east coast. Thus, Melioration Industrial Supplies was a success.

Over several years, Allen developed strong business relationships with drywall, brick and block along with other cement and concrete products, lumber, tools and equipment, and the list continued growing over time. Then, in order to tie it all together as business grew, he decided to create his own transportation and logistics business virtually from the ground up. Melioration Logistics developed from transporting his primary business products and soon became a vital aspect of his empire. Kelly grew used to a fine American lifestyle thanks to his business success, and because Melioration Logistics, eventually nicknamed ML Trucking, became the common denominator helping connect so many of the business dots, it became a favorite aspect of the Melioration empire.

Then there was the fact he had family on that bus.

Allen's sister, Andrea, had two grandchildren on that bus. While Allen had to admit he didn't know Cole or Michaela closely, they were still family and that meant a great deal to him. The only other thing meaning nearly as much to him was his love for his country. He truly valued his family but felt so much gratitude that this world had the United States of America.

He loved his country at least as much as he did his family overall, and the scenario surrounding this heroic truck driver has been largely orchestrated by him, albeit rather quietly. When the incident first made the news, the first thing he wanted to know was the extent of deaths and injuries. He was quite relieved to know there were no deaths, particularly when the incident involved so many children, and even more so when he discovered it included children in his family. And when he learned the one who suffered the most extensive injuries was the one who prevented the tragedy, he wanted to know so much more. That's when he took the time to learn all he could about Gunnar Brickendale.

He discovered Brickendale was an Honorably Discharged veteran who turned to truck driving as a career, and was widely reported to be a decent and quiet man. As a result, Allen quickly wrote checks paying for whatever fallout occurred, such as the loss of the load and repairs to the runaway truck ramp, as well as the replacement of the trailer. Upon further investigation, Allen learned Brickendale's totaled truck was quite new and barely owned, so it didn't take much consideration for Allen to approach the bank with the payoff of the truck and then go to Peterbilt with the desire for a prompt replacement. Peterbilt's name was a big part of the story, so they were more than happy to bite a few coins to help replace the truck and help out a hero.

With so much of the financial fallout settled and the city of Reno covering a significant portion of Brickendale's medical costs (donations were pouring in, as well), Allen just had to wait for the recuperation to run its course. From there, Allen really, really desired to bring Brickendale into the Melioration Logistics fold, making the man an active part in what he desired to do in order to bring this country back to what he knew it should be.

Judging from what he saw in the various interviews, Brickendale should soon be able to leave the hospital and revitalize his life. It almost looked as if the hospital was holding onto Brickendale for the media attention, but he knew far more about his own lines of business than he ever learned about medicine. Nevertheless, Allen had been actively working with city officials, preparing a hero's welcome as well as the keys to the city to be handed over on a silver platter to the man who made history.

He intended the festivities to outdo a major parade, with a grand celebration and special offerings to the Brickendale family, particularly offers Brickendale would find too enticing to refuse. After all, Allen Kelly had history making in mind that would change the lives of the Brickendale family, and everyone else's, forever.

"Well, Brick," Dr. Merritt said. "I know you've become accustomed to our brand of hospitality, but how would you feel if I said you should be well enough to check out of here?"

"I'd say I concur with your diagnosis, doctor," Brick said with a wink.

Dr. Merritt smiled and said, "Your healing has been extraordinary and your response to physical therapy has been marvelous. I still recommend you work with the walker for at least another week or so, and then you should be able to graduate to a cane until you feel you can go without that. But overall, I'll let you work that out as you know your strength better than anyone."

"I really appreciate everything everyone here has done for me," Brick said, meaning it. "I feel like a new man thanks to your expertise."

"It's been a pleasure having you here," Dr. Merritt said. "Keep in mind that it'll likely be a while longer before you'll be able to get back behind the wheel, but just a while longer. Until then, I have no doubt the city of Reno will demand to meet any of your needs. They want to show their debt of gratitude, so you should be kind enough to allow it. Those are doctor's orders."
Chapter Four

Things moved at a whirlwind pace for Brick once he left the hospital, with virtually every aspect of Reno and the neighboring town of Sparks opening their hearts and doors. While the city didn't actually create a parade, an impromptu one developed when the family and he traversed the city streets, with the Mayor no less, in his limousine. Following the mayor's limo was the standard entourage, but soon there was a convoy of cars mostly occupied by the families of the children who were onboard the rescued bus, along with several people working the details as desired by Allen Kelly.

They were on their way to the fairgrounds near Sparks, where the children and their families would express their feelings and the city planned to present awards. But before they even went that far, people poured into the streets in order to wave to and root for Brick, and several businesses and casinos posted signs saying the Brickendale family was family at their establishment. Restaurants offered free meals, hotels offered free suites, and just about every tourist location made it clear the Brickendales could leave their wallets in their pocket.

The fairgrounds and a lot of infrastructure were provided by the cities, but most of the refreshments and other niceties were provided by Melioration Industries. It helped that a few of Kelly's people were able to talk to Brandi and Amanda while away from Brick in order to gather some pertinent information.

"Since we really want to make this a special, one-of-a-kind celebration, we'd like to know a few things. What sort of food might he desire to see at the celebration? Does he have a liking for a particular atmosphere, and does he have a favorite sort of music or band?" they asked along with several other questions.

Brandi was reticent in getting too actively involved, but Amanda was more than happy with jumping into the fray with both feet. She was quite comfortable with offering any thoughts coming to mind that might make this as special for her father as possible. As a result, the fairgrounds were set up rather casually, resembling an enormous barbecue with numerous beer and refreshment tents as well as some of Brick's favorite songs playing all around. Amanda mentioned a particular artist her father deemed a big favorite, and Kelly's people made strides to reach this artist, who stated he'd be honored to be a part of the celebration.

The procession of cars moved around the area slowly as everyone there cheered for Brick's arrival, which had him overwhelmed. Being a truck driver, the treatment he often received upon arrival was diametrically opposite of what he saw there. He was used to being virtually invisible to most and certainly not given much in terms of respectful attention, so being under such a bright spotlight was not his life's norm.

"Let's be honest here, Brick," a Kelly assistant told Brick before the festivities were under way. "Nobody's really used to something like this; the trick is to take it in stride. If it helps, look at this as though it isn't really about you, because in many ways it isn't. You did what you did and these people want to show their appreciation. The best advice, based on what's been said by others in this center of attention, is simply relax and enjoy the moment. Approach it with simple good humor. The more you accept what everyone has to offer, the more they'll feel appreciated for you doing so. Captain Sully went through it, and he quickly went back to his normal life. Besides, it'll be a lot of fun."

Once the limousine stopped and it was time to face the crowd, that was when Brick suddenly felt the stage fright. That's when Amanda took over and said, "Okay, Dad. Get out of the car and do your thing. If I remember correctly, you're the one who told me that if you're going to do something, you need to do it right or don't do it at all. So, you either need to get out and be the gracious host or you can slink to the floor and we'll bring you back to your hospital bed, which you can hide under for the rest of the day."

He looked at her wide-eyed and said, "That's my big choice?"

"I guess she takes after me more than I first thought," Brandi said with a smile.

"I'm suddenly realizing I'll be more comfortable out there," he said as he grabbed his cane and opened the door.

The crowd cheered wildly as he opened the door and he looked out to those looking in. Brick had to stifle a laugh as the scene reminded him of Willie Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, with Wonka gimping slowly to the fascinated crowd. However, Brick had no intention of impressing anyone with somersaults and clowning around. He hoped they'd be cool with humble waves and a genuine smile.

They were that. Then suddenly, he was rushed (largely for the benefit of the cameras) by the kids who were on the bus. They quickly yet politely surrounded him once he was out of the limo, looking up to him while giving their emotional thanks with bright smiles. He even recognized a couple of them, remembering when they stared out the bus's back window, terrified. This greeting was yet another one of those things he didn't know about and found it to be a touching gesture.

"Hi, Mr. Brick. My name is Amy and I was on the bus. I remember being really scared, but I also remember seeing you drive your big truck ahead of us to save us."

Little Amy had genuine emotion in her eyes when she said, "I wasn't so scared when the bus stopped and we were okay, but we saw your truck on its side and never got to see you get out. When we found out you were the one hurt the worst, that's when I cried the most."

Every one of the kids gave him their personal story and wanted a photo taken with him, and nearly a full hour was spent with Brick meeting the children while also meeting grateful parents, receiving numerous hugs and shaking even more hands. The moment set the mood for the remainder of the day, which would prove to be delightful. In fact, Brick would live out the rest of his days appreciating this the most out of all the day's experiences, humbly feeling immense gratitude for whoever saw to such an informal start to the party.

After meeting the children and their families, with everything caught by the cameras, they finally made it to the stage, complete with a red-curtained background, where Brick moved slowly, with the aid of the cane. The last thing he wanted was to stumble and make things even more uncomfortable. But once he was standing still onstage, he felt confident in standing unaided.

There on the stage with him was the Reno Mayor, who turned to Brick with a beautiful cane, quite ornate and made of dense hardwood, artfully carved and stained.

"Before we get started with our celebration, Brick, I wanted to offer you this for your comfort. This cane was given to me by Bob Hope when I had the pleasure of meeting him at a function in Vegas," the mayor said. "We were there for a children's charity and I had broken my ankle just a couple weeks before. I was getting around with this cheap aluminum cane and Mr. Hope traded this beautiful specimen for what I had. He had the cane for a number of years, I was told, and was something passed to him by an old friend of his. He was using it then because of his age and hectic schedule keeping him on his feet so much. I would be deeply honored if you would accept it as my gift to you."

Clearly awed, Brick said, "By Bob Hope? Oh, Mr. Mayor, it's so hard to accept something so special, but I will do so with gratitude." He shook the mayor's hand and said, "Thank you, so much."

Brick was stunned by the precious gift, but took the beautiful cane in hand and leaned against it.

The mayor turned to the crowd and microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, along with all of our dear, dear children. I am Mayor Holland and we are gathered here today in order to show our thanks to Gunnar Brickendale, Brick to those who know and love him, for his selfless and heroic act of bravery.

"Just a few short weeks ago, Brick was hauling a load out of Sacramento and bound for the city of Binghamton in New York. You see, he was hauling many of the ingredients needed to make something called Spiedies for a SpiedieFest taking place there. I don't know much about Spiedies, but I once had the pleasure of trying them during a time I was traveling through that area, and they are quite tasty.

"The point is Brick was carrying what they needed to make their festival everything it should be. This is what America's Truckers do. Truckers deliver the things we need to manage our lives, but this is something rarely receiving any appreciation. It still amazes me how many people have no idea why those trucks are out there at all. I don't know what to do about that, but I can say with authority what Brick did on that special day will never be forgotten by any of us."

Mayor Holland prompted and enjoyed a moment of applause for a moment and then said, "That day, while hauling those ingredients, Brick was caught by surprise when a bus with failing brakes, and frightened children in each seat, passed by him going far too fast. But, Brick is a professional driver who quickly recognized the problem was serious and only getting worse as it rolled downhill, so he moved into action. Through a combined action of quick thinking and raw power on the part of his Peterbilt 379, Brick caught up with the speeding school bus and attempted communication with the bus driver, trying to help. But by then the bus driver was in a state of panic because of no brakes, and a simple investigation afterwards discovered the culprit of the brake failure quickly.

"It turned out the brakes were mechanically fine, but a small bottle of sports drink escaped from the lunch of one of the children and rolled its way under the brake pedal. Merely a situation of bizarre circumstances, the brake pedal was blocked by the unseen bottle in such a way that the pedal could not be depressed and the driver couldn't do anything about it. But Brick was there and he had a higher awareness of the runaway truck ramps, so he placed his truck and his life at risk by placing them before the speeding bus in order to slow things down."

Standing there and hearing all of this while facing the crowd, Brick felt somewhat returned to that day, and because of it he felt certain body parts cinch up. He shifted slightly, hoping he wouldn't be noticed, trying to relax.

"After feeling the bus come into contact with his truck he quickly realized his truck wasn't going to slow down with all the weight, so he steered the situation into a runaway truck ramp, which was instrumental in bringing the school bus to a full stop and saving the lives of fifty three children and the life of the bus driver, Mrs. Tamara Hodgkin."

The audience whooped and hollered out as they applauded, and Brick, rather embarrassed, awkwardly nodded and waved, not knowing what else to do.

Mayor Holland waited for the din to ease before continuing, and once the uproar eased, he said, "But not everything was joyous, since the force of the makeshift train forced Brick's truck over the top of the truck ramp, sending his truck and him into the unforgiving trees of the Sierras. The truck turned over and was destroyed in the crash and its brave driver endured broken bones, head trauma and other serious injuries, leaving him recovering in the hospital until just a few days ago."

Brick stepped close to the microphone and said, "Uh, just for the record, I only broke one bone."

This prompted a hearty laugh from the crowd and then raucous applause, only adding to the moment's quality.

"Yes, it's true that only one bone was truly broken through, but from what I've learned in talking with Dr. Merritt, who oversaw Brick's care, things could have been so much worse. The trauma of this incident began with Brick being unconscious and on the verge of a coma for four days and the soft tissue was significant, particularly through his legs. It's a small wonder he's able to walk at all let alone with the assistance of that historic cane.

"So, because of his bravery, he will have the unending support and gratitude of the cities of Reno and Sparks, from now to forevermore."

Of course, there was more thunderous applause.

"The fact that all of our children are alive and well, and Gunnar Brickendale is alive and well, is why we are celebrating on this beautiful day," Mayor Holland exclaimed. "We celebrate because we have no need for a somber moment of silence, because all the children emerged from the accident safely and our hero emerged from the wreckage and stands with me now.

"And to help me mark this wondrous occasion, I would now like to introduce to you Nevada's Governor, Governor Samuel Bronson."

This was yet another detail Brick wasn't expecting, and he looked to his left to see the state's Governor coming up on the stage with a genuine smile and extended hand.

Brick reached out his hand and said, "Good afternoon, Governor. It's an honor to meet you."

Governor Bronson took Brick's hand, shaking it firmly, and said, "The honor is all mine, sir. If there's only one thing I truly enjoy about my job, it's the pleasure of being able to meet remarkable people such as you."

The two men shared a few words as the audience cheered for the scene, but then Governor Bronson turned to the microphone and said, "To all of my fellow residents and visitors to the great state of Nevada; it is such a joyous moment for me to be here with all of you today. I say this because in the face of what could have been a nightmarish tragedy, and it could have been, we're all here to celebrate how this man prevented this tragedy from taking place, with his own flesh and blood.

"But we didn't just see a tragedy averted; what we have is a tragedy prevented by the actions of a courageous man. A school bus careening down a hill is a horrifying image, but thanks to the bravery of Brick, we are able to look into the bright eyes of every child on that bus with confidence that their futures are assured."

This caused even more applause from the crowd, and more humble blushing on Brick's face.

"Not only did this man place himself in danger to help others, he endured severe injury and could have lost his life. If there was something not mentioned yet, I can tell you his truck was a complete loss."

Governor Bronson turned to Brick and said, "Well, we can't allow that to go unnoticed, either. So, Brick, on behalf of the people of this great state and through the generous support of Allen Kelly, one of Nevada's most successful entrepreneurs, I am happy to tell you your load was paid for, the trailer replaced, and the truck paid off. No hero should have to endure mundane issues such as those."

Yet again there was great applause from the crowd, and Brick smiled wide. He already knew these issues were addressed, but it felt good to hear it in front of this many witnesses.

"Also, to show our gratitude for your selfless bravery, I have both the honor and privilege of awarding you with the Meritorious Medal of Nevada. Gunnar, this is the highest civilian award this great state offers. You deserve so much more and nothing less."

As the governor stated this over the cheers of the crowd, he removed the medal from an ornate box and then placed the medal, hung from a stunning cobalt blue ribbon, over Brick's neck. Once the medal was in place, the governor then took Brick's hand once again.

"I would like to point out such a medal is not lightly given or often, and in fact, this medal has not been awarded to a living person in several years. But if anyone has ever truly deserved this medal, it is you. Thank you once again, my friend, for what you did and the difference you made. I can only hope the state of Nevada can make its gratitude known."

As Brick looked down to the hefty and lustrous golden medal draped over his neck, his eyes welled up to the honor, and his vision wavered through tears of joy and humility.

He blinked these tears away and said, "Thank you so much, Governor, and to everyone here today. What all of you have done for me has been more than enough and serves to confirm that what I did was the right thing to do. But I have to say the greatest thanks was getting to meet the kids and their families. Everything else is icing, not to sound ungrateful."

The applause stated nobody heard any such thing.

"Spoken like a true hero," Governor Bronson said. "Mayor Holland, since Brick seems to have a fondness for sweets, isn't there yet another goodie to present?"

"Yes, there is, Governor," Holland exclaimed. "Let's get it out here!"

At that command, everyone heard the raucous blast of a truck horn, and the distinctive sound of a truck's diesel engine. A moment later and there was a gorgeous dark red Peterbilt 379 pulling into sight and stopping directly in front of the stage. It was dressed to the nines with sparkling chrome everywhere possible, including the double stacks and fuel tanks, and even the broad Texas bumper. There was no doubt that truck would catch the eye and envy of every driver alive.

"Brick, it doesn't take much thought to recognize a truck driver can't be a truck driver without a truck to drive," the mayor said. "That's why that truck is here."

With his jaw gone slack, Brick looked over the stunning Pete, amazed by what he saw.

"Brick, this new truck is all yours, should you find it to your liking. But I should tell you this truck was not provided by the state of Nevada. This truck was bought by another who would like to extend his hand in a gesture of thanks."

To that, along with another swooping applause, a man Brick didn't recognize came onto the stage with his hand extended. Brick took his hand with a heartfelt hello while the mayor announced who he was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my sincere pleasure to introduce Allen Kelly, one of the most successful businessmen in the state of Nevada, and indeed this fine nation."

"Thank you, Mayor Holland, and thanks to all of you who could be here with us today," Allen said. "Many of you out there know who I am, as many of you are employed with Melioration and therefore a part of my family. I'm so glad you're here today."

Allen turned to Brick and said, "You may not know who I am, Brick, but I hope to change that."

He placed a hand on Brick's shoulder and said, "You see, my niece and nephew were on that bus, which means you not only saved the lives of children in my family, but children who are blood. Because of this, providing you this new truck, done in Brick Red, is but a mere token of my gratitude and thanks, and only the least I could do to honor a true American hero."

Brick looked to the glorious machine and said, "I'll be forever grateful, Mr. Kelly. I don't know how to thank you enough for something like this."

"Well, I have an idea," Allen said, taking advantage of the moment in true entrepreneurial fashion. "You see, I own Melioration Logistics, a branch of the Melioration Empire of which I am very proud. I would like to offer a place on our team for you and your fine truck. Rest assured that as you are in no way in debt to me, this is an offer because I am always in search of the best drivers."

Brick certainly appreciated the offer, but wasn't entirely sure how to reply. He was confident it was too soon to know exactly what he wanted to do, so he responded with, "I truly appreciate that, Mr. Kelly. I just ask you allow me the time to get my ducks in a row and I'll be sure to let you know. I can say I don't have any reason in mind to decline, though."

Brick felt the prick of subtle obligation, such as offering a cup of coffee when one driver helps another with adjusting trailer tandems, particularly when this is placed before him while witnessed by virtually the entire planet. It made it quite clear Mr. Kelly is a shrewd businessman who knows how to get what he wants. The thing was, whether it was justification or not, Brick could pick right up where he left off just a few yards from the end of a runaway truck ramp. It made Mr. Kelly's offer enticing and Melioration Logistics worth looking into.

Mayor Holland eased the moment by saying, "Well, it seems we've reached the time when celebration is in order, so let's bring this ceremony to a close and get this party started!"

The crowd cheered their approval and Brick smiled wide, looking forward to getting out from under the impinging spotlights.

"Brick, you look like you could use some time out from under the spotlights for a while," the mayor said.

And this observance was indicated by what obvious thing? was what was in mind, but Brick said, "I would imagine the good folks out there are looking forward to kicking back and relaxing."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea, so let's get someone out here who's used to being under the spotlight," the mayor said. "Jimmy, do you think you could handle the center stage for a while?"

"I think we can handle that, Mayor," Jimmy said. "Getting a party off to a good start is my specialty."

Just then, the curtains behind Brick and the officials lifted up and out of sight to present Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band. The crowd went wild and Brick was caught by surprise yet again, particularly since this group was one of his all-time favorites. To add to the pleasure was Jimmy Buffett approaching with his hand extended.

"Hello there, Brick," Jimmy said with a smile. "It sure as hell is a pleasure to meet a guy like you."

Brick's jaw worked silently for a moment before he worked out something intelligible to say, "The same thought came right to me, sir. I sure am a big fan of yours and it's amazing to meet you."

"Being able to meet honorable people like you, Brick, is one of the greatest parts of my job, and being able to call you a fan is amazing to me," Jimmy said. "We're honored to be here."

Jimmy let Brick's hand go and he turned to the crowd and said, "What do you say we treat this hero to some of his favorite music, everyone?"

The crowd went wild.

Jimmy took his place before the band and said, "Mayor, Governor, and you, too, Brick; why don't you fellas make yourselves comfortable while the band and I get this kicked off right."

Jimmy and the band did just that while Brick left the stage to a roaring crowd, where he was quickly greeted by the smiles of Brandi and Amanda.

A tearful Amanda fell right into his arms and said, "I am so proud of you, Dad."

"Thanks, Sweetheart."

"And you still know how to throw a hell of a party," Brandi said as she slid an arm over his shoulder. "Your truck is sweet and that's some serious bling there, cowboy."

Brick fingered the medal and said, "It is that. And having Jimmy Buffett here would have been my first choice if I was asked, but I wasn't. Now, who around here would have come up with that idea?"

Amanda feigned ignorance as she said, "I'm sure I have no idea where they came up with that."

He put his arm around Brandi and said, "I'm really glad the both of you are here for all of this, Brandi. Thanks so much for coming and bringing her with you."

Brandi bid her welcome with a genuine smile, and that's when Brick noticed Mr. Kelly beyond Brandi, and she turned to see what he saw. As Allen Kelly approached, Brick said, "Ladies, this is Mr. Allen Kelly, the man responsible for all of this and that beautiful truck. Again, Mr. Kelly, I just don't know how to express my gratitude for all of this."

"I have taken sincere pleasure in finally being able to see to it a genuine hero gets what he has coming to him," Allen said. "As for the truck, the best way to show appreciation for it is to drive it to death over the next several years. And seeing that you are a family man attests to my assuming you know why these people feel the way they do. Ladies, I am charmed to meet you."

The ladies said hello and Brick said, "I do understand, Mr. Kelly, and I appreciate that we still live in a world where we value our children. It's like I said before; the greatest thing about all of this is seeing those kids are okay. They're okay and I'm okay, so the rest is all perks."

Allen acknowledged Brick's assessment with a nod and smile, and then turned to Amanda and said, "I can't help but to think you must be incredibly proud of your father, my dear."

"To be honest, sir, I'm not at all surprised by what he did," she said. "Anyone who knows him wouldn't be surprised. That's why I'm so proud of him."

Allen smiled and said, "Oh, and the job offer is open for as long as you desire to consider it. I do hope it receives your consideration."

Not sure of why he said it, Brick said, "You know what, sir? I think I will accept your offer. I simply don't have a reason not to, and there aren't any other offers on the table."

"Well, that's wonderful," Allen said. "I've no doubt you still have more to get behind you before being okayed by the DOT, but I doubt you'll be hard to find between now and then."

"No, it won't be hard at all, since once the girls head back east, I'll likely move into the truck and stay there until I get the legalities smoothed out."

Allen wore an expression of mild disbelief and said, "But you wouldn't have to do that. I have every confidence every hotel in the region would be happy to offer you their most luxurious suite."

"I don't doubt that at all, but that truck is sure to be my home for most of the time from now to who knows when, so it seems like a good idea to get settled in. I'll likely move it to the Petro and get to know it better."

Allen smiled and reached for Brick's hand. "I suppose if I was in your place, I would do the same thing. My friends, I fear I have to go as I have some business I must attend to, so I should do just that and leave you to enjoy the rest of your day.

"Ladies, it's nice to have met you, and Brick, I look forward to us meeting again soon, and welcome to the team."

Brick, Brandi and Amanda intended on adhering to Allen's advice of enjoying the day, as there was plenty of food, drink, and lively music. There wasn't a cloud in the sky (not surprising for Reno) and no shadow passed over the celebration despite the dark intentions lurking in the mind of the man who orchestrated the event.
Chapter Five

Within minutes of leaving the fairgrounds, Allen's limousine was quickly moving into Reno, rushing to attend a meeting with his most trusted people.

While the limo moved through the city, Allen took the time to watch it go by. He's spent so much of his life in the area, but it never ceases to amaze him how fluid something such as a city can be, and how it can change so much while the changes, stark or subtle, often go unnoticed, even when what exists presently bears no resemblance to what it replaced.

Allen felt that way about the entire country, actually. While he's spent the majority of his professional life developing his business interests in and near the region of Reno, he traveled the country extensively in the effort to establish his business presence from sea to shining sea. After all, there's growth and construction virtually everywhere and there's always freight with someplace to go. It's been during his far-reaching traveling and seeing the direction the country's been traversing that has caught him by surprise.

Just how much he's been surprised has been notable for at least a good twenty years or more. Well, looking back over the twenty years, he realized just how steady the descent has plunged. In fact, he's been left rather despondent by the direction taken by his beloved country and its increasingly disingenuous government. Somehow, the United States of America has gone from being the pinnacle of human civilization just to end up being yet another victim falling prey to the Marxist political agenda. While Allen's never been one to mind a socially liberal position, particularly while living in Nevada, he felt the dramatic political polarization of the past several years has exposed the country to insipid corruption on a massive scale. He prophesies the United States is but a few short years away from becoming a resemblance to Communist China.

If it could happen to a culture that old and established, one can only imagine how easy it would be to affect a country as young and dynamic as the USA. Considering how the world has gone and how enticing the allure of oppressive government can be to those in power and loving it, the peer pressure must be extravagant. The thought of what his country was when he was born compared to what it has become made his flesh crawl.

He believed he was old enough to recognize so many of the mistakes made by his country's people over the past few generations, and too many of those are indefensible. Historical issues such as slavery and the plight of the Native Americans were eventually recognized for the wrong they were and rectified to at least some point, but Allen couldn't muster the depth of intelligence required to fathom why such mistakes negated what the country aspired to become and, as a result, defaulted the nation's leadership to the ambitious yet lazy governing philosophized by the arrogant Progressive outline.

One of the worst mistakes made by the recent generations was failing to recognize the deceitful intent of governmental actions. How could the people of a nation designed to be self-governed, limiting government and thereby its eventual corruption, not recognize the need ensure the governing body never becomes lazy, myopic in scope and finding the finest achievements only within the realm of narcissism and distant arrogance?

Witnessed by a man who built numerous successful businesses from the ground up, Allen couldn't understand how the mentally challenged politicians of the last half-century could believe their actions were appropriate. There is simply no way they have done what they've done within the spirit of what is best for the people and by the people, unless one owns up to the fact they no longer consider themselves among the we of the people.

What's been done obviously has not been done for the people. How could anyone living within the construct of a representative government actually believe the present-day system works for a free society? As sure as he recognized the vibrant Reno for what it has become, Allen was confident the corruption within government has ran unleashed for too long, so long that it appears the next great step they intend is towards the quest of domination, including bankrupting the country in order to ensure their success.

Just simply reduce most American jobs and wages to the menial and ensure significant percentages of the population are fully reliant on the government, and then drive the debt to a height insurmountable by any measure and tell the people they're responsible for it, and then combine these facts with the myth there are two competing bodies of government vying for the control of the country despite one of them being so evil (check the box of your choice). The result is a recipe perfect for dividing a country and forcing the authority to enact vigilant control for everyone's sake and protection. It is not a new story.

All of this is what Allen believes is the government's agenda and he cannot find it acceptable anymore. As the limo driver slowly negotiated the traffic of South McCarran Boulevard, Allen felt convinced what's taking place as a premise of governmental challenges has been far too contrived and nonsensical, and the only reason people buy into it is because people feel this innate need to trust their duly elected leaders. But they've been at this evolving game for too long for it to be a simple mishmash of elected officials over time, with all of them supposedly only related by winning their election. One must suspect the election and voting process is at least equally as corrupt.

Allen knows something has to be done if his wondrous country is going to survive this and not end up like, well, the remainder of the planet. Luckily, there are still a handful of brave souls who are courageous enough to do what it takes to ensure things start making sense again.

While Allen found himself suffering severe symptoms and was sure he was suffering a heart attack late in the afternoon of September 11th in 2001 (he was in New York City on that day, but at the Empire State Building), it turned out to be the stresses of the day, and he was cleared with the prescription of bed rest. But regardless, what occurred that day changed him forever.

Then, what he saw over the next several days affected him, as well. The cohesion and singular purpose of the country was unlike anything he'd seen since he was a boy, and it was so inspiring. It truly seemed as though the petty differences within society would fade for the brilliance of a greater purpose and the United States of America would rise from the ashes stronger and more united than ever.

But it appears another agenda would not allow its plans to be hindered. The coordinated attack on the vitality of the USA was under way and deemed the only way of truly dividing the people without exposing the true intent of the act. Plans accelerated and before anyone knew it, the country was dismantled a dollar at a time, and it was always those other guys' fault.

Allen knew he was a man with only a few precious years left at best, and knew damn well if he dies witnessing the greatest country ever devised by humanity continuing down this road to ruin and Marxist control, then the bizarre belief of reincarnation is one he hopes is but silly superstition. Because by the time his sister's saved grandchildren are grown, they'll be little more than comrades and drones under the thumb of another iron-fisted Socialist state.

But there is that precious little amount of time left. There is still time...

Others have faced such times in the past. While things in this country were so conflicted during the Vietnam Era (something he also felt was contrived), there was a tremendous sense of unity during WWII. Sure, the times and the culture was different, but people are people and they haven't changed that much, and things then were so dire. Then, the tragedy of Pearl Harbor steeled the nation against an enemy so foul that only the most severe repercussions were good enough to right the wrongs. The bombs dropped on Japan ended the war, and they changed the world. But then, in a way nobody ever would have prophesied, the Japanese people came back and stronger and more united than ever.

The heinous earthquakes Japan recently endured inspired so much honor and country cohesion, and Japan's rise to their prior highs are merely a question of time. After all, when a country is faced with such consequences, the only choice other than freedom and success while united is death.

Looking at the passersby as they traversed the busy I-395, he muttered, "Yes, beloved America. There is still time."

Allen had been so lost in thought about the consequences that the limo reached its intended destination and shut down before he realized it.

Part of his agreement with working with city officials and creating the celebratory efforts for Gunnar Brickendale, a courageous man Allen desires to see succeed, was obtaining a small convention space within the Piersmont Hotel, where several of his people are awaiting his arrival. Allen was adamant about this space less for the location and amenities than the assurance of privacy and isolation from curious eyes. There were a few small convention spaces occasionally used by government and Department of Defense personnel, likely occupied by them while they discussed their insidious plans to destroy this wonderful country. Nobody truly knows since these spaces were designed to ensure complete privacy. Because of the nature of what Allen and his people were planning regarding business and patriotic concerns for the short and long term, secrecy could not be left to compromise.

Before helping himself out of the car, which was something he'd long preferred as opposed to others lifting his fingers for him, he told the driver, "I would appreciate it if you remained here for the time being. I don't anticipate this meeting will take long, and I want to get moving as soon as it's over."

"By all means, Mr. Kelly," the driver said. "I'll be right here."

Allen stepped out and moved with a seriousness of purpose, going directly for the space he acquired at great expense, but also for great importance. He felt his nerves cinch tight as he approached his destination, because while the space was secure, the remainder of Reno was anything but that. He focused his eyes downward as he retrieved his phone from his pocket.

"I'm almost there now. Is everyone there and have we made sure all security checks have been identified?"

"Yes, sir," he heard. "Everything is a go."

The last thing he wanted was looking unnerved when he should look relaxed and focused on common business, and that, he knew, was a better way of looking at things. This was truly Allen Kelly placing his fingers on the right buttons and ensuring things ran the way they should, and he has a stellar reputation of ensuring just that.

He had no reason to assume his fingers on the buttons of the future of his country would turn out any different.

His most trusted security personnel opened the secured doors for him the instant they saw him approach, and Allen heard the requested soft yet busy music paired with a lot of chatter. The artificial chatter was for security as the sounds of numerous people conversing are difficult for even the most sophisticated surveillance systems to bypass. So, for the occasional passerby, they should assume things in there are rather busy and festive, normal for the region, but when Allen rounded the corner and entered the space, he was met by a quiet, still, and very sober team of people.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kelly," Jesse Bentley said. "Sir, we are ready and prepared to move forward with Operation Phoenix Eagle, upon your approval. While most teams are still moving into place and the necessary infrastructure is awaiting supplies and the proper moment, all aspects of this mission are moving according to plan and will continue to do so unless you decide it won't."

"I should think no man in his right mind would desire to see this continue, Mr. Bentley," Allen said as he found his place at the table. "I would like to think there's not a soul here who would actually want any of this. But with such sweet nothings out of the way, where are we right now?"

"First, sir, we've confirmed the security of this space. All potential access to this meeting beyond our circle of inclusion has been addressed and eliminated, so what's presented is done without fear of compromise," Jesse said.

"How great is that. Let's present it then."

Behind Bentley, there were fourteen large-screen monitors lined up, with five within the two bottom rows and four above them. Right after Allen's command to continue, everyone watched as the screens blipped to life while Jesse stood before them.

"The particulars revolving around each specific capital city within each of the forty-eight contiguous United States have been scrutinized and detailed," Jesse said. "The specific targets within each city have been chosen, along with the required explosives, weaponry and personnel.

"The teams for each of the forty eight targets are either in place or on the way as we speak, and they know they are to act only when ordered. Each of the forty eight teams has been thoroughly trained and prepared for this mission, cleared as ready to go by me personally. Mr. Kelly, each individual leading each team has been handpicked by me, and they found their best people. I can say with confidence there are no better choices than those now put into play."

"May God have mercy on their souls," Allen said without hesitation.

"Every one of them is ready to accept their place within the darkest bowels of Hell in order to ensure no other American ever has to, Mr. Kelly, and I am no exception," Jesse said, also with no hesitation.

"Be that as it may, I pray that God understands what it is we're doing, because nobody else ever will. In any event, please lay out the details so I have a firm understanding of what's taking place. While I burn in the bowels of Hell, I would like to know why I'm there," Allen said.

"The mission, while spanning the country and requiring intense logistical planning and oversight, and requiring a lot of weaponry, is deceptively simple. We have a specified target within each capital city in each of the forty eight states. These targets are either major landmarks or historical buildings, depending on the particular city, and they're being fitted with explosives powerful enough to bring them down. Then, when nearby personnel are fleeing from the chaos while emergency responders are moving in, the teams in place will engage and neutralize as many as possible within a specified amount of time," Jesse said. "This act will eliminate a significant percentage of police, fire and emergency medical personnel within a set radius of the target in question.

"This is considered Hour One, beginning at midnight, Pacific Time. Throughout this hour, all emergency responders will be engaged and eliminated, ensuring a maximum of casualties and a minimum of order. Again, this action occurs within the first hour and this hour will cause the most chaos and destruction within each city, across the nation."

While providing this description of Hour One, Jesse employed the audio/visual aids to illustrate the suggested targets within each capital city. Everyone there could easily identify and imagine what was intended to take place.

"Directly after Hour One, Hour Two will commence, with selected personnel in place along specified parameters of all target locations, holding all entry and exit points near the targets. Throughout Hour Two, our teams will focus on engaging all emergency responders, particularly since by this time there will be SWAT and military personnel. Hour Two is designed primarily to cope with these liabilities, with intent to eliminate as many as possible and create even more collateral damage."

Through aerial and satellite photography displayed on the screens, Jesse was able to indentify avenues of approach and escape, and strategic locations where teams will hold down the front.

"Then, Mr. Kelly, Hour Three will see a major change in tactic, as this is the hour for the exit strategy. This is facilitated with secondary targets being attacked in areas directly north, south, east and west of the primary targets with the intent to cause maximum chaos and confusion while distracting any remaining and oncoming emergency responders.

"There are two primary objectives with Hour Three, with the remaining emergency responders having something to attract their attention, as said, but also to allow our teams a means of escape. An added bonus of the chosen secondary targets is many of these, dozens in fact, are known hotspots of criminal and terrorist cells operating secretly. Please keep in mind that since Hour Three plans for our escape, this hour is very significant. To provide additional details regarding this aspect of Operation Phoenix Eagle, I would like to turn the podium over to Wayne Nussbaum."

Jesse took a seat at the table and Wayne Nussbaum stepped to the podium. "Good afternoon, Mr. Kelly. I wanted to point out how important Hour Three is to this operation, in part because by this time there will be an immense amount of destruction and pandemonium across the nation. This is also where our personnel must achieve their exit strategy if their mission is to prove to be a complete success.

"An added yet equally important aspect of Hour Three is that during this time numerous false claims of responsibility will be placed in the names of numerous terrorist organizations, such as Al Qaeda but there will be others, and subtle clues will be provided to expose where these groups are located."

Wayne showed video footage, satellite photos and other pictures of various groups operated illegally within and beyond the USA. "One major reason Hour Three is so important is because our intelligence provides immense information, allowing us to make tremendous strides in ensuring these groups are labeled as at fault and then exposed in real time. Mr. Kelly, Washington, D.C. will be receiving numerous calls of responsibility during a cacophonic time when they'll have no choice but to respond immediately and with tremendous prejudice.

"The intent of this is to ensure these groups are attacked decisively in order to minimize their ability to claim innocence and they're victims of false allegations, mainly because they'll know they aren't responsible and won't be able to cope with the impending fallout. In fact, we believe their situation will cause them to attempt escape, exposing their locations and placing them as primary targets of counterattack. Now, we cannot predict how any surviving groups might respond, but we have to assume they won't be in position to further the battles."

From his seat at the table, Jesse said, "This is what we can predict, Mr. Kelly. Casualties will obviously be very heavy during the three operation hours, with most of them being emergency responders and military personnel. Now, by the second hour, numerous responders will arrive from nearby locations within each state as well as any nearby military bases all around the country. By the middle of Hour Three at the very latest, National Guard and Reserve units as well as active duty military in every branch in existence will be on the move at some capacity. What this is sure to create is widespread martial law.

"Well before dawn, our teams will have escaped and fallen back to specified locations, so there will be no further offenses. By morning, all remaining emergency personnel will be moving into target locations, but warily, trying to regain control, put out fires and treat survivors. Our teams will finish their false claims placed on enemy combatants because by this time it will be best to allow actual authorities to take command."

"And this is we'll step in?" Allen asked.

"That's right, Mr. Kelly," Wayne said. "All aspects of the Melioration Empire will be able to offer numerous services in terms of reconstruction and assistance with logistical issues, including cleanup and investigative crews. Every aspect of Melioration will be in direct line for government contracts to help with recreating the United States of America."

Wayne took a sip from a bottle of water and continued. "This is where we predict the long term aspect of Operation Phoenix Eagle will come into play, as we're confident we'll be able to choreograph revitalized patriotism, unity of country and community, and a renewed focus on the rebuilding of this nation, literally and spiritually. We firmly believe the focus will be on our country by our country, with a unified goal across the land and within the hearts and minds of Americans everywhere. This should succeed in neutralizing the fabricated political polarization, effectively reuniting this country.

