Chapter 6
JANUARY 18, EARLY AFTERNOON
REX WAS PUTTING HIS PLAN in motion today. The scouts had returned. Roman was not only alive, but thriving. He had developed a village complete with a hospital. Rex was thrilled to hear of the hospital; that meant his original plan for Adrian could be implemented without change. It was now just a matter of drawing Adrian back to the village and capturing him. He chose one hundred and seventy-five men for this operation. It would take weeks for the plan to develop. He assembled his chosen troops after informing the men that were not chosen they were to maintain operations until his return.
“Men,” he said, “I have located a veritable Garden of Eden. A place where fresh food is plentiful, water is abundant, and warm houses await. There are plenty of women to amuse you and a fully equipped hospital for those times you may need one. It’s a center of trade, and we’ll charge outrageously for medical care. We will capture the village, make the men slaves to work the fields, and live like kings.” The men cheered, an uncharacteristic action for them. For men who lived by raiding, this sounded like a dream come true.
“All we have to do is march cross-country until we reach this paradise, then take it for ourselves. The men there don’t know how to fight; they’ll be easy pickings for you. On the way, we will live off the land, raiding as we go. We’ll travel light, but not too quickly. It’ll be an easy march, but a long one. Pack your supplies and be here in one hour. Bring canteens, food, sleeping gear, your best hiking boots, and, of course, your rifles and ammunition.”
Rex assembled his honor guard. “Men, I’ll be gone a couple of months. Roger, I’m leaving you in command. All I want you to do is maintain operations as they are; you’re not to try to expand or get into new ventures. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
By that evening, Rex and his expeditionary force had walked single file for most of the day. When they reached their first camping spot and the men had set up for the night, Rex called in his officers. “We’re going to continue this course until we reach Fort Brazos. Don’t worry, it’s not really a fort—they just call it that. It’s a soft village ripe for the picking. We’ll spread out in a line about a mile across and pick up food and supplies from all of the homes and towns we come across as we go. Organization will be teams of ten men or less