"But there's more. Within a day or two and then throughout the following weeks, our federal authorities will reenergize the neutralization of terrorism on a global scale, largely with the help of all American ally nations. Through the dark acts we'll implement in one night, we'll be able to revitalize the United States of America for the purpose of one primary goal, which is to once again ensure the USA is the undisputed leader of the free world."

Allen nodded where he sat. He then got up and approached the podium. "That, everyone, is our goal. Based on the assessments of where this country is going now, this country will soon have no more global influence or actual wealth, or even the liberties and freedom we all hold dear, than Venezuela or, hell, Nepal. I hate to do what we intend, but the options, mainly since nobody has acted sooner, are only worse, and for the future sake of all of humanity, this cannot stand. We could actually see this great nation fall to the level of Albania if this sickening government is allowed to continue.

"If any of this comes to pass, the world will harbor a global grudge and strive to sink us lower than Somalia. My God, but the world would spin into utter chaos if this is how it goes."

Allen hung his head for an extended moment and then said, "Believe me when I say I know these plans seem heinous and beyond evil. Jesus knows they are heinous. I am not a naïve man and I know so many good people are going to die, and everything in me hates that. But I believe this act of war will revive what this country was based on, and when this country was strongest, the world changed for the better. Freedom and liberty, democracy and the growth of the human spirit will once again be the focus of global conduct should we succeed, not the agenda of Progressive Socialism, societal decay and the systematic decimation of our species."

Allen paused again, and then said, "Humanity, and I mean all of humanity, is on the brink of being broken by the weight of the chains of corruption and megalomania. Yes, sooner or later there would be a rise to combat the tyranny, but by then the hold these tyrants would have on the world, thanks in great part to the powers of technology, would be so great it would require a global war and the collapse of so many societies around the world just to begin to combat that machine. How would one stop a global domination under those circumstances?

"As many of you know, every assessment we've examined ends with the same results; because of the massive human population combined with the technologies of the present, all of which would be under tyrannical control, society on a global scale would be under the thumb of those seeking that control. Planet Earth would be a slave state.

"The twentieth century saw two world wars and several other significant wars, and they truly changed the world. Many of these changes have been better for the world in general, but at tremendous costs. If war of such magnitude took place today, the world would change in such a way that it would never be able to recover. The madness and anarchy would scar our very species forever. Humanity might eventually emerge from all of that, but as what? Besides, far too many of these assessments indicate we would never recover at all. Based on those assessments, just how heinous and evil are we now?"

Allen looked around the room, examining the expressions he saw, needing to confirm yet again he had the right people in there with him. Things were far too deep and forward just to withdraw at that point, so he needed to know these people were onboard now that things were so real. These were not simply the ramblings of some madman; the starting gun has fired and the momentum is gaining.

"These are not chances we can allow to go unchecked. Well, we could, I suppose. We could be like everyone else and just turn our heads and look away, content with the knowledge we wouldn't likely see such an end due to our ages, and we're wealthy enough to shield ourselves until then. But I cannot do that. Sure, I may be well into my golden years now, but I believe I have a few good years left in me, so I want to know I've done right by the world, even if it has to be in such an ugly way."

Looking at those looking at him, he said, "I shudder to think of how many good and innocent people will die, but they'll be a minute amount compared to the death and suffering sure to consume our world if something is not done. Sun Tzu said that all warfare is based on deception, and we are at war. Therefore, we must deceive the world into thinking those who intend on destroying our world actually tried. In this way, we can motivate the world to cope with the imminent threat before it becomes imminent."

Allen felt uneasy about coming out with the fact Melioration Enterprises will seek major contracts before the dust settles and the bodies are counted. After all, if things go according to plan, Melioration and Mr. Kelly could be incredibly wealthy. But he adores the fact they'll lay blame on evil such as Al Qaeda and other insidious Satan spawn mutants.

Besides, there was a premise made by Sun Tzu Allen didn't mention. One of the greatest ways to ensure a fighting force will to win is by making it clear the only other option is certain death.

"Mr. Bentley. Please inform us of what's left to accomplish and how we intend to do so."

"A major percentage of our plans, supplies and equipment are already in place, except for the high explosives and some of the small arms ammunition, but this is all set to go. Transportation logistics are being worked out as we speak, so now it's simply a matter of loading trucks and moving the supplies and cash fodder. This will all take place out of select Melioration locations in each of the capital cities, which means we can minimize our risks and how widespread mission knowledge is."

The term cash fodder is a clever disguise for illegal drugs and extraneous weaponry that can be sold for quick, untraceable cash. The cash will be required by the forces in each of the capital cities in order to keep their activities as far from the grid as possible. Because each of the forty eight states will harbor numerous, in some cases dozens, of Kelly's mercenaries for potentially a substantial amount of time, or at least until the proper day is chosen to enact the primary mission, Kelly and Bentley decided it would be best to fund them through undetectable cash, which is easily attained through illegal sales. Allen thought this aspect of the mission was particularly distasteful, but for this, cash would be key.

"What are we doing to ensure the safety and security of Melioration Logistics?" Allen asked. "Mr. Nussbaum, have you been able to create some cushioning for ML regarding the DOT and other authorities? We don't need them snooping in our trailers."

"We've been able to fabricate and implant exceptionally high CSA 2010 scores, which should help minimize and impromptu inspections, and we've had DOT officers in our favor put in place for quite some time," Wayne said. "Now, if a truck rolls over and breaks open, spilling our freight out under the light of day, there will be severely limited action we could enact. This is why we've taken extra care and attention in hiring only the most experienced and safe drivers. We'll also keep runs fairly short when we can; running from nearby capitals when possible rather than running one single load across the nation as little as possible.

"The loads will be rather light, so weigh stations should never be a factor. Upon arriving and departing with each load, only our people will be there, and we'll have all drivers away from the docks. The drivers will be placated while they wait."

Nussbaum smiled when he said, "The drivers should actually find these runs quite enjoyable, since the runs will be rather straightforward and the loading and unloading procedures should go quick. But the truly nice thing is we've created exceptional break and waiting areas for the drivers, complete with refreshments, good food, and other distractions such as pool tables and the like. Further, we'll pay the driver an hourly wage while they wait to be loaded or unloaded. It'll be easy work, plenty of miles, good treatment, and all the things needed in order to make the better drivers want to stay with us.

"This isn't merely good-natured altruism in place; we want to eliminate driver turnover as much as possible. Bringing in new drivers now would place this operation at risk simply because of new curiosities and questions, although we could use another and the Brickendale driver would make a right fit. Besides, the cash fodder is paying for these amenities, helping us keep the mission on track."

Wayne's expression darkened a few degrees and he said, "Transportation will be the riskiest aspect of this mission until Hour One commences, much in part because assets are scattered and secured only by the drivers. This is why we've assembled the best team of drivers we could, yet kept them ignorant of the plans. While they may not find our operation to their liking, they'll certainly find their hearts in the reconstruction phase. Despite the fact that most companies and logistics leaders happily sold out to the Socialists, Drivers are known to be fiercely patriotic."

Jesse turned to everyone and said, "Overall, it looks we'll be a go for the mission within a few weeks at the most. Once the assets are closer to where they should be and requirements are realized, we'll be able to choose an exact date. A date that will change the course of human history."

"A date with destiny," Allen said, almost too soft for anyone to hear. "I can only hope God understands why we must do this, if we are to ever behold his mercy."
Chapter Six

"Well, Brick," Dr. Merritt said after a rather in-depth examination. "I think you're ready to get back in the saddle and back to work."

"Thank God for that," Brick said.

"Yeah, the arm's healed nicely and you're walking just fine. Every test, scan, MRI and everything else comes up clean, indicating there are no existing signs of the head trauma."

"That depends on who you ask," Brick said with a wink.

Dr. Merritt smiled and said, "Well, your doctor states you've made a full recovery, just as predicted."

"I'm glad, because I have the truck just the way I want it and I've been tooling it around town enough to get an itch for the road."

"Good deal. Well, make an appointment for your DOT physical and get back out there. I can say we'll miss you around here, but the occupational therapy will complete your recovery."

"Well, since I'll be working for Mr. Kelly's outfit for a while, there's a good chance I'll be rolling through from time to time. When I do, I'll step in any say hello."

The two men shook hands and Dr. Merritt said, "We'll look forward to seeing you then. You take care and be safe."

For Brick, it was a genuine relief to know his living with hospitals and doctor visits was truly behind him, but he knew he'd miss a lot of these people. If there was one thing he was immensely grateful for, it was walking away with no bill. He'd been in there for quite some time and received a lot of care, so the bill had to reach well into the six figures at a minimum. Not having such a thing attached to him was what truly completed his recovery, and heightened his level of gratitude.

Once he stepped into the truck and fired up the engine, he felt just as ecstatic for not having that bill, either. But there was no getting around the fact that he still had plenty of other bills and debts, so getting back to work would be fantastic. Mr. Kelly made it clear that Brick was to get in touch with Melioration as soon as he was cleared by Dr. Merritt so they could set up an appointment for the DOT physical and get things under way, and there was no time like the present.

Brick rolled up the windows to minimize the engine noise and then picked up the fancy phone Amanda chose for him.

He dialed the intended number and heard it ring twice before he heard, "Melioration Logistics. This is Dana; how may I help you?"

"Yes, hello Dana. My name is Gunnar Brickendale and I've been instructed by Mr. Kelly to give you folks a call once I was ready to begin employment. Might you be familiar with my situation?"

"I would have to have been under a rock in the deserts of Nepal not to know, Mr. Brickendale," Dana said in such a way that her smile was made clear even over the phone. "I'm so glad to hear from you. Are you now cleared by Dr. Merritt?"

Recognizing she was quite familiar with his situation, Brick said, "10-4 on that. After a physical, I'm ready to go."

"Excellent. What I'll do is get an appointment with the clinic where our physicals are usually done, and if they require any information from your doctor, they'll know who to contact," she said. "Rest assured that unless there's something odd, you should be through the process and ready to roll before the echoes of the Jimmy Buffett show have died down. I have specific orders from Mr. Kelly to expedite this process.

"What that means is once you have your long form and physical card in hand, we'll get you in here for a quick orientation and paperwork. After that, you'll be piling on the miles."

"Damn, but that sounds great," Brick said. "I need to get back to work. Since my family went back east, I've been a bit stir crazy."

"Back to work it will be, very soon, and I think you'll like being part of the Melioration team," Dana said. "There have been some recent projects the various Melioration branches have been teamed up on, so for at least a while you'll join a team that's running freight from capital city to capital city.

"One nice thing about this particular team is I'm told the lounges at these capital city locations are very nice. You'll be required to wait in these lounges while loading or unloading takes place, but you'll be paid an hourly wage while you do so. I'm told the loading or unloading might take around two hours or so on the average, give or take. Then it's from that capital city and on to the next one."

"It all sounds great," Brick said, and it did. Right after she said it, he could picture in his mind how simple it seemed, and simplicity was always favored by truck drivers. Things were complicated enough with the eighty gazillion rules and regulations and the fact that almost no motorists have ever been taught how to drive.

"So," Dana said, "give me a call tomorrow and we'll send you over to the clinic for the physical, and barring any weird complications, we'll get you in here and get started."

"Thank you, Dana. I'll be in touch first thing tomorrow morning."

And he was. He would have preferred to complete the DOT physical the day prior, but by the time he called Melioration after being cleared by Dr. Merritt, it was well into the afternoon. But it was just one more night, which was spent much like any other would be, which was among the other drivers at the Petro.

Early the next morning, he called and received directions from Dana to the chosen clinic and said, "Okay, I think I know where that is. I'll head over there right away and I'll give you a call when I'm done."

"There's no need to call. Just come on by with the forms and we'll get started," she said.

Just like most DOT physicals for Brick, this one went through quickly and no complications. Because he's always been rather healthy and hasn't suffered issues such as high blood pressure or the other potential delays plaguing some drivers, most of his DOT physicals have been routine. He harbored some concern this physical might be affected because of his recent recovery, but the concerns were misplaced.

"I've already called Dr. Merritt and looked over your files," the doctor at the clinic said. "He says you're fine and based on my findings, I couldn't agree more. I would imagine you're looking forward to getting out of Nevada, and I don't see anything standing in your way."

Once Brick had all the necessary paperwork in hand, he drove directly to the ML yard, checking things out once he got there. For an operation as large as Melioration, this particular location didn't look very big, and it was mostly empty. He assumed this to be a good sign, thinking the majority of trucks and trailers were out there doing what they were supposed to be doing.

Before going in, Brick double-checked to make sure he had the requirements, such as the physical forms, his Driver's License and Social Security card, and even a blank check in order to set up direct deposit.

He parked well away from the main building and it felt good to walk across the quadrant without feeling weak or sore, although he recognized he wouldn't be running any marathons anytime soon. He walked tall and strong, in part to get back into the habit but also to appear, in every way, like he was ready to go.

Looking around, it was clear this was no sort of terminal, but rather an office location. There were no signs of tractor-trailer equipment or any maintenance location, and parking for maybe up to five trucks. There wasn't much at all except for the nondescript office building, but once he was close to entering, an attractive young lady stepped out and introduced herself.

"Hello, Mr. Brickendale, it's nice to finally meet you in person. I'm Dana Somers, who you spoke to yesterday, and I'd like to welcome you to Melioration Logistics, or ML to those who know us."

"Hello Dana, and please call me Brick if it's okay," he said as he shook her hand. "Most everyone who knows me does."

"Brick it is," she said. "Is everything good to go?"

"Yep. I have all the paperwork right here, so now I suppose it's just the details. You know, I had it in my head this place would be a bit bigger than this."

"Well, since ML works so closely with the other Melioration branches, most of the trucks and so forth are kept at those locations. Since we're all one big family, there's no real need for an independent terminal. This is really just an administration and communications hub, so we just have a small amount of parking in the event a driver needs to stop by," she said as they walked inside.

The office space inside looked as plain as the outside, although everything that was there looked new and nicely organized. In fact, based on the layout he could see, Brick assumed the space was once a medical building or clinic similar to the one he just left. But rather than looking clinically clean, the place looked professional yet casual. It had a homey feel, with pictures of various Melioration businesses and Allen Kelly on the walls.

"To be honest, Melioration could have easily run just as well without this free-standing logistics branch, but Mr. Kelly desired it to keep ML in one central spot. Any other Transportation Company would simply create a dedicated account anyway, so it just made sense to have our own. It makes the books easier and the lines of communication fewer."

They walked just a few yards down a narrow corridor and then stepped into a rather small office space (likely once an examination room) and Dana gestured to Brick to have a seat.

"I think I can say Orientation should go smoothly and simply, since it's just going to be you and me."

"Oh," he said. "Are things quiet or do you just have all the drivers you need?"

Dana said, "Well, things are actually jumping and very busy, but we do have all the drivers we need. It might be nice to hear our turnover is virtually nil compared to most companies. I imagine you realize this means they find our outfit quite the place to work for, since it's rare for us to see a driver quit. Mr. Kelly wanted to bring you on simply because he's diligent in bringing the best into the Melioration fold.

"Okay, I think things should be simple and straightforward, so you shouldn't have to be in here for very long. There are a few videos to watch, and they mostly pertain to Melioration procedures and policies. While you watch those, I'll get this paperwork going."

Brick actually found the orientation process rather enjoyable, if one could imagine such a thing as possible. It wasn't so much to say the procedure was a hoot, but Melioration came across as such an exceptional company and it simply felt good to get back into the swing of things.

Initially, Brick joined ML because he wanted to show appreciation and respect for Mr. Kelly, but he did need a job and it appeared as though Melioration was a thriving company where good work could be had. So, with the steady work offered along with rather handsome pay, ML did seem like the sort of company a driver would want.

Until he was actively involved with the company and saw things for himself, it was difficult to not think it has to be too good to be true. If that is how it turned out, he could always move on just like any other driver would. He did feel the pangs of obligation, but Brick knew that this ultimately had to be mutually agreeable. Deep down, he knew the best way to be right was do his best and take care of his new truck. If there were any lessons he took with him from his recent experiences, it was he would be better off listening to his instincts and conscience.

These were lessons he would soon find challenging in ways he never would have imagined.

Chapter Seven

The closer everything came to becoming real, the more Allen agonized. Yet, in some bizarre and dichotomous fashion, the closer the day came to when it would be time to push the button, the firmer he felt in his decisions. Such was the complex irony he struggling within him. He felt so certain about the intended outcome, but the certainty that so many good and innocent people would suffer and die tore at him. He tried making himself feel better with the assurance these sacrifices would save countless lives later, but the certainty of so many broken families and lives drove vicious pain right through his heart.

The vision of a young child, standing alone and frightened yet surrounded by strangers, holding a teddy bear because it was the only thing offering its semblance of security while parents were lowered into the ground in caskets as tears marred the stuffed toy's soft fur, rends at Allen's soul. Regardless of how things might turn out, where is the true justification in that? What future world holds promise so inviting that it makes the child's plight seem acceptable? But it isn't the promise of a better future justifying such tragedy; it's the annihilation of conditions assuring things would be so much worse.

There will be those living out the remainder of their days in wheelchairs, or perhaps a coma. Innumerable people will witness horrors that will haunt their sleep each time sleep overtakes them. They're sure to come to hate sleep and will attempt to drown it with alcohol, or worse.

Being in New York City on 9/11 for business, the tragedies occurring on that day will forever haunt Allen's sleep. Allen and those he was with heard of the tragedy moments after the first plane struck while they were attending meetings within the Empire State Building. When the second plane struck, he knew instantly the country was at war.

Forever through the course of eternity, he would never forget the images of seeing those innocent people fall literally dozens of stories, plummeting to a certain death after fleeing from a fiery death. Hearing the recorded sounds of their bodies crushing in cars below and then seeing common people in the Middle East dance with joy to the news forever changed Allen's perspective on what we are as a species.

Feeling his aching knees through welling tears, Allen knelt by his bed before retiring that night with the intention to pray for wisdom and forgiveness, hoping humanity might have a worthwhile future sometime in the future. Kneeling by his bedside was something he was instructed to do as a boy, never doing it again after the age of sixteen until he'd long forgotten how long he was eligible for AARP benefits, not that he'd ever accept anything from that insipid organization. He clasped his hands together in prayer and leaned his forehead against those clenched hands, feeling the tears fall to the sheets where they would soak in and be gone like so many before them.

"Dear God," he said as he often did, "I pray to You as I've done so many times but never enough. I beg You for the knowledge of why we are as we are, and why we must lust for the horror."

Often, his thoughts went well beyond the agonies of those in New York City and watched over those elsewhere around the world. The tyranny and greed of Communism yet again sweeps across the globe like a brush fire despite how much human cost was spent fighting it. He couldn't help but to wonder how those of his generation felt when they looked upon today's world, seeing the future of humanity is all but entirely lost to the desires of Satan.

"I would pray to You, dear God, for the wisdom and knowledge that what it is You ask of me can be done in a way to ensure such actions never need to see the light of day again," he whispered as he cried.

Being one who built a tremendously successful business and a remarkable life for himself and his family as well as his community, Allen's confidence is supreme in thinking he possesses keen insight within the realm of business leadership and management. So, after all is said and done, and the panderers to disingenuous semantics are done fellating one another, the fact remains politics is merely a system of management. Is it fair to recognize it's management of a large and diverse population prone to scattered wants and needs? Sure it is, but it's nothing more than an addition of details demanding greater skills in delegation. So, as a man who has seen visionaries step in and create incredible businesses that have helped change the world, he's witnessed innumerable narcissistic, lazy leaders find their way through the cracks and dismantle so much functional beauty in their dominion of authority.

Smart leaders develop their people and allow all the leverage and liberty they require in order to flourish. Lazy and selfish leaders press their thumbs on the necks of their subordinates with endless rules and complicated restrictions, actively preventing creative and independent thought through breeding rules and incessant micromanagement. Good leaders unleash their best people upon the accomplishments to gain while poor leaders clamp down on the skulls of their people and fit them with blinders and chains, angry that they're gaining nothing but the occasional turn of the crank as they pull it all in even tighter. They demand their heels must hold their minions firm because only they possess the insight of what must be, yet they constantly moan about the quality of dogs harnessed to their over-laden sleds.

Such is how it has been within American government for far too long. As he prayed to God, he was confident God recognized the Founding Fathers of this wondrous country recognized freedom and liberty are the only pathways to a strong, dynamic nation. Yes, admittedly, they struggled with levels of such freedom within the societal demographics and actually allowed for the proliferation of slavery, despite their own misgivings of the consequences. But they still saw liberty as a strength, not a weakness of authority.

Allen has long known as all wise people have known, enslaving acts on the part of people against people are among the worst in all of human history. This knowledge is predicated on the political philosophy of creating the freest nation possible by mixing its mortar with the blood of whose freedom was stripped away. If early America had not done this, She just might be today what She's sought to be all this time, rather than viewing it from afar but through a miasma of hatred, rancor and discontent.

"But dear God, the courageous and free people of this country blessed by Your touch strive to rise above these historic mistakes. We seek what was right and then to strengthen it while disposing of what was so wrong. But a vibrant age of dominion sweeps over the world and has been gaining ground. I ask You provide us with the wisdom we need to counter the Communism sweeping over the globe like vultures seeking roadkill as it seeks to crush the human spirit under the vicious guise of protecting us from ourselves, as though only they know what's best."

Once upon a time, Allen actually thought such a perversion of the human spirit would never infect the United States of America, but it has done exactly that. Communism snuck in under the radar of the saccharin-sweet Liberalism, pervading its good intentions with the pillow talk that humanity must be shackled in order to be truly free. Yea, in order to keep them on the correct path, they must be yoked with pretzel logic while the pathway offers bits of crumbs allotted by the hoarding despots.

Allen had long thought of himself as a smart man, but how foolish he felt when he realized the so-called Cold War ended with Communism gaining ground rather than losing it.

"Yes, Lord. You've informed us through Sun Tzu that all warfare is based on deception. Yes, we have been deceived, but only because we deceive ourselves. Is this why my destiny lies here, dear God? Is this why someone such as me must do something such as we intend? I pray you give me the strength and resolve such an old man requires. I beg of you."

So, the Communists have beguiled the world into thinking they're here for the good of the world and that such stringent blankets of control are necessary in order to move forward, to progress, when their genuine intent is to crush the world into submission so the people will stop annoying those truly in charge.

Allen's hands clenched tighter as he said to his God, "Since we're still engaged in war against those who fight You, then let's fight. Oh, but so many have been deceived into thinking the fight is over and they must lay down their resolve for those whom they vote for so they may pick it up and carry on. But they refuse to see it has been stolen from them."

All too often, people fail to concern themselves with failing health until they're soaking in hundreds of excess pounds and innumerable addictions. But once they do see the light, they suddenly desire to reinvent themselves and run marathons in order to reveal the real them under all that was counterfeit.

"Yes, Lord. Let us find the true Americans under the rubble swept aside."

During the precious few days after 9/11, Allen and the world witnessed a remarkable reunion of the United States of America, but this reunion was only orgasmic in nature. There was a brief glow of ecstasy as we found one another yet again, but political polarization revived and things reverted back to the ruse that one side has the warmest hugs and kisses and that other side only seeks mayhem and harm.

Like everyone else, Allen listened to the spew from both sides, but soon he recognized what so many did not, which was there was only one side pretending to be two, with one of those sides desiring nothing short of global domination and annihilation. Well, sometimes one who is grossly overweight must see the scales approach a number more suited to an ideal calorie count rather than ideal weight in order for them to see they're on the verge of death. Sometimes, some must live in abject poverty in order to recognize the only way to success is through their own efforts rather than the empty promises of others.

There are so many who listen to the pathetic rhetoric against the wealthy yet fail to recognize the rhetoric is spewed by those who are rich. But human history demonstrates people must, must, must experience the ravages of war in order to see how horrible it truly is. They have to hear the screams and smell the blood and feel the cold steel of the shackles in order to appreciate liberty and freedom.

"Lord, how do you find the patience for a world just done experiencing the ravages of the wars of the Twentieth Century only to end up like this? Well, attacks upon the icons of the ambitious by those who see liberty and ambition as sinful didn't shed the myth that there must be those who are better than me in order to better me. The people must see the only way to be free is to exercise the freedom they already possess in the presence of those who desire to take it."

How ironic it is that people desire to obtain what they already have, but through those only desiring to take it from them. Such as has happened with Hitler, Stalin, Hussein and Qaddafi; the people must see their leaders for who they truly are.

The issue in part is they cannot see such things from afar. It isn't enough to see the news specials and the recorded stories as told by those who were there. Unfortunately, they also must wash the dust and blood from their hair. The polarization is the source of the problem, but perhaps things are not polarized enough.

Too many people have attributed false chaos and overblown drama to 9/11, much in part because the idiot box that is a TV brings them far too much chaos and overblown drama as a matter of course. Most who saw the Twin Towers toppled never saw these magnificent buildings with their own eyes in person. There are so many who deny the occurrence of the Holocaust and this number grows despite the video footage and evidence, such as the recordings of bulldozers pushing hoards of emaciated bodies into mass graves. Somehow, if they haven't seen it firsthand, it must not be real.

But they've seen their own states. They've seen their own hometowns.

Allen wanted to include all fifty states in the operation, but the logistical challenges were too dicey. Besides, the forty eight contiguous states would be enough to drive the point home, much in part because the chaos will be felt around the world, particularly since so much of the rest of the world will bear the blame. After all, it is about time the United States recognizes it is not the bad guy in this thing.

Less than twenty four hours after Hour One, most of the fires will be extinguished and a significant percentage of the bodies will have been found. While assessing the damage and looking into the dead eyes of the innocents, it will be time to take a stand and demand answers, and justice. Then, the right people will step in and declare the United States must reunite and reinvigorate the American Dream. If they cannot do that, they might as well jump into the fires still burning.

For so long, the spirits of the Founding Fathers remained kindled, illuminating around the globe and changing it in the process. But for far too long, those spirits faced the threat of being extinguished for simple appeasement under the guise of freedom through more control. But people fail to recognize this is freedom from who they are, not freedom for who they are. So, now is the time to recognize being free from accountability, responsibility and morality is not being free.

Allen's knees are aching badly by this point in time and the tears are beginning to burn his face. "Dear God. I am so sorry there are those who succeeded in turning so many away from You, but they were right there showing themselves, and they did not see You. Yea, you were there in their hearts and minds, but their eyes and ears were lured elsewhere."

But the anger seeped in with the aching, and he said, "When the dust of the mayhem settles, the soil of discontent will be stirred within those who found it so easy to succumb to the so-called authorities who claimed they knew better. When these Americans hold their dead in their arms for the last time and witness the wreckage of what they deemed perfect, they will see the politically correct world their false leaders built was but a mockery of their freedom."

Allen got up from his painful knees and sat on the edge of his bed, but his prayers were not yet finished.

"Dear God in Heaven. I hope you hear me on this solemn night. I hope you hear my prayers for all of human society to some day become a free society rather than a culture enslaved by a megalomaniacal few fooling all of us, and themselves, into thinking they somehow know better. They believe they must place their boot heels on the necks of humanity to prevent humanity from tearing its own throat out. We must stop the momentum of the madness before the madness crushes humanity, perhaps forever.

"Please allow me to be heard and show me the wisdom of the way to freeing the souls of Your breast, for I desire nothing more in my life than to know I helped humanity recognize what and who it can be when free. But please forgive me for what I must do in the process. Amen."

For reasons having nothing to do with the pain in his knees, Allen sat there on the edge of his bed and openly cried.
Chapter Eight

The smile on Brick's face nearly split his head as he watched from his rearview mirror the remnants of Reno and Sparks fall below the horizon as he drove east. While a significant piece of him would always remain there (eww, almost literally) and there are so many good people there he would never forget, he felt elated in being able to get where he should have been before when he had a wagon full of Spiedie spices. He was just about where he should have been if he and the bus had not crossed paths just a few weeks prior.

Things have changed, he knew, but somehow changed for the better. The value of human life has been reaffirmed, and he's gained an endless amount of wonderful memories, and good friends. Plus, this truck he's driving is his, all his. Also, so much of what's just beyond the horizon promises more to keep the truck moving. He's never been one for bumper stickers, but he had to admit there was one he'd seen recently that rang true. Life is good.

The load was destined for Des Moines, which was just the ticket in getting him heading back east. The ML Logistics Manager, Dana, was really great in explaining about what Melioration Enterprises was doing in and for the country, and how people like himself fit into the equation. That in itself was a blessing to hear since far too many companies find it painful to talk to their drivers in an inclusive manner. Sure, they try to appease with goodies and curt language, and do so for as little time as possible, but few attempt to view the driver as more than a mere sled dog.

According to what he's learned, the ML drivers would crisscross the nation for a while until specific products are distributed as needed. Dana suggested soon things were expected to accelerate and transportation services would need to meet the demand.

Hey, Brick thought, if you need it to get from here to there, we can make that happen. A part of things just as important to Brick was he was told that since he was an Owner/Operator, he can feel free to take the home time he needs when he needs it. Sure, there will always be hot loads needing to get there ASAP, but smart logistics demand having more than one potential truck to make it happen. ML simply asks one communicates the situation so they know how to move forward. For as long as the working relationship continues working well for both parties, things are just fine.

"You should know this isn't something unique to Melioration Logistics," Dana said, "but the working relationship across the Melioration corporate structure. All employees, from the entry level position all the way to Mr. Kelly, are provided with at least as many choices and reasons as they are rules and regulations. Within the Melioration structure, people are not trained to do anything. They are taught what they need to know. Monkeys are trained. Because of this philosophy, we ask for an individual's genuine dedication to the success of everything and everyone involved.

"The desired difference between Melioration and other business models is we want our people to do what they do because they want to do so, not just because they have to. Mr. Kelly believes that if one truly believes in the team, one will do their best to better the team. Therefore, one must have a logical reason to better the team. Merely doing it for a paycheck is a shallow reason and eventually leads to the degradation of the workforce."

With genuine pride, she went on to say, "If there's anything Mr. Kelly finds troublesome and just plain ignorant, it is businesses looking at their people as though they're a liability or a necessary evil. Just that model of business alone costs so much time and wasted effort through inefficient micromanagement rather than pursuing the Mission Statement. Allen Kelly states that a business receives the quality of employees it deserves, whether it likes it or not. Because of that simple position, the workforce largely polices itself. Here, those who desire to take advantage and offer a minimum will be quickly recognized rather than blend in."

"That makes a lot of sense," Brick said. "It's surprising that it's so rare."

"Yeah, right? Particularly since our level of quality employees only rises rather than degenerates. Another smart method on the part of Mr. Kelly is keeping the business branches rather small so they don't end up top-heavy. ML Trucking is a part of the bigger picture but operates as independently as possible, which is how the other Melioration Enterprises branches work across the board."

'Well," Brick said with a smile. "I'm glad I was hit by a tree."

He was also glad he hit the road, finding the trip to Des Moines very pleasurable as he drove. The radio was set to Margaritaville and the weather was excellent. Brick looked forward to reaching the Rockies in this truck, desiring to see how she'd perform on the hills. He didn't expect any surprises, but it'd be good to know for sure. The load wasn't maxing out his weight, but it scaled in close to 40,000 pounds or so. Before leaving with the load, Dana told him the weight of this particular load was unusual and that most ML loads would be much lighter. He found that odd, given the nature of Melioration, but he had plenty going on and forgot about it.

He expected the truck to put in some effort from Salt Lake City to Cheyenne, but after that things should be smooth and easy. Brick remained mindful of not pushing her too hard, what with this being a new engine, and besides, he had plenty of time. The run was just over 1,600 miles, but not due for four days.

"Feel free to deliver it early should you get there early," Dana said. "We simply factored in that the truck is new and this is your first load after the drama, allowing you to take the time you desire. Then, unless something changes, what you'll pick up in Des Moines will likely be bound for Philadelphia. After that? I'll assume Richmond or Raleigh."

Brick didn't see how taking more than three days would happen, but when he left with the load, he simply said. "Thanks for everything and take care."

It simply felt good to be back to work.

There wasn't much to see until he made it to Salt Lake City, allowing Brick to reflect on where things were going other than merely east. He certainly looked forward to reaching Philadelphia because it meant from there he'd be moving towards Brandi and Amanda, who he missed very much. Before this adventure, he intentionally remained in the southeast in order to avoid being away from Amanda so much, so he looked forward to getting back there. The wide open space of the west made driving easy, but he missed being home. However, from where he was to when he did arrive home, he had plenty of time to enjoy the company of his thoughts.

He switched the radio station to Symphony Hall in order to enjoy the music without distracting lyrics and thought on how things reached this point in time. While keeping his conscious mind focused on the job at hand, the back of his mind pondered on things before the grand incident, and somehow those days seemed like they were so long ago. Before, Brick focused on driving and paying the bills while still having enough time to spend with Amanda to remind him why he bothered. But the drama of Donner Pass changed Brick's view on several things. Much of what occurred in Nevada renewed his faith in the potential of humanity and provided nutritive support for the values he's long held dear.

Another enjoyable thought was how things fell right back into place so quickly with pulling a load. It was almost as though he never stopped driving at all, which in itself was a pleasure. In fact, if it wasn't for so many of the treasured memories from Reno, much of it wouldn't seem real anymore. He attributed the ease of coming back to driving with the fact that he'd been doing it for so long, with it coming naturally. So, while the stretch of road he occupied didn't offer much to see, it felt good to move with a purpose. If nothing else, the Nevada incident reignited his need to feel purposeful and how important his cog in the clockwork truly was.

Brick has long known most people dislike those big trucks and rarely recognize what they do, but that's fine. He knew his place in the machine was important, regardless of how invisible. The rescue of the school bus really could have happened to anyone, but being a truck driver who knew what he was doing and took pride in it was something important to the overall machine, even if others didn't see it. Other than calendar girls and movie stars, most gears in the engine driving society forward went unnoticed, so he resolved himself to feel content with the sensation of the rumbling truck moving for a good reason.

Despite the conscious recognition Brick felt for what he did, he still had no idea how much appreciation he would find in what he would soon do or how many lives would be affected by his doing so.
Chapter Nine

After experiencing the rejuvenation of a good night's sleep and a good cry, Allen felt reassured about what it is they needed to do. He knew with confidence and the light shined down upon him by the love of God that they were about to change the world for the better. Well, so much of the world would be changed for the worse, fundamentally transformed in a manner of speaking, but once the fallout settled and reconstruction began, the world would truly reinvigorate with a renewed sense of purpose.

Allen knew his country was presently embroiled in a severe civil war, but a cold civil war. No, the country was not up in arms and shedding the blood of brothers, but the air was filled with the sound of rattling sabers and continual rants. The relentless political polarization was a phenomenon genuinely tearing at the fabric of the nation despite how few people recognized the dilemma. Further, those who most recognized this were those perpetrating the issue and thereby taking full advantage of it.

Yea, if a war must be waged, then the weapons of war will be wielded. Most of Allen's professional life was lived sharing his keen sense of business acumen, often with prominent leaders vying for the secrets of his success. For those secrets he would not share, he hinted at them with pithy quips like it's an ancient Chinese secret or such, and this was not an inaccurate joke. While Allen's methods and philosophies of business placed him within the ranks of the immensely successful, most of those ideas were not uniquely his to claim.

Allen was introduced to the ancient text of Sun Tzu's Art of War by a marvelous boss he had when he was still in his teens. He worked his weekends as a jobsite laborer for a successful and hardworking man named Marvin Campbell. Allen helped keep things neat and orderly when he wasn't mixing mud or moving block or brick, but he also taught Allen how to maintain books and other administrative tasks a couple nights each week after school. Marvin introduced a young Allen Kelly to Sun Tzu's ancient work, teaching him how it applied to virtually every sort of war one may wage.

"While Sun Tzu likely intended his original teachings to apply to the actual battles of his day, wise men have found the philosophies and strategies were applicable anywhere strategy is needed and conflict can occur," Mr. Campbell said. "His teachings apply to business and even one's personal conflicts, and this is because war is waged in so many ways. This is true in the realm of business, but also in every heart and mind.

"Allen, you'll benefit in so many ways should you take the time to learn these lessons, my boy. Just keep in mind that this book harbors most of its most important lessons not just in the text, but between the lines."

The young Allen Kelly did learn these things eventually, but it took a lot of time and character development, and some honest growing up. In fact, if it wasn't for his deep-seated admiration for Mr. Campbell, Allen likely would never have read the old treatise more than once. While it only takes a few minutes to read through the work (the entire book consists of thirteen short chapters containing one-line points of instruction, due to the methods of translation from the old Chinese), it took Allen several years to understand the work well enough to apply it intelligently.

The ancient text was similar to chess in that the basics are so simple, but the nuances and possibilities are innumerable. Allen recognized that he'd have to keep at it to excel, but he did just that. He came to adore this ancient text, written sometime around the 6th Century, B.C., because he learned to see the timeless wisdom could and eventually would make a major impact on his life and so many of the lives he's influenced.

But other than through some simple quotes and brief advice, Allen chose to keep the basis of his success to himself. While Mr. Campbell had a habit of touting the accolades of Sun Tzu from any rooftop, Allen felt tipping one's hand in such a fashion was strategically unwise.

After all, despite the thought required to illuminate some of Sun Tzu's teachings, it didn't require much thought to understand one of the more basic lessons. The eighteenth line within chapter one was quite clear: All warfare is based on deception.

Allen didn't have to get that far into adulthood in order to recognize the simple wisdom in that lesson. After all, so many things in life benefit from the strength of deception. A woman's conveyed beauty largely depends on deception created through cosmetics and fashion, for example.

Virtually every business transaction and meeting he's been involved in has been ripe with deception. Sure, there are always plenty of handshakes and smiles, but each side, and each individual on any given side, harbors some measure of goals and desires kept close to the vest. Even daily language is replete with clever phrasing and the use of semantics to prompt as many positive gains as possible. One just needs to consider words and phrases such as Thank You, Please, and I said right now. Lawyers have made an insidious art form out of these truths.

But one of the most captivating and memorable lines from the ancient book was the first line in the first chapter. Sun Tzu said: the Art of War is of vital importance to the State.

Within this cold civil war of political polarization, the generals have kept guns blazing at full auto for some time and are amping up the rounds per minute. They sure as hell gained a lot of ground with the pathetic weapons of mass destruction schtick, convincing anyone who had a doubt that the masses could really be duped into seeing the emperor's imaginary clothes even in this day and age. Just about everyone bought into their chosen side of this ridiculous contrivance without having the first clue as to what a WMD could possibly be, and countless drones known as pundits used this imaginary equipment as the foundation of their argument and did so in front of countless American people, and got away with it.

Those perpetrating this elaborate scam surely must have been laughing until they cried while they ravaged their stolen young women and counted billions in stolen funds. There's no doubt they believe they have this planet's most successful species under their thumbs. There's also no doubt they think they're the ones who succeeded in taking over the world. Then, as the ultimate ruse against the common rank and file, they have actually succeeded in convincing the planet that money and economy are immutable forms of rule all of humanity must appease or these things will somehow become enraged and gorge on our entire kind. They have actually convinced the world these things rule absolutely when they're nothing more than the strings of the puppets they dangle to achieve their means.

These and other motivators will soon crumble with the fallout of his intentions and all of this inane madness will end. How unfortunate that it shall require so much pain and suffering as well as the deaths of so many good people of the finest country God ever devised, but this is what Sun Tzu would refer to as desperate ground. It's commonly known the worst of times always brings out the best in people while liberal amounts of solicitude only serve to soften the resolve of the people. Things must seem as though all is lost in order for it to truly be saved.

Yea, but the truth can be painful and the brunt of responsibility for those who recognize it hurts to the core. What Allen knew he had to do through Jesse and his mercenaries caused him more grief than anything ever has. But Allen knew he had to give faith to what he believed in and he believed that they should succeed, for the world will benefit immensely and civilization will advance without the yoke of unleashed corruption and extremism. Only time will tell, as the time will come when he will receive either the scowl of the nod of God.
Chapter Ten

Brick simply couldn't deny the obvious fact that the job seemed oh, so easy. If anything ever came across as too good to be true, this job was it, yet there it was, right there and in his face. Once he was in Des Moines and at the receiver's location, things went from blissfully straightforward to just shy of luxurious.

He located the customer's location and pulled up near the security gate, set the brakes and shut it down. Brick had to smile as he braced for the demeanor of the guard, much in part because of the attitudes of so many who hold that position. All too often, these guys are about as close to being an asshole without being legally required to have ASSHOLE tattooed across their foreheads. But this particular fellow approached his truck with a pleasant and outgoing disposition.

"Hello there, driver," he said. "You must be new with ML. I don't think I've seen you before."

Thankful for the occasion of anonymity, Brick said, "Yes, sir. I'm new with the company."

"Well, things couldn't be much easier, my friend. Just drive down and turn the corner to the left, and bump dock door seventeen. Since you have a simple roll-up trailer door, all you need to do is remove your lock before you bump it. Once you're in place, shut her down and proceed to Receiving with the bills. You'll see that with no problems. They'll let you know what to do from there," security said.

"I'll get it done," Brick said. "Thanks a bunch and we'll see you on the way out."

Brick did just as he was instructed and once he was at the Receiving window (which often was another asshole magnet, somehow) he found those there at least as pleasant as the guard. All too often, people in receiving are about as cuddly as a pile of horseshoes, but the young lady who approached the window, who was particularly attractive, reached for his paperwork and said, "How are you doing today, driver?"

"If I was doing any better the law would be suspicious," Brick said with a smile. "And how about you?"

As she looked over the paperwork, she said, "Lovelier days are few and far between."

She took a moment to pause and look over the bills, and then said, "All right, Mr. Brickendale, if you would, please proceed that way down to the driver's lounge. You won't be able to miss it unless you're prone to accidentally wandering into traffic.

"Please know this could take as long as two hours in order to get you unloaded and then loaded for the next stop, so don't be shy in making yourself comfortable."

Brick couldn't help but to think two hours was more than reasonable for getting unloaded and then loaded all at one place, and besides, he wasn't one to thump a free watermelon even if he had to stand in line for it.

"Thank you, Miss. I'll be sure to do just that."

"Once you're loaded up and ready to go, I'll call your name over the loudspeaker or I might come down there and let you know myself," she said.

"It'd be a pleasure if you came down and let me know personally," he said.

Smiling, she said, "We'll see how it goes. We'll strive to get you back on the road as soon as we can, but in the meantime, relax and enjoy your stay."

Once Brick stepped into the driver's lounge, he was more than just impressed. So impressed that two seconds after stepping in there, he stepped out to check the sign just to make sure he wasn't stepping in the Administration Lounge or something. But no, there it was in big, bold letters, reading Driver's Lounge. But what he saw didn't look anything like he was used to. Most rooms labeled as a driver's lounge often looks like an old outhouse that nobody had the motivation or effort to set ablaze.

"Yeah, this sure looks awful, but it'll be more than good enough to use as a lounge for those truckers."

Indeed, most drivers' lounges are quite Spartan. They're very dirty, very dark, and decorated with old furniture a junkyard dog would be hesitant to touch, and offering little more than a pot of coffee that's been burning for hours if not days and an overpriced soda or vending machine that likely doesn't work and probably isn't plugged in. In fact, the machines are often so broken down that they're turned to face the wall. To say these lounges are dark is often an understatement, but they likely have to be so in order to stump those mystified by the odor.

But this lounge before Brick was, well, palatial might be too strong a word, but not by much. If there was a word that hit it spot on, it was wow.

There were several actual leather recliners, all done in smooth leather and looking in showroom condition. They were cozily placed before the large-screen plasma TV that must have been near 70" in size. The walls were paneled with a simple yet attractive cream color, decorated with numerous pictures of show-quality trucks looking their finest. The entire space was large enough to accommodate a good-sized diner that likely could hold close to a dozen pool tables, but there were only three. Along one wall there was a station for fountain drinks complete with several choices in cup size, all next to an ice maker humming quietly, waiting for use.

Brick expected to see an old refrigerator used by the staff to keep their lunches. Instead, there was a refrigerated display case similar to those one would see at any typical supermarket, with shelves behind the clean windowed doors, brightly lit in order to proudly display their offerings. From where he stood, these shelves looked so well stocked that there was no room for anyone's brought lunch.

He noticed the sign for the restrooms at the far end of the lounge, and next to the restroom sign there was another signifying the location of the showers.

"Relax and enjoy my stay, she said?" Brick muttered. "I could be locked in here until Buck Rogers gets back and I'd be just fine."

Brick noticed there were only two other drivers in the lounge, despite the fact that it could easily harbor a couple dozen. One of the drivers quietly dozed in one of the recliners propped in front of the TV while the other driver thumbed through a magazine he probably picked up from the myriad of magazines and books offered by an attractive and sizable rack.

The driver reading looked up from his copy of Sports Illustrated and said, "How are you doing, driver? You must be new with ML. I don't think I've seen you before and you're still looking at the lounge as though you're not allowed in here. All newbies do that at first."

Brick said, "Yeah, I'm here with my first load with ML. But I'll tell you what; I hope I get through here more often, because this is really a nice lounge. I don't mean to sound like a rube, but is all of this available to us, or is there some sort of catch?"

"Actually, everything in here is available exclusively to the drivers. There's no question that ML looks out for its people like no other company I've ever seen."

The driver set his magazine down, got to his feet and approached Brick with his hand extended. "My name's Pete Sanders, but everyone calls me Sandy. It's good to meet you and welcome to the team."

Brick took Sandy's hand in his and said, "My name's Gunnar Brickendale, but everyone calls me Brick."

Sandy's expression quickly went to elated recognition and he said, "Well God damn, am I a little more than pleased to meet you. That was a hell of a thing you did out there in Nevada, man. You saved a lot of lives and came out on top. You're what's known as a hero, bud."

"Thanks for that," Brick said. "But I don't think I did anything that you or anyone else wouldn't have done if they had been there."

"Yeah, sure," Sandy said with a wink. "That's what all the heroes say. But hey, you were there and did what had to be done to make things right. That should always be the way it goes, but we both know most wouldn't have done anything at all. But they got your back out there, didn't they?"

"They sure did. The entire city was amazing and Mr. Kelly has been just as much of a hero as anyone. He replaced my wrecked truck and paid them both off, which is just awesome."

"So, you're driving a paid-off, brand new truck? Damn straight that's awesome. And I'll tell you what, Brick; you'll be happier than first graders on pizza day while driving for these guys," Sandy said. "The miles keep coming, the runs are simple and straightforward, and the loading and unloading usually goes fast. And even if it doesn't, they'll pay you an hourly rate to sit here and eat their food before it spoils. And despite the claims made by some of the companies out there, this one truly treats you with respect."

"Yeah, I know how some of these companies can be these days, which is one of the reasons I drove for myself for quite some time. If I wasn't feeling indebted to Mr. Kelly and ML didn't sound so promising, I would have taken the pretty new truck and went right back to what I was doing before. Whether I do that or not depends on ML from this point," Brick said.

"Brick, I'm telling you straight up," Sandy said. "This here is the best gig I've ever heard of, let alone seen for myself. Now, Melioration will work the hell out of their people regardless of what it is they do, but they'll put at least as much effort into their people as they expect from them. That's rare in a world where most companies, if they discovered their people were putting in only fifty times the effort they're willing to put towards their people, they'd fire them on the spot. For ML, you can run like hell as much as you want and still get the home time you need.

"I mean, really, I think you'll like Melioration a lot. Oh, and how this Des Moines location works is no exception; this is how it is everywhere. You just bump the dock and go get your fill, and spoiled, while they pay you to do it. Then once they're done, they'll politely let you know and send you on your way to get the exact same treatment elsewhere. The only thing they're particular on, and I mean particular, is safe and legal driving," Sandy said.

"But," he continued, "who isn't, and if they aren't, why not? Oh, and please don't be shy about getting in there and having your fill, because if there's anything that might get them griping about things, it's food going to waste. You'll see a lot of that stuff is in Styrofoam containers, so if you have a fridge or cooler in the truck, I can tell you they'll just let you take it for the road."

Getting back up to speed has afforded Brick with an appetite, so he said, "Okay, then. Wrap it up and I'll take it, because you had me at straight up. And I'll take your advice and check out what's on the menu."

Brick browsed through what was on the menu and was more than impressed. He'd have to concentrate to count on how many fresh sandwiches were available, knowing these things cost as high as three bucks or more at the truck stops. There were containers of fresh fruit and some set up like vegetable platters, with baby carrots along with small tomatoes, celery, broccoli, and the like, and then he noticed on the counter they had a juicer. Brick doubted it was used much by this particular demographic, but there was also plenty of meat by way of roast beef and poultry, and even some tuna in pouches.

"Wow, I'm trying to think of what's out there that isn't in here. This stuff looks so good right now. I didn't know how hungry I was," Brick said.

"Hell yeah, brother. And if you get a hankering for something sweet, you got to check out the choices of pies and such in that cooler there," Sandy said. "But be careful, because if you don't pay attention, you could end up looking like him." He nodded towards the hefty fellow still audibly snoozing, who did not look shy about partaking of the company hospitality.

Brick looked and with a smile, said, "10/4 on that. Yeah, Sandy, these guys are all right. Melioration has got to be making one hell of a profit in order to be able to offer something like this. You can't help but to wonder how easy it would be for the bottom to drop out of something like this."

"At first glance, yeah, but check out what Kelly and his people have going on here. Just about everything he sells is almost always in desperate need and Mr. Kelly is widely known as a legendary businessman. He strives to get the best out of his business, his people, even himself, and because so much of this is industrial and commercial, I'm told even the government contracts come in stacks.

"You combine all of that with record-setting low turnover, which minimizes training and human resources costs, and what you see is there really is a company that doesn't think it has to shit on its people and pay them shit in order to succeed, much in part because they don't have to hire an entire different staff to file new-hires through training and paperwork just to see them file right through the exit. Yeah, the place seems fantastic, but it really only makes good sense.

"You'd think more trucking outfits could learn from this, but the vast majority of trucking outfits are run by people who'd spontaneously combust if they couldn't treat working Americans like dog shit while they consistently praise God for their prosperity."

They both heard the intercom buzz as it came on and then heard, "All right, Sandy. You're all loaded up and ready to go with a load for Montgomery, Alabama. Please remember to place your lock on your trailer, be safe, and come back and see us."

"Well, that's my cue," Sandy said. "Brick, it looks like I have to get moving, but welcome to the team and I hope to see you again soon."

"Yeah, Sandy. I'm glad I had the chance to talk with you, and I'll be watching out for you out there. Be safe and take care."

Once Sandy was out the door, Brick was alone except for the driver still asleep and subtly snoring. Well, he was still accompanied by a lot of enticing food and plenty to keep him entertained. Brick took his time in searching for what he wanted to eat and then filled up a cup at the drink station, and then sat down to watch what the news wanted the world to hear. He found it was mostly the same old tripe they commonly market, but had no way of knowing none of what the propaganda peddlers offered provided any allusion to what his future would bring. Because of that, he kicked back and enjoyed what any guy could easily get used to.
Chapter Eleven

Because so much of what they had planned was both widespread and complex, Allen struggled with the impulse to micromanage. He's largely succeeded in avoiding such poor conduct throughout the years, but this was something wholly different from his mainstream work. It was tough because this was overseeing something he knew little about (a common symptom of those plagued by micromanaging tendencies) and forty eight teams spread from sea to shining sea was a lot to think about.

Despite the complexities, he still found it wondrous just how easy it was for him to find Jesse and his teams. He first thought obtaining a mercenary would be elusive and daunting, but his skills with negotiating connections and avenues of opportunity quickly crossed his path with that of Jesse Bentley. It didn't hurt that Allen knew a lot of shadowy techniques, largely thanks to his numerous connections just down the road in Vegas. In fact, the unique aspect of Nevada business models largely contributed to Allen's success, meaning he knew what could be said and where, and he knew when to bet and when to fold. And he also knew it made sense to pander to the base essentials.

Shortly after meeting with Jesse, Allen quickly knew he'd be his go-to guy when it came to reunifying this great nation. Through a short series of terse, clandestine meetings and secure communications, both men discovered their crossed paths very well was divinely inspired.

Jesse was a military man, organically and by career choice, eventually retiring as an honored and decorated soldier devoted to the staunch defense of the United States Constitution. He maintained a gleaming record during his time in service, but recognized and harbored the need to hone his natural skills beyond the stringent and often myopic parameters of the official military. So, by the time he reached retirement, he'd achieved recognition and decoration in several martial arts disciplines as well as marksmen skills beyond the rank and file sniper. Jesse knew people who knew a guy who knew a guy, all the while developing intricate understandings of issues political and regional pertaining to solutions requiring a specific skill set. So, by the time Jesse was in his fifteenth year in military service, he realized his time in service was just a little more than a time in training and preparation for a solo profession.

Quickly after retiring, Jesse chose to transition into the Security Industry despite and because of the stigma associated with it. While the pay and benefits suck ass as a norm (he was thankful for the retirement benefits and the odd jobs coming his way), Jesse knew his understanding of all things within security issues had to be both specific and broad. While most of what he experienced was far from impressive, plenty of information was invaluable in terms of understanding the culture of the industry in its present form. Gaining a plethora of valuable knowledge along with legitimate civilian work added to what he'd become thus far.

Jesse's freelance work came easily despite the supposed clandestine nature of the independent soldier. But being a soldier of fortune came equipped with unique challenges, such as those hiring expecting such soldiers to be devoid of moral character beyond the nature of the mission. This was a trap Jesse avoided because as far as he was concerned, his mission in life was to uphold and defend the United States Constitution he believed was the foundation of all good and civilized within the human construct. He knew he'd often cope with blood under his fingernails and would break laws, but the only existing premise offering genuine civilization to the world was continually under siege. He knew the mundane world would never understand he was placed by the knowing hand of God, and he was okay with that.

So Jesse regularly found both mainstream and dirty work for those who truly knew right and wrong beyond the officially authorized jargon replete with bullet points written in pencil and exceptions for those above the common norm. In this day and age, those without blinders recognize things move because of what went on outside of OSHA, immigration, local governance and the FBI. Over time, he attained an impressive list of contacts he knew he could trust. Well before meeting Allen Kelly, Jesse had the means to assemble a team capable of changing the world. Thus, it seemed Divine Providence perceived the moment for a paradigm shift in how this world proceeded into the future, just as It had within the brotherhood of the Founding Fathers.

But just as such occurred within the time of those Founding Fathers, the amalgamation of great minds came complete with challenges, clashes and distractions. Jesse understood Kelly had everything he owned and was on the line. But they all shared the pain in knowing they were waging war with the blood of their own kind.

There was no question this was difficult for all involved, largely because it went against so many deep grains. But the more they explored the potential outcome of their plans, the more they recognized the country would rise reborn, renewed and revitalized. Everyone in the know agonized over the collateral damage, but they knew their enemies saw the entire country as nothing more than expendable while they sought their evil. Jesse and Allen came together in their quest to return the country to the people through being by and for the people.

Jesse appreciated Allen wanted to have details of what he financed, provided Allen recognized his ignorance of all things military. A penchant for Sun Tzu was not enough to second guess Bentley and his people, so such realities were illustrated clearly. It was acceptable that Kelly be at the pinnacle of the informed because they both shared a vision only achievable when they worked together.

Just as there was likely a lot of deliberate and philosophical thought going into the attacks on the World Trade Center (it supposedly being the pinnacle of American Greed and Evil), there had to be a strong meaning behind the attacks on the contiguous United States, as well as how they were attacked.

In this, things were complicated and required a great deal of logistical planning. This was because each of the forty eight states, with each being a specific target, was quite different. Sure, each of the capital cities has an Elm Street and a Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, but similarities waned quickly after that. The primary targets had to be chosen and then studied in detail within each city. How close were capital cities, particularly on the eastern side of the country? What were the challenges of the city's layout when it came to ensuring mission parameters matched through all targets? After all, every team must be within minutes of maintaining mission constraint if the broad span was going to be accomplished successfully. Too much deviation would place weakness on the mission specifics and open individual teams to counterattack, weakening the entire mission.

Allen wanted targets chosen for the value in terms of local significance, but also for the likelihood of harboring a minimum amount of people during that time of night. In part, this was why midnight on the west coast was chosen. A capacity crowd at a sports arena wouldn't be a viable target; this was not supposed to be a horrendous bloodbath. Locations known and cherished for various local and historic reasons but were largely alone after business hours worked best. This would be optimal for places recently constructed and supported by modern concerns, such as financial or corporate culture. These locations would affect a lot of drama when going down, but wouldn't be heavily populated during those hours.

Hour Two would be significant because of so many first responders being engaged and neutralized. This is simply because by reducing their abilities the average people would have to rise to the occasion, fostering citizen bravery and ability over the notion the citizens would stand back and watch, shivering while the selected heroes saved the day. The people of each community would have to take action on individual origins, placing them further into the interests of achieving solutions they know are ideal.

Overall, the idea was to enact the resolve and passion of the people through demonstrating an obvious inability on the part of the government. If there was anything truly positive about this heinous mission, it was this. Sure, the government would respond, but mainly in their default ineptitude, including the attempt to over-control through manipulation and likely martial law. But the troops and military leadership they'd have to rely on to implement such decisions would endure severe losses and obstacles, forcing efforts by the local populace through concession. Any undue influence imposed against the people would surely be met with impatient anger and simply refused. With extremist groups such as Al Qaeda being blamed, the people would cease in allowing government bureaucratic bullshit, demanding the authorities stand up and take decisive actions or simply go fuck themselves.

In this element, there would be a delicate balance to affect. The government, through habit and fear, would seek to subjugate the people, but most likely with the same tired rhetoric. The people, through habit and fear, would feel duty-bound to accept government authority. This would require clever management and manipulation in order to push the momentum towards limited governance as well as demanded representation. If the government regained primary control after the mission, the end-goal would be lost and the country would plummet into chaos, opening the country to occupation. But if the American people unite and demand their government unite with them, the revitalization of the country would be assured and the world would have to take notice.

It was within this area of planning where Allen worried the most. Jesse and his right-hand man, Wayne Nussbaum, were also concerned. Therefore, this is where Nussbaum would have to enact his greatest role within the mission.

Within the various spheres of influence, Nussbaum was the one who worked the most within the active cogs of government. While never holding high official roles, he's held several within the periphery of influence, meaning they were important but out of the public eye. He's been rarely involved with clandestine affairs, but often worked within administrative missions directly connected to ambassadors and other important positions coping with foreign affairs. The benefits to these roles were their taking place where the rubber meets the road.

People like Nussbaum did the legwork. They were there to see the machinery turn while elected officials shook hands and posed for media photos during grand functions. In this, Nussbaum was like Bentley in that he had his place on the battlefield, but his battles were conducted within the halls of the ivory towers. The cacophony of weapons fire was less deafening, but could affect at least as many casualties.

Because of so many inner connections was why Nussbaum was valuable. Allen felt concerns Nussbaum would experience some inner conflict, much in part because he was acting as a double agent. Truthfully, Nussbaum merely came into play because Jesse and he were childhood friends and kept in touch over the decades. About the same time Jesse joined up, Wayne landed an advantageous intern position within the Governor's office in Virginia, largely because he long dreamed of a political career he never attained. The story goes that once he was in the midst of the political arena, he saw how dirty it really was and therefore felt he could enact more influence away from the spotlight. Here, these two friends' worlds ran parallel and Divine Providence evolved from there.

The idea is once the primary aspects of the mission are over and Hour Four was behind them, Nussbaum would step in to take decisive action. He would be the one to move into the governmental arena in order to push for the desired momentum. There, he would have the most influence and the voice within the inner circle of the Washington beltway. Thus, his performance could very well prove to be the tipping point and might prove to be the chief player in the mission. But hey, no pressure there.

Through the cacophony of drama unfolding in every capital city along with Melioration offering solutions and assistance while Nussbaum encouraged the proper patriotism and viable perseverance from those within government, the ultimate goal of saving this country very well may see victory.

Chapter Twelve

Brick found a suitable place to park at the Love's Travel Center in Richmond Hill, Georgia. He wasn't planning on being in the area for very long, so he only grabbed what he thought he might need, including his dirty laundry. It was Friday morning, just before sunup, and he went inside to grab a quick cup of coffee and something quick at the McDonald's, surrounded by a few soldiers who were likely after something similar before they moved down the road a bit farther to Fort Stewart, the latest home of the 3rd Infantry Division.

He waited for Brandi and Amanda to pick him up, thinking about the quick weekend he wanted to spend with them before getting back out for a long string of capital city stops. His last stop for Melioration was in Atlanta, and because he wanted to see the girls, he found something fairly local going from Atlanta going to Port Wentworth, mainly just to cover the costs of the drive. Because he only intended on being in just for the weekend, he'd already lined up a load of paper going from Savannah to Columbia, South Carolina. He felt it was a good idea to fill in the blanks with short runs like this just to keep that taste in his mouth should he choose to leave ML in the future.

He thought about that not because he wanted out, but because he couldn't think of a single reason to want out. Brick left Des Moines with a load to Little Rock and ran a string of runs through Columbus, Albany, Charleston, and then Atlanta. That Sandy fellow was right; this company made things sweet for the drivers at all the ML stops. In fact, the Des Moines location was rather plain compared to what some of the others offered. It didn't have arcade games like the others, and Atlanta even offered shuttles to downtown if drivers would be delayed.

By the time Brick made it to Atlanta, things looked just a little too weird.

The processes were basically the same from stop to stop, as well. Just pull in and check with Security (who were always quite polite), and then they would direct the driver to the proper dock door. From there, the driver would visit the extraordinarily nice driver's lounge where the food quality, amenities and comfort levels fought for superiority. The handful of ML drivers Brick met along the way were practically skipping the light fandango over how much they enjoyed their jobs, swearing to anyone who would listen that they'd love to ride this wave for as long as possible.

Brick had to hand it to ML's successes. Every one of their drivers was quite happy, and even anxious to get going on to the next stop. They had plenty of freight to move and all the drivers were more than eager to get it there. This was nearly the quintessential win/win scenario and Brick would find it bizarre if anyone claimed to the contrary.

So, he asked himself, why is it bothering the hell out of you so much?

He couldn't help but to wonder how Allen Kelly ran these Melioration companies while maintaining promising success and healthy profits after the expenses of supporting such a high state of morale. After all, Melioration focused on construction and industrial products, if he understood things right. These have to be hellacious products within the ML trailers because if memory served him correctly, most everyone else he's run similar freight for operated in rather Spartan, miserly fashions in order to keep it up. Sure, many of them only had their small niche in the market and therefore less to sell and move, whereas it appears Melioration has the market cornered at a broad scale.

But still, for a company claiming the desire to keep their focus only on what they do best, they sure do throw a lot of money around. Not just that, but they're oddly secretive.

At the stop in Columbus, he tried returning to his truck in order to get the cell phone he forgot. To his surprise, he quickly discovered this wasn't going to happen and that drivers were not only directed to the lounge, but required to remain there until called. Security was polite but clear, informing Brick that if he needed to make any calls, he could go to the shipping office and make any needed calls from there. Please feel free to chat away and don't worry about the costs of the call.

"I don't mean to be rude or pushy about it, but company policies are very strict when it comes to drivers being well away from the dock area during loading and unloading," the security guard informed him. "Melioration policies are quite clear on this, so I cannot allow you to return to your truck until things are done. So if you need to make a call, the shipping office will be more than happy to let you use their phone."

Then, not to be a jerk or combative but merely curious, Brick made a similar attempt after arriving in Albany. Not only did he receive a similar spiel, but he was also informed he'd already been warned in Columbus. Then, when he arrived in Charleston...

"All right, Mr. Brickendale, you'll be proceeding to dock door seven," the nice guard said. "Just please ensure that before you leave your truck, you have everything you'll need, including your cell phone."

Wow. There was certainly more to Melioration Logistics than met the eye. Brick couldn't help but to wonder what it could be.

Once these curiosity motors were running, his mind turned to some other unique issues. Such as, these warehouses seemed rather small for places supposed to store and warehouse any amount of construction materials, and that brought his mind to how light the loads have been. He weighed the load he pulled from Charleston to Atlanta and found the load couldn't be but close to 20,000 pounds. What sort of construction materials are that light and that light all the time? His experience recalls most loads of such nature push the legal limit just to be cost effective, and run more often on flatbed rather in a van trailer. Also, how is it that a company would...?

"Hey there, hero."

Brick turned the instant he heard Amanda's voice and as soon as they made eye contact, he got to his feet and they fell together into a warm and loving hug. He then pulled away and said, "How are things with you, sweetheart?"

"They're good enough," she said. "How does it feel to be back in the saddle?"

"It feels good," he said, shrugging off the concerns from moments ago. "In fact, I've been enjoying myself and this job. Where's your mother?"

"She stepped into the ladies room. Are you just in for the weekend?"

"For this go around, I think so. I don't plan on being out for too long before I come back through, though. It's just that I want to leave a good impression on the company while I'm still new."

"I doubt that would be much of a challenge, Dad. You could likely run a load once a month between here and Macon and they'd be happy to have you," Amanda said.

"Maybe, but that just isn't my style," he said. "I'm not the sort who would take advantage."

"You've changed quite a bit, then, from the guy you were when you were a young soldier," he heard from behind him.

He turned to see Brandi approaching with a cup of coffee in her hands. He smiled and said, "My dear, I'm sure I have no idea of what it is you're suggesting."

"What she's suggesting is that's how you ended up with me," Amanda said. "Can we get out of here before you two make me barf on the floor?"

Thanks so much to having a better job and fewer bills (a truck payment is a big bill), Brick decided to treat the girls to a night out on Hilton Head Island. It was a bit of a drive (for those two, anyway), but well worth the time. They enjoyed some laughs and a memorable seafood dinner, and they did some sightseeing along with some shopping. But he didn't want for much at all and bought very little for himself, but the girls found some silver jewelry sparkling in their eyes.

The big thing for him was he was grateful to Brandi for being open and comfortable with the excursion. The fact that they're divorced could easily be an aspect of their history too momentous to see around, let alone the fact that she remarried. True was it that her second marriage was an abrupt failure, but there was that brief amount of time there was another man in their lives. Lately, it seems Brandi's content with being a working mother; she hasn't appeared on the market since her divorce and doesn't exhibit signs of minding.

A part of him felt a twinge of guilt and sadness in the thought, if for nothing more than she was still young and quite beautiful. It just seemed cheerless for her to be going through these times all alone. Maybe she just didn't want to complicate things while Amanda was at this stage in her life. As for Amanda, the guy would have to be astounding for her to be completely cool with the relationship. Brick knew Amanda well enough to know she wouldn't seek to jeopardize her mother's happiness, but he also knew her well enough to know she'd resent no longer being so exclusive.

The thoughts had Brick wondering how he'd cope with such issues in his future. Was he really going to remain married to the job from here forward? He could stay true to the truck and only the truck, but there was no denying it felt so good to be together as a family. A family with a trucker is a unique situation, but still a family all the same. He certainly felt the desire to rekindle things with Brandi and often did, particularly at times like these, but he had no idea how to approach it without tainting what they had now. Besides, he couldn't see how it could be any better than it was before, because he'd still be gone at least as much as he was back then.

As they breezed through the various shops and the ladies looked over fashions, antiques and whatnots, Brick felt it best to take it as it comes. He's certainly learned to appreciate such philosophies in recent times. He's learned a major change in life can be just around the bend, so enjoying the present was sound wisdom.

Hilton Head was a great place for them to get out to and enjoy as a family, particularly since they didn't have to go very far to get there, yet it was still somewhat different from Savannah. It was just that Brick feared getting mired in awkward moments with Brandi, and there have been times when the awkward moments popped up just when things were getting comfortable. He also supposed it could be one of them was concerned the other one would feel...well, he just didn't know.

So, there were occasional awkward moments. Not so awkward that they didn't talk, but he felt somewhat uncomfortable in speaking his mind, and was sure she felt the same way.

Of course there was still so much of him that loved her dearly. After all, she was the mother of his wondrous child, so it seemed a given he'd feel that way. Plus, there was the fact that she took care of herself and looked good. Brick noticed (without knowing exactly how he felt about it) that there were several guys there in Hilton Head who also noticed, and he'd always known she caught the eyes of the drivers when she stepped into the truck stop. Brandi had that classic southern girl appearance, and she filled in those faded jeans quite nicely. Plus, she was funny and vivacious when she was in a good mood, and lately she seemed to be in a good mood a lot. To top it all off, she was very smart and quite capable.

"Where have you been?" Brandi asked with a smile.

"Uh, I'm sorry. What?"

"You look a little lost in thought is all," she said. "You okay?"

He genuinely smiled at her and said, "I'm okay. Really good, actually. I'm having a good time being able to spend this time with you two."

"I know I'm having a good time." She looked to Amanda and said, "How about you, girlfriend?"

"Oh, yeah. I've always liked it here."

"Me, too, but we probably should think about heading home soon. But coming up here was a good idea, Gunnar, so thanks for the good time."

"The pleasure was all mine."

During the drive back to Savannah, Amanda quickly went quiet and was nodding off in the back seat. She'd enjoyed a full day, with behavior and a demeanor that was delightful throughout, which was such a blessing. Nobody would have been surprised by that, but Brick's heard all the stories about how teenage girls can be. But then, Amanda's always been a mellow and thoughtful girl without being too emotional. But at the time, the ride quickly turned into just being Brick and Brandi.

They had some small talk and recapping of the day for a short while after hitting the road, but once Amanda drifted away, things went quiet in the car for a while. Brick simply drove and Brandi watched the world go by, but the static electricity was building a tension she eventually resisted, causing her to strike up conversation.

"I'm getting the feeling there's something about this job that's bugging you. Am I right?"

Brick was happy to break the agonizing silence and he was more than happy to talk about this issue with her, but he wasn't sure where to start. Rather than seeming resistant to talk or come across as distant, he allowed the words to flow as they desired.

"Well, it's just that it's one of those things where it all seems too good to be true," he said, glancing her way. "The runs are from capital to capital, which in itself isn't too odd, but things get bizarre after that.

"The driver goes to one of the Melioration locations in whatever city, and then from there the process is always the same. The gate guard, who is always pleasant, which is odd enough, informs you of the dock door to bump, and then you're required to leave the truck and proceed directly to the driver's lounge after checking in."

He put on the left blinker as he prepared to pass a J.B. Hunt truck and said, "Up to there, it isn't really too weird, but they're paying fourteen dollars an hour just for you to enjoy these lounges full of really good food along with plenty to keep you entertained. All of these lounges have these large-screen TV's, pool tables and some other niceties. I mean, these refrigerators are stocked with some really good food, and they want you to eat it."

He looked into his rearview as he left the J.B. Hunt truck behind and said, "One thing I find odd is they will not allow you near your truck during the loading and unloading. In fact, they're adamant about that. But they unload you and then load you up with something going to the next scheduled capital city."

"Okay, but what's there about this to feel weird enough to feel a stir?" she asked.

"That's a good question, and the thing is, I can't put my finger on it. But I can say for a company geared only towards construction and industrial supplies, the loads are consistently light, which in itself strikes me as odd," he said.

"Okay."

"Well, none of these things by themselves pop up as any big deal, but I'm still seeing a red flag here and there. Melioration is primarily pushing all of this within the confines of their business, but I'm not seeing any hint of local or commercial sales. I imagine there must be some local business going on, but I'm not seeing any hint of it while I'm there. I guess I'm just getting curious about what's in the box because my spider senses are pinging on something. Does that make any sense?"

"Well, I guess so," she said. "Based on what I'm hearing, I can't help but to wonder if they're doing something illegal and smoothing it over with a sweet gig to keep anyone from rocking the boat. But damn if they weren't marvelous to us. Besides, how illegal could it be?"

"They're absolutely marvelous to everyone from what I can see. It sure would motivate one to keep quiet, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, but what do you do?"

Brick watched the road for an extended moment of silence and then said, "You know, I really don't know. To be honest, all of this could be just me, and I could just mind my own business, but..."

"Gunnar Brickendale isn't the sort of guy who shrugs things off," she said, finishing the thought.

Yeah, I suppose that's right, he thought. Brick is among those who believe in the philosophy stating those who will burn in the depths of Hell are not those who committed the most heinous of crimes, but those who witnessed those crimes and looked away. He believes the world is as bad as it is not just because of the wrongs committed, but allowed. The motivation to do wrong, and then allow it, simply seems to be greater than the motivation to do the right thing.

How Melioration factors in with this philosophy is cryptic because Brick can't place a finger one what's wrong, but yet sensing something's wrong is the point. Yet, it's easy to see how everyone else is blind to this, since if one's doing their job well and focused on that, everything else about ML is as enticing as naked NFL cheerleaders and everyone's in on the extravaganza. Also, they're doing their jobs and reaping the benefits offered by their employer, so there's no obvious issue to address. But it just doesn't matter how many pine-scent air fresheners one plops into a pile of shit, because it's still going to stink. Already, it's reached a point where whenever Brick sees Melioration, he sees a grand panorama of gorgeous scenery, sunshine and prancing unicorns, but something big and not feeling well took a big dump nearby but behind something.

"No, I'm not one to shrug things off, but I can manage to mind my own business," he said.

"But then, this is your business," she said.

"Yep. Now you know why I haven't said much about it. I really don't know what to say, and I could simply be suffering lingering effects from recent brain damage. Yeah, before much longer the damage will spread and I'll be up in a tree blubbering on about who-knows-what."

"Or, there's really a problem and you might get caught up in it. Only time will tell," she said, showing she didn't have much more to say about it.

They lightened up the conversation by changing the subject to Amanda. If there was something they agreed on more than anything else, it was Amanda was such a great kid, and that was a tremendous relief. Amanda somehow found the wisdom of being more caught up in her future than the shallow fads of the day, yet she still kept in with the cool kids and wasn't socially awkward.

Several miles went by with them singing the accolades of their progeny when they heard, "You woke me up because I heard you talking about me. It makes my ears burn."

"Your ears burn when people are talking about you?" Brick asked. "You're lucky, because it makes me gassy. There I am, in the truck and minding my own business as I'm rolling down the road, and then there they go, talking about me until I have to roll down the windows just to avoid the chore of resealing the leather interior to keep it from peeling. Yeah, if you get enough people talking about me, environmental impact statements have to be filed."

"Mom, this is the sort of guy you get involved with? This isn't a hereditary condition, is it?"

As a family, they laughed and joked and enjoyed their time together while driving home where they would enjoy more time together, as a family. Brick just couldn't dismiss how good it felt, and he wasn't alone in the thought.

It was rather late, but they eventually made it to Savannah and home, where they gathered their loot from the car and made it inside to call it a day. Brick knew the next day would be strewn with mundane, everyday things such as laundry, bills and getting supplies for the road. He looked at his watch to realize it was already tomorrow, so they needed to reboot if they were going to tackle it right. Yet, it wasn't so easy to just shut down after a day's gone so well.

Amanda found it easiest by saying, "Okay, I'm whooped. I'm turning in. But I love you guys and I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night, sweetheart."

"G'nite."

Once Amanda was out of the room and behind her closed bedroom door, Brandi looked to Brick and said, "I don't know how else to say this, Gunnar, so I'll just say it. I want you to sleep with me tonight, if you'd like to."

For an instant, Brick wasn't sure how to respond, but he came up with something fast before she had the chance to change her mind. He saw (and he saw this throughout much of the day) she was on an edge of wanting to be together as a family, to be together completely or not at all. While she felt that way, he knew this halfway thing of being together as a family of acquaintances wasn't easy. It was tolerable because of Amanda being the axle of the wheel, but the stigmas made it wobble. After all, he's hardly around except for the occasional weekend and sometimes a touch more, but now with him being who he is in Amanda's eyes along with so many others, the sense of him is always there even when he isn't. He's always been a part of Brandi's life, for better or worse. It might as well be for the better.

"I would really like that, Brandi. Why do you feel that way?"

"I'll answer that if you answer the question first."

I didn't see that coming, but okay. "Well, when we have days like today, or, well, yesterday, we're about as much of a family as any can be, so the rift of our separation smarts a little. I've always been grateful that our divorce was amicable (God knows how many divorced couples seek one another's gruesome death), but we have the challenge that we don't have any hard feelings to fall back on. Now, after time has passed and we've both grown up more, I feel drawn in again. Then there's the simple fact that you look really hot," he said with a wry grin.

"Yeah, I do, don't I?" she said with a hand on her hip with a wink. "And you're right; the bond was never broken, just pulled loose. It helps that you've maintained a relationship with Amanda and you've been serious with your responsibilities, all coupled with the fact that you're a decent man. Also, all of this hero stuff could have gone to your head, but you've been quite humble. And I like the way you check me out when you don't think I notice."

There was nothing left to say, so he manned up and approached her, placed his arms around her as he looked into her eyes, and leaned in and kissed her. There was a slight hesitation for the briefest of moments, and the first kiss was quick, followed by another quick kiss, it followed by one lingering in the moment. After that, their kiss remembered those long nights well before Amanda arrived, when the youthful passions enflamed the senses, and then a deep, sensual kiss reconnected their love as it flowed in. Their hands were finding each other more and more, and soon they couldn't get close enough to one another.

They worked their way to the bedroom and kicked the door closed, and from there the ruling senses were desire and emotion. Everything was so perfectly right, with the magic of eye contact along with the longing and the want, knowing it couldn't be any more right than this.

Once their bedroom door was closed and they were out of sight, Amanda pulled her door closed the rest of the way, thrust a victorious fist into the air and loudly whispered, "Oh, yeah. It is about damn time!"

The next morning, just before Brick and Brandi got out of bed (they've been very, very awake for well over an hour), he said to her, "Damn. This is the first time in a long time I just plain old don't want to get back on the truck."

"I don't want you to, either," she said as she snuggled tight up to him. "You don't absolutely have to go right away, do you?"'

"No, not right away. But I honestly should be on the truck tonight since I need to get it moving early in the morning. Actually, I should have the load to Columbus early in the morning. But today will be a day with you two, although I do have a couple chores to do. You know, laundry and stuff."

"I gotcha. We can enjoy the day together, but Amanda and I both have things to do in order to get ready for the week."

There was a subtle knock on the door.

They looked at each other smiling and said, in harmony, "Yes, Amanda."

"Hey, would you guys like some breakfast?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, at first I was thinking we could go to Denny's or Cracker Barrel, but we have plenty around here I could whip something up with," she said.

"Our daughter can put together a breakfast that would put any of those other places to shame," Brandi said. "Eggs, pancakes, the meats and the whole shebang."

"Breakfast sounds like a winner, sweetheart," Brick said. "Besides, we'd never get into a Cracker Barrel on a Sunday."

Brandi moved to get out of bed, looked at Brick lying there, and relaxed, saying, "I just don't want to get out of bed."

Looking at her lying next to him, he said, "I certainly don't, either, but..."

Breakfast by Amanda waited patiently, so they made the effort to get up and dressed. While they didn't really want to get going, they still weren't exactly sure where this was going, yet they both knew they certainly wanted to find out. It just seemed so easy, with both of them having jobs and a daughter together needing their care. They had a family's purpose, and potentially a family's future.

After dressing, they went into the kitchen where they were greeted by the fresh, inviting aroma of good coffee along with a blushing, smiling Amanda.

"Good morning, love," Brick said. "What's on the menu?"

"I don't know; whatever you would like, I suppose," she said pensively, offering no eye contact. Amanda stared straight into a bowl of pancake mix, stirring frantically, trying not to blush, trying not to smile, failing badly at both.

"Oh, for the love of Christ, girl; just say what you're going to say," Brandi said while pouring some coffee. "You look like you're about to bust."

Amanda put down the mixing bowl wearing an expression one might think would be reserved for Christmas morning. "Hey, I'm just happy this ten foot pole you two have been carrying around is gone, that's all. Yesterday felt so much like a family, and I really liked it. It felt so good. I just wasn't sure if I was the only one who felt it. But wow, it seems you two felt quite a bit and-"

"And that's enough out of you," Brandi said, smiling.

"It does and I do, Amanda," Brick said. "My love for you as your father has never changed, but it does feel so much better to set aside the ten foot pole you mentioned. Man, my ribs were getting tender..."

The Brickendale took one another's hands and laughed together.

For Brandi, this was a singular moment. Before Brick's accident, and particularly before the day they enjoyed at Hilton Head, she rarely acknowledged any rekindling desire for Brick in any way. She's always loved and cared about him as Amanda's father and always knew he was a decent man, but what used to be used to be and therefore over. But when Amanda and she traveled to Nevada to visit after his big accident, she couldn't help but to think Gunnar Brickendale was everything they said he was and more.

Brandi had long appreciated how the relationship between father and daughter remained strong over time and that Gunnar genuinely cared in this world where too few men had any honor at all, viewing their children as little more than a menacing responsibility they had to endure for eighteen years, as if it was some sort of bill offering no chance of a return on the investment. But this guy called Brick treasured his daughter as much as any man.

She had to relearn what she first knew, but not until after their divorce. It turns out (who knew?) these guys aren't knights in shining armor who would take the world by the collar. Sometimes, these guys don't have all the answers and everything a girl wants, right there in the palm of his hand. From time to time, these guys are just another person out of billions of people who are just trying to survive.

When they flew out to Nevada, Brandi did so mainly for the sake of Amanda, but once she was out there and saw what had happened, Brandi felt genuine concern for the man who provided for their daughter, but also for the man she once loved and here risked his life for the lives of others. Then, there in the bandages, she saw that knight she once knew now wounded because of severe battle. Furthermore, because she's known him for as long as she has, she couldn't find any element of surprise in what he'd done.

During the trip back to Georgia, numerous thoughts within her reminisced of the days when they were together and to how things should have been. She resigned the subtle regret to young naïveté, mostly because she just didn't know, or concern herself with, what she had. Brandi wasn't going to beat herself down for it too severely as so much of that was they were both quite young and still figuring things out. When she was that young woman, she wanted him to be everything when no individual let alone a man ever could, and then when he actually wasn't, her love darkened to resentment. Once that occurred, the resentment went viral and consumed everything else that was once there.

It wasn't until after their divorce when she discovered there was no such thing as the perfect man. Even worse was the rude fact that she had to be worthy, too, and that just being a woman wasn't good enough to force God's Creation to bend to her expectations. After her second marriage collapsed so fast (something for which she would always be grateful), Brandi focused her cares and concerns on her daughter. Rather than focus on prior mistakes and simple bullshit that wasn't there and never was, she learned to dismiss what she wanted for what Amanda needed. But when they arrived in Georgia after seeing what Gunnar had done, and received in Nevada, plenty of the old regrets, memories and emotions rose up to surround her.

But hopes were in the crowd, as well, and faint, distant thoughts mused on the possibility of trying again, which was why she openly accepted his gracious offer to spend the day at Hilton Head and truly enjoy it rather than politely decline and encourage him to take Amanda alone. Wow, but she was so glad she didn't do that.

If there was something she learned the hard way (but at least she did, while too few women ever do at all), was that while men don't always have all the answers, they do know they want to make the woman they care about happy. Yes, for whatever pathetic and mysterious reason, good men have this need to make women happy. While this is a daunting task akin to harnessing the power of the universe and making it juggle chainsaws, Brandi chose to allow Brick to make them happy (wow, it really is that simple) and found it good.

For several miles there was too much of an awkward silence and she just couldn't allow it to flourish. She very well knew that guy could drive for hours and hours and simply enjoy it for the task's sake, so she had to get him talking on something. When Amanda and she picked him up from the Love's truck stop, she'd spotted the darkening clouds brewing above him and noticed those clouds were shaped like the job, and then she recognized that she recognized that. At first she assumed he might be annoyed with being restricted to an employer's needs, what with him being so fiercely independent for so long, but she had to admit such an attitude wasn't in his grain.

Once she learned he was aching over something potentially dirty reinvigorated her love and respect for a man who felt strongly about being right and honorable, and from that point she just knew she had to recreate the connection they once had if there was any possibility to do so.

She had to smile knowing she had the secret ingredients needed to make it all a reality, and she was glad she did. Sure, there was the obvious fact that Amanda linked them, but what took place throughout the course of the night had been absent for far too long and it felt marvelous to have it back again. Then, to see the wonder affirmed in Amanda's approving expressions assured Brandi that miracles can really happen and that knights in shining armor ride in with the sunshine glistening on them.

"Those ten foot poles are now gone," she said as she held their hands and saw she had her family back together again, and that it was good.

Chapter Thirteen

Since just about everything was in place and simply waiting for the command, it was getting difficult for Allen to sleep at night. He didn't know if it was apprehension or excitement, or if it was agonizing dread. But then, he was smart enough to recognize it was likely a combination of these and more. There was no doubt he was on an edge when it came to these plans, but God if he wasn't thrilled by the potential outcome. It wasn't even the prophesied outcome thrilling him most; knowing the country's imminent demise was assured if no action took place was the greatest motivator.

Of course it was the human element paining him, but only from a short-term perspective. After all, the long-term human situation promised greater quality of life for all those living within the stronger and reunited free country rather than an America dismantled by the Socialists and Utopian kooks who only think humanity can be freest when oppressed. But these so-called Progressives would soon meet the errors of their ways, even though the thoughts and concerns, and insomnia, made it hard to focus on what Jesse was trying to say.

"What? I'm sorry, Jesse," Allen said. "It's just that I haven't been sleeping like I should be."

"Well, to be honest, you shouldn't have to concern yourself with the minute details anyway, Mr. Kelly. Everything is now in the hands of dedicated experts," Jesse said. "In almost every state of the nation, virtually everything is in place to commence with Hour One. There are a few minor details needing attention, but we're only a few minor details from being ready to take action.

"As for Hour Two, everything is in place and now just waiting for Hour One to commence and be complete. Once the final details of Hour One are accomplished, we'll be ready to push the Go button. Now we're just waiting for the humdrum details such as getting the last of the truck loads to where they need to be. And, Mr. Kelly, that brings me to a minor concern I wanted you to know about."

Allen wasn't looking forward to any concerns, regardless of how minor, at this stage of the game, so Jesse woke him up enough to gain his attention. "Because I fail to see how any concern can be minor at this point, please tell me what's on your mind."

"I suspect your celebrity driver is getting suspicious, Allen. I don't have a lot to go on, but he's been asking questions and I'm sure he's tried to sneak in to see loading and unloading take place," Jesse said.

Allen looked directly at him and said, "Are you sure? Why would he do that?"

"I'm only going on a hunch at the moment, but part of my job is to react to the slightest thing. There was a time when Brickendale forgot his cell phone and tried going back for it, which met with a quick response and he was turned around, told he could make any calls he desired from the shipping office. But yet, just a couple stops later and the cycle was repeated.

"He claimed he forgot his phone and tried again even though he was clearly informed he couldn't go back and he could make calls from the office. Because I think the guy is too smart to goof like that, I suspect he's getting too curious. More specifically, because I don't buy into the I forgot my cell phone and need to get it even though I just went through this days ago scenario, I think he intentionally repeated the attempt in order to see what might happen, largely to test the waters. There has to be some reason for him to do that."

Of all the people, Allen didn't want to accept this star driver was being a hassle. It was mostly that this Brickendale was such a likable guy and definitely a good man. Not only that, but Allen placed a lot of investment in this particular driver. He didn't want to put it before Jesse in such a way, largely out of couth, but without having something definitive on the actions of this driver, Allen didn't want to lose what he thought was a good thing.

"Does it appear he's a definite threat, or is he just being curious about how things are done?"

"I couldn't say, since we're only going on the notion of perfect paranoia at this point. There aren't any signs he's some sort of threat, but he's still popped a red flag or two. It likely isn't enough to be anything, but with what we have at stake, it might be a good idea to put him on things independent of this mission."

Allen felt the need to consider it. Zero tolerance was certainly smarter when it came to issues this important, but they'd only have these select drivers on this particular mission for just a little longer. In the very near future everything would be in place and the drivers would have to be turned to more legitimate work, which will be helping with the recovery process. Those cushy lounges and endless supplies of free fine dining will disappear, of course, but with everything going on, they're sure to more than understand. At least they'll have their stories to tell.

So, there I was, watching the big TV when...

"Jesse, if we get anything else on this driver we'll put him on something different, but this is all but done and we'd have to make adjustments and delays in plans if we had to bring in someone new. Creating more delays would only serve to open us up to yet more risk," Allen said. "Let's keep an eye on him and make sure he abides by the rules, but I'd like to let this slide for now, if we can. It's just that until he actually shows he's a problem he's just what you said, which is my celebrity driver. He has this shine about him and could prove to be a big part of things to come."

"I understand, Mr. Kelly, and we'll go with your request. I have to admit I have a lot of respect for the guy, too. What he did and how he did it welcomes him into my corner," Jesse said. "But I have to say that if he pushes just one more button we're going to dispatch him on a load running screwdrivers to Anchorage."

If Jesse Bentley knew anything about Brick pulling his own loads independently, such as the one from Savannah to Columbia, it might have been the ticket to Anchorage. But Brick's reason went beyond paying for the fuel between the two cities, because he could have let that go. The main reason Brick wanted the load is because he wanted to feel a genuinely heavy load on him. This new Pete was strong and running like a champ, but it had yet to be put to the test when it came to running any real weight.

But it wasn't just the weight, since he wanted to gauge a truly heavy load compared to what he's been hauling for Melioration. Because ML is supposedly running construction and industrial materials, how could it be the loads are as light as something like consumer electronics? Brick assumed it could just be him, so he felt a load pushing the limits of legal weight and then pushing those rolling hills along I-26 between Charleston and Columbia would confirm or dismiss his suspicions.

Doing so was simple enough. It was less than thirty minutes to where Brick needed to pick up the paper, getting there just about when they opened in order to expedite the process. He went inside with the required pickup and Bill of Lading numbers, and within minutes he was bumping a dock door. The enormous rolls of paper, eight of them at the most, he assumed, would be on quickly and he'd be moving out.

Although this was his own version of secret-agent investigating, his mind was on other matters. Leaving Brandi and Amanda behind was tougher this time than it had been in a long time, largely because of the obvious reasons. Rekindling the relationship with Brandi was amazing enough, but doing so with Amanda's approval felt unbelievably marvelous, and honestly, helped him refocus a lot of what he was doing with his life. He's long been happy with his career, passing each day with leaving about six hundred miles behind by day's end, but he had failed to realize he fell into the rut of not caring about much else.

He likely missed the lack of concern as a concern because he wasn't really angry or unsettled with anything. But now that he had more to concern himself with than just paying the bills with the bucks he's been chasing, certain lights began illuminating things in hues he hasn't noticed in quite some time.

Getting involved with the children in Reno and then now regaining a more active role in his own family somehow opened his eyes to greater concerns than what's just encountered along the highway. It wasn't as if he was the sort of guy who didn't care about the rest of the world; it's just that he hasn't had anything placing his concerns at the test like he has lately. Lately, he's seen a world full of threats and aggression that should be unnecessary for a world supposedly full of good and caring people.

But it's these and other concerns prompting him to want to know what's going on within these ML trailers. Now, he's smart enough to know the present time isn't the time to worry about it or push his luck any more than he has. After the paper was delivered and he made his way to the Melioration location to check in and get going with the next one, he'd toe every line and just relax like he was paid to do so. But his eyes would be open just a little more, and his ears would be paying close attention.

The paper rolls were soon in place and chocked down, and Brick checked in the trailer to ensure no visible damage occurred while putting them in place. His experience recalls these paper shippers driving a thousand nails into a trailer's floor in order to secure something that wouldn't move unless the truck was rolled over, but these guys did okay.

"All right, driver," the forklift operator said, handing the bills over. "Just sign right here and you'll be out of here."

Brick signed where requested and collected the necessary paperwork for the Columbia customer, and after he sealed and locked the trailer, he turned the Pete's long nose for Columbia. He'd need to go past the Port Wentworth Pilot truck stop (not a bad spot if one could ever get in there), so he considered a cup of coffee but decided against it. There was always the Wilco-Hess truck stop near the junction of I-95 and I-26 by St. George, so if he still wanted some coffee, it would be a lot easier to get in to, particularly by the time he got near there.

It was where this junction was located that he had the most interest, as right near there would be where the hills would start. From Savannah, he just had I-95 straight to I-26, which was about ninety miles of flat road. But even with that being the case, he felt the difference right away. His mind wasn't so shattered that he didn't recall how his other Pete ran strong with heavy weight, such as Spiedie ingredients, but he could sense this one muscling down in order to attain those higher gears. It was still strong and confident, but the ML loads have really been oddly light. The true test would present itself within two hours.

About an hour and a half later, Brick was leaving the truck stop with some fresh coffee and coming around the ramp of the junction for I-26 going west. It was less than sixty miles to Columbia from that point, and there would be a few minor hills to contend with along the way. The times he'd passed other trucks with heavy loads through these hills were countless as they crawled uphill in order to crawl up the next one. The hills certainly weren't as bad as they were where I-26 crossed into North Carolina and climbed steep towards Asheville, but they still roller-coastered enough to slow down traffic. The question at the moment was, would he be joining the teams helping slow it down?

By the time he passed the little burg of Bowman and approached the slightly larger town of Orangeburg, he was feeling it. Yes, this paper was slowing him down to the point to where he had to downshift so he didn't have to lug it. If he didn't have an old, beaten up truck with an older flatbed in front of him, he likely would have maintained the momentum to keep a decent speed, but he ended up slowed down to less than forty and pulled on the four-ways.

He nodded and said, "Good enough for me". He came to the satisfactory conclusion that ML must only run industrial product made of aluminum and titanium, or they were running something entirely different. He didn't really need to go through all of this to boost the confidence of his suspicions, as he's been driving long enough to know a heavy load when one's under him, but he wanted to gauge this truck against some truly heavy weight and the loads he's been hauling.

So, he found out what he needed to know, but feeling the real difference was just up the road.

The paper was off the truck in less than an hour after arriving to the customer, and thirty minutes later Brick was pulling in to the Melioration location just west of Columbia. Although he's only done this a handful of times, it was beginning to feel quite routine and user-friendly. He pulled up to the security guard shack, set the brakes and shut it down.

"Good morning, there driver," the Melioration guard said with enthusiasm.

Already, things felt funny, since while the people at both ends of the paper run weren't blatant dicks about things, common human interaction wasn't on the to-do list when it came to the coming and going of drivers. But this ML guard sounded as though he's been anxious to see Brick since his alarm went off that morning.

"Good morning, my friend," Brick said despite never having seen the fellow before. "How have they been treating you around here?"

"Practically like royalty. You got nothing in the wagon?"

"No. I live down by Savannah and spent the weekend with family. I came from there to here after leaving this morning," Brick said, requiring no deception.

"That's always nice. Family reminds us of why we bother at all. Otherwise, you know the drill?" he asked.

"By heart."

"Oh, just to ensure all details are covered, I have to pass on that all drivers must remain in the driver's lounge during all loading and unloading procedures, so make sure you have everything you'll need, like your cell phone."

Brick patted an empty pocket and said, "I got it right here."

Once he was in the lounge and sitting in what had to be the nicest leather recliner he's ever seen, Brick tried running through his mind what he might assume Melioration could really be doing. Could they really be doing something genuinely illegal and using these various Melioration locations to boost legitimate profits? He knew there were several companies out there normally having nothing to do with pornography commonly investing in that industry just to boost profits. It was easy money. If there were companies making cars, fruit juice drinks and who knew what else feeling no hesitation in investing in those sordid movies, then how much more of a stretch would it be for a company (based in Nevada) to bend a few laws in order to bump up the profit margin? They weren't risking trouble to run something like drugs, were they? He supposed anything was possible, but something like that just wasn't likely. Anyone who knows the road knows that if you're going to move large quantities of contraband, you don't use commercial trucks. You use the all-too-common RV.

Brick's heard the talk just like everyone else has, although he's never been sure if it was urban legend or something based in fact. But if there's someone out there who wants to run drugs, guns, or who-knows-what, the Recreational Vehicle would be a far better choice than the constantly scrutinized commercial tractor-trailer. The Department of Transportation and other overbearing governmental entities observe the big trucks the same way hawks watch ducklings, but it seems they turn a blind eye to the RV community.

There's an element of irony there as such a significant percentage of the people driving those gargantuan RV's have never driven something that large before (except perhaps an early seventies Chrysler) and they've barely been trained if at all, but there's an economic dynamic to smooth. If the Department of Transportation (DOT) scrutinized RV's (driven by the average license holder who happens to have some discretionary income) as much as they did the big trucks (driven by people intensively trained) for the purposes of determining and enforcing safety (claimed as the on-high concern, with a straight face), then the RV would be anything but fun and would likely fizzle out of popularity. In short, there's a cha-ching factor to stroke.

So long as the RV moves along according to the rules of the road and is driven safely, it will continue to do so unabated. The Transportation Industry runs as a matter of business and economic support, which somehow opens the industry to endless and ever-compounding scrutiny on the part of who-knows-how-many governmental entities, but bullying the RV industry would likely decimate that niche. So, as long as they're playing nice on the road, it stands to reason they would serve as a remarkable way to move high-value products.

This logic made it difficult for Brick to believe these ML trailers are full of smoke and blow. The chances they'd be pawed through by some government employee validating his day's wages would place the risk too high. But the old Duck philosophy didn't fade away. This still looked and sounded like a duck, so...

Because his curiosity burned and chafed, Brick decided he'd satisfy his curiosity in a way best suited to him, however elusive such a way was while he watched the news and ate what was a very fresh and pleasing egg salad sandwich. If there was one thing no longer a mystery, it was he would never again tip his hand around any of the Melioration locations. Therefore, he watched what was truly important in the world, such as concerns about Middle East troubles existing since before rocks were invented, and of course the present concerns revolving around the Kardashian sisters, whoever they were, and kept his personal concerns where they belonged.

But once he was away from anything Melioration and the opportunity knocked, Brick would soothe his aching curiosity. Now, should he discover Melioration and Kelly's operations were on the up-and-up, he would rededicate himself to the process and they wouldn't have a better driver, but he would turn a blind eye to wrongdoing no better than he ever would an out-of-control school bus.
Chapter Fourteen

Brick's run from Columbia was heading to Tallahassee, which couldn't be much easier. However, there was no quick shot between the two. So he was on his way back to Savannah and then, theoretically, he could run US Hwy 84 all the way to US Hwy 319, but that wouldn't be faster than I-95 to I-10 on its best day. Once he was in Florida, he'd pick up US Hwy 301 through Callahan to Baldwin in order to reach I-10, figuring that was the only shortcut worth the trouble. Besides, here was another worthy reason to visit the family.

Brick readily admitted to himself it felt good to see this in such a light. Besides, he had plenty of time to get the load to Tallahassee. If he pushed it he could likely make it in a day, but it didn't have to be there until the next day. So he called Brandi to pass on the news (a call made on the cell phone he was assured to have on him), a bit anxious to hear how she might find the idea. After all, while she seemed comfortable with reigniting their relationship, it seemed a lot to expect her to change her day according to his place on the map. Also, he just left and there could be such a thing as too much of Gunnar Brickendale. It wasn't that he was trying on the nerves; it was simply that he was rarely around and that can be gotten used to.

She answered and said, "Wow, love. We'll look forward to seeing you tonight. I'll come by and pick you up on my way home from work."

"It isn't too much of a hassle then?"

"Shit. If I had to pick you up in Valdosta every time, that might be something. But you're just a few miles away. Besides, there's something Amanda and I want you to have with you."

"Okay, what's that?"

"Amanda wants an upgrade when it comes to her computer and she wants you to have the old one," Brandi said. "I think it sounds like a good idea, Renaissance man."

"Well, I should be honest with you and admit I don't know much about those things."

"Well, I have to be honest with you and inform you it's high time you learned, and anyone who makes a computer seem like it's a big deal is just being stubborn," she said. "There are certainly advanced aspects to the computer of today, but getting a handle on the basics is quite user-friendly. The big reason Amanda wants you to have it is because it's a great way to keep in touch.

"Use of the internet is very simple and keeping in touch through email and Facebook is so easy. Besides, once you get comfortable with the computer, it could prove to be a great tool for your business. There are a lot of truckers who use the computer in their line of work. I looked into it and found a bunch of sites dedicated to trucking issues. Joining the 21st Century wouldn't be a bad idea, and this computer thing looks like it's going to be around for a while."

With a laugh, he said, "I do know what they look like, my dear, but I've been able to get by without one. But I like the idea and I do see more and more drivers with the things at the truck stops. You two will have to show me the ropes, though."

"Between Amanda and me we should be able to get you up to speed in no time at all. Once this cyber bug bites you, I think you'll be hooked."

Once he was off the phone, he felt a lot better. It certainly felt a lot better knowing Brandi wasn't entertaining second thoughts. It wasn't as though she'd dismiss how the weekend went as soon as he was out of sight (they were a little old for that) but it had to be a lot on her mind. But then, perhaps it was a lot off of her mind. He didn't know, so he settled in to the notion that while he could get quite comfortable with the computer, he'll never have a firm understanding of women.

Brick arrived at the Love's rather late in the afternoon, slightly concerned he might not be able to get in there with the hour being what it was. Despite their honorable act of expanding the lot from what it used to be (wow, but it was small), it still tended to fill quickly due to a shortage of truck parking in the area. There was a T/A just three miles down, but the Love's was closer for Brandi and she preferred it. But things turned out just fine as he found a suitable parking spot right near the lot exit, which was more than good enough.

There really wasn't anything he needed, so he just grabbed his wallet and shut the truck down. He expected Brandi to come by shortly to pick him up and she'd easily be able to drop him off the next morning on her way to work.

He liked this thing looking as though he might be able to have a normal life, and he couldn't measure how good it felt to have more time with Amanda and a renewed relationship with Brandi. For so long, he considered himself more than fortunate that they got along at all. So many guys have horror stories about exes bent on creating Hell on Earth and he was eternally grateful he didn't have it like that. They split and went their separate ways, but they appreciated each other's concern for their child. Also, Brandi never hid her beatification that Brick found Amanda a gift rather than a responsibility, which made a tremendous difference.

He wasn't parked for any more than thirty minutes when Brandi came into sight, looking radiant. She came to him looking as lovely as she ever has and planted a genuine kiss on him. "So, is having you around a lot more something I could dare get used to?"

"I sure as hell hope so," he said. "Especially if I'm always greeted like that. But honestly, I'm just passing through this time around. I have to be in Tallahassee tomorrow. But with all that, I thoroughly intend on getting home a lot more often. In fact, once this push with Melioration comes to an end and things level out, I'd like to settle in with just running the southeast and getting home every weekend. I could possibly be home even more than that. Do you think you could stand having me around that much?"

"I'll try to get used to it," she said with a smile. "Now, let's get out of here. Amanda should be home any time now and you have some classes to attend."

They were right. The whole computer thing, once Brick got past the notion it was somehow reserved for the super geniuses, was really quite simple, at least with the basics, anyway. He found it similar to looking at an engine for the first time. At first, you just see a complex piece of machinery, but once you learn to see the parts it all gets far simpler. He'd need to practice, but he didn't think that would be a challenge.

"Okay, now you have an email account, a Facebook account, and even one on Twitter," Amanda said. "So, whenever you're near somewhere with available WiFi, and most truck stops have it these days, you can be in touch and in contact without necessarily having to call."

"I don't know if you have any idea what things were like before cell phones," he said, "but I can tell you it's made a big difference over constantly having rolls of change."

"I get it, Dad, but they once ran around with torches and traded rabbit meat for beaver pelt," she chided. "Occasionally, things change for the better. Rest assured, dear father, you'll like the computer once you get used to it. You can use it to keep track of bills and accounts, taxes, and of course, pictures of your family. You can play games and watch just about anything in the movies or on TV. You'll see."

"I promise I'll do my best," he said, meaning it.

He did mean it, too. Brick's considered getting a computer for some time, and for a lot of the reasons Amanda pointed out. He's seen numerous drivers at the truck stops, their laptops in front of them while they griped about the fact that this WiFi is free just about everywhere except the truck stops. Well, the accusation that the truck stop is little more than a tourist trap goes a lot further back than the internet. He's seen plenty of drivers with their computers in their laps while sitting on the edge of their bunk, with the familiar LCD glow on their faces while they keep themselves occupied. Many of these guys are just browsing the internet and killing time while several are utilizing the machine for all it's worth.

Besides, the prices have dropped dramatically and it does seem the gizmo will be around well into the future. He's heard some drivers act as though the whole thing is too newfangled for them, but he's yet to see a lot of drivers getting it done with horse and carriage unless they're running Amish raw milk, and the law has a keen eye on those hardened criminals.

"Good deal. Now, show me how you find friends on this Facebook. I hear everyone's on it so I wonder how many people I used to know are out there," he said. "I'd like the supreme, deluxe, biggie-sized, double-whambang class on the whole razzmatazz."

"Would you now? I have a good list of tutorials on pdf documents, so I'll send you some of those. I'll show you a couple things, but," she said as she brought it down to a whisper, "Mom's expression says the double whambang thing needs to call it a day."

Amanda showed her father a few more quick tips and then they shut the computers down for the night. He liked the fact that he could hook his cell phone to the computer in order to download pictures and do some other things. He actually liked plenty of the technological advantages because, as a truck driver, he needs to be comfortable with the high-tech world, and this is true these days more than ever before. After all, the Transportation Industry is embracing technology fast and the government is using it to rub their slimy little paws through every little thing.

But once the blinking LED lights went out and Amanda said good night, he thought about Brandi and then his mind went immediately to interactive media far older than those requiring integrated circuitry.

This was a part of him that felt as though the rug would be pulled from under him when it came to things between Brandi and him. Part of that was because this was something new, in a way, and also because they don't get the bonding time to communicate like most people (thanks so much to the job) so there was no time like the present. But it wasn't as though he felt any doubt or tension with or from her; quite the opposite seemed to be the case with her, which was great.

He chalked up the tension to things being rather sudden. Their relationship had been far better than most splits, which helped. Lately, they've drifted back together and have done so while being both older and wiser. Being older and wiser helps Brick realize this, like the truck, requires a lot of attention and regular tweaking. It seemed Brandi harbored a similar philosophy.

They showered together and then got into bed. Brandi picked up the remote and changed the channel from some humdrum sitcom to a music station of her choosing and things proceeded smoothly from there as though they've been in such contact for years and things have only gotten better. But unlike how it was when they were little more than kids themselves, Brandi led the charge on many things, making it clear what she wanted as opposed to what she accepted.

Just under an hour later, they were settled into one another's arms with the TV news spewing a bunch of BS anyone with any sense would dismiss out of hand. Brick felt the ambition to know more, knowing the perky blonde on the TV wasn't someone who could offer any insight.

"Brandi, I don't mean to get annoying, but what is it that we're doing?"

She looked at him with a smile and said, "You're only a little annoying, but I'm glad you asked.

"To be honest, at first I wasn't exactly sure. But the past few weeks and some other hints have me convinced I made a serious mistake in separating you from our lives. Gunnar, look, when we split we were very young and everything was awkward at best, but I've learned some hard lessons over the years. I wanted you to be perfect and on top of everything, and now I know that was a bunch of unrealistic bullshit.

"Lately, I've learned to recognize that not only are you a good and decent man, but a caring and devoted father. You're also a hardworking man who can take the extra step to do the right thing. In case you're wondering where I'm going with all of this, these are the things any smart woman looks for in a good man."

"So, this is something we want for the future? For me, I can say with confidence that I would like my family back."

"Yes," she said. "But I didn't want to say anything I couldn't take back until I felt you out a little more. I needed to have a better feel of who you've really become before I let my true feelings really settle in. And through being a woman, I knew this was one of the better ways I could keep your undivided attention."

"Oh, is that so?" he said in mock disgust. "I am appalled that you would think me so malleable and shallow as that, there missy."

With a well-placed hand and her lips gently tugging on one ear, she said, "Now is that so? Just how malleable are you?"

He pushed her back and rolled over on top of her and said as his hands explored, "Let's see just how flexible you are." But then he stopped and looked into her eyes and said, "I really mean it when I say I want you and us, and our family. But since I'm on my elbows rather than my knees, I won't ask you now for your hand in marriage. But I'd like you to think about it for the future."

With a helping hand she guided him into her and said as she pulled him in close, "I want you and us and everything, and I think about it all the time. But for right now, give me this like you know I need it most."

The next morning, it was tortuous to get out of bed. When the alarm went off, both of them felt as good and rested as they ever have in years, but there was nothing about or near the truck that offered the allure this woman did. He really loved the truck, but there were features clearly not on the list of options. Yet, duty called.

"Well, sweetheart. It's back to the salt mines, I suppose."

Brandi looked to him with a genuine smile, and then she quickly kissed him before jumping out of bed. "That's right, pal. Back to the salt mines we go. The only way to love it is to love it, so get it in gear. There are some things at work that really need my attention, and to be honest, I really like my job. I hope to be there for a while, so I hope the derelicts in Washington are about done jerking on the economy and will let business get back to business."

Brick followed her example and got out of bed. Turning his mind to work, he said, "You know, I was telling you before I'm aiming for driving mainly the southeast, which is an idea I like. I could be home every weekend and maybe stop by a day or so a week and still make some decent money. But honestly, Brandi, unless things really, really turn around, there wouldn't be a local driving job worth the money."

The local driving jobs, they both knew, demanded just as much of the driver as any other long distance driving, minus the nights in the truck. But yet, they usually paid a salary similar to that of a shelf stocker at Lowes. There was another challenge to supposedly always be home, too.

"We both know that if you drove locally, we'd still never see you. Not while conscious, anyway," she said. "All right, soldier. Let's hit the showers."

With minds on the day, they were in and out of the shower within minutes, and dressed minutes after that. They walked out of the bedroom together to find Amanda already on top of her day, dressed and ready for school.

Amanda came to him with a kiss on the cheek and said, "I'm glad I had a little more time with you, Dad, but I need to get going. I love you and I'll be watching for you on Facebook."

"I love you, too, and I promise I'll be an old hat on that computer before you know it. You have a great day at school, and change the world."

Once Amanda was gone, Brandi said, "I'm glad I had a little more time with you, too. But you're putting yourself on a spot by saying you'll get better with the computer, so you had better do it. She's grown up with one close enough to be considered an attachment, like a shoe, so she knows it as well as she does anything. You, there buddy, I'm afraid will have to really work at it."

"Then work at it is what I'll do," he said. "When I'm not driving the truck, or you, I'll be at the wheel of the computer. You're job has you in front of a computer all day, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, just about every minute of the day," she admitted. "They're the way things are done these days. God help us if that grid goes down."

"It looks like I just need to catch up with everyone else is all, and I will. I can't say I'll ever want to spend all my waking hours in front of one, but I want to be as comfortable with it as I am anything else. Anyway, I'm about as ready to go as I'm going to be. If you like, Love, I can get you a quick bite at the Love's or somewhere else along the way," he said.

Moments later they were out the door.

They both enjoyed something quick from the McDonald's in the Love's before Brandi had to move on with her day. But moving on with her day couldn't be put off any longer.

Before leaving, she put her arms around his neck and said, "I'll miss you, Gunnar, so you stay safe and avoid being the hero if you can, just for a little while. Call me later?"

He leaned in with a kiss and said, "I'll be missing you, so I'll be sure to call later on today. I love you both and hope to see you soon."

With no more ceremony than a smile and wave, she walked out to the car and drove off while he moved for his truck, actually happy with the sight of it, even from a distance. He shifted gears into work mode, intent on going over the truck with a thorough pretrip inspection before aiming the truck for Tallahassee. While the machine still had that new truck smell, he wanted to make sure things are still where they're supposed to be. New trucks are somewhat different than new cars in that they can harbor a lot more sneaky bugs, and there are numerous things prone to failing quickly. A big truck can attain a couple million miles before lying to rest, but most everything on it will have to be replaced or just all together stop working long before true death.

A big pet peeve for Brick was a truck that leaked, and he was happy to see there were no leaks under there. He doubted there would be for quite some time, but he found it irritating how some leaks are seen as par for the course. Well, she only loses a couple gallons of oil a week, so it's okay, he's heard before. Brick long ago promised himself he'd never fall into such a bullshit mindset.

With being just about done looking over the truck, he felt happy and content to find it in just as sweet the condition as it was when he first laid eyes on it. The wheel didn't feel any better in his hands than the gear shift, and the seat hugged him as though it was made just for him. And when he started the engine and heard the rhythmic power, he looked forward to making it move.

After updating his logs and taking care of other such minor details, Brick released the brakes, pushed it into third and moved out. As he drove past the entrance to the pumps he watched for any oncoming traffic coming from the Army base, seeing none, and was on I-95 heading south within moments. He turned up the radio, gave another good glance through the mirrors to ensure everything was going right out there, and settled in. It was almost precisely an hour and a half to the Florida line; perhaps a little less if traffic was light and the weigh station wasn't in some mood. From there, it would be just a shade over two hours before Tallahassee came into view along the horizon.

Although it was too early to forecast how the day would go, he believed he had a run to Denver from Tallahassee if the assumptions in the office out of Columbia had it right. Based on the information Brick had, he tried formulating how his day would go based on what had to be done and what he desired to do. His concerns regarding Melioration Logistics still weighed heavy on his mind, but he also had lighter concerns about gaining the opportunity to sit for a spell and learn more about the computer.

The machine in and of itself didn't seem like a big deal, but he felt if it would help him connect that much more with Amanda, it was worth more than the effort. And as for having the time to do so, Brick knew he had plenty of that. Those ten hour breaks the law demanded allowed for a piece of time to work on the computer skills daily. Brick felt confident that if he could achieve an hour or a bit more every day on the computer, he would bank up enough experience and knowledge to feel confident with the basics, and then as he learned, he'd recognize even more to learn.

It would be a fun part of this new life, and while Brick had no idea how this computer thing would affect his future, he would soon find out. There would soon come a moment when he looked at the computer and Amanda knowing that, yet again, the subtlest things in life can indeed turn out to be the most momentous.

Chapter Fifteen

While Gunnar Brickendale pondered about his future with his rejuvenated family and coped with the suspicions he harbored about his employer, Allen wracked at his brain and tore at his sanity in the effort to ensure everything was as it should be. While his drivers, blissfully ignorant of how much they had a hand in changing the course of human history, hauled the last of the required weaponry, explosives and other materials to their destined locations, Allen and Jesse worked tirelessly together to ensure everything was set with clockwork precision.

Allen received word from the Tallahassee location they desired their shipment the evening prior, but once Allen looked into it he called them to communicate they shouldn't count on it. Once he saw who was on the run, he was quite sure Brick would stop in Savannah if just for a short amount of time. When he saw this young family in the Reno area, he noticed a subtle yet pensive distance between Brick and this Brandi, the sweet young girl's mother, but he felt they just might be able to reconnect if all the stars aligned just so. The young one, Amanda if he remembered correctly, would serve as the anchor keeping things closer together, and there was surely plenty worth saving.

Thinking on this Brickendale family, Allen felt relieved they lived in Savannah and not Atlanta. Things were about to get more than bad enough for the people of the world without good people like them going down.

This was one of the hardest things for Allen, as it was difficult to see what they were doing as genuinely better than those they battled. But it made it easier when he looked at the perspective offered by Jesse. The truth was that what they were doing was not better than what was done by the enemies, which is how it often goes in war. But in war, fewer things are more wrong than soldiers taking advantage of the chaos to harm the innocent. Throughout history, soldiers have too often degraded to marauders pillaging, raping, torturing and killing, and even enslaving. But one has to recognize these shameful criminals make up but a minor percentage of the ranks. Mostly, soldiers place their lives on the line for something they believe to be greater than themselves, even though by doing so they place themselves in the midst of the mayhem. They hold onto the firm faith that when the dust settles and the wounds are dressed, their actions and sacrifices will behold a positive difference.

But all too often, the positivity they prayed for did not come to pass. Good and honorable soldiers fought on the losing side, too, so their final judgment relied on their conscience and their God.

This is where Allen and Jesse were at this stage of the game. They both were confident their actions would achieve the results they desired, but at such a high cost. Therefore, if they do fail in one way or another, they must recognize they clamored for the moral high ground.

They knew, hell, anyone with any sense knew they couldn't simply stand by and watch the systematic dismantling of human history's finest nation. While the following philosophy was not necessarily coined by Sun Tzu, it was still sound: the bowels of Hell are not reserved for the most evil, but those who stand by and watch the evil, and then turn away.

Allen and Jesse long ago promised they would no longer turn away; they were going to do something. The corrupted officials and non-representing representatives will soon behold a country no longer tolerating them, which is so much of the point. This was always supposed to be a nation of we the people, by the people and for the people. The citizens of this wondrous country must once again seek their proper place stated by the scriptures of the Founding Fathers.

Allen's long been disappointed by seeing how many Americans have become uninvolved. Part of the trouble is that so many accuse Americans of being lazy and uncaring, but his view is different in this regard. People aren't merely lazy and indifferent to the issues; the most law abiding among us find hiring the right people for the right jobs is how things are done. There are people hired to drive trucks, maintain dental health, groom dogs, teach children, and maintain the government according to the principles and precepts outlined in the United States Constitution and the laws of our states and nation.

Instead, what's happened is those who are supposed to perform their governmental duties have been corrupted, and what's worse is their positions have been open to corruption, likely for generations. Over time, those holding these positions have manipulated their accountability to the point where only they decide what is and what is not acceptable. They are now the arbiters of their performance and level of authority while the masses are allowed only the benefit of a status report and their subsequent responsibilities provided within that report.

In simpler terms, these treasonous hounds of Hell have created an environment where the American people are shunned, at the very least, for speaking out against the corruption. More and more of the American people are being indoctrinated to speak against the teachings of the Founding Fathers and the principles that have made this country the historically marvelous nation it has become, and they're being called patriotic when they do so.

These skewed views of who we are as a nation have been implemented over a span of time likely exceeding at least a century, so more and more laws affording the continual corruption have found their way home, creating a reality where we listen to the government tell us with smiles and waves that our country's economy is irreparably damaged and we cannot afford to educate our children, and that more and more of what people earn and do must be for the benefit of those providing what little is left, because we are a nation of laws and this is the patriotic thing to do as Americans. They've created a normalcy bias through taking advantage of the simple fact that people live for only so long. A small smidge of proof is seeing a chorus line of exceedingly wealthy politicians (who achieved their political seats thanks to their wealth's influence, or found the means to easy wealth once in office) tell the people of the nation (whose impoverished escalates in percentage continually) that the rich are to blame and must be relentlessly vilified. They do so knowing the genuinely wealthy are recognizing the wink & nudge attitude and that it's merely to appease the labor force so they'll shut up and go back to doing what they're supposed to do.

They did this, and more, and they're getting away with it.

Another easy example is they tell the people they must eradicate all of their dignity and self-respect for the sake of safety provided by the authorities and quietly stand still while anonymous government hourly employees grope and fondle them, their wives, daughters, and mothers before they can board a plane. What's amazing is most of them are more than compliant, while those who do speak out are shunned fast.

They did it and are getting away with it. And it's shocking how many people are thankful to them for it.

During the Revolutionary days, the people recognized an immediate need to wrest control from the corrupt or endure eternal subjugation. Those days are again upon us, but the rules have changed. This country is not facing the unjust control of an outside authority, perceptively speaking, but the governmental body we believe we put into place. There are no clear external forces in this scenario, according to the common claims. Further, this is not a battle of blood, but of principles and ideology. However, the argument of principles and ideology works best for them because they have taken control of all manner of law, governmental principle and protocol, creating a situation where we can no longer meet them in the halls of Congress, the courtroom, or simple town hall debates. They meet us at their convenience in environments of their choosing, dictating how it will be and silencing those who disagree, and then smile and tell us how well we've done in providing our intelligent and helpful input.

This deception is almost completely in place, so Allen, being a man who values the honor of law and proper conduct, long sought other ways to accomplish for the betterment of the nation, but the possibilities were nearly nonexistent. What was once a fight against the corruption and dishonor of government has turned into a fight against the government itself, largely because the corruption and dishonor won on too many fronts.

Through these present actions, Allen, Jesse, and their people will create a situation undeniable in its horror. Then through placing blame on the correct entities (the perpetrators causing it and the complacent and corrupt allowing it), angry eyes will focus on the appropriate entities and a new revolution can occur within the Unites States of America. But time is of the essence as the world is spiraling out of control so fast that genuine evil just might beat them to the punch. Then, should the true invasion finalize their plans, there may be nothing anyone could do, no matter how extreme.

But while time is of the essence, they can wait a little longer for Brick to make his delivery in Tallahassee and then pick up the load of revolutionary freight and get it to where it must be. Allen found Gunnar Brickendale to be such a good man, so he knew Brick would never volunteer to be a part of this. Too few would, and therein lies the rub. This is why war always ends up the way it does; so horrible and hellish because so many took so long to recognize the severity of the problems leading to war.

This was another reason Allen and his people knew they must act promptly. Human history is riddled with times of war so much that few are the moments between these times, yet somehow the balance shifted during the latter half of the 20th Century.

Sure, the 20th Century some saw heinous and bloody battles, but the balance was still upset much because humanity has seen an unprecedented balance within humanity itself. During the 20th Century the entire human population has more than tripled, and the number tripled was record setting at its time. Before this, the numbers were relatively constant for a significant amount of time, but the rise of technologies in knowledge, medicine, industry and communication have drastically changed the course of human history. While this is wonderful, it's come with inherent challenges hitherto never witnessed.

All of humanity, for the first time ever, is forced to collide in one global arena, forced to endure new tolerances and demands of coexistence. These do not come easily but surge and ebb with the current events, and crises. So much of the world desires to coexist while nearly as much does not, causing immense global turbulence. The problems are rather complex but the overall situation is quite simple: work it out or don't.

Allen and his people want to help work it out but recognize the true USA and genuine liberty and freedom must prevail or this would be the beginning of the bloodiest and most heinous war humanity could ever see. One sure result would be societal collapse and if that happens, this world will witness the worst humanity has to offer. The innumerable post-apocalyptic prophesies rising to the surface over the years often had Allen rolling his eyes, but he's realized he can no longer do that. Humanity has become so enormous, so complex and so convoluted that if it collapses under its own weight, it will not come down like a house of cards.

It will be likened to the World Trade Center, but on a global scale.

When the Twin Towers settled and there was the remainder of the world around them, at least there was some level of sanity out there somewhere, but if this world goes down in such a way, there is nothing beyond the rubble to offer any response.

The driver's lounge within the Melioration location in Tallahassee was very nice. There were a couple of other drivers playing a game of pool and one saving the universe on a classic-looking arcade game. The availability of refreshments and meals were everything a driver could hope for and everyone there looked more than appeased.

Brick went in with his laptop, desiring to get in some much needed practice and that much closer to his goal of being a geeky computer guru. But he also wanted to take some closer looks at what's going on around him in this capital city location. He looked without overtly looking around, mainly to see if there was something he hadn't noticed before. The trouble was there was nothing definite to see, other than what wasn't there nearby and within what one would expect to see around a warehouse containing the expected materials. But even that only served to confirm Brick's suspicions.

Before getting there and then when he bumped the dock, Brick looked over the trailer carefully in the search for anything unusual. While he couldn't tell if there was any sort of tracking unit on top of the trailer, he didn't see any common tell-tale signs of internal cameras or other tracking devices. That didn't mean they weren't there, but he wasn't seeing anything along the exterior. Satellite tracking and communications systems are the norm in today's Transportation Industry and in fact, without them much of the industry would risk collapse.

In the days before all of these modern technologies, there was the simple pocketful of change and a line of drivers waiting to get on the payphone. The advent of cell phones and other modern conveniences changed the machinery of trucking entirely, but now the industry relies on these technologies to function. Most trucking companies have a computer-like unit in the truck drivers use to communicate and receive vital information. Also, many companies have systems in place tracking the equipment in the event they're stolen or broken into in order to protect their customer's freight along with their investment in the equipment. But Brick just wasn't seeing any signs of any of this on these trailers; odd for a company otherwise perceived to be very much on top of their game. He found this odd but also comforting, as he had ideas brewing in his mind.

But for the time being, he wanted to learn what he could and enjoy his time with the computer. He lifted the top and punched the ON button, and the waited for the thing to wake up. While watching the thing do what it has to in order to come around, he thought about how Amanda was as the two of them sat down to pursue this new grand adventure.

"I just don't know about all this fancy computer stuff, Amanda," he said. "Most of my generation came along too late to catch this boat."

She turned and looked at him with that impatient expression she can sometimes exhibit and said, "Dad, do you pull those loads with a horse and carriage or some other sort of beast of burden?"

"No, I guess not."

"Is it fair of me to say you utilize a complex machine ripe with modern innovation and numerous aspects requiring a significant amount of training and skill, just to negotiate the thing out of a parking lot?"

Smiling wryly, he said, "I suppose."

"Then why, oh why, would you feel it necessary to pick and choose your modern conveniences against the so-called ways of the old days?" she asked, standing firm. "I can see the Amish putting up some resistance, but I can't help but to shake my head when it comes to people ignoring the computer age while driving 21st Century automobiles and talking on the cell phone, all too often at the same time. Could someone explain to me why people who balk at the computer age don't simper about indoor plumbing?"

"Your point is well taken, Grasshopper," he said. "The master has become the student."

And, oh Jesus, do you remind me of how your mother was before I discovered the sanctuary of a truck.

So, since he's become rather fond of indoor plumbing, Brick decided to enter the computer age and love it. He doubted he'd ever need to know the mysteries of the digital process, but knowing how a computer works is a lot like knowing how any other appliance works. Or, you just need to know how to make it do its thing.

Once the computer did a few inexplicable things and then prompted for the password (something Amanda recommended he keep), he entered the password and waited for the machine to finish the rest of its stretching and scratching so he could finally use it. Amanda said the thing has its own processes to accomplish in order to get ready, so once you start it, give it a couple minutes to get its bearings. He did so by getting up and going after something to drink, figuring by the time he sat back down it would be ready to work.

With the Melioration lounges offering just about everything except masseuses and live music, he couldn't help but to assume they'd have WiFi available for those occasional drivers who have come to rely on their computers. Brick looked for the prompt Amanda said would indicate there was available WiFi, and there it was, blinking in what she referred to as the system tray along the bottom of the screen.

He followed the simple and thankfully few steps he had to go through and after just a few seconds he was on what she called his home page, which was simply the home page for Google.

"Once you're at a point where you feel more comfortable, you'll know enough to find a home page you'll like," she had said.

He didn't have the slightest clue as to what she meant by that, but took her at her word.

She created little blocks for him to click on along the top of the screen so he wouldn't have to concern himself with forgetting any steps in getting to what he wanted, and the one for his email was right there. He got into that and looked at what was there, wondering how it is some people develop an addiction to this.

Amanda admitted the major thing she wanted him to get the hang of was Facebook. Anyone who was anyone, with few exceptions, was available on it one way or another, and she wanted him to learn it as a means of keeping in touch and expressing what was going on in his daily affairs. The thing was categorized as social networking, which sounded goofy to him but he thought he got it. Amanda told him it was a great way to get in touch with people otherwise well out of touch, and that got him thinking about old friends.

One old friend in particular was a fellow named Benton Effingham, mainly because the guy associated equally with both trucks and computers, at least in Brick's mind. Benton started driving truck about the same time Brick did, but Benton was more motivated to move into Logistics as a career rather than driving. In fact, Benton graduated from college with a Logistics degree but pursued his CDL and then driving experience at the behest of his old fashioned father, who suggested his son learn to drive a truck and know what it's like. You don't have to do it for years, was Dad's way of thinking, but get out there for about a year or so. If you're going to supervise people doing that, have the good sense to know what it is you're supervising. You'll be glad you did it.

Benton's father was a successful businessman who retired early and comfortably, but started young and from the starting rung of the proverbial mailing room, so his wisdom was well founded and Benton knew that. Benton's father encouraged him to obtain his CDL and drive for a time after hearing Benton desired to pursue Logistics, mainly because he knew truck drivers would be a common factor in Benton's life. He told his son he would benefit if could honestly say he's been in that seat with the steering wheel in his hands, and he's eaten truck stop food and bumped those docks and felt the weather while waiting for a tire change. Those who reported to and dealt with him would have that much more respect for him, and good old Dad was right.

There are few things more pathetic, Dad mused, than people who are in charge of things they know nothing about. Such a gap between people in a business often serves to harm the business, but at least these days it's the norm in so many businesses.

Dad felt, through observation and experience, that the gap caused inherent problems entirely avoidable, such as the working group seeing office personnel only as office drones or cubicle dwellers, and those in the office saw the workforce as losers or worse. They rely on one another but when they know so little about one another they often become foreign to one another. It just isn't a way to run a railroad, according to the Effingham philosophy of business.

Benton was smart enough to adhere to his father's advice and drove for a little over a year before pursuing the position of his choice. Because of the nature of the business, it didn't take Benton long to secure a position. Within a strong economy, the industry struggles to retain good people and many logistics graduates have stated literally dozens of Logistics and Transportation companies are bending over backwards vying for their attention even when the ink on their diploma hasn't completely dried. Many wonder how it came to this day and age with the secret never getting out farther than it did.

The two men kept in touch and ran into each other on occasion while they were both on the road, and when Benton took to driving a desk they often talked, with Brick telling of adventures on the road and Benton relaying stories from among the carpet walkers. They kept in touch for some time, but eventually lost contact as so many people often do. Before long, after the replacement of cell phones and lost numbers and addresses, both men were unsure of how to reconnect and time passed. But Brick often thought about his old friend and thought they might work together again someday, possibly with Benton being his boss. And now, there's good old Facebook.

How many people named Benton Effingham could there be? Brick thought as he entered the name into the search bar.

It turned out there were quite a few with that name. Brick scrolled through the numerous choices and wasn't seeing any familiar faces associated with the familiar name. But he eventually came across a picture of a truck's steer tire with the aluminum wheel polished to a fine luster, and some of the tidbits of information there made him think of his old friend. He prompted the option of sending this particular Benton a message just to see how it might turn out.

If this is the Benton Effingham I used to know, this is Brick and I would like to know how things have been in your neck of the woods. I'm still leveling the pavement a mile at a time and now my daughter is making me learn about this contraption called a computer. Amanda, now 13, is demanding I join the 21st Century. I hope you're doing well, old friend.

Brick left it at that and sent it. If this was the guy, that would be great, but if not, there was no harm. Brick enjoyed the accomplishment of getting this far and wondered who else he might be able to find and...nobody else came to mind. A few names flashed through his mind, but nobody getting up his motivation enough to make a search. But if he could contact Benton it would be nice because they were once good friends and had several common interests.

After that, Brick clicked on Amanda's wall (a subtly amusing moniker) and saw she was recently on the computer.

She wrote: I gave my father some intense lessons on how to use his computer and get into FB so he could be an actual member of society. Hmm, I wonder if he actually worked it out...

"Ah, my first big test," he mumbled with a smile.

Brick wanted to reply with something clever, but he wasn't the sort to quickly conjure witty remarks and humorous anecdotes. He did think one thing would be clever, though. He would be sure the point would be made by clicking Like.
Chapter Sixteen

Brick spent a short amount of time browsing through some of the options on the computer before being paged. That put his mind back into work mode so he shut the computer down and stuffed it into the briefcase it came in. He noticed the state of the place when he first arrived, which was they seemed rather glad he was there, as though they were in a hurry to get whatever it was he had.

If there was a step seeming unusual compared to how things have been, it was that the guard broke the seal on the trailer's roll-up door after verifying the ID number. It was the first time he'd seen a guard do that, when everywhere else he'd bump the dock sure whoever in there unloaded would break the seal.

That only served to make Brick want to know even more about the mysterious freight.

Whenever he left any other location, he'd have to place his Enforcer lock on the trailer where the newly placed seal was located, which was very common in the industry. Nearly every professional driver had his own set of locks needed to secure the loads. Because of this, most shippers place a numbered seal where the lock would go, mainly to ensure the trailer wasn't unlocked and opened during transit.

The thing was, Brick knew as well as most drivers these seals were rather simple to circumnavigate. The metal band seals were very easy to put back in place once removed unless the cut or break was too obvious. There were a few common tricks to replace a broken seal that never should have been broken, and when Brick saw the guard break the seal when he arrived, he didn't search for any signs of tampering. This wasn't surprising because they almost never do.

Like most drivers, Brick wasn't the sort to break seals and then rifle through the trailer's contents, but he's been an irritated victim of the ever-present asshole wandering behind trailers and breaking seals just to be an asshole. These assholes do this just to be mean-spirited and for no other reason than the shallow pleasure of causing some grief, often when they don't have the nerve to pull fifth-wheel levers. Because of this, experienced drivers, rather than enduring the misery and lost time of explaining to a customer the seal was broken for no good reason but the lock was never compromised, have learned ways to repair and replace a seal in order to make it look as though it's never been disturbed. Such experience was something Brick intended to exercise somewhere along the way to Denver.

He knew enough to know to place the rear-end of the trailer out of sight of the common passersby. Plenty of truck stops were laid out in such a way that had the truck backing into a spot along the perimeter, which is basically the same convenience allowing the assholes to wander back there and break the seal.

The hurried nature of those at Tallahassee gave Brick the eerie feeling this cozy gig was soon coming to an end, although he wasn't sure of what made him think so. He was sure he needed to satisfy his instincts and act soon or lose out on the opportunity. His biggest concern was, what if he found out they were doing something illegal?

In the not-too-distant future, Brick would consider how things might be considerably different should he have just minded his own business.

Jesse Bentley was scrutinizing a lot of information, over and over. The time to act on their grand plan was nearly upon them, and honestly, the world, so he knew he had to ensure everything was perfect. All the details were worked out, yes, but Jesse went from screen to screen making sure there was nothing out of place he might have missed before. This was necessary because Hour One would commence shortly after the forty eight team leaders received their final instructions via these electronic documents created to explain as much as possible to each team leader.

Jesse was suspicious of the idea at first, but Allen's idea of having documents and spreadsheets detailing everything each team is doing did make more sense. The act created a plethora of evidence that could be held against them should they fail, but they knew there would be no getting away unless the mission was aborted. Something of this magnitude would surely bring Kelly down even if Jesse could escape, but he'd be forced underground for the remainder of time. Once wind of these plans caught authoritive attention, the investigation would turn every stone. So rather than play covertly, the series of elaborate documents would be sent to every team leader on flashdrives with computers programmed to sync with one another when the moment was right.

Jesse wanted to at least encrypt the data for the sake of some security, but Allen balked on that idea, too. Encryption would add additional steps and complications that could possibly fail, and besides, there was no encryption the authorities couldn't eventually bypass. Everything has been moving without failure or exposure so far, so once the night in question was upon them, the team leaders would simply start their laptops and voila, the information they require would be right at their fingertips. They would possess the most current orders to act on and would know exactly what their brothers in arms were doing and when.

The exposure was latent because of the mission's secretive nature and the fact they haven't been busted yet, so the risk was no greater than any other risk inherent to the mission. It chomped at Jesse's better judgment to be so exposed, but this was not a team moving in secret and under the dark of the night. The only way to look at it was they were about to commit an open act of war against the most secured country on the globe. The primary targets of Hour One are now all fitted for demolition and lying in wait, and each team has been exhaustively drilled preparing for Hours Two and Three, and beyond. All details have been covered and everything is in place except for the final shipments to be accompanied by the final orders and the laptops.

These final shipments are so important as these are the loads containing the most amounts of weaponry and explosives. Most other loads contained weapons and explosives but cleverly confined within rather mundane packaging to shirk any cavalier inspection, and they also contained other supplies and drugs. But these coming loads were vital because they contained drama such as antitank weapons, Stinger missiles (they were a bitch to obtain), crew-served machine guns, grenades, automatic weapons, and all the ammunition and other fun toys needed to take down an American city.

Jesse pushed back from the desk and rubbed his eyes. For an extended moment, he dropped his head into his hands and just thought. He ran through his head everything he could of, and then did it again. He went through each mission parameter reserved for each of every state and visualized what had to be done and how, and who was doing it. Running through in such a way, he could no longer find any loose ends, untouched details, and no more reasons to put things off.

Jesse took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Mr. Kelly, I'm calling to let you know Hour One is just about upon us. I advise we implement our plans this coming Friday night, sir. We are just about ready to go."

Elsewhere, Allen collapsed back into his chair and felt the color rush from his face. "Well, then. Let's make our plans come together this weekend."

He turned around and circled a day on his calendar. "We are now merely days from fundamentally transforming America into the country she's always been intended to be, for the future of our people and all of humanity."

"I have every faith it will happen just as we planned it, sir," Jesse said. "We've been moving without any significant complications all this time and just about everything is where it needs to be. I cannot see how anything would go wrong now, so the only fear I have is the fear for our souls."

"Indeed," Allen said, letting his head hang. "I share your fears and have prayed on them many times. We must recognize and give faith to God knowing best, and His place in our mission has seen us come this far. Now, more than ever, we must give our trust to Him, knowing that his final decisions for the coming future are His to make."

The matter of it was, Allen truly felt they were doing the right thing. But when he considered what it was he intended to do, just within days, a shiver rolled through him. Why is it that what he's doing, the team Jesse and him created is doing, feels so right and yet leave him feeling so horrified? What troubles him most is he does not want to stop, yet there's something in him not wanting to succeed, and what in God's name causes that? Part of him assumes it's merely his age, but he firmly believes if they do what they set out to do, America will rise up and rend apart what it sees as its aggressor. The extremists and the corrupted will feel the wrath of their actions because, after all, they are what are causing all of this. They won't have their hands directly on the weapons, but their hands have placed hands on the weapons all the same.

Yes, this is their doing. Jesse and his teams must go forward and recreate the country the world once both respected and feared. Only then will God's finest country be saved. Only then will the world know the insanity pervading this planet cannot be sustained, and that in order to restore order, only complete chaos must offer the choice. But the people of this country must, must, must wake up, so they must be ready for one hell of an alarm.

While he had a good distance to go, Brick's load was destined for Denver. He didn't mind that at all since the miles were good, but it left him more curious to know what was in the box that had to go so far. Regardless, since he was leaving out of the Tallahassee area, he figured that if all went well, he just might be able to make it as far as Jackson, Mississippi before having to shut down for a ten-hour break. Once the break was over, he wanted to reach Little Rock in order to traverse I-40 towards Tulsa and then move towards Wichita to catch I-70 the rest of the way.

Jackson was a good choice since it offered plenty of safe and legal parking, particularly since he'd be getting there late in the afternoon or early evening, and some truck stops were notorious to get into after a certain hour. The more he thought about it, he was sure this was the run with which he'd make his daring move, so he wanted to get the parking he needed.

It's just that decision wasn't as simple as the one he made with the school bus. Then, it was sit aside and watch a terrible thing happen or take action for the better, but the act of breaking into a trailer could cost him a future he worked hard for, leaving him to live with the shame or worse. He's now famous for what he's done, so the crime would leave him lambasted as it would be exposed by every media outlet on the planet. But this was something he knew was affecting his future should he discover he was part of something illegal. Brick was content to look in the mirror and see himself in bandages, but it was hard to imagine looking in the mirror after knowing he allowed a crime to take place.

But then, he didn't want to look into the camera and pose for a mug shot, either.

Brick set his sights on finding the Flying J once he made it to Jackson. Once there, he could take a look at what needed to be done and decide how to proceed. Should he discover he's been thinking like a goof and find the trailer contains nothing suspicious, then he'll be able to get on the computer and proceed towards a future with Brandi and Amanda, and Melioration, too.

But if he finds his suspicions are correct and he's been part of something criminal, then what? Does he call the police and inform them of what he found in the trailer he just broke into? The thought of that didn't seem legitimate enough to gain a lot of mileage. He'd have to figure out something else entirely, which means things would just get messier as time goes on. He assumed he could simply quit and walk away, but was that any proper answer? If he's hauling several kilos of cocaine or harvested body parts of victimized children, he could never simply turn a blind eye.

"Damn it all," he grumbled as he rolled along the nothingness of Florida's I-10.

Chapter Seventeen

Brick did his best to shake off the concerns while he drove and just concentrated on the driving. From Tallahassee, the vast majority of the road offered little to see virtually the entire way to Jackson, Mississippi. Sure, there was Pensacola, but there wasn't much of that to see from I-10, which, for a driver, was a mixed blessing. In Florida, I-4 ran right through Orlando, which means it bogs down to a crawl or even a standstill during peak traffic hours. But with Tallahassee and Pensacola, most of town was away from the actual interstate, so the delays were fewer. Shortly after Pensacola, there's Mobile in Alabama offering some sights from the truck, but one passes through quickly. From there, it's Highway 98 to the little smudge of Hattiesburg, and then the bleak Highway 49 into Jackson.

While his concerns sought to haunt him throughout those few hundred miles, he shrugged them off with the subtle distraction of some music, the news and even some talk radio, and eventually some comedy. Satellite radio was a marvelous thing for most truck drivers since there was no more hunting for a new station every thirty miles or so. This was particularly nice for drivers such as Brick, who wasn't one to be on the CB a lot.

In fact, the only time Brick ever turned the damned thing on was when it was necessary at a customer's location, occasionally at the truck stop, and when there were delays on the road. Beyond that, most everything spewed on the CB wasn't for him. Brick found it bizarre that drivers are a tight brotherhood when someone's in need, and the fellas are quite chatty at the truck stops, but get them on the CB while on the road and far too many bump the asshole button next to the squelch.

But satellite radio is yet another shining example of how NASA and the space exploring technologies are more than worthwhile.

While he enjoyed what he listened to over the course of hours and eventually moved through Hattiesburg towards Jackson, Brick mentally viewed what he thought he might pursue as a matter of getting into the trailer. Running it through his mind, he knew he would need to place the rear of the trailer out of sight from the remainder of the lot, which shouldn't be too difficult. He thought of the Jackson Flying J over some of the other choices because of the relative ease of getting in there after the early evening hours commenced. Parking well away from the store itself would likely be the only choice remaining, but he was confident the parking availability would be there.

The hour was what it was so things were hectic in the traffic lanes, but Brick took it as it went rather than let it grind at him like so many do. With a sense of confirmed purpose and conviction, he patiently waited to do what he had to do, which included a need to refuel. Once traffic actually allowed him to enter the truck stop, he moved into the fuel lane and pulled up behind an auto hauler being fueled by its driver. As this driver had his hands full, Brick took the moment to update his log and place his wallet where he'd need it once he pulled up to the pump, and he glanced to the odometer to read the mileage. While waiting, Brick looked towards the store wondering what might be in there as a choice for dinner.

He thought about the ever-present sub sandwich, sounding good despite being so constant on the menu, but he also thought of Denny's. Brick was like those other drivers detesting being sedentary too much of the time, so he wasn't averse to strolling up the road in search of something new while getting in the exercise. But for this particular night, there was a mission and a plan.

Once he was fueled and away from the fuel lanes, he'd prowl the lot for the ideal parking choice. He mainly needed a parking space where the rear of the trailer would be out of sight of the open lot as well as not openly visible to the surrounding area. There, even if he was seen by some driver who might be back there walking his dog or whatever, he could offer some offhand comment about hearing a load shift back there or something equally dismissive. He just had to be away from the roving eyes of the majority of those around since a few curious eyes could be contagious and everyone would end up more than curious.

The auto hauler was done fueling and pulled ahead, so Brick pushed it into third, rolling into position to fuel. He shut the truck down, stepped out and started through the motions to fuel when he noticed another ML truck pull into the pumps to his left. As he was on the passenger side of the truck, he couldn't tell if it was someone he's met before or not, but Brick had to roll his eyes. Any other time, he'd be happy to chat, but he had plans...

It turned out he had met this driver before, and this guy knows who Brick is. It was none other than Pete 'Sandy' Sanders, the first driver Brick met when starting with Melioration. That made it even worse, because Brick recalled this guy was one of those drivers who liked to talk. Sandy seemed to be a good fellow, but this was a night Brick truly desired the solitude. He wouldn't mind going inside and chatting over a meal, but he needed to avoid company once he was a go on his covert mission.

Well, he'd find out quick enough if he was going to be able to do this or not, because no sooner did Sandy set the brakes and shut it down when he was approaching Brick with his hand extended over a broad smile.

"Well, it's good to see you again, Brick," Sandy said.

"Yeah, good to see you. How are things going, Sandy?" Brick said as he took his hand, honestly happy to see the guy again, what with him being a genuinely good guy.

"They're good. You in here for the night?" Sandy asked.

Here we go, Brick thought. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. Where do they have you off to?"

"I'll deliver here in Jackson in the morning, although their place here is actually several miles west of town. I thought about delivering tonight and reloading since I think they'll be there; they've been getting antsy when it comes to getting some of these loads around. But I have other plans, so they can wait until the morning.

"I'm not low on fuel, but I want enough to get me a shower. I have a lady friend I know here in Jackson and I'd like to spend some quality time with her. The goal is I won't be back on the truck until I have to be in the morning, so I want to be presentable when she comes by to pick me up."

"Sounds like a plan," Brick said with a genuine smile, both happy for the young lover and more than happy to know Sandy has better things to do than chat. "I hope you have a good time."

"How about you? Where are you off to with this?"

"I'm on my way to Denver," Brick said.

"That sounds like a good run," Sandy said. "Excuse me for a moment while I get these pumps going before somebody comes up here to beat me up."

Sandy did what he needed to do in order to get the fuel pumping and then said over the humming pumps, "So, how have you liked it with Melioration?"

"It's been all right," Brick said. "If I'm not careful, they're going to put some serious weight on these bones. Man, but do they want you to eat good."

Sandy chuckled and said, "Yeah, the temptation is sure there. But judging from some rumors I've heard, these capital-to-capital runs are soon going to wane. I never did understand the capital city focus, but I'm sure ML has their reasons. To be honest, it lasted longer than I thought it would."

From there, both men focused on what they had to in order to complete fueling, and it turned out Sandy was done well before Brick. He did say he only wanted enough fuel to score a shower and he couldn't have pumped in any more than sixty gallons, whereas Brick needed to fill up after pushing his luck to get there with but a few gallons left.

"Well, I hope to catch up with you sometime soon, Brick, and maybe we can sit down to a meal sometime, but I don't want to keep this lady waiting for too long."

"All right, Sandy. I'm sure I'll run into you again soon."

Brick was nearly done as his tanks were just about filled as Sandy was pulling out, and it was seeing Sandy pull away that brightened Brick's day even more than finding out the man had plans to do more than talk his ear off. As Sandy moved towards the parking lot, Brick noticed Sandy had a bad habit.

There was no lock on the back of his trailer.

"Well, thank you so much for that, my hasty friend," Brick muttered.

With a little luck, Brick might have two trailers to explore.

After he finished fueling, replaced the nozzles and caps and then pulled the truck forward, Brick couldn't help but to feel hesitant with what he intended to do, even if it was just a case of the jitters. It was simply that he wasn't the lurking sort of guy, but yet, he knew this situation was different than normal. He's suspected for some time that Melioration was up to something less than ideal and he couldn't decipher what it might be. But then, he mused, he could simply be acting paranoid and things are just fine. Melioration could simply have their own way of doing things which make perfect sense to Mr. Kelly and his people.

If that turned out to be the case, there'd be no harm done as Brick had no intention of taking or even disturbing anything. He just needed to see with his own eyes that he wasn't part of something illegal, or sinister.

Once he was far enough ahead of the pumps, Brick shut it down and got out to walk in and retrieve his receipt, taking the time to stretch out the limbs as he did so. All he was really after was his receipt, which he'd print up himself at the self-serve kiosk.

While inside, Brick glanced around just to check out the place since he hadn't been in there in quite some time, seeing they made a number of changes and improvements over time. The nice thing was seeing there was a place he could sit down with his computer, which was good enough for the time. But for the moment, he pocketed his receipt and stepped out.

Once he was back in his truck and moving towards the rear of the lot, Brick couldn't help but to smile at the sight of seeing Sandy's truck along the back fence, with an empty parking spot right next to him. He stepped on it some in order to claim the spot before someone else slipped in there before he had the chance. Brick wanted the spot in order to do just what he intended, and so it appeared he'd have twice the amount to inspect to his satisfaction.

Brick pulled on his four-ways and then pulled just in front of and then past Sandy's Freightliner, and then eased it back into the parking space. He pulled up just a bit in order to straighten it out just the way it should be, and then he set the brakes and shut the rig down.

Once he was stopped and where he wanted to be, Brick felt his adrenaline hinting he wanted to move fast on this; he didn't want to dawdle for too long as he felt time was of the essence. First of all, if he dithered around for too long prowling around the rear of the two trailers, he'd likely catch the attention of someone sooner or later who just might be curious enough to have something to say. Meddlesome sorts find their way into the driver's seat too easily these days, and it seemed he was a good example of that. The last thing he needed was somebody pointing fingers and demanding explanations while spewing about it on the CB, letting everyone on the lot in on his little caper.

But the important thing was he also had to be smart. Thinking through it, Brick decided he'd look into Sandy's trailer first. This is because if he could get in there with the time being what it was, which was a time when everyone was settling down, eating, showering, and venting on the CB before calling it a day, he would have that much more time to spend in his trailer, if he even needed it. Part of his logic was if he was seen in the trailer, he at least had the excuse that it was attached to his truck and he was taking care of his own business. It was weak and he knew it, but few people would concern themselves beyond that; that wouldn't be so easy if he was caught in Sandy's trailer.

So, timing is the key. Brick really wanted into Sandy's trailer, but he couldn't do that with Sandy around. If Sandy was in for the night, Brick could explore his own trailer and, should he find something suspicious, he could bring it to Sandy's attention and they could consider Sandy's trailer together after a proper explanation. But Sandy leaving to spend time with a lady friend was even better, since it provided Brick with the needed solitude.

Brick looked across the lot and saw no sign of Sandy as of yet, figuring the man was either in the shower or waiting for one. So, since he was nowhere in sight, Brick stepped out of his truck and casually walked between the two target trailers and to the rear, mainly to recon the scene and determine what it was he'd have to cope with, if anything.

He acted as though he was doing a simple post-trip inspection, checking things out and thumping tires. He even had his tire thumper in hand in order to look the part. But once he was back there, he looked around the area to see who and what might be in the line of sight. He didn't need to be seen from a couple hundred yards away by some unnoticed prying eyes who might call the authorities who could catch him red-handed. Luckily, there wasn't anything or anyone around to make him feel exposed.

He quickly moved back to his driver's seat and looked for Sandy again, still not seeing the guy. By this time Brick was feeling antsy as his adrenaline was moving and he wanted to act on this decision, but he knew patience was also as much a factor as timing. Because his was the sort of patience best exercised with some distraction, he moved from his seat and into the sleeper berth, where he sat on his bunk. He could see forward and out into the lot, so once Sandy came back, if he was indeed coming back, he'd know just how to proceed. But if he didn't see Sandy soon, he'd go look for him just to see if the coast was truly clear.

Brick felt the best way to pass the time (so he wasn't impatiently counting the seconds) was to get on his computer, which was something he looked forward to doing anyway. He opened up the laptop and got it started while he reached for his wallet and got out a card. He wanted to get online and was reasonably sure he could do so from where he was parked. He knew other drivers did just that from their trucks, understanding the entire property was essentially a WiFi hotspot.

He knew there were a lot of people griping over the fact that these truck stops charge for wireless access while so many other places do not, but he knew the fact was that most truck stops are merely retail locations offering truck access and driver services. Serving the trucking industry was their niche, but mainly they were convenience locations. He understood most places lure people in with free wireless access, but the truck stops offered it as a means of boosting income.

Regardless, he wanted online to see what Amanda might be up to and to see who else might be trying to reach him. He saw the computer had to run through its internal stretching and scratching in order to ready itself, remembering Amanda let it run its programs for a couple minutes in order to fully wake up. Well, he knew he wasn't one to wake quickly, either, so he gave it the space it needed for a minute or so. He updated his logs and put things in their place while waiting.

After the minute of buzzing and whirring, he placed it before him and prompted the internet access, still keeping an eye out for Sandy.

After paying for a day's worth of internet access, Brick looked into his email, seeing there was little there to look over. Amanda informed him there would soon be plenty of spam in there (an odd moniker, but truckers had more than their fair share of those), so she showed him how to set up a filter to catch it. Things like spam filters were why he took so long to get into this computer thing. But there was an email from Facebook and he clicked on it thinking it would be something from Amanda, and he knew she'd be inputting information on there like a play-by-play scenario of her day, but what he saw was a response from his old buddy, Benton Effingham.

Brick opened the message Benton sent, seeing it went on for several paragraphs, detailing on how things were going in his life. Even better was Benton left a couple contact numbers, both for his office and cell.

He looked out through the windshield watching for Sandy, but still wasn't seeing the guy. Anxious, Brick picked up the cell phone and dialed Benton's number. It rang a couple times and then he heard that familiar, pleasant voice.

"Hello, this is Benton Effingham."

"Well, is it now? This is Gunnar Brickendale wondering how in the hell you're doing these days?"

From that moment, the minutes clicked by fast as the two old friends caught up. They talked and laughed, told one another about various current events in their lives, and shared various stories about love and adventure. Benton provided a rundown of how things have been moving for him, and Brick passed on details of how much things in his life have changed.

"Brick, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I saw your story on the news," Benton said. "I was tempted to get one of our drivers in the Reno area to track you down and call me, but things have been hectic and I never got to it. But once I saw you were on Facebook, I've been chewing nails waiting to hear from you. Damn it, man, you've been having quite the adventure out there. I'm glad to hear Melioration is working out for you, and the news about you and Brandi makes my day."

While they talked, Brick's mind pondered on what he might say to Benton about Melioration and all things related, particularly if he sees anything out of sorts in either one of these trailers. Then, during a moment when he was telling of how happy he was to be back together with Brandi, he saw Sandy coming his way. It was even nicer to see him turn and gesture to a dark-haired woman in a pickup as he quickly approached his truck.

"You know, Benton," Brick said as Sandy closed in. "I might have a few thoughts to share regarding Melioration, but there's something I have to take care of right now. But can I call you back in a little while? I have a couple concerns I'd like to run by you, but not until I know what's running in my head isn't just sludge."

"Uh, yeah, sure Brick. You have my number and now I have yours, so I'm not losing touch again," Benton said. "You feel free to call whenever you need to, my friend."

Brick ended the call and set aside the computer, seeing his pivotal moment was about to present itself. He watched Sandy close in with a spring in his step, which was a good sign. Women had a way of doing that with some fellas.

"All right, troops," Brick muttered to himself. "It looks like our operation is about to be a go."

Once he saw Sandy wasn't looking his way, he leaned back in the bunk in order to keep out of sight. He knew the man had other things on his mind and he had a date with destiny, so he didn't want to do anything that might prompt so much as a quick conversation. But he listened closely and heard Sandy get into his truck.

Less than a minute passed and Sandy was practically trotting towards his lady in waiting. The time to act was upon him.

While going through the steps necessary to get out of his truck, Brick couldn't help but to wonder how security allowed Sandy to leave without placing his lock on his trailer, but there are times when security can get hurried and miss things. Brick knew several places pinned down security with a slew of tasks aside from what they were originally hired to do. Numerous businesses find security not doing enough to their liking and assign various tasks to keep them looking as though they're earning their keep. The problem with that is if security personnel are focused on their little chores, they're not focused on actual security.

In the past, these concerns were something Brick found disconcerting, but this day it was working to his advantage. He made the mental note to point it out to Sandy sometime in the future, but now was not the time. Once he saw Sandy get into the passenger side of the pickup and they were gone, he stepped out of the truck.

"Okay, Brick," he said to himself as a motivator. "Let's go do what we have to do."

He walked quickly to the rear of the truck, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be coming his way. He pulled his Leatherman multitool from the holster on his hip and once he was directly behind his truck, he looked around one more time to ensure the coast was clear.

It was, so he wasted no time in approaching the rear of Sandy's trailer. The seal was a metallic band seal as expected, and with his multitool he made a cut in the seal where it reattaches to itself. The intent was once he was done, he would make a small fold in the seal band and pinch it tight. More than likely, the break in the seal wouldn't be noticed by a casual glance, nor would it easily pull free should someone take hold of it to cut it.

He slipped the cut seal into his pocket with the intent to replace it as soon as he was done. He quickly opened the trailer door and climbed in fast, pulling it closed behind him and keeping it pulled closed with a small bungee cord he brought with him. The last thing he needed was someone seeing it ajar and then opening it up to see what was up.

Once there and in the dark, Brick moved fast. He pulled his flashlight from its holster and scanned around. This was the first time he'd seen anything hauled for Melioration, so what he saw was rather surprising. If most of the loads were like this, and he was sure they were, he could understand why they were so light in weight. There really wasn't much in there but various crates and boxes lined along the trailer walls allowing a pathway up the center for a pallet jack to fit through.

Brick moved to the crate closest to him and looked it over while wiping nervous sweat from his brow. The crate was long and narrow, but in no way locked or sealed. There were three hasps securing it closed so he threw them open and gently lifted the lid, wondering what sort of tools or construction equipment he might find in there.

When he saw what was in the crate, Brick had to steady himself with a hand against the wall and then put a knee down, finding himself more than surprised. He didn't know much more about weaponry than what he learned during his time in service, but he knew enough to recognize eight AK-47 rifles when he saw them.

"Holy shit."

Brick gathered his thoughts and moved quickly, looking in each of the boxes and crates, making sure not to linger too long on any one of them. Throughout the entire trailer's contents, he found numerous assault rifles, he couldn't tell how many grenades he saw, and there were countless boxes of ammunition. One of the crates was dedicated only to plastic explosives. His mind was racing nearly as fast as his heart rate and he had to wipe his brow once again.

One of these things was not like the others; in one of the boxes, Brick found a laptop computer in a leather carrying case. Based on what he saw, this was the only item not specifically designed for battle and mayhem, but then, he assumed it contained detailed instructions for those receiving everything else.

Brick grabbed the computer bag and stood up, realizing he had a serious decision to make. What first came through his mind was he wanted to take the computer with him in order to see what evil it may contain. He then looked at his watch and saw he'd been in Sandy's trailer for more than fifteen minutes, telling him it was time to get out of there. He still needed to reenact this scenario within his trailer, where he was sure he'd find more of the same.

He moved quickly yet quietly to the rear of the trailer and carefully peeked out. Moving slowly, he carefully looked to the right and saw no one, and then looked around the door to the left and saw the coast was clear that way, too. He jumped down out of the trailer, set the computer he nabbed down on the ground and then reaffixed the seal after closing the trailer door. With another quick look around him, he grabbed the computer and moved for his truck.

Brick jumped in and place the mysterious computer on the passenger seat, wondering what in the hell he thinks he's doing, and what does he think he's going to do with a computer he knows next to nothing about.

"Come on, Brick," he muttered to himself. "You have to do something."

Not wanting to waste any more time, he got out of the truck and moved to the rear of his trailer, repeating what he'd done with Sandy's seal. Less than a minute went by and he was inside the trailer, with the door bungeed closed and his flashlight in his hand. This time he wasn't nearly as surprised as he was before when he found much of the same sorts of weaponry and contraband. His load contained several assault rifles, some of which he didn't even recognize. He found more grenades, ammunition, and one more computer in a leather case matching the other.

"Damn," he whispered.

He was moving to take the computer just like he did the other one, moving towards the door with it, and then he stopped and thought about what he was doing, much of what was beyond him. He knew nearly nothing about these computers, but he knew enough to know they do things on their own when programmed to do so, including automatically connecting to the internet. At least he thought it was a possibility. For all he knew, these things would go into action immediately despite the prompts he needed to go through with his. Thinking through it, Brick assumed that if he turned this on, he could place himself in a spot far worse than over the end of a runaway truck ramp.

But he took the moment to see what else might be in the case other than just the computer.

What he found was a smaller case made of something like nylon similar to the holster for his multitool, which zipped around three sides allowing it to open. He unzipped it and found inside a little gizmo he knew less about than he did the computer. He did know enough about it to know some people call them thumb drives or flash drives, but he had no idea what they did or were for. Sticking with the philosophy of trying to be smart, he took the little thing and left the computer where he found it.

"Well, shit. Now I'm going to have to get back into Sandy's trailer."

Without wasting any more time, he quickly exited the trailer, closed the door and set the seal in place without reaffixing it. Once outside, he saw it was nearly dusk; he thought that might serve to his advantage considering what he had to do. He moved back to his cab and sat down, wondering what he got himself into. He reached over and picked up the other computer case and, after plundering through it, found a similar little case and another thumb drive identical to the other. Brick looked out the windshield, not looking at anything in particular, wondering what he should do next. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have a clue.

He was clued in to the fact he found something horrifying and surely illegal, but what should he do about that? He felt tempted to drop the trailer where it sat and seek the nearest authorities, but the thought of that frightened him even more. A lot more. For all he knew, the government hired ML to move this stuff and he'd soon wish he didn't survive the bus crash.

But he did have the little flash drives. They're certainly full of all kinds of interesting stories, right? They might be able to let him know if this was something clandestine yet legal, or just plain wrong.

He reached over and picked up his phone.

"I didn't expect to hear from you so soon, Brick," Benton said. "So, did you square away what had you so concerned?"

"Benton, I really don't know for sure. Hey, I imagine you know a thing or two about computers, right?"

"My friend, far too much of my life is spent in front of one of those infernal things, to be honest. And while I'm being honest, I can say I know quite a bit about computers."

"Since we're being honest," Brick said, "I've just started learning about computers, mostly because Amanda pressed me to do so. You know, the Facebook thing and all that."

"Good old FB," Benton said.

"Another thing I'm trying to figure out is one of these little gadgets called a flash drive or something like that."

"Okay. I have several of them."

"I hate to be a big pain in the ass, but can I call you back in a few minutes? I want to go inside the truck stop and sit down with my computer, and then if you would, please explain to me what I'm supposed to do with this thing?"

"You got it. I'll have the phone right here by me."

Within the Melioration Logistics headquarters near Reno, a security guard assigned to watch various monitors overseeing numerous different security cameras wasn't watching them closely enough to see two trailers had been entered without authorization. He should have seen the screens, which were most a fuzzy bile green due to the night vision capabilities of the cameras hidden in each trailer, but he'd also been tasked to perform other duties in order to keep him busy, as well. It seems the concerns for what security guards are doing, and not doing, is considerably widespread.

Brick walked into the truck stop and found a place to sit down in order to get his own computer going. His original plan was to do so with a sub or something else to eat, but apparently he left his appetite in the back of one of the trailers. He started it up and impatiently waited for it to do its thing. While it yawned and scratched, he looked over the two flash drives he removed from the cache of contraband, wondering what secrets they may reveal. For all he knew, they would be manifests created by the CIA and now he's stolen them.

While his imagination went through some bizarre acrobatics, he felt a twinge of regret for getting Benton involved, and he hasn't even really done that yet. Brick was concerned that if he did involve Benton any further, he could also be implicated in crimes of treason and who knows what else, punishable only through drawing and quartering.

If there was one thing Brick knew with confidence, it was he couldn't just ignore all of this and do nothing. Seeing the computer was ready, he quickly reconnected to the internet. Seeing the little globe down towards the bottom of the screen informed him he was now connected to a communications system tied into the majority of the planet, none of which helped him in making the right choice.

Again, Brick looked at one of the flash drives, seeing how it connected to his computer. When he first started his classes with Amanda, his focus had been on the keyboard layout and what he saw on the screen, but not the various ports and functions around the sides of the machine. Where the little drive fit into the computer was easy enough to work out, so he just pushed it in.

The hell with it now, he thought. I'm this far into this, so...

Brick felt his heart rate spike when he saw the balloon pop up near the bottom right of the screen indicating the computer was doing something with the new hardware. Whatever it did, it soon read the drive was ready to use.

Brick wasn't sure he was ready for anything at that point, but since he's gone this far, he wasn't about to give up. He picked up the phone and called Benton.

"Okay, Brick," Benton immediately said upon answering. "How might my expertise help you?"

"Okay, let me explain where I am right now."

He explained he was connected to the internet and that he plugged in the little flash drive. He told Benton what it did and said, and that as far as he could tell, he was ready to proceed into yet some more uncharted territory.

"Brick, do you know if you have a PC or a Mac? You can tell me quickly by telling me what the bar, or line, at the very bottom of the screen looks like. Also, at the bottom of the keyboard, right next to the ALT key, there might be a sort of key looking like a flag or something. Do you see that?"

"Wow, you are good at this. I do have that key."

"Good. Now since you have the computer hooked up with the drive, we'll take a look at what might be on it through your Explorer. The best way to do that for now is by holding down the flag, or windows key, and then pressing E."

Brick followed those instructions and saw a screen pop up he's never seen before. It looked far plainer and more businesslike than the other screens, but didn't look all that complicated. It was a white background and all text, reminding him of the outlines he had to create for book reports when he was in high school.

"Okay, now I'm on some sort of outline."

"Perfect. Now, below where it says computer, it should identify different drives. It should indicate your C drive, or hard drive, which is physically inside the computer. But there might be an E or an F drive, is that correct?" Benton asked, sounding as though he's slipped into business mode.

"That it does," Brick said.

"Okay, simply move your cursor over that spot, which should highlight it in some way, and then click on it. Once you've done that, tell me what you're looking at."

"It's just a couple of things, Benton. I suppose these would be two separate files. I guess this means there isn't very much on the flash drive."

"All right. Well, if you double-click on any one of those files, you should be able to open it and see what's there, unless there's some program required that you don't have."

Brick ran a nervous hand across his scalp, feeling the seriousness and urgency of the moment. "Damn, but I really wish you were here to look at this with me, Benton. I think what I have here might be really important, but I don't know exactly how."

"I wish I could do more for you, brother."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Benton. I think I'm involved with something either very illegal or very secret, but I don't feel right burdening you with unnecessary knowledge and then burying you in this with me."

There was quite the significant moment of silence, and then Benton said, "Brick, does this have something to do with Melioration?"

"Yeah. It does."

"Okay, I wish I could see what you have there. Actually, I can see it, Brick. Just not tonight. You can email those files to me and I'll be able to look at them in the morning. Normally I could see them in a matter of seconds, but the home computer is down and my laptop is sitting on my office desk. But I would very much like to see those files first thing in the morning."

Brick thought about that, seeing it as either awesome or frightening. He was virtually spinning because he felt agonized over waiting until the morning, yet he felt hesitant in getting Benton involved any further. The agony revolved around the fact that while he's done something illegal, he hasn't had any criminal intent. Therefore, involving Benton wasn't furthering any criminal action, right?

"How would I do that, bud? How would I email these to you?"

Benton provided the tutorial detailing how to send the files via email and Brick did as he was instructed. Despite the stress he felt, he found the process interesting. The more he did with these computers, the more he found them fun and useful. He promised himself that if he got through this okay, he'd become a whiz on the things in no time.

"Okay, if all of that went through like it's supposed to, I'll be able to see those files in the morning. I can tell you that you have me more than a little curious, Brick. Are you sure you don't want to fill me in with some details?"

"Not just yet, as I could simply be acting like a dope and end up embarrassing myself. I'm likely blowing things out of proportion due to recent head injuries combined with inappropriate teen habits, or I'm just plain old wrong. But we'll know for sure when you see those files, and I can wait until then. I could look at them, I suppose, but I wouldn't know what I'm looking at. I do believe I'm supposed to be able to copy these files off from these little drives and put them in my computer, right?"

Brick knew he was being plain untruthful when he said he might be blowing things out of proportion. He had enough weaponry and explosives to blow the city of Jackson, Mississippi out of proportion, and all of it was in his unplacarded trailer. Indeed, the proportions of his present situation were rather extensive.

"Sure, you can do that. From your Explorer, you simply use the cursor to drag the files from the thumb drive to your computer's hard drive."

Benton explained the process to Brick in greater detail and it was quickly done. Brick wanted to do that so he could put everything, including these little drives, back where he found them. He knew he still needed to get back into each of the trailers, but he needed to ensure he did everything just right if he was to minimize getting caught at his slick caper, should it all prove to be legal.

"Brick, it sounds to me like you're getting the hang of this computer age. And since I've always been a fan of the Cloak & Dagger stuff, I can't wait to get into the office to see what you sent. But you need to know that if what I see is in any way potentially illegal, I am calling you right away, so make sure you have your phone handy."

"I'll take that deal. In fact, I would like to know what you find regardless of the legalities."

"It's a deal. I'll give you a call in the morning. Try to get some rest and we'll have these mysteries solved by the dawn's early light."

"Okay, Benton. I look forward to talking to you then."

Brick placed the phone down and looked at the computer, wondering what to do next. He felt tempted to browse through those files but he really believed he didn't have the wherewithal to know what it was he was seeing. He was worried and confused enough without pursuing more aggravation of the problem. He simply assumed everything would be in fancy computer-speak, shutting him out from any intelligent participation. But Brick wasn't known to make correct assumptions each and every time, and the truth of the matter was those files were easily readable by anyone. He was also incorrect in the assumption that everything could have waited until the next day.

After going through all of that with Benton, Brick tried focusing on everyday things in order to relax. Since the Subway was within a direct line of sight of where he was sitting, he changed his mind and decided to get a bite to eat. He figured he would enjoy something wholesome to eat while working some more with the computer age, as Benton put it, and he could catch up some with his girls. He felt the need to remain grounded, even with the crisis in waiting.

Thinking of the girls had him thinking of any potential implications, and then he thought of Brandi. He picked up the phone and called.

"Hey there, baby," she said. "How are things going and where are you?"

Brick felt so tempted to tell her everything he knew, all the way down to the last detail, but somehow it didn't feel like the right decision just as yet. For the moment, it felt better to speak from the heart rather than a troubled brow.

"Things are going along, love, and I'm in Jackson, Mississippi tonight. I really just wanted to call and say that I love and miss my girls, and I sure do wish I was there instead of here right now."

"Hell, I'm up to my elbows in housework and Amanda's knee-deep in schoolwork. If you were here and not in the garage, you'd just be in the way like all men are when there are things to get done. If you were here, I'd likely just have you reclining in the bed, naked, awaiting my arrival. I can't see how any of this would seem more appealing than a Mississippi truck stop."

"It does sound agonizing, but I'm known to take one for the team."

"You are widely known as a hero, now that I think about it."

"I'm just a confused and lonely man missing his family."

"You're a good man supporting his family, if you must know," she said. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm sitting down with something to eat while exploring the world via computer."

"Well, aren't you the man about town? How are you doing with catching up on the computer?"

I don't know if I wish I was light years ahead with it or had never heard of it, he thought, reminded of the mysterious thumb drives and laptops.

"I think I could be doing worse," he said. "I think I got this internet porn thing everyone talks about all figured out. Yeah, I would say it's more than worth the three hundred and fifty bucks a month for the unlimited access. Wow, but I didn't know women could do that..."

Brandi laughed and said, "Really, now. Describe it all to me, slow and easy. I want details."

Now Brick laughed, suddenly feeling caught up in his own joke. If there was anything Brandi was particularly good at, it was putting him on the spot. "I'm not sure what to say, what with all these big, black dots over the fun parts."

"Three fifty for big black dots?"

"Well, you can pay another two fifty and they'll pull the dots," he said, "but that's out of my budget, so I have to use my imagination."

"You should be able to go from memory, if I'm not mistaken," she said. "So, what are you really doing, funny man."

"I really am on the computer, but distracted with concerns about Melioration. I suspect this sweet gig might soon come to an end."

"Is there something troubling you?"

Oh, if you only knew, he thought, but kept that to himself. "I like the work just fine, but some things have been making me think this may have run its course," he said to avoid dirty details. "I don't have many details now, but we'll have to see what happens."

"Well, I just want you to be happy with what you're doing," she said. "I'm sure you'll land on your feet like you always do."

Sometimes I go headlong into the trees, he mused, but said, "I think it'll turn out okay one way or another."

She seemed to clue in to his mysterious avoidance of detail, so she said, "Well, I should get back to what I was doing, Love, before I forget where I was. I love you and will talk to you tomorrow."

"I love you, too, Brandi, and I miss you both very much. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said before touching End, and then he wondered if it was indeed true, and if it was, what the conversation might entail.

Brick worked with the computer a bit longer while he finished his sub, but once he was done eating he packed everything up and went back to the truck. He looked over the truck closely, wondering if it was purchased with ill-gotten gains stained with bloody hands. He knew the chances he was wrong in his concerns were high, but the chances he was involved with something illicit were higher. He wondered if the truck would be confiscated as evidence and whatever else, and the concern sent an angry shiver through him. It pissed him off because regardless of future outcomes, this was his truck and property. Regardless of the opinions of vulgar lawyers, Brick knew he obtained this truck fairly and squarely.

After going through some covert actions to replace the borrowed flash drives and then double check the band seals to ensure they appeared untouched, Brick finally settled down in the truck and felt the weight of the day upon his back. The fun and adventure was taking a toll, so he felt the best thing to do was get some sleep and rethink about everything in the morning with a fresh mind and perspective. If there was one thing for sure in all of this, he was looking forward to the phone call from Benton.

Brick undressed and settled into the bunk, still feeling somewhat wired. He often read a book to unwind so he cracked open a Timothy Sexton novel he looked forward to reading and read until his eyes were too heavy to continue.
Chapter Eighteen

In Reno, with the crack security crew hired by Allen and Jesse, there was a shift change taking place well before sunup. John was rather tired and looked forward to calling it a day, as doing nothing wears out the mind just as effectively as a harried day. The odd hours he'd been working played hell on his health and all these boring, mundane tasks they had him doing sucked at the soul. Seeing William step in the monitor room to start his shift was a welcome sight.

"Good morning, William. Damn, but I'm glad to see you."

"Yeah, John, you're just so sexy in the morning, so I always look forward to seeing you, too," William joked.

William was a good guy who enjoyed joking and laughing, but like any topnotch security guard, he was a stickler for the details. He was organically designed for his line of work as he had a pleasant demeanor but took the rules and their steps quite seriously.

"What do you say we run through the night's recordings and see if anything jumps out at us," William said.

They rewound the numerous recordings back to when John's shift started and restarted playback at ten times the normal speed. This common practice allowed them to scan the recordings and watch for anything potentially missed. This wasn't so much a check on the guard's ability or dedication as it was an acknowledgement the guard needed to be away from the monitors at various times, mostly for other dutiful details and the occasional call of nature.

After watching closely for several minutes, William moved in closer and said, "Hey, wait just a second. Stop the run on Recording Fifteen and play it back. I thought I spotted something."

Mostly, the runs of sped up recordings looked like a hazy green display due to the night vision cameras recording in almost total darkness. But because of his attention to detail, William spotted a bright spot on one of the recordings.

"It isn't just that one, William," John said. "I think it's this one, too."

They noticed unusual activity on two different recordings, both of which occurred minutes apart from one another. A check on the GPS readout confirmed both break-ins occurred at the same location. These clues were more than enough to run the recordings back and watch the details unfold, and when they did, what they saw shook them both wide awake.

"That's the same guy in both of the trailers, William," John said, jumping to his feet. "Damn it to Hell, but I should have seen this shit earlier. It's been hours and look at what he found. Shit, shit and goddamn it."

William looked in a little closer in order to pick up the details in order to see who the prowler is, and then he took a quick step back. "Shit is right, John. Do you know who that guy is? That's Mr. Kelly's big hero, Brickendale. I'm sure it is. This is as serious as it gets, so you better start making some calls. I'll watch to see what he's done."

Trembling, John got on the phone and called Jesse Bentley. William recorded the events and sent the footage to Bentley so he could see what they had. While he did so, what he saw made his neck hair rise up as he could clearly see Brickendale pawing through just about everything in the trailers, taking the computer cases in and out of the trailers, and then later putting back something too small for the hazy picture to identify, although what it happened to be was obvious to William.

"Yes, that's correct, Mr. Bentley," a shaky John said. "These break-ins occurred during a time I was tasked to do a round and away from the monitors, but we've reviewed the footage and know Brickendale saw everything in there. Oh, and Mr. Bentley: Brickendale showed an unusual amount of interest in what was in the computer cases."

William saw John hold his head with a trembling hand as he said, "Yes, sir. William has prepared the recording and is forwarding it as we speak."

Once John hung up the phone, both guards looked at one other with severe trepidation. For the first time since this mission was under way, there was a complication more than serious enough to bring the mission down like a house of cards, along with everyone in it.

"I think the suck-factor of things just spiked, William."

William, wide-eyed by that observation, said, "You think?"

Allen held his hand to his head while an angered Bentley ranted on the line.

"Mr. Kelly, please understand this is more than just a concern. This is a goddamned emergency."

"How long has it been since Brickendale pulled off this little caper?" Allen asked.

"It's been several hours now, for the love of Christ. Brickendale has had several hours to act on what he discovered."

"Okay, it's been since late yesterday evening since he broke in and found everything," Allen pointed out. "Now, wouldn't we have found out about this by someone else, say the FBI, if our hero had gone to the authorities? I don't know about you, but I am not in some secret hideout and nobody has kicked in my door yet."

"All right, so we don't have immediate evidence he's gone to the authorities, which is a good thing, but we know he's seen and touched everything in both of those trailers," Jesse said. "Beyond that, we know he removed the computers and tampered with the thumb drives in both cases. We do know he powered up neither of the computers as they're programmed to connect immediately. If there's any comfort here, it seems his computer literacy is limited. Our search shows he just recently activated email and Facebook accounts.

"We don't have evidence he's contacted anyone, but this is something we need to solve right away."

"I can't say this with any assurance," Allen said, "but it does seem his computer skills are poor. He probably had no idea what to do with the computers. But yes, this is an unacceptable breach, so what do you suggest we do?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kelly, but we have no choice but to contact Brickendale and cope with this directly," Jesse said. "I understand the history and how you feel about this guy, but he has just placed this entire operation and everyone involved in jeopardy. He needs to be neutralized and it is just that simple."

Allen hated the thought that this man, an American hero, must be...neutralized. What Gunnar Brickendale has done could not be matched, but this is bigger than all of them now. Hero or not, he cannot be allowed to ruin the plans for a greater United States of America.

"It does seem he hasn't contacted the authorities yet, so I think he's too scared or just unsure of what to do. Regardless, you'd better get someone to him to make his mind up for him," Allen said.

"I have a team on the way to him right now," Jesse said. "I'm sorry about this, but he did this to himself."

"I know that. I just want it done fast."

* * *

Brick woke up early, finding he couldn't sleep for long because of everything on his mind. He originally planned to stay where he was until near sunup, but since his mind was running faster than his truck ever could, he couldn't stand sitting there stewing in his thoughts.

He got up and dressed, ran his fingers through his thinning hair, and went into the truck stop with his coffee cup in hand. The Denny's was open as always, but otherwise there wasn't much to eat other than those miserable pastries and he didn't have the time or tolerance to linger over any sort of breakfast. He refilled his mug and grabbed a pastry just to have something in his belly. He looked at his watch, realizing he had at least an hour and likely longer before Benton would be in the office to look over the emails. Needless to say, he was anxious.

Brick wasn't the sort of guy who did well with uncertainty. One of the reasons he liked being a truck driver was because it was a position offering an element of predictability. Sure, there were enough surprises (as if he didn't know), such as traffic accidents and out of control school buses, but the general function of the job was straightforward and, despite the innumerable rules and Communist intrusion, the basics were sensible. Pick it up and get it to where it's supposed to go, safely and legally. Rinse and repeat.

He paid for the coffee and pastry and headed straight for the truck, figuring the present was a good time to get out of Jackson, anyway. The early morning promised the traffic would quickly become a bogged-down mess and he had enough on his mind without having to cope with slinky traffic and grumpy people late for work. Once he was to the truck, he did a good walk-around, checking things out with his thumper in hand and ensuring everything was in place. He decided he'd either be driving his full legal allotment or explaining to the authorities how he found what he had.

He took the extra moment to ensure he properly resealed both trailers and was at least happy with his work there. He was proud to notice someone would have to inspect those seals closely in order to see they were tampered with at all.

His ten-hour break was complete and he looked forward to what was sure to be an exciting day. He made sure his logs were correct and current, and then turned the key to hear the gentle purr of the powerful engine. Just before he released the brakes and pushed it into third, he looked over to Sandy's truck, wondering if the man enjoyed the evening he hoped for. Brick had come to like Sandy and hoped he would have the opportunity to meet him again.

It wasn't but several minutes later and Brick was getting up to speed as he approached the ramp for I-20, with Shreveport several, several miles ahead. He had no way of knowing he wouldn't get that far.

Right about the moment Brick was shifting from eighth to ninth, Bentley's hired team eased into the truck stop, coming from the east while Brick moved west. They knew the truck they were looking for and who they expected to find inside. The two hitmen both agreed this should be a quick and easy job. Because of the hour, the truck stop was still dark and quiet, with most of the drivers snoring like chainsaws and several trucks idling easily.

The plan was to quickly identify the truck in question and then park their car out of plain sight. They knew they'd easily blend in while walking for their target. Once there, they'd quickly bypass the door lock, which would be quick and effortless, and before their target was fully awake, a quick dose from their high-powered Tazer would douse any potential resistance.

There would be the quick shock and they'd be in. From within the privacy of the cab, they would enjoy the seclusion in order to take their target by the head and deftly insert a long, slender piece of spring steel about the diameter of an injection needle just under the base of the skull, aiming for the Medulla Oblongata. From there, all that would be required is a tweak of the wire to cause the medulla enough damage to shut down the respiratory and nervous system of the target, bringing about virtually instant death. This was a favorite method of these two since it was fast and would require a very competent medical examiner to determine the cause of death. Even if this was discovered, it wouldn't be until the cadaver was on the table, prepped for autopsy. No mess and no fuss.

They'd simply place the body in the bed to look as the person died in their sleep, and that wouldn't be discovered for several hours. They've taken down truckers in the past in similar fashion, and a couple of them weren't found for days. They'd be long gone by the time something was discovered.

"There it is," one of them said once he recognized the Melioration trailer. "Right there along the back fence."

They parked in a shadowed area of the lot and after glancing around for any curious eyes, they quickly proceeded to their target.

Except that once they were close enough to get a closer look, they discovered the truck they identified was not the truck they sought.

"Damn it. I think that's the other truck our guy broke into, but that isn't his truck."

They moved in closer to make sure they were right, scanning around to see if they might spot the one they wanted. They didn't see it, but they saw an empty parking space next to the one they first spotted. Their target was gone.

"Hey there, fellas. What are you looking for?"

The two men were now on edge, turning quickly to see the driver of the truck they thought was Brickendale's, sitting there and rubbing his eyes. They both felt the instinctive impulse to react, but this was not their target.

"Sorry, bud," Sandy said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Forget about it."

The last thing they needed was any clear look from the driver that might provide a clear picture with which they could be identified. One of them had the flash thought of neutralizing the driver, but they had specific orders and this guy didn't factor in. Instead, they took advantage of the dim light and quickly moved away.

"I don't know when, but the son of a bitch left."

"Yeah. We'd better call this in and let the boss know."

Once they were back in their car, one said to the other, "You know, we know this guy is destined for Denver. What direction do you think he would go from here?"

"I'd bet a buck he's moving west on I-20. He couldn't have left long ago, so why don't we roll that way and see if we can catch up with him?"

"Let's try it. The boss is already on edge about this one, so he'd be highly pissed if we called and told him we missed."

Sandy was just getting up and shaking off the sleep, preparing to roll. His delivery was just outside of town, west and just off from I-20. Hearing Brick pull out and away let him know his ten hours were up, so it seemed like a good time to roll out before everyone else was up and moving.

Sandy wanted out of Jackson after the way his so-called date turned out. He had it in his mind he was getting lucky, but the stars weren't aligned in his favor. He enjoyed spending some nice time with his lady friend, but she was at a time when she wasn't feeling comfortable, due to how her stars were aligned. She offered a concession prize of sorts, but he chose the gentlemanly approach and accepted a rain check for the next time he was in town.

Instead of going back to her place, they went out for a nice dinner and then a movie, and afterwards she dropped him off at the truck stop. His chivalry was somewhat contrived, since he convinced himself she'd be impressed with his understanding and demonstrate some appreciation the next time they met.

Whether that would ever be the case remained to be seen in the future, but at the moment he knew he'd better get moving. He wanted to reach the Melioration warehouse and move quickly in order to move west towards Austin, where he expected to go next. He thought if he moved quickly enough he might be able to catch up with Brick. Thanks to the clever tweaking done by a mechanically inclined friend, Sandy knew his Freightliner would easily outrun Brick's Pete, and likely any truck out there. He might even be able to convince Brick to fall back for a bit while Sandy took care of business at the warehouse and then they could roll west together, chatting along the way on the CB before parting ways in Dallas.

Part of what woke him was the creepy vibe he felt from the two guys wandering around the lot. He couldn't pinpoint why he felt they were up to no good, but he still felt it. Two overly serious guys prowling around a truck stop in the dark was a good enough motivator to move on, so he did just that.

Benton Effingham was driving towards the office rather early, mainly because he had a lot to accomplish before the day took off in full swing. Most of the payroll and some other tasks needed to get done and there were a few hot loads needing attention. His better drivers were on these loads, but in order to ensure things were done as needed, things required his oversight. Besides, there was something bugging him about the way Brick was acting the night before.

Gunnar Brickendale was usually a man of few words, but when he had something to say, he was usually on target and said what had to be said. So, with him seeming so unsure and doubtful while on the phone, it was noticeably out of character. Whatever these concerns with Melioration he had were, they had Brick concerned enough to seek help yet still remain rather mysterious. If anything, it prompted Benton to make sure he either fixed or replaced his home computer. Hell, if it was up and running, he wouldn't have to go in so early because he could have accomplished much at home.

He pulled into the parking lot and into his space, gathered up his briefcase, and walked into the building, momentarily shocked by the efficient air conditioning. Just a few minutes later and he was at his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. He started up the computer and turned the radio to something he could listen to without being distracting, preparing for another full day in front of the computer, and for added fun, the phones.

Brick had it to governed speed as he rolled west, with the azure sky brightening in his rearview mirrors. He wanted to only give it a little longer and he would call Benton to see if he looked over those files yet, mainly because his patience wouldn't allow him to wait it out. It didn't seem likely that Benton would forget, but it did seem likely he'd have plenty to keep him busy and place the email on the back burner until things eased down. Brick didn't want to be pushy, but then he did.

He knew he was rolling with a wagon full of explosives and weapons (and no placards), which made him more than a little nervous. For all he knew, the entire load was legal and sanctioned by the government, which surely would have instructed Melioration to keep it secret from the drivers. After all, it would only take one unethical driver to attempt contact with the highest bidder who could fake a robbery and make the driver appear the victim, only for him to collect on his take later on. It wouldn't be likely, but it would be smart to eliminate the possibility.

But if this was not the case and he was part of something illegal, there was no telling how damaging it could be for the future. Not only that, but Brick was now knowledgeable, not unwitting, and that complicated things further. He complicated matters even more by taking unethical action to discover what he did to satisfy his aching curiosity. He couldn't help but to think he was knee-deep in it; he had implicating files on his computer.

The most important thing to remember is I had no criminal intent. In fact, his decisions were forced by needing to know if he was involved in any crime, and if he was, he would act accordingly.

"I am seeking help and advice, you know," he mumbled to himself.

Not knowing what else to do, he drove as he normally would, making his way towards Denver. There was a long way to go before he got there, allowing plenty of time to figure out what to do. Brick sipped his now lukewarm coffee, anxiously waiting for Benton to call.

The two hitmen drove fast along I-20, risking the chance of getting pulled over by highway patrol. But they had their radar detector working and didn't push their luck too hard. They said nothing to one another while driving fast, knowing they didn't need to speed too much in order to catch up with some lumbering semi, but they knew time was of the essence. They needed to complete this mission before traffic congestion picked up and there would be too many people on the road, taking notice.

Their issue was how to do this properly. If they'd caught the driver at the truck stop, things would have been so much simpler and neat. Now this would have to look like some sort of act of random violence.

"Once we catch up with this asshole, it isn't going to take much to slow him down," one said to the other. "I'll get him to slow down and while he's looking at us all pissed off, you take a quick shot through the window and that will be that."

"Easy money. Damn, but it would have been better back there, though. Nothing newsworthy, at least for a day or so, and things would be all done. But a shot should be simple enough."

"I think so. As soon as that's done, we'll call it in and have them dispatch another truck to recover the load. It'll look like a random crime, which is more than common enough in this region, anyway."

"Good deal. He can't be but a few minutes ahead of us at the most."

Benton had to look over the files again, and then just to be sure of what it was he was looking at, he looked them over again. He had to catch himself to keep from looking stunned, but he was certainly more than stunned. What he saw was shocking to the core.

It seemed too bizarre and unreal to be true, but there it was, in plain language. He was sure he was reading a detailed plot to cause a devastating amount of death and destruction within each capital city throughout the forty eight contiguous United States. Wasn't Brick stating he and the other Melioration drivers were running continual loads throughout all the capital cities?

"For the love of God," Benton muttered.

But Benton got to where he is because he's smart and quick on the draw. Few things get by him, and not for very long if they do at all. He knew Brick well enough to know the man doesn't frazzle easily and doesn't get worked up over trivial things. Actually, if Brick knew just a bit more about computers, he already would have done what Benton planned to do right at that moment.

He picked up the phone and dialed 911.

"911. What is the state of your emergency?"

"My name is Benton Effingham and I need to be placed in contact with the FBI, right now. I have reason to believe I have information about a planned terrorist attack intended to commence this weekend. Please, place me in contact with the nearest FBI office immediately."

"Oh. One moment, please."

While Benton waited for the FBI on his office phone, he reached for his cell and brought up Brick's number. He intended to tell Brick to stop wherever he is and contact the authorities right away.

"Damn. I think that's our target," one of the hitmen said.

"Yeah, I think so," the other said as he checked his rearview mirror. "And other than some headlights way back there, it looks like we're all alone. Let's make this happen before we have any more snags."

He accelerated with a smile on his face.

Yup, easy money.

Chapter Nineteen

Brick was rolling at governed speed, which was exactly what this stretch of highway would allow. From that point, it was simply a matter of passing the time until he reached Shreveport, which was where he desired to get before he stopped for anything. Unless he had other pertinent information, he planned on stopping in Shreveport for a quick bite before rolling into Texas. He really hoped to hear from Benton before he made it that far.

Brick looked in his rearview mirror to see a four-wheeler coming in hot, obviously in a big hurry or desperate for a ticket. Brick had to smile, thinking the food in Shreveport couldn't be worth that much trouble.

"Yeah, come on, pal. Draw Smokey's attention from me, thank you very much."

But Brick's notion of whoever this was being in a hurry to pass him was quickly dismissed when the car came along side and suddenly slowed to match his speed. Because it was still rather dark and the morning light was only just arriving, he couldn't see anyone in the car, but when he saw the window come down and then the barrel of a gun point in his direction, many of his curiosities about the legal nature of the load were quickly satisfied.

And then when a shot was fired, shattering his door window an instant before grazing the top of his head well above his left ear, he knew he was in trouble.

The shot and then the instant, painful wound suddenly poured blood into Brick's eyes, causing him to lose focus of what he was doing at the wheel. He was lucky enough in that he was only grazed, but he was stunned by the sudden shot and the pain, and also the instant rush of wind into the cab along with the scattering glass. The thunder of the report as well as the sudden whoosh of wind threw him off guard, but the driver in him instinctively tried recovering after he heard the rumble strips telling him he was veering off the road.

Those instincts forced Brick to correct his path in his lane, and his quick thinking made it clear he couldn't possibly outrun or outmaneuver the sporty four-wheeler, so he slowed quickly hoping to get behind the car, at least just to be out of line for another shot. But whoever was driving was also experienced behind the wheel as he anticipated what Brick intended and slowed to come to Brick's immediate left again.

He quickly reached to his head where the wound bled and all he felt was warm, sticky blood, confirmed by a look at the blood saturating his hand. The bullet only grazed the top of his head, but did so in such a way that it lacerated his scalp and bled profusely. His next thoughts raced for some means of escape, but nothing came to him for that. He thought he might be able to force the car off the road and into the median, hopefully getting the little car stuck in the soft ground. But he saw he didn't have time for that when he saw the shooter lean out the window, now with both vehicles going much slower than before and that guy wearing a stern look of determination.

Brick hated to think that expression would be the last he would ever see, and his thoughts went straight to Brandi and Amanda. Not knowing what else to do, Brick closed his eyes and prayed for their safety.

The sudden explosive sound wasn't what he expected a gunshot to sound like, and then he realized he had the opportunity to consider he could open his eyes and watch the road as Sandy's Freightliner plowed into the rear of the four-wheeler, bringing its front bumper down to where it made contact with the road before the car turned over and rolled twice before coming to a stop in the soft ground of the median.

In a state of shock along with a great deal of pain, Brick maneuvered his truck off to the side of the road and stopped before things got any worse. He had to wipe his face to push the blood out of his eyes, but he brought it to a safe stop before running yet another truck into the trees. Sandy pulled over just a few truck lengths ahead of Brick, where he brought his severely damaged truck to a halt. Brick was still reeling, but he saw Sandy pulled on his four-ways, so he did the same thing. No sooner did he have his four-ways on and looked on to what just happened over the last several seconds before his phone rang.

Brick shook his head and placed his left hand over the nasty wound as he picked up the phone to see if it was Benton calling.

He answered and said, "Hey, Benton. I need your help."

"Brick, you need to listen to me. Your load is definitely illegal. Those files you sent me detailed a plot to commit a massive terrorist attack intended by Allen Kelly and a mercenary team he's hired, planning to attack all forty eight capital cities. You need to stop and contact the authorities to let them know where you are. I've already spoken with the FBI and sent them those files."

"Wow. I didn't realize it was all that. Maybe that's why they just shot me in the head."

There was a noticeable amount of silence. "What did you just say?"

"Two sons of bitches chased me down and shot me through my door window," Brick said as he looked for something to place over the wound. "The bullet only grazed my head, but I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. I think I'm okay, but I can still feel pieces of glass in my hair."

It was at that moment when Sandy came running up to Brick's truck, looking harried.

"Brick, are you okay? I saw what was happening from back there. I saw what I knew was a flash of a gunshot and then I saw you swerve," Sandy said as he tried catching his breath. "Running them down was the only thing I could think of. For Christ's sake, have you been shot?"

"It's only a head shot, so most who know me would know it wouldn't matter much," he said to Sandy, trying to ease his racing heart with the humor. "Hey, Benton. This guy here with me also has the same illegal contraband I do. We're just a few miles west of Jackson, Mississippi on I-20. We're not going anywhere."

Just then, despite the shock, Brick got an idea. "Benton, do you know any others working for other companies doing what you do?"

"Yeah, I know a few. Man, are you sure you're all right?"

Brick touched his tender wound, but recognized he wasn't seriously hurt, just lucky. "I think I'll be okay. Please contact everyone you know and have them contact their drivers through their Onboard Computers or QUALCOMM or whatever system they have, so they can inform drivers to watch for Melioration trucks and report them to the authorities.

"If we spread that out there, just about every company out there using these systems could blanket the country with the message. Also, ask that everyone get on the CB and spread the word that way, too. Man, if we do this right, there won't be a Melioration truck left to spot by lunch."

"Damn, but that's a great idea," Benton said. "I'll get that going and have everyone spread the word. Just be sure you guys stay right there until the authorities arrive, okay?"

Considering the front end damage Sandy's truck experienced as well as the front end damage he's endured, Brick said, "I don't see us going anywhere for a while."

Once Brick was off the phone with Benton, he said to Sandy, "My friend, I think you just saved my life. I don't know how I could repay you for that, but I'll try."

"Brick, it's the least I could do for a guy like you. Now, would you mind telling me just what in the hell is going on?"

Brick spent several minutes filling in Sandy about what he knew and how, including an additional thanks to Sandy for forgetting to place his padlock on his trailer. Sandy was the one who got on the phone and called for emergency services, explaining what he could while Brick tended to his head wound the best he could. What with all the excitement, it seemed Sandy took things rather well.

"Jesus, I think I need to sit down," he said, leaning on Brick's fender.

Just minutes later and the entire area was strewn with emergency vehicles, including four ambulances and a virtually uncountable amount of law enforcement cruisers. There were several DOT officers there, who only served to irritate Brick and Sandy despite their intentions, but also several local, state and highway police vehicles, as well as a few subtly marked vehicles Brick assumed belonged to the FBI.

Despite the quickly building melee of authoritive ground pounders, one of the EMT medical personnel was among the first to approach Brick, quickly assessing his injuries and dressing his wounds

"Well, if there's a good way to get shot in the head, I suppose this would be it," the medic said as he wrapped gauze around Brick's head, making him look as though he took a dozen rounds to the noggin. "It's likely the wound should receive a butterfly dressing once you're in the hospital and they'll want to ensure they got all the glass out of there, but you're going to be fine. Are you experiencing any blurred vision or a sense of vertigo?"

"No, I think I'm okay, other than being pretty shaken up."

"I'll be riding with him to the hospital," someone said as he approached. "You're Gunnar Brickendale, is that correct?"

"Uh, yes sir. I'm afraid so."

"My name is agent Warren Hughes. I am going to be asking you a lot of questions. A lot of questions. I hope you're up to that."

"I don't think the injuries caused any head trauma, which is amazing," the EMT said. "He couldn't be much luckier."

"If you knew anything about this guy's history, you'd be stunned by how lucky he can be," agent Hughes said. He then looked to Brick and said, "My friend, I think your hero status just got an upgrade. Thanks to the information you found and passed onto Benton Effingham, you've succeeded in thwarting the most ambitious, well-planned and devastating terrorist plot ever devised. In my line of work, people take notice of that."

"Benton told me a little about it, but I wasn't on the phone with him long enough to get any details. So, what was supposed to go on? I know I can tell you there are enough weapons and explosives in these two trailers right here to take down most of Mississippi," Brick said, still holding a hand to his head wound.

Sandy was there and said, "I looked in on those other two fuckers before I came back here to check on you. I doubt they're going anywhere on their own. Eww."

"One of them didn't survive, likely because he was partially out of the car when it was struck, but the other guy is alive enough to provide some information," Hughes said. "One of my colleagues will accompany him to the hospital and we'll see what we can find out. If my preliminary checks hold up, these two are little more than hired thugs from the local area."

"Yeah, Brick," Sandy said, still pumped from all that was going on. "Those two were the guys prowling around the truck stop just after you left. I'm thinking that if you wanted to roll out ten minutes later, this story would have ended a lot differently."

Just outside of Reno, hoards of cruisers, vans, and officers swarmed onto Allen Kelly's property and gathered all around his home. Allen wasn't in bed but watching the news on TV, mainly because he was struggling to sleep. While he saw nothing pertaining to his situation on the news, when he heard the sirens and convoy of vehicles racing up to his home, he knew things were changing fast. Allen downed what was left of his scotch, got up from his recliner and went out onto the porch with his hands in the air. He didn't see a point in making them enter the house just to tear everything apart.

"Do not move," he heard through a bullhorn and beyond the blinding spotlight focused on him. He assumed he should get used to that. "Stay right where you are with your hands up!"

"As you can plainly see, my hands are quite up and I am not moving," Allen said, bracing to be piled on within seconds. "I will not offer any resistance."

Indeed, the arrest was rather rough, but Allen was quickly handcuffed and dragged to a cruiser while an officer read him his usual rights. Although he was clearly informed he had the right to remain silent, "Could you tell me if Gunnar Brickendale is all right?"

"He was shot in the head, just in case you give a shit."

"Damn," Allen said, showing his first signs of genuine emotion. "Damn it all to hell."

"To be specific, the wound he suffered wasn't serious, I'm told, and he should be okay, if you really care."

"Oh, but I do. I truly do and thank God for that," Allen said as he struggled to sit right with his hands bound behind him, thinking if there was anyone he'd be glad to see stop his madness, it would be a man named Brick. For the first time in a while, Allen felt convinced God was on the job after all.

Brick did his best to explain to Agent Hughes what he knew and why he was suspicious for a while. He felt reluctant to do so, but he informed Hughes how he broke into the two trailers, ensuring Hughes knew he had no criminal intent.

"Mr. Brickendale, I doubt you'll have any reason to worry about that. What you did saved countless lives, not to mention the ungodly amount of damage and costs you prevented. I don't see anyone giving two shits about what you did in order to see this through, except to pass on the praise."

"I'm just glad I caught onto this when I did," Brick said. "You're saying all of this was supposed to go down in a matter of days?"

"This weekend, based on the information. There are officers across the country crashing in on every known Melioration location across the country, while we speak. Oh, and your idea to spread the word through truck OBC's and by CB made a tremendous difference. Truckers have been calling in from every state across the nation, informing authorities of the ML trucks in their sights. You guys made all the difference in this situation, and fast."

Benton had called numerous trucking companies along with everyone he could think of that he knew in the Transportation Industry, quickly informing them of what he knew and having them spread the word to every truck they had and to every other company they knew. He asked they inform all of their drivers and make those calls, and before long, virtually every eighteen-wheeler from sea to shining sea had the word. Further, when these drivers found out Brick was the one involved, the information spread out everywhere. Even Road Dog radio on satellite got the word and let listeners know.

All drivers in each capital city watched closely for Melioration Trucks and immediately reported what they found, successfully helping with quickly apprehending every ML truck on the road.

Not only were all ML trucks and Melioration locations raided, but talk about Brick's involvement spread with all the other news. Because of his actions along Donner Pass, just about every driver out there knew who Brick was and the stories abounded about how he took part in preventing a major attack on this country.

This is, indeed, how myths and legends become so portentous.

"I'll tell you what, Driver; we need more guys like Brick out here with us. That's a good man right there."

"10-4 on that, Driver. That guy makes all of us look damned good. But I heard our man was shot. I pray to God he's okay."

"Yeah, Driver. I heard Brick was shot in the head and then got up from that. I don't know how true that is, but that's the story going around."

"I heard he took a few rounds and walked away. They say he was attacked by a squad of hitmen and shot all over, but still took them down. Man, but I hope this guy makes it through."

Conversations like these were taking place on the Citizen's Band everywhere across America and not just on the CB. Once the media took hold of the story, everyone found out about it.
Chapter Twenty

Brandi was at her desk in her cubicle, taking care of business and counting down the hours waiting for the end of a long day. Amanda and she had some things they wanted to take care of besides just the homework, so she wanted to get started on it as soon as possible. Both of them wanted to make some changes in the house, mainly because it appeared their home consisted of more than just the two of them, so they wanted it to really look that way. They both wanted the house to look as though it was fully occupied by their whole family, and that one of the family members was a man. They both knew Brick wouldn't care one way or another (he would just want the time with them), but it was important to them.

Brandi wanted Brick to feel like he lives there, not like he's a visitor. She knew he wouldn't be there any more than he has been for all this time, but things were still different. The more she thought about that, the harder it was to think of much else. Her thoughts drifted to the enjoyable Hilton Head weekend, and then to how things really sparked up over the past several weeks. She wound up daydreaming about the night before Gunnar left, and then she had to catch the smile widening on her face when she saw her boss, Pamela Mosteller, approaching with an expression clearly not reminiscent of a night lost in the throes of love.

"Oops," she muttered. "Better look busy."

"Brandi, I'll need you to come with me, okay? There have been some serious news developments you need to know about. I don't know any real details yet, but your man is being mentioned in the news again, and I mean all of the news."

Brandi suddenly felt cold and said, "What sort of news?"

Pam came close and placed a hand on Brandi's shoulder. "Baby, I don't know what's going on at all, so I don't have any details, but I did hear them say Gunnar Brickendale was shot in the head this morning."

Brandi had no way of knowing how long she was out. All she could remember was Pam telling her that Brick was shot in the head and that it was all over the news, and then the room spun around before the floor came up and hit her.

"Brandi? Baby, are you okay? Hey, everyone, I said stand back and give the girl some air," Pam was saying from up there. "Brandi, can you hear me?"

Brandi blinked several times, noticed she was on the floor in a rather undignified position, and tried sitting up. She then said, "Please tell me my husband's okay. Please tell me that."

"Your husband? I thought you were divorced. Honey, if you can get up, I need you to see what's going on in there on the news. I think it might help to inform you your...guy, seems to be doing fine," Pam said. "In fact, they're saying he's a big part in helping thwart some major terrorist plot by some kook named Allen Kelly."

"Allen Kelly?" Brandi asked as she struggled to get off the floor. "That's the man who gave Gunnar his new truck. Allen Kelly had family members on the bus Gunnar saved. What the hell is going on?"

She was still rather lightheaded and woozy from the sudden shock, and embarrassed, but she felt her blood pressure returning to normal and the buzzing sensation was dissipating. Yet, she was still a bit unsure so a couple of coworkers helped her into the break room where she sat down in front of the TV still focused on the breaking news.

"For those of you just tuning in, a dramatic turn of events has taken place near Jackson, Mississippi. These events involve Gunnar Brickendale, the heroic truck driver who used his truck to prevent the crash of an out of control school bus near the Sierra Mountains west of Reno, Nevada.

"This story also involves Allen Kelly, who is a prominent Nevada businessman, known for relishing gratitude to Brickendale by offering him a job with his Melioration Corporation, along with a brand new semi to replace the one destroyed in the bus incident. You may recall Brickendale saved the lives of all the children on the bus by using his truck to bring the bus to a halt before it crashed, although his truck was destroyed in the process.

"In a bizarre turn of events, Allen Kelly, we're told by the FBI, masterminded a major terrorist attack perpetrated against the United States, reported to occur as early as this coming weekend. These reports indicate these attacks were to take place in every capital city in the United States, that is until Gunnar Brickendale exposed the plot and informed the authorities. Brickendale was shot in the head during a melee, but we've been informed the wound was a graze and not life threatening."

The report continued forward with more details of the story, but Brandi was lost in the shock of the moment, hardly hearing any more of the report once the shot to the head was mentioned. But she looked to the TV when they showed footage of the scene and then video of the opened trailers containing weapons, along with Gunnar being helped into an ambulance with his head wrapped in bandaging.

"For the love of Christ, Gunnar," Brandi said. "You're not going to make a habit of this shit, are you?"

Brick was at the hospital, caught up in a whirlwind of activity and questioning unlike anything he's ever seen before. Numerous officers from the FBI and even the Secret Service pushed at him more questions than he could keep track of before he reached the point where he wasn't sure of what he was saying anymore. It seemed obvious they had to eliminate him and all other ML drivers from any list of suspects, but after every driver had been questioned and all the ML trucks were located and impounded, the authorities concluded that all drivers were kept from any burden of knowledge.

"Mr. Brickendale, based on the information we're receiving from investigators around the country, it appears ever driver and most employees of Melioration were ignorant of Kelly's intentions. But you need to know this investigation is far from complete."

"I get that," Brick said. "I'll be of help in any way I can, but I'm sure I've told you everything I know, which wasn't much."

It seemed what Brick might or might not know was still in question, since once his wounds were cared for and he was released from the hospital's care, he was brought directly to the Jackson FBI offices, where he assumed he might be for quite some time. His truck and trailer were impounded, which wasn't surprising, but he couldn't help but to wonder what his truck's future entailed and when he might be able to get back to work. He wanted to help, but had responsibilities.

"Mr. Brickendale, I want you to know I don't believe you have any reasons to worry about much," agent Hughes said. "While this investigation is major and new, I have been informed to put your mind at ease. At this point in time you are not considered a suspect, but a witness and benefactor to the case. But I want to go over again the details of when and where, and why, you became suspicious of Melioration Logistics activities."

Brick took a deep breath and then retold everything he could recall, feeling anxious for not being able to provide any more than mere hunches and suspicions of his own.

"The big hint to me was the lack of weight in the loads, at least at first. From there, it was how nice and yet how secretive they were. After that, it was not seeing what one would assume to see in that kind of business. That's about all I have; everything else is mostly just dumb luck."

"Who might you have talked to about your concerns other than your wife?"

"While Brandi is actually my ex-wife, she's the only one until Benton."

"And you never looked at the files you sent to Benton Effingham?"

"Because I'm so new with the computer thing, I didn't think I would know what I was looking at. That's why I turned to Benton and passed them to him. Hell, he had to walk me through how to do that."

"The biggest thing I want you to understand is that you, despite your lack of knowledge of the severity of the situation, prevented a major calamity. We believe you might very well have saved this country from our greatest tragedy. Ever," Hughes said with a smile.

"My whole intent was to do the right thing. That was all," Brick said, feeling relieved.

"My friend, helping an old lady change a flat tire is the right thing to do. Giving blood a couple times of year is the right thing. What you did made a tremendous impact on this nation, not just because of what was prevented, but also because of the enormous threat revealed. And, you did so at great personal risk."

Brick laughed and said," My biggest concern of personal risk was getting my ass caught in a sling, particularly if the loads turned out to be legitimate. That's why I didn't contact the authorities when I first found out what was in there."

"We understand those concerns, so don't you worry about that. Our greater concern is how tens of thousands, perhaps more, of potential victims are safer because of you. That's a lot more than you can fit on one school bus," Hughes said while sipping his coffee from a cheap Styrofoam cup.

"Yeah, I guess so. I can't help but wonder what it's going to be next. A Martian attack?"

That got the both of them laughing, which made the recent gunshot wound to the head smart just a bit.

"Although this is something you might be getting used to, I believe the repairs on your truck, which shouldn't be too extensive, will be cared for by a grateful Uncle Sam. According to the way these guys keep the books, you just saved them an untold millions of dollars. Hell, they might buy you a fleet.

"But," Hughes continued, "I imagine you must be rather tired from what's been going on all day today. Shortly, I'll be taking you to a hotel we use for business, near downtown Jackson. Once we're ready to do this, I'll return all of your things, such as your wallet and cell phone. I apologize for it being confiscated, but it's standard procedure. Just so you know, we've contacted your family and let them know your fine and that they'll be able to speak to you soon. Brandi is your ex-wife, you said?"

"It's complicated, but yes. We're actually getting back together," Brick said.

"That was my take on things, judging by the way she sounded. She was worried sick but I think I eased her concerns. She did point out she's looking forward to giving you a piece of her mind and informing you that you need to start minding your own business. She said something about you having only but so much luck."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Brick said, holding his head.

While being escorted by Agent Hughes to the hotel he spoke of, Brick pondered on his situation. Now that he had the time to reflect on what's been happening rather than just respond to a volley of questions, he considered the weight of what happened and what might happen soon. For the most part, preventing a crime from taking place largely means it didn't occur. But this one somehow seems different; it feels different to Brick, and everyone else is affected. But with everything on the table, his biggest concern was his family and their future.

There's no doubt he felt a level of patriotic pride in making a positive difference for his country, but there was already a path he'd chosen to make that difference. Lately, it seemed life was becoming more than a little bizarre. He was proud to be of service to his country and others as necessary, but for the most part, Brick just wanted to do his job and spend as much time as he could with his family. There are plenty enough heroes out there; let them enjoy the fanfare. And the scars.

For the moment, he set aside his concerns and felt content to watch the city of Jackson roll by. Sitting and watching from the passenger seat is rare enough, and while he's seen just about every city in America, there were always large stretches of each city he'd never see from a big truck. After all, there were always large sections of each city where trucks weren't allowed, and even where they were allowed, it was often with a grudge. He'd never seen this particularly lovely stretch of Jackson before, and likely never would again.

"The hotel is just ahead," Agent Hughes said. "Just so you know, all expenses of your stay have been paid for, of course, so please do not concern yourself with that. Your meals are entirely paid for, including the tip of your choice, whether you eat in the restaurant or choose to enjoy the room service.

"Also," Hughes said while handing Brick a card, "should you desire to get out of the hotel and enjoy the sights of Jackson, this is a debit card for you to use at your leisure."

Brick looked at that, surprised, and saw the FBI logo on the card.

"The PIN is the last four digits of your social security number, which was done to keep this simple in the time we had. We just ask you to refrain from buying the crown jewels or Lamborghinis, but I encourage you to enjoy Uncle Sam's hospitality and gratitude. Please understand that because of the sensitive legalities and details of this case, we might have you here in town for a few days.

"Oh, to hand over some better news, we've taken the liberty of turning in Pete Sanders' truck in for repairs, as well. His will likely need more than yours, but you'd be surprised how much damage a bullet can cause."

Brick felt his head again and nodded, but said as he thumbed the card, "I don't know what else to say except thanks again, so I'll just enjoy the ride."

"Hell, I don't know what else you can do or say. I mean, what else is out there for you to prevent? Global nuclear annihilation? While this is going to be a big trial and certainly a media circus, I think you'll be able to return to a normal life before you know it."

"I sure as hell hope so," Brick admitted. "I've just been too used to simply driving from here to there, listening to the radio and enjoying a moment's reminiscence of the day with the guys at the truck stops. There I was..."

Hughes smiled and said, "Just wait until they get an earful of what you have to say now."

Agent Hughes parked just outside of what looked to be a large, luxuriant hotel. It was certainly a far cry from the grungy, two-story motels offering some truck parking (in a dirt lot Bigfoot would struggle to traverse) he's grown used to over time. He was starting to feel the heat of the spotlight such as the time in Reno, making him feel reticent and humbled. Brick knew he wasn't the sort to look away from wrong when wrong was there, but when he looked in the mirror he just didn't see the heroic adventurer.

As he looked upwards at the scale of the building, the only amenity coming to mind was if the shower offered sufficient water pressure. As they entered the building, Brick reached for his wallet to attain his ID, and Hughes said, "You won't need your ID as you're already checked in. I'm merely escorting you to your suite. Besides, everyone in here knows who you are. All you really need to do is enjoy your stay and be reasonably available should we have any further questions or requests."

"Just call me and I'll be there. That hasn't changed in many years."

As they entered the elevator, Hughes said, "The debit card I handed you before will also act as your room key. You'll find a detailed map in your suite revealing the various things to do and see in the immediate area. There are several shops and restaurants, and there's a movie theater nearby. Should you desire to rent a car, just let the concierge know and then consider it done.

"I wanted you to know you could be here for more than a week and maybe longer, but I really just don't know for sure. This is a serious investigation going all the way to the Oval Office and Situation Room, so there are a lot of uncovered details."

Brick's thoughts went right to how in the hell am I going to pass that much time and not get stir crazy?

They stepped off the elevator and it was just a few doors down when Hughes said, "All right. This is it, Mr. Brickendale."

"If it's okay, everyone calls me Brick."

"There are a few other things I wanted to inform you of before I go, Brick. Now and then, you might notice some government and security personnel in your vicinity, particularly should you desire to leave the hotel. It's just that we need to ensure of your safety during these important proceedings."

"Is someone concerned I might accidentally wander out in front of a taxi or something?" Brick asked, knowing that wasn't the concern at all.

"You need to know that one of Mr. Kelly's major players is still at large. A man going by the name of Jesse Bentley, which is a name we've confirmed is actually an alias, was Kelly's number one guy. In fact, while we believe Kelly dreamed most of this caper up, he hired Bentley to see it to reality. We don't know much about this Jesse Bentley, but we do know he's high on the list of upscale mercenaries," Hughes said.

"Okay. That's really awesome to know," Brick said.

"We don't believe Bentley is a genuine threat to you, mainly because that isn't how these sorts of soldiers of fortune operate. It's just that we have to take precautionary measures in the event there's a detail we overlooked."

Agent Hughes put out his hand and said, "Brick, if we truly felt you were in genuine danger, all of this would be done differently. It's just that you're a VIP now, so we're watching your back. Does the card open the door as it should?"

Brick slid in the card and removed it just as the small illustration suggested. There was the flash of a small blinking LED light and then familiar snick of the lock releasing. He worked the door handle and pushed the door open.

"Everything seems perfectly fine. Again, I appreciate all of this, Mr. Hughes."

"It's our pleasure, Brick. If I can recommend anything at all, it's don't allow yourself to get too bored. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call, as we won't, either. You'll find I took the liberty of adding several pertinent phone numbers to your phone."

Agent Hughes turned to leave, but before he took a step, he turned and said, "I want you to know this hotel was the primary target for this particular capital city. The intent was to bring it down through a series of internal explosions. From there, Bentley's teams would have taken positions along the perimeter to openly attack all first responders, killing them, in order to prevent them from rescuing the innumerable amount of people within and around this location. The plan was to do something similar in each of the forty seven other capital cities, at the exact same time. And that was just the first stage of their plot.

"With this in mind, I truly ask you enjoy everything this hotel and city have to offer. They will all be here after this weekend because of you."

Hughes shook Brick's hand again and said, "I'll be in touch, Brick. Relax and enjoy your stay."

Agent Hughes turned and then stepped into the elevator. The door was still ajar, so Brick stepped inside to make himself at home. He reached up and touched the bandaging looking as though it's what held his head together; keeping in mind the steps he needed to take in order to protect the dressing when he showered. The scenario for the night quickly passed through his mind, which involved getting a shower in and then maybe a nice meal to slow the momentum of what proved to be one of the zaniest days he's ever heard of, and then maybe a movie here in the suite, with a beer or two.

"Dad!" was not something he expected to hear and it actually made him jump, but when he saw Amanda and Brandi emerge from the next room in the suite, he was more than elated.

"Hey there, superhero," Brandi said as she approached.

He embraced both of them in a major family hug as soon as they were within reach, and Brick couldn't think of a time he's ever been happier to see them.

"How in the hell did the two of you get here?"

"As soon as I heard about what was going on, and once I recovered and was assisted off the floor, pal, I contacted the FBI office in Savannah," Brandi said as she examined and touched his bandaging. "It wasn't long after that they had us on a plane flying this way. It was a fancy little jet I might add."

"You should trade in your truck license to do that, Dad," Amanda said. "Those jets are cooler than cool. I mean, no sooner did we take off from Savannah and manage to take a breath, and we were here. So, is it as much fun to get shot in the head as they say it is?"

"Well, I would admit the double-vision and the squishy sounds get annoying quickly, but the new colors are like so groovy. I'm just so glad to see you both, but it could just be the trauma," he said as he hugged and kissed them both again. "Being here would have sucked if I had to do it all by myself."

"You think so? Then you haven't seen the suite yet, Dad."

"I felt I needed to come out here to inform you all this heroic stuff needs to come down a couple notches," Brandi said. "You are Gunnar Brickendale, not Captain America. Do you got that? Now, say it with me..."

He smiled and said, "I think I got it."

"I hope so, there buddy," Brandi said. "How am I to ravage you throughout the night if you're all wrapped up in bandages after fighting Klingons and Decepticons or whatever it is Batman and you do. If you're trying to impress me, you've done a fine job. Feel free to simmer it down some and be content to do as you're told."

"Yes, dear."

"Okay, if you two intend on grossing me out for the rest of the night, I'd like to offer some alternative suggestions," Amanda said. "This map offers plenty."

"If you let me get a little cleaned up, I'll treat you two ladies to a night on the town," he said, feeling a little like he just won some game show grand prize. "How does that grab you?"

A night on the town grabbed everyone just fine and they had a marvelous time. They enjoyed a delectable dinner in a decorative seafood restaurant, with Amanda choosing a fine Shrimp Scampi exuding a fragrance making one suspect it was created to bribe diplomats. Brandi selected a lobster tail and steak entrée that made Brick a little jealous, but he chose a salmon recipe he found could be enjoyed three hundred and fifty days a year without getting tiring. He couldn't recall seeing a plate placed before him that made his mouth water like that.

"You wouldn't mind if I tried a bit of that scampi, would you?" Brick asked as he reached over with his fork.

Amanda reached his way with her fork and said, "Help yourself. It rocks."

"Is everything to your liking?" a lovely waitress said.

"It's wonderful, but could I get another glass of wine?" Brandi asked.

"Absolutely, I'll be right back."

"Would it be okay if we just took the bottle?" Brick asked after seeing his bottle of Sam Adams was drained. "Please bring another glass so I can help her with that. What are the nonalcoholic choices for this young lady?"

After the waitress recited the drink menu and Amanda simply chose some iced tea, Amanda said, "I'm not carrying you two lushes back to the hotel, you know."

"We'll be just fine," Brick said, although he found his head feeling much better after the second beer and developed a desire for the merlot Brandi bragged about. "We'll walk it off with some window shopping. How's that?"

Amanda smiled and said, "Hey, bottoms up, you two."

Once they were done with their meal, both parents realized walking that off was a good idea as they both nursed a cozy buzz and all three of them had content bellies. The evening was cool and comfortable, and the sights were fetching. Savannah, they knew, was a lovely and historic city, and Jackson was attractive with its own unique flavor and culture.

"You know, if you see anything you like, I have this card, courtesy of the fine people of these here United States," Brick said.

Each of them admitted they would like something simple, but they agreed it wouldn't be right to take undue advantage.

"I really don't need anything much," Amanda said, "but I don't think anyone would mind if I picked up a Kindle." She eyed the window display and said, "I bet it would be so helpful with studies and homework."

"Yeah. I bet it would," said with mild sarcasm.

So, there was the Kindle in hand, which turned out to be the biggest ticket item of the night. Brick told Brandi not to hold back, and she didn't.

"I'm looking, Love, but all I need is right here with me. Nothing else is coming out at me as something I'd like to go after. But how about a movie?"

The Brickendales looked over the movie posters to see if anything comes out at them. Really, it turned into what was appropriate for a young teen (according to the parents, not the Motion Picture Association of America) and they did spot a few worthy of consideration. Out of them, there was only one catching Amanda's interest.

"I never would have thought you were the comic book sort," Brick said.

"I know for a fact she sees that one as the hunk of the decade," Brandi whispered in his ear.

Minutes later, they were working their way to theater seventeen with popcorn, soft drinks, and two boxes of Good & Plenty. They looked around the impressive theater after sitting down, realizing seeing a movie was something they've never done as a family before.

"Wow," Brick said as they watched the previews for the upcoming movies. "What's the budget for movies these days? A gazillion dollars?"

Once they left the movie theater, they simply meandered along to take in the fresh air. The night was creeping up on them according to the dimming daylight, and Brick felt a subtle shock of time passing and reached for the bandaging on his head that he pretended wasn't noticed by passersby. Brick realized it's only been a matter of hours since he was shot in the head by hitmen hired to kill him. He then took conscious notice he was walking along an avenue in Jackson, Mississippi, with his family. He pondered on the concerns Brandi had about getting things back to normal.

Jesse Bentley watched from the rooftop, where he'd already identified several of the agents following, protecting, Brickendale and his girls. He danced back and forth with how the scenario should play out; whether it should be the youngest taking a bullet through the eye just when both parents looked at her, or maybe the mother going down first. He watched each of them through the scope and placed the crosshairs where he felt there would be the most drama. Where there would be the most blood.

Where there would be the most justice.

He thought he could snipe the couple directly behind them, who were FBI agents pretending to be a loving couple as they watched the backs of these three oblivious people. In fact, he was sure he could take them down in one shot, forcing their bosses to reconsider such poor tactical ploys.

Brick knew the rescue of the school bus was a big deal in many ways; the significance was easy to measure just by stepping out of the picture and imagining someone else there in his stead. If it was Sandy who did this, Brick knew he'd admire and commend the man at every given opportunity. He'd be one of the first in extolling the pride he felt that such a man was among their own as drivers, as professionals, as tradesmen.

But this thing revolving around the conspiracies and attacks planned by a nutcase like Kelly was mostly just coincidence, confusion, and plain fearfulness. Brick knew he wasn't the sort of man who would turn a blind eye, but isn't it true that he really didn't do anything more than get nosy enough to piss off some people enough to shoot at him? What the hell else was there to it?

With the kids on the bus, he acted fast and without regard for his personal safety. With that, he knew he might be able to save those children if he took certain risks, but any man knew within his heart that he couldn't risk his soul by standing back and watching in safety. Such a fate would be worse than death. There is no hiding from the judgmental look in the mirror. But even when he knew things were wrong after seeing all of the weaponry, all he did was hide in the dark of his truck, with his only comfort being cold indecision. The only thing he could claim as sensible was running to Benton for help, who was the only one between the two of them who had the sense to recognize the significance of the situation. If it wasn't for this act of groveling for help, those who walked where they did at that moment but within about a full day from that moment would be experiencing terror without measure.

Jesse identified and considered numerous scenarios. He discovered there were at least seven agents within earshot of a harsh whisper from his primary targets, so he had to smile at imagining their expressions after seeing all of their protectors going down around them while they stood there, clutching one another in redundant fear. They'd tell one another they love each other, but Jesse knew there would be moments when either or both of the females would look at this asshole who doesn't have the wherewithal to recognize his place in the world and hint, this is all your fault.

"What are you thinking about?" Brandi asked. "You look rather distracted. It isn't as though you were shot in the head or...wait, yes you were. You were shot in the head just this morning. Is there some cerebral seepage or something?"

Laughing, Brick said, "I'm sorry. My mind keeps going back to what the fallout of all of this might be. I think the size of this story is making me into a bigger deal than it should."

Brandi looked at him and asked, "So, you're thinking your part in this isn't all that big a deal compared to something like, say, taking a bullet for the President?"

"Okay, something like that."

"I get your point, but look at this another way. If you take a bullet for that cab driver, you'll be seen as a brave man, but the broad-sweeping consequences of what you did wouldn't likely be known beyond Jackson," she said. "But if you take the same bullet for a different man, one who happens to be President, you'll be remembered throughout the course of history. Do you see?"

"I do see. I see just that," he admitted. "That's why I'm wondering how this is going to turn out when I know in my heart I really didn't so much of anything."

"Just do what you've been doing, Dad," Amanda added.

"Which is what? Compiling scars and disposable semis?"

"My thoughts went more in line with going with your gut and remaining true to your convictions," Brandi said. "It does seem as though those things are changing the shape of your head, but they've also saved a countless amount of lives."

Brick took both of them by the hand and held them firmly, letting them know through the sincere contact that if he knew anything at all, it was he loved them dearly. It made his heart soar to see the beautiful smiles on their faces, which were the same smiles Jesse viewed through the high-powered scope of a sniper rifle.

Seeing them enjoy their gooey moment nudged Jesse into thinking he just might allow them to pass safely and live good, long lives. The finger pressure on the trigger pressed and eased as he debated within the comfort of his thoughts. His thoughts moved his trigger finger with the flow of recollection of a conversation he had with Allen Kelly just the day before this Brickendale guy shit on everything.

"Jesse, we also have to realize if our plans fail, the reasons for our intent might still come to pass," Allen said. "Don't you think? If the people and government of this fine nation recognize how close they were to witnessing one of the most pivotal moments in history, might they renew their allegiance to what's important and try again?"

Jesse didn't think anything like that would come about. If such romantic notions harbored any validity, what occurred on 9/11 would have seen this renewal of allegiance. That tragedy accomplished this within the hearts of some, but the most visible outcome was little more than a more pronounced polarization of the people.

United we stand, divided we fall.

So it seems the philosophical wrangling comes down to the simplest of philosophies: Nature favors the survival of the fittest.

Jesse knew he was poised to strike, but whose pursuit survived? Who walked freely and who lurked in the shadows? Which one risked others for himself and which one risked himself for others?

Jesse looked over the scope and towards the panoramic view of this simple family amidst an America trying to find its way. Overall, he pursued these ends, no matter how grave, for the sake of this great nation, right? And didn't this simple yet decent American place himself in harm's way more than once in order to do what he knew was right?

Jesse allowed himself to enjoy the cool breeze while he watched the Brickendale family to walk away free and happy. If this nation is so confused and troubled, perhaps it can find answers in the eyes of its latest hero.

* * *

Arriving back to the suite after dark was the first time Brick really had the opportunity to check it out. The suite was actually marvelous, with two separate bedrooms (very nice), an office (they wouldn't need), and a large living space complete with what had to be all of today's most luxuriant amenities.

"Just how big does a TV need to be? That thing rivals the screen at the theater."

"The TV in my room isn't quite that big, but it has more channels than I thought existed," Amanda said. "But I'm tired, so I think I'm going to turn in."

Brandi considered saying something about Amanda's desire to get on the computer and seek the limits of the Kindle, but didn't want to risk the alone time.

"All right, sweetheart. Try not to be up too late, since we'll probably step out for breakfast in the morning."

Once Amanda's door was closed and she was out of sight, Brandi turned to Brick and said, "Okay, then. What do we need to do about fresh bandaging for this?"

Brick sat down so she could reach his head easier and said, "Wow, but this has been one hell of a whirlwind day."

She nodded and said, "Yeah, that's for sure. I'm just happy this turned out with nobody getting seriously hurt."

"With nobody getting seriously hurt? I was shot in the head this morning, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, but head injuries are relative when it comes to men," she said with a wry smile. "There was no significant loss in brain matter, and you can still reach high places and lift heavy things. We'll chalk this one up as a nonevent, even though this is going to scar, so the whole bald trend won't be for you."

She then leaned in and placed a stirring kiss on him and said, "In all seriousness, I'm so glad you're okay and to be here with you. I'm also proud of the fact that my man is such a hero."

"Hell, I'm no hero. I didn't do a single brave thing. Not even one."

"Wasn't breaking into those trailers an act of bravery? It took guts to take a risk like that."

"You must be kidding. Punks break into trailers every day. Thieves steal entire rigs on a daily basis. I was scared to pieces when I did what I did, and when I found what was there, I was scared that much more."

That's when Brandi, after looking to see if Amanda's door was closed, leaned in and whispered in his ear.

An instant later, Brick stood tall, puffed up his chest and said, "Thus, I have been triumphant and yet again saved the day, and America, too! Could some measly team of terrorists strike at our great nation when Brick is on the job? I say no way!"

She openly laughed and hugged him close. It didn't take but a moment for the close hug to turn into a deep kiss, and then with just moments more clothes were being pulled off and dropped as the both of them moved towards the bedroom. But they were barely to the bedroom door when their passion was allayed by a ringing phone.

Catching her breath, Brandi said, "Really? Now? Really?"

Grumbling, Brick muttered, "This had better be really, really important."

He picked up the phone and said, "This is Gunnar Brickendale. How can I help you at this hour?"

"I do apologize for bothering you at this hour, Mr. Brickendale, but there is someone waiting on the line who states it is very important they speak with you."

The concierge had Brick rolling his eyes. He already had something vitally important in mind, but it wasn't a bullshit powwow on the phone with some FBI cubicle dweller who just started his late shift.

Rubbing one eye, Brick said, "Well, if it's very important, by all means please put them through."

Brandi gestured, Who is it? He gestured, I don't have a clue.

A voice then came on and said, "Mr. Brickendale. I have someone waiting on another line who desires to speak with you, if but for just a few minutes. However, it is my job to ensure this is truly Mr. Brickendale. While this should only take a moment, I need to ask you a few questions."

With the prior mood a shadow of what it was, he said, "Please go ahead."

Brick was taken aback by the sudden importance of being careful to the point of paranoia. He didn't know where this was going, but shortly after the line of questioning, he learned why the security issues were necessary.

There was suddenly someone on the phone. "Yes, is this Gunnar Brickendale?"

Holy shit, Brick thought, what the hell do you think the game of twenty questions was for? But he didn't want to verbalize that honest thought, so he said, "Yes, sir. This is him. How might I help you?"

"Mr. Brickendale, there are a number of things I would enjoy discussing with you in detail, but I wanted to introduce myself now and set up a time for tomorrow to discuss these issues at your convenience."

"My Day Planner is wide open until I get my truck back. May I ask who this is?"

"I do apologize; this is the President of the United States."

Judging from Brick's sudden change in expression, Brandi assumed this was something beyond boring FBI questioning.

"Uh, um, Mr. President, to what do I owe the honor of your call?" Brick said as he looked to Brandi.

Brick's initial impulse was to dismiss the call as a prank, but once the caller stated his position, Brick recognized the unmistakable voice. If it was a prank, it was a good one.

Brandi whispered, "Thee President?"

With wide eyes, he nodded.

"Mr. Brickendale, I'm told everyone calls you Brick. Might I do so, as well?"

"Please do, Mr. President."

"In your circle of associates, what do they call me?" POTUS asked.

"It runs along the spectrum, depending on who you ask and are talking to, Mr. President."

POTUS laughed and said, "I do understand. I know we're getting into the evening and I don't want to keep you on the phone for too long, but there was something I wanted you to get directly from me.

"Based on the evidence and information gathered by the FBI and other agencies, your actions verily saved this great nation. Brick, if Allen Kelly and his minions had succeeded in what they set out to do, the result almost surely would not have been what they intended. The most likely results, based on projections from numerous analysts, would have almost certainly resulted in a fallout within American society, leading to an anarchic point reaching a collapse of the civilization.

"If they had pulled this off in, say, ten states, it still would have overshot their objective by a significant margin. But in all forty eight states? It likely would have annihilated the country, opening us to even more insidious attacks from enemies in numerous directions. That's not an overestimate."

POTUS allowed a moment for that to take effect and then said, "The point I am getting to is that your decisions and actions steered the United States of America from certain collapse to continuing forward in the pursuit of freedom and liberty, as it should. That, my friend, cannot go unrecognized."

"I have to admit to you, Mr. President, that I did not do anything major. I acted on a hunch, and with that, all I did was get a little nosy and piss some people off."

Brick cringed in the thought he just said that to the President, but then said, "I do recognize I placed myself in harm's way when I did what I did with the school bus, but in this, all I did was run with my fears. I truly did nothing heroic."

"Brick, you're simply wrong on that assessment and this is why I say so. Some of the finest and most portentous decisions made leading this country to where it is today, and has been put through, were historically monumental yet little more than hunches and mundane acts done without danger or adventure. Bravery and sacrifice led to the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but the actual signing was done in chambers with circumstance. Andrew Jackson, sadly, created the Trail of Tears with a disgusted wave of the hand. Abraham Lincoln aged prematurely because of many of his decisions coupled with the stress, but they were made from his desk," POTUS said. "I am looking at that desk right now, to be honest."

"I think I understand, Mr. President."

"I could go on and on, but many of these great acts were usually the result of conviction, not desperation. When you performed your act of bravery with the school bus full of children, you did so knowing there was potential of tragedy and acted," POTUS said. "Your bravery in that could not be questioned. But when you saw what you suspected was a crime taking place and then sought help, the rippling effect prevented the death and destruction of the finest nation God ever saw fit to bestow upon this Earth. That is historic in scope."

"I'm just glad my actions made a difference for the better," Brick said. "I don't know what else to add to that."

"Well, I request you come up with something," POTUS said, "because you'll be expected to say something when you accept your award during a ceremony taking place within a couple weeks, here in Washington. You're going to do so before the entire world, so try to think of something worthy of the moment."

Brick sat down on the closest piece of furniture he could find.

"I'll be honored to do whatever is asked of me, Mr. President."

"Our country will appreciate that. I apologize for springing this on you at this hour, but I couldn't reach you earlier. I was informed by agents that you were out with your family. But I wanted to give you something to sleep on, so I'm glad I was able to reach you this evening. I hope I haven't interrupted anything."

"Brandi and I were tearing at each other's clothes and clamoring for the bedroom when you called, Mr. President."

"That is NOT something you say to the leader of the free world, you nut!" Brandi pointed out loudly.

POTUS laughed and said, "Now do you see how the simplest of actions can result in the most significant of results? I'll let you go for now, Brick, and I hope you two can get the magic back. I look forward to seeing you very soon. Have a good night."

"Have a good night, Mr. President."

After hearing the line disconnect, Brick hung up the phone and looked at Brandi. "Just so you know, I got him laughing, so don't panic."

Brandi waved that off and said, "So tell me what he said."

"The President wants me to prepare a speech for some award ceremony taking place sometime soon, in Washington, D.C."

"Wow, Gunnar. Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"Come with me, Hero," Brandi said. "Let's go take a shower and enjoy the rest of the night. It looks like things are going to start getting busy tomorrow."
Chapter Twenty One

Brick was telling himself, repeatedly, not to get frustrated with his tie. He knew how to tie a traditional knot (whatever the hell they called it), but these damned tuxedo bow ties were not for him. It didn't help that he was working up a sweat because of it.

"Why can't I put on one of the clip-on ties, for the love of Pete?"

"Now, Gunnar Brickendale," Brandi said. "You don't put on a clip-on tie for something like this. This is not a truck stop barbecue, buddy."

"Well, maybe this should have been done at a truck stop," he said. "Hey, with me being a driver and all, it would have been rather apt. Yeah, the President could roll in with me, shotgun, in the Pete and we could do this in the lot and then go in for a nice buffet. We'd all be in jeans and T-shirts, with ball caps and bandanas, yelling yahoo and stuff."

Judging from the glare he received, he realized this was a suggestion better kept to himself.

There was commotion everywhere. There were Secret Service personnel, FBI and CIA agents, too, and numerous politicians wanting to make appearances and get in their photo ops with the man of the day. There were also several celebrities who were known for their political involvements, with a few Brick actually liked. A particularly smoldering actress who often starred in action movies approached Brick and was quite gracious, stating she might like to play the role of Brandi should they make a movie of Brick's adventures.

"Really? And I get to play Brick, right?" he chimed with a smile. "There isn't anyone else who knows the role better, you know. Do you think you could help me with this silly tie?"

"Yeah, the movie's title will be The Life and Agonizing Death of Gunnar Brickendale," Brandi said. "That's a long title for the average marquee, but that's where things are headed. And he wants you to help with the tie so he can ogle, the creep."

"I've grown used to that, Brandi," the actress said. "It comes with the territory. And I can see the tie is just fine."

Brick looked in the mirror and said, "I don't know; it looks crooked to me."

Meeting the actress lifted his spirits, and overall, everyone was being very nice and calm. His mind went from the distractions and back to his speech, which was something he'd worked on over the past several days. He tried keeping it short and simple while still inspiring the listeners and the youth of America. He felt good that he had something decent enough when he was approached by a woman named Dorothy Martin, who had some good ideas.

"Brick, my job here as one of the staff speech writers is to help convey one's thoughts into an inspiring and informative speech. If you would allow me to see your speech, I could help you tweak it into all it can be, and electronically input it so it would be readable from the Teleprompters. The final approval of the speech would be yours, of course."

"Well, I would appreciate that," he said as he handed over the yellow legal pad. "If you take a look at this, you'll see why I won't be hired on to write any speeches."

"You wrote it on this?" she asked before she could catch herself. "I'm glad I came to you. I'll put something together based on what you have here that I believe you'll like. But I assure you, the days of speeches on notes like this are gone."

"Good deal. Just please don't make me sound any smarter than I actually am. All the drivers out there will know better," he said with a smile.

Smiling in return, she said, "I doubt that's going to be an issue. I'll be back soon."

Dorothy disappeared into the growing crowd, quickly disappearing out of sight within the melee of rushing people while leafing through Brick's notes. Brick had no idea something like this required so much hubbub, but he knew nothing was ever as simple as it looked. Most people think truckers just sit there and steer, not having any clue as to how much the professional driver must do in order to accomplish the job. This was part of why many trucking companies are referred to as Logistics Corporations despite how many people aren't sure what the word logistics means.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Brickendale?"

Despite the subtle detail that they actually were not Mr. and Mrs., they both turned to see a young man smiling while holding what looked like a very elaborate camera.

"Hello. My name is Frank Graphman, one of the staff photographers. I would like to snap a few pictures for the press and for historical record, if you don't mind."

"Sure," Brick said. "Getting me in something other than denim is historical on its own, and this lady looks exceptionally lovely today."

Brandi actually smiled at him for the first time in quite some time that day, as the pressure's mounted and Brick's been getting on her nerves. While the polite Frank snapped away, Brick considered how he's been throughout this ordeal, knowing he's maintained his patience through exercising some good humor. Perhaps the celebrities are used to such attention, but he is a truck driver who is alone nearly all of the time. His essence of humor certainly didn't involve any acting out, but he's taken it all in with a smile, which somehow grated on Brandi's nerves.

Being the southern belle in many ways, she finds relative importance in playing a certain part when on a certain stage, in a manner of speaking. It seems she expected him to be, well, regal and with the pomp of the moment. It reminded him of how she was on their wedding day. She wasn't exactly what's known as a Bridezilla, but she was a pain in the ass.

But that was her day (so they say, for whatever reason). This is his day. So, because it is his day, he wants to foster an atmosphere of calm and smiles, and a good time to be had by all. Black tie affairs are not among his list of common retreats, so he wasn't about to suggest a game of horseshoes on the White House lawn, but the image in his mind made him smile. He even thought of a barbecue out there, musing how much fun it would be to have a few kegs placed here and there while everyone...

"Hey, where in the hell are you?" Brandi asked. "I need you here and now, so quit with the daydreaming."

He took a deep breath and said, "Yes, dear. You know, Brandi, things are going to be simply marvelous, so try to relax, okay?"

She squeezed his hand uncomfortably and said, "I couldn't be more relaxed, sir. I just don't want anything to go wrong. Not one single thing."

He took both of her hands and said, "Love, what could possibly go wrong? They must have three hundred people working on this shindig. Besides, you look extraordinarily beautiful today."

"Try the smooth moves later," she said. "Right now, I want us to look definable, or debatable, or...well, goddamn it."

"I think the word you're looking for is dignified or debonair, but mostly you look delightful, and delicious. But your anxiety is showing, so just take a breath and relax. I mean it," he said. "I know this is a big to-do, but keep things in perspective. In through the nose and out through the mouth."

She relented with a slight smile and said, "How do you do it?"

"Well, I've been through worse," he said with a wink that made her smile.

"All right, Brick and Brandi," Simone Bradenton said as she approached. "I understand that things are going to commence within the hour. Everything is in place and Dorothy should be arriving with your speech soon. Okay, this is how this will proceed..."

Brick tried picturing what Simone said as she spoke. Simone Bradenton, a senior aide to the White House Press Secretary, had a firm grasp on what to do and when. Brick and the others did a few dry runs earlier, with everyone walking through a general run of the process they'll soon do before the world. Overall, it was a rather simple ceremony and the pomp was limited. Brick was pretty sure he'd seen similar occurrences on TV, but he's never paid much mind to anything more than what was said, which he assumed would be the case with those seeing this.

"Okay, since we're about to make this real, let's make sure this tie is right," Brandi said as she reached for the tie.

He caught her hands and kissed them, and said, "The tie is perfect. I think you're just trying to get me to ogle you, but I've been doing that since we got here. Would you like something to drink? For the love of God, how many different brands of bottled water could there be?"

"There's only one brand of water, but they do have a ridiculous amount of labels for the same stuff," Sandy said as he came into view.

"Hey there, Sandy," Brandi said. "Are you ready for the big time?"

He leaned in close and said, "Honestly, I hate this sort of shit. I remember the party they had when I received my first million miles. It was nice and I appreciated it, but how many hands can you shake in an hour? How are you holding up, Brandi? You look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you, and I'm doing just fine."

"I'll be fine now that I found the champagne," he said with a wink.

Brandi poked him and said, "Isn't it a little early for that?"

"It's the evening somewhere. Besides, I just wanted to try it so I just had a glass. I don't want to know what they, we, paid for it, but it doesn't taste any different than what I would get on the rack at the grocery store."

"What would that be? The petit fours?" Benton asked as he came into view.

"The, uh, what?" Sandy asked. "The petty what?"

"The petit fours are those little cakes, Sandy," Brandi pointed out. "You clean up very nicely, Benton."

"Thank you, and you are a vision, Brandi," Benton said. "The only thing I really know about champagne is that it tastes better the more you drink it."

"Ah. Is that how it works?"

Waiting for the cue to start, they enjoyed the down time and chatted about times gone by, with Brick and Sandy telling stories from the road while Benton told war stories from the perspectives in the office, relaying some interesting phone calls from drivers caught up in some unique situations. While they talked, Dorothy approached with a rather attractive folder in hand.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I ask you please look this over and let me know what you think," she said. "Now, I took some creative liberty with your speech, which is mostly just a drawn out way of saying thanks. They asked for heroic inspiration, and I think we found it, but I want you to be comfortable."

Brick simply placed it under his arm and said, "I have every confidence this is wonderful. But I'll be sure to breeze through it so I look like I know what I'm saying."

Brick stepped back and leafed through the speech. He liked how it was formatted nicely, with bold words in large font over several pages. He felt himself flush a little as he read it, since it did make him sound rather audacious and verbose for a truck driver, but he certainly liked it. It seemed momentous but not something other than what a common man might say. He could see why Dorothy had such a lofty job.

Brick read it over a couple times just to ensure he wouldn't end up tongue-tied while reciting it later. It flowed quite nicely and should prompt several cheers and waves of the flag, which was a great thing for everybody. So, between chatting with loved ones and practicing for his speech to the world, Brick lost track of time until Simone approached and spiked everyone's heart rate with a simple statement.

"Okay, everyone. This is about to take place."

Brick, Brandi, Sandy and Benton all looked at one another and then looked around. They were tense, but they were ready.

The National Mall of Washington, D.C. was truly a remarkable place, with the focal point being the Lincoln Memorial. That such a ceremony would take place on the behalf of these three men was truly an honor. None of them had yet even peeked out there to see the crowd gathered, much in part because they've been discouraged from doing so, although they didn't know why.

"Okay, now what you'll do is simply walk out when prompted and stand on the spots with your names on them. The President will begin his speech first, and once you step out and take your places, the President will introduce you and then continue with his speech until it is time to present the awards," Simone said.

"Benton, your award will be presented first, just like we practiced. Sandy, you'll be next, and then the President will speak more on your history, Brick, before presenting your award. Now, I know this is a little late in the game to catch you off guard, but there have been some pleasant surprises created for the three of you."

"Like what?" Sandy blurted.

Simone smiled and said, "You will soon see. Brick, these surprises will come shortly after you deliver your speech.

"Okay, just wait here until you hear your cues. And just relax, okay? Nobody's about to puke, are they?"

The three men laughed and Benton said, "I think we'll be okay."

Looking quite composed, she said, "Well, good. Now remember, this is an award ceremony and a joyous occasion, so please don't feel as though there's some little thing you're missing. Any moment now, the President will arrive on the stage and begin his speech, and then you'll appear soon after.

"This is about you, gentlemen, so enjoy."

Once Simone was gone, they were there virtually alone. Brandi and other family members had moved to the VIP seating. Brick knew Brandi was pleased to be there, and Amanda was thrilled with the entire situation, particularly looking forward to the Washington VIP tour promised to them. There were going to be secrets and little-known facts, and she was anxious for it.

She wasn't the only one who was anxious. "All of this is really great," Sandy said. "But damn if I can't wait until it's over."

"Yeah, it's been nice," Benton said, "but I have a million things stacking up and waiting for me when I get back."

"I don't have shit going on until I get the truck back," Sandy said.

"Yeah, that's where I am," Brick said. "I'm enjoying the time with the girls, but I need to get my ass back on the road."

Then they heard: "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!"

The crowd cheered loudly. But not only did the three men hear the uproar of a capacity crowd occupying the area before the Lincoln Memorial, they heard more truck air horns than any of them have ever heard go off at one time.

They all looked at each other with surprise, and then smiled. Benton was the one to laugh and say, "Is the whole place out there filled with big trucks?"

"I suppose that's part of the surprise," Brick said. "I guess we have a lot of kindred spirits out there. Man, I hope they have plenty of Floor-Dry on hand."

They laughed while the traditional music played for the President's grand entrance. Moments later things were calming down and the President began.

"To all my fellow Americans here and watching from home, let me take this opportunity to tell you that I am so honored to be here for this joyous occasion," POTUS said. "As all of you know, our great country was under threat of one of the most heinous acts of terrorism ever plotted. A prominent yet deluded businessman named Allen Kelly worked hand-in-hand with a band of treasonous mercenaries in a plot to commit horrendous and complex militant attacks in each capital city of the forty eight contiguous United States.

"These attacks were destined to destroy specified landmarks with high explosives in each of those cities, and then they intended to attack and kill all responding emergency personnel, desiring to create a scenario where there could be no official response until the time of their choosing. Estimates state the casualties could have escalated to more than three hundred thousand Americans killed and wounded, and this is believed to be a conservative estimate."

The President allowed for a dramatic pause before continuing. "The cost just in dollars in damages would have mounted well into the billions. But the ultimate toll this attack would have taken on our great nation could never be accurately measured, and we're determined to ensure we never have a reason to revisit the concern.

"Would our great nation have survived such an attack? Of that, I have no doubt. America would have pulled together and our country would have come back stronger than ever. In fact, this was part of the diabolical plot. Kelly and his people intended to commit this terrible act and then use their resources to lay blame on well-known terrorist organizations and other enemies around the globe. We understand they intended to start a major war under false pretenses with the desire to reunite our country against a common enemy. Somehow, they believed this tragedy would, in the end, recreate a United States stronger and more unified than the one we have today.

"But there's no way to support their theory. What we do know is that if they had succeeded, the entire world might have spun into chaos, with a toll of horror incalculable. We just know we thank God they did not succeed."

The crowd cheered to this point of view.

After a pause, the President continued. "There is a specific reason these criminals did not succeed in their attempts to spin our world into turmoil. There were brave Americans on the watch, and these brave Americans placed themselves at incredible risk in order to do what they know is right. Did they know the scale of what it was they prevented? No, not at first. They only knew they were doing the right thing.

"One of these courageous Americans seems to be used to commendable acts of bravery. Gunnar Brickendale, Brick to those who know and love him, rescued a school bus full of frightened children just several weeks ago, doing so by using his eighteen-wheeler as the brakes for the bus when the bus's brakes failed. This incredible act saved the lives of everyone on the bus, but Brick suffered numerous injuries and spent quite some time in the hospital. But after a complete recovery, he was back on the road with a new truck presented to him by none other than Allen Kelly, who happened to have family members on that bus.

"Brick accepted the truck and agreed to drive and work for Kelly's business known as Melioration Logistics. But his instincts soon told him something was amiss. Brick knew Melioration claimed to be an industrial and construction supplies and equipment corporation, yet he knew enough about his profession to recognize he never had the sort of weight in the truck's load common with the loads claimed to be there. He soon recognized Melioration was operating in several suspicious ways, so after some personal deliberation and then seeking help, Brick discovered Melioration Logistics was hauling weapons and explosives, although he didn't know why."

The President indulged in a quick sip from a bottle of water and then said, "Now, Brick didn't know what to do with these discoveries. Most people wouldn't know where to start, even if they made it that far. Because he wasn't sure of what to do, he contacted an old friend named Benton Effingham, who is a logistics manager and someone sharp and experienced in the Transportation Industry. Benton was able to help Brick discover the nature and intent for what was found, and then contacted the FBI.

"But you should know this occurred in an unusual manner, because they didn't contact the authorities until the next day and this is why.

"This occurred the next day because Brick also found computers being shipped with the weaponry. Now, Brick's experience with computers is limited, but he managed to find a flash drive with the computers and send the contents of these drives to Benton. But Brick didn't examine the contents of the files, thinking they would be something beyond his purview, and Benton was at home where he didn't have access to a computer since his was in need of repair. So, it seems this is where the plot thickens."

This prompted a few laughs from the crowd.

"The plot thickened because Brick didn't know whether the load was legal and Benton had no way of helping from where he was. Meanwhile, Melioration's people found out Brick discovered their suspicious cargo and actually dispatched a team of hitmen to seek and annihilate him.

"We've since learned this hit squad missed Brick at the Jackson, Mississippi truck stop by mere minutes. We know this because Pete Sanders, commonly known as Sandy, spotted the team and recognized them as at least being suspicious. At the time, Sandy didn't connect the men with anything illegal, but he got the feeling they were up to no good. Sandy dismissed his concerns as he was also getting on the road just minutes later in order to deliver a load just a few miles away, which turned out to be more weapons and explosives for Melioration.

"Now, out of sheer luck or divine intervention, Sandy spotted these men attacking Brick and, since he knew an eighteen wheeler could never outmaneuver a four wheeler, rather than stand by and call the authorities, he used his big truck to ram the attackers, which proved to be an attack that saved Gunnar Brickendale's life."

This was met by more cheering from the crowd.

"Once they were stopped, the attack confirmed for Brick that what he had was illegal, so he told Sandy what he knew and why he was being attacked. In fact, Brick was shot in the head during the assassination attempt, but the wound was just a graze. Through more fate, by this time elsewhere in the country, Benton examined the files Brick had sent, discovered the intent of Kelly and called the FBI immediately. From there, the two men contacted one another and then the authorities, and the diabolical caper of Allen Kelly was thus thwarted. Now, for the many of you with us here today before the historic Lincoln Memorial, this is where so many of you come in."

This statement was answered with so many blasts from air horns everywhere the President's speech was heard.

POTUS said, "Right after our three heroes broke open this case and exposed it to the authorities, they utilized the Citizen's Band, or the CB, and then satellite communications systems common in most semis today in order to spread the word to professional drivers across the country to identify and halt other Melioration trucks. This unique method of communication spread across the country faster than just about any other form of communication could in any other industry, and every Melioration Logistics truck was spotted and stopped, allowing for authorities to prevent any more criminal activity."

POTUS allowed a moment for this to settle in and said, "What this means, my fellow Americans, is that not only is the Transportation Industry the backbone of our country's economy, but this industry is primarily responsible for the prevention of a terrorist attack that surely would have fundamentally transformed this nation forevermore, and could very well have been the attack that just might have brought this nation to its knees. Further, the Transportation Industry is also primarily responsible for the arrest and incarceration of the perpetrators of this nefarious plot.

"So, to Brick, Benton, and Sandy, and all of you professional drivers out there, I want you to know you truly saved the United States of America."

The decibels spiked as so many screamed and cheered to this acknowledgement while the air horns made themselves known throughout Washington, D.C., and from sea to shining sea.

"While the entire Transportation Industry lent a hand in preserving this great nation, Brick, Benton and Sandy are here with us today to receive recognition for their pivotal roles," the President said.

"So, all three of you, come on out here and meet the United States of America!"

"Well, that's our cue," Benton said.

"Let's go say hi to the gang," Brick said.

The three of them walked out together as planned. It was intended to have them wave to the crowd when they emerged, but they were visibly stunned to see what and who occupied the area. From where they were, they saw the whole area filled with people, but there had to be scores and maybe hundreds of big trucks amidst the thousands of people. The air horns cheered with the people to the sight of the three emerging heroes, who were shocked to the point that they didn't know what to do but look around gape-mouthed and wave.

The three of them held it together enough to follow their instructions and join the President while finding their assigned spots. The three of them each shook hands with POTUS, much for the sake of the photographers and the world watching, and after allowing the world to applaud the scene, the President returned to the podium.

"To all of my fellow Americans and to the world, I present to you Gunnar Brickendale, Pete Sanders, and Benton Effingham. These three men are the heroes who saved our country!"

The three of them were unsure who to respond to that, so they merely waved and awkwardly bowed to the massive crowd of people and machinery before them. For Brick, he'd seen something similar several weeks before when he was recognized in Reno, but what took place then was only a smidgen of the celebration in the country's capital.

After several minutes of applause, the President raised a commanding hand to ease the din, and then he received something from who appeared to be a Marine coming on the scene to present the President with an ornate box. The President retrieved from the box a beautiful medal and then turned to Sandy.

"Peter Sanders, it is my honor as President of the United States to present you this award, the American Medal of Valor. This award is never given lightly, nor is it given often. This award is reserved for Americans demonstrating the highest pinnacle of bravery and selflessness for the benefit of our great nation."

Sandy, awed by the moment despite the practice runs earlier, leaned forward slightly as the President placed the medal around his neck and then shook his hand. Sandy beamed with emotion and gratitude, and then managed to say, "Thank you, Mr. President."

"Sandy, on behalf of myself and all Americans, we present you with this token of our appreciation for what you've done to make a difference in our nation, and thereby the world," the President said before turning to the crowd and saying, "Let's hear it for him, everyone."

As the applause and cheers washed over the entire Washington, D.C., another smartly dressed Marine approached with another box identical to the first. POTUS removed a medal from the box and the Marine left the stage while the President turned to Benton, waiting for the noise to ease.

The President then said, "Benton Effingham, it is my honor as President..."

POTUS recited the same speech he stated to Sandy to an equally joyous crowd. While they did so, Brick watched as the ceremony proceeded and then another Marine approached with yet another beautifully ornate box. Brick was expecting to receive the third American Medal of Valor given on that day, but he was incorrect.

The President turned to face Brick and said, "Gunnar Brickendale, I have the honor and privilege as President of the United States to present you with the highest award a civilian can receive within our great nation. Because of the immense bravery you've demonstrated again and again while literally saving the lives of an uncountable number of Americans and making a significant difference for the entire civilized world to recognize, it is my pleasure to award you with the Presidential Medal of Freedom."

Brick had to consciously maintain his composure as he leaned forward to receive this tremendous honor while his country applauded to the sight.

Once the medal was in place, the President took Brick's hand and said, "Brick, this is the highest award I could present to a citizen of our country, and it is an award created because of Americans like you. There have been a select few Americans who have received the Presidential Medal of Freedom before you, and thanks to you, there will be more.

"This is to recognize there are extraordinary citizens who rise above the rest and, through their selfless character and courage, warrant an award equal to their singular accomplishments. Presenting this award to you is among the highest honors any President could enjoy, and we will be forever grateful to you for paving the way to this honor."

Brick did what he could to bring the breath into his overwhelmed body feeling the weighty medal against his chest, and he managed to say, "Thank you so much for this, Mr. President."

Brick struggled to look exactly like the sort of man who received such an award, and the immense gratitude welled in him as he looked across the mall from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, witnessing so many colleagues and countrymen applaud his accomplishment. Here, at the very seat of the genuine spirit and function of our great nation, Brick saw innumerable trucks and waves of American humanity, and he felt the rush of their energy. Then he looked down to his left, where he saw Brandi and Amanda on their feet and in tears, looking to him with incredible pride and love.

The President stepped forward with his hand raised for quiet and he said, "My fellow Americans, if I can have your attention. For this special occasion, we've asked Brick to prepare a speech. Brick, if you will?"

Brick stepped towards the podium, feeling more than a little out of place for speaking at a podium located where it is and bearing the seal it does. He looked to the left and right for the strategically placed Teleprompters, seeing they were already ready for him to start at the beginning with him.

Seeing that, he felt he needed to say, "Everybody, they asked me to prepare a speech and I did that, and then I had some great help from a lovely lady here whose job it is to write great speeches. So if this sounds statelier than you'd expect from a truck driver, you'd be right. But it does reflect my thoughts and feelings just right, so here we go."

Brick took a moment to center himself and then began. "To all of my fellow Americans, friends and family, my colleagues and brothers. I cannot express in words the gratitude I feel in receiving this medal today," he said as he held the medal.

He actually broke away from the prepared speech and said, "I honestly thought this would be a trophy or something like that, with a big truck on it; I never saw coming anything like the Presidential Medal of Freedom, so please pardon the moments of emotion in my voice.

"I can honestly say I never did anything with the intent of being placed under some special light or before the pursuit of some recognition. When that school bus passed my truck as I drove east along Donner Pass, I just knew something had to be done. I acted in order to save a bus full of frightened children I saw pleading through the windows, and through their tears. I also acted not out of bravery, but avoidance of shame. I acted because if I didn't, I would never have been able to look at my reflection in the mirror again. If that bus went over and crashed with those children, my soul would have went with them."

He cleared his throat and continued. "Besides, what I had done was the only thing that could have been done. Being a professional driver, I know a brake failure when I see one and anyone could recognize the bus wasn't slowing down under the driver's power. My truck was new and in top condition, so I assumed I could use my truck as a brace and bring things to a halt. I imagined that once the bus bumped against me I could apply the brakes and we would eventually slow to a stop. So, it wasn't through heroism that I did what I did, but through the inability to predict the outcome. When I found myself forced into the runaway truck ramp, I found heroism in those who had the wherewithal to put it there. So, those who had such foresight share this with me."

There was plenty of applause to that observance which lasted for several seconds. Once it abated, he resumed. "When I found myself in the hospital, I didn't know what was going on, but when they informed me the children were all safe and fine, the healing process from there was just another thing to cope with, and it was no major concern, since all the children came through okay and I had the entire region of Sparks and Reno to help me return to my feet and then the driver's seat. Therefore, I share this award with those people, as well, because it's through their efforts and generosity I had the ability to recognize the crimes plotted by Allen Kelly and his people.

"In my part to stop that, I did nothing more than shiver and hide in my truck and sense of doubt, and then asked those who I perceived as better than me for advice. Part of that made it difficult for me to accept such an award when what I did was motivated by little more than hesitation and fear. But wise and good people have informed me that our most momentous of actions are often just a slight variation of something else we might have done, and all the difference in the world is contained within the subtleties. We may not recognize it at first, but one of the most amazing things we might do in a crisis is simply turn one way instead of another. My friends, it is through recognition of this mystery I understand why my actions have been so recognized."

Brick gestured to his two friends and said, "Everyone sees Benton and Sandy with me, and we've recognized them for what they've done to make things right. I would say the one true act of bravery was by Sandy, as he placed himself and truck in jeopardy for me. The genuinely intelligent acts were performed by Benton, who recognized the gravity of the situation when I did not at all. If it wasn't for these two marvelous men, none of us would be here, and many of us would be nowhere, including me. So, while I am not qualified to share their awards with them, I humbly ask they share this one with me."

This request spurred more applause and the blaring of truck horns. Once that quieted, Brick resumed. "The only other thing I wanted to add was I feel so proud to be with all of you today. Many wise people I respect and admire have shown me our actions can be so subtle and slight in order to make a major difference in our world. Someone once stated to me this is known as the Butterfly Effect, and now that I understand that, I respect it fully.

"So, while I have your attention and this microphone before me, I want to take the opportunity to impart upon everyone within the sound of my voice that your actions, regardless of how insignificant they may seem to be, can change the course of history. To my fellow drivers, I know you recognize this phenomenon every time you're behind the wheel, since you know one wrong move can cause so much calamity. The slightest mistake can easily affect an unknown amount of people in mere moments.

"For all of us, I ask we recognize this wisdom. Children, your grades in school today affect your entire future, and that can mean, well, your entire future. The actions or inactions of all of us affect the future in ways we cannot predict, so what we say and do around one another affects so much, so only through the slightest of mistakes does the world face the challenges it does today. But we can embrace the faith that our decisions moving forward need not be tremendous or tasking, but slight and simple in order to better the world for all. As Sandy, Benton and then I have shown, we only have to do a little to do a lot. So, if I can ask just a little from all of you, we will surely see so much. So much for the betterment of a world for all of us, our children, and then their children. To all of you, thank you so much."

The rush of applause was physically felt by those there, particularly by those poised on the steps before the Lincoln Memorial. For a brief moment, Brick turned to look into the eyes of one of this country's most honorable Presidents, Abraham Lincoln, and for an instant, he thought he saw the man nod his head in approval.

As the crowd cheered, Brick thought of something having him turn to the President and he said, "Mr. President, I have one more thing I would like to say before all of this is over."

The President didn't hesitate in stepping forward to the podium and asking they hear one more thing from Brick. "Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans, if you would, please allow Brick to say one more thing. Please, everyone. Brick has something else he would like to say."

After the crowd settled down enough for Brick to speak, he stepped forward to the microphone and said, "I am very much looking forward to moving on with our celebration, particularly since there's going to be beer and barbecue, but I have one more request to make while I occupy this platform."

Brick looked to his family, who positively beamed from where they were, and he said, "I bear this award for the world to see and I feel I've done the right thing in my life at the time, so now I feel confident enough to ask one more question."

Brick took a deep breath to compose himself and then said, "Brandi, would you marry me all over again?"

The gush of emotion from Brandi was obvious as tears of emotion and pride streamed forth, and she did, too. She left from where she was and rushed to him, momentarily giving Brick a mental picture of Secret Service agents tackling her to the ground, what with POTUS being right there. But they allowed her approach and she fell into his waiting arms. A moment later and she pulled away just enough to look into his eyes.

She looked at him with a measure of love he'd never seen before and she said, "Yes, I will marry you all over again, Gunnar Brickendale."

Planet Earth had never experienced such a joyous and raucous applause. Ever.

Once this roar from a happy world eased, the President approached the podium and said, "Everyone, believe it or not, we still have more to present. There is but one more wonderful surprise in store I'm so glad to be a part of, and here it comes!"

Down below, selected people helped clear a wide area before the Lincoln Memorial, and once people cleared this area, it was obviously marked for something, but for what Brick couldn't tell. Then, over the din of the crowd, they heard the chop of an approaching helicopter still away in the distance. Everyone there looked to where the sound emanated and spied a large cargo helicopter along with a bizarre payload hanging below it. At first it looked like some weird flying saucer coming in below the helicopter, but once it closed in, Brick and everyone realized it was some sort of platform.

Everyone there watched the two-rotored behemoth advance, anxious to see what the platform contained. Once the large craft and its mysterious payload were directly overhead and descending slowly, everyone gaped with wonder. So how wonderful it was for everyone to see that, once the platform touched down in the marked area and revealed the marvelous surprise, the platform displayed two beautiful semi trucks.

"Wow, they fixed our trucks," Sandy said.

"Yeah, and check out the beautiful trailers," Brick said.

"Brick and Sandy, because of the extensive damage your trucks endured while you committed incredible acts of bravery resulting in the rescue of our great nation," the President said, "that same nation came forward and saw to it these two trucks received the repairs they deserved. You'll also find we took the liberty of making a few modifications we hope you'll find to your liking.

"To the lady and gentlemen, if you would join me as we descend these historic steps and take a look at the two machines that have and will continue to make a positive difference in this country."

The two trucks gleamed in the sunshine, pleasantly surprising both drivers just a bit more than everyone else who saw them. As they approached the two trucks on the ornate platform now set down and disconnected from the roaring helicopter rising away, the surreal vision was exceptional. The platform, perfectly round and lined with golden chains and stanchions, otherwise looked identical to the official seal of the United States of America. Resting upon this giant seal were the two proud trucks, gleaming as though they welcomed back their drivers with pride.

"Dear God in Heaven," Sandy said, "look at them. What is that painted along the side?"

A closer inspection revealed what seemed painted on was actually affixed. Affixed to Brick's truck was a large rendition of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and to Sandy's was the American Medal of Valor. They looked quite real, momentarily convincing all onlookers the oversized replicas were made of the same pure gold as the medals themselves. Later inspection would reveal they were plated (so the gold was real and therefore the value was high), but the beauty was captivating.

Otherwise, the trucks looked much like they did when they were brand new, which in itself was exquisite since both machines were beautiful examples of American power and construction.

"Sandy and Brick, as you can see," POTUS said as he laid a hand on a fender, "we've taken steps to return these wondrous trucks to their finest appearances and excellent operation. Not only that, but Peterbilt reconditioned this entire truck from front to back to ensure peak performance. Freightliner did the exact same thing for your Classic XL, Sandy. While these really are the same trucks you were driving before, they've been virtually rebuilt from the ground up.

"Not only that, but their care and maintenance costs from here forward are absolute zero for the both of you. Freightliner and Peterbilt have made it clear that should you pull one of these trucks into any one of their service centers, your care is free and of the highest priority. I have every confidence the other drivers will understand."

"Wow, but these trucks are amazing, guys," Benton said.

"Benton, since we didn't have a truck to repair for you, we did see a situation we desired to see addressed," POTUS said. "Since things came so close to the wire as a result of you not having an available computer right when Brick called, we've decided it is a matter of national security that you have a computer available to you at all times."

The President himself opened the passenger door of Brick's truck and retrieved from the floorboard a beautifully decorated computer case affixed with a large replica of the American Medal of Valor. The President placed the case in Brick's hands so he could hold it horizontally and then he opened the case to reveal a gold-lined, stunning computer affixed with yet another replica of the prestigious award.

"Benton, this laptop computer is presented by Dell, who ensures my office this computer will always be at your disposal. It is the shining star among their line of computers, and they've informed me the internet connection is always free and available thanks to its internal technology. Further, Dell has informed us this computer will be freely updated and replaced for as long as you live, and each replacement will always bear this American Medal of Valor. Our hope is this will allay any need of waiting until the next morning."

The President then turned to the two drivers and said, "As you can see, Great Dane trailers wanted in on the action, so they presented these trailers for you both. They asked I inform you these are mere representations, since they want to build and paint trailers that meet your exact specifications. Once that's done, those trailers will be freely maintained for as long as you have them."

The President looked at the three heroes and said, "Gunnar Brickendale, Benton Effingham, and Peter Sanders, on behalf of the United States of America, these are presented to you with immense gratitude. Our hope is they serve you as well as you have served this nation."

Brandi couldn't have looked more proud as she stood arm-in-arm with Brick as she leaned in and said, "Wow, but won't the Love's at home be happy to have that parked there."

"Oh, and while this wasn't something planned before this ceremony, allow me to inform the two of you that your honeymoon costs are covered," the President said. "But it won't be the taxpayers covering those costs. I would be honored if you would allow me to cover those expenses personally. It's the least I can do."

Brandi blushed as she said, "Thank you so much, Mr. President."

"All right, my fellow Americans!" POTUS said as he turned to those all around. "Now that our heroes have been recognized and this ceremony is at its end, it is time for the celebration to begin!"

The crowd cheered and the air horns blared as the President turned towards the top of the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and said, "Jimmy, I think you know what to do."

Jimmy Buffett appeared and said, "I think I know exactly what to do from here, Mr. President. And to you, Brick; it's really good to see you again, my friend. Hey man, when you save the planet from Martian invaders, I sure would love to perform at that celebration, too!

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, and especially all of you out there in those big rigs, let's get this party started!"
Chapter Twenty Two

Brick allowed Brandi to choose the location for their honeymoon, which was really more of a family vacation, since there was no way they'd leave Amanda behind. This was a family vowed to never separate any more than they absolutely have to.

Brandi chose upstate New York as the family vacation location since they heard so many good things about the region, and as they were southerners, it was a place quite exotic to them, what with the hills and the cool, crisp air. Sure, Brick's driven through there so many times, but there's only but so much to see from I-80, I-81, and the other highways. The President made it clear he would take it as a personal offence if they skimped on anything at all, so they toured Niagara Falls and hiked and camped in the Adirondacks. Judging by the way their legs felt after a long day, they knew how much their home was quite flat. They had their brochures and maps, and enjoyed numerous places they weren't sure they would ever see again. Brandi knew an old friend who was a nurse near the town of Gloversville, so they took the time to spend a day with old friends.

If there was anything they found so remarkable, it was the glorious colors of nature. After all, it was time for the leaves to come on stage to present their seasonal display, and they put on a fantastic show. The Brickendale family relished in the unique and romantic atmosphere of the small towns, which were so different from the cultural flavors of the south.

Brandi had never really had the opportunity to travel, so she was amazed. "You know, there is so much more to this country than I realized. I'll have to go on the road with you sometime, Gunnar, and see the sights with you. Maybe when we retire, we'll have to live the RV life for a while."

"Man, but I really liked that little town of Ithaca," Amanda said. "I mean, it has to be one of the coolest places I've ever seen. Maybe I'll go to college there; wouldn't that be awesome."

"Yeah, it would be nice. And I think setting out in an RV someday would be great. I'd get to drive and drive with no weigh stations or logs," Brick said as he turned down the radio, as it was distracting him with a story of some unfortunate local sheriff named Kevin Sealy who suffered some bizarre tragedy.

"So, how much longer do you think you'll keep driving for a living?" Brandi asked.

"I really have no idea. We'll see what we can do when Amanda leaves for college to Ithaca. Who knows, maybe the book will do well and I'll be able to retire early," he said.

Brick's been working on a book to tell his story. While he still has a long way to go with it, the publishing house that approached him said they thought it would be a sure thing. Brick never thought he could do something like that, as he was never one to even write a long letter, but over the past few months he's banked up enough to talk about over the span of a couple hundred pages or so.

"Until then, I'll need to keep those wheels rolling."

His story certainly was a national hit, book or not. While there's been trucker exposure with Ice Road Truckers and the like, Brick's adventures opened doors within the national landscape and people were craving for more. So many different, unique drivers with their own stories to tell made it to TV and people seem to have a renewed thirst for the romantic aspects of the lifestyle. The old song, Convoy, actually made it back to the radio and TV Land is repeating old reruns of BJ and the Bear. To Brick's chagrin, there's the obligatory movie in the works, with a number of actors vying for his role.

Several companies like Peterbilt and other brand names known in the business offered endorsement deals and commercial spots. Just about every truck stop restaurant out there offered a Gold Brick Special or something along that line, and there's rumor of action figures and RC trucks and other truck collectibles resembling the rigs driven by Brick and Sandy.

The biggest thing making Brick happiest out of all of it was that trucking and truckers were finally receiving the recognition they deserved.

Once they made it back to Savannah, normal life resumed quickly. Amanda was back in school catching up on missed work, and Brandi was welcomed back to her job with open arms.

The Loves Travel Center in Richmond Hill, Georgia offered Brick his own designated parking spot for his four-wheeler when he was going to be on the road, but he respectfully declined as it would be the norm for Brandi to simply drop him off and pick him up. The store manager insisted he accept a designated parking spot for his rig when he was on his home time, and he accepted that offer.

"I do appreciate you accepting that, Brick," the manager said. "Having your truck parked here is sure to bring in business and give the drivers something to talk about."

Just a few days later and Brick had the truck ready for the road. He would be running a load of paper to Buffalo, New York, which was a load making him smile, since he was just up that way and would like to see it again. Besides, those were pretty good miles. His truck purred with great power as it anxiously waited to embark on another adventure, desiring him to find a gear and get going, which was something he had every intention of doing. But there were hugs and goodbyes to complete as part of the standard pretrip.

"Drive safely, Dad," Amanda said after giving her old man a hug and kiss. "And don't forget to let someone else be the hero for a while. I can't afford to be missing any more school, so you need to avoid ending up in the hospital yet again."

"Yeah, tough guy," Brandi said along with her hug and kiss. "If the Martians come out and start blasting away, get in touch with Sandy and let him handle it. Now, get out there and make us proud."

"Okay, ladies," he said as he climbed into the cab and buckled his seat belt. "I'll make you proud and leave the Martians alone. I love you both very much and look forward to being home as soon as I can. I'll be sure to call later tonight."

Brandi and Amanda waved as Brick's glorious truck pulled out from the Loves and onto I-95 to head north. For as far as they could hear, the sound of celebrating air horns filled the air as drivers recognized the famous Pete, seeing Brick was on his way to do what it was he's always done, which is being a great American serving the nation he loves in the way he knows best.

End. Sunday, the fifteenth of April, 2012.

About the author

Roddy J Dryer has been writing longer than he has been driving. He entered the Transportation Industry early in 2004 but has been writing since he was a child.

He began his career driving OTR for Swift, from February 2004 to November of 2004. From there, he moved to a dedicated account for J.B. Hunt and Circuit City, hailing from a Distribution Center in the town in which he lives, which is the shimmering metropolis of Groveland, Florida. He remained there until the demise of Circuit City and would still be there if Circuit City had not fallen prey to the dynamics of the Progressive-perpetrated economic recession. The position there collapsed in February of 2009.

Roddy did not only drive during his time there, but moved into an office position as Route Manager late in 2006. So, specifically, he drove for this account for less than two years.

After the demise of this account, fate led him to a disastrous position working for some nearby company for about one full year. Feeling the need to find a way back into the truck seat and away from the realm of office work, Roddy worked on getting back into the fragrance of Diesel and eventually found his way into driving flatbed for Cypress Truck Lines.

Roddy J Dryer has been driving for Cypress Truck Lines since July of 2010 and continues to do so at the time of this writing.

Roddy J Dryer has written extensively online, with what was once Associated Content but is now Yahoo Voices. He has also written numerous articles relating to Walt Disney World and Orlando Hospitality. For those interested in detailed, inside knowledge of Walt Disney World, find his articles within the online magazine, The Examiner.

Roddy's first published novel is entitled, The Egocentric Predicament. It is published by PUBLISH AMERICA. This novel is a suspenseful thriller, and another such novel by Roddy will be released by that same publisher later in 2012. Watch for Tangled in Climbing Nightshade, which is a suspenseful story Roddy states he is confident is worth a reader's time.

It is highly, highly unlikely Roddy will ever be an underwear model. Just saying...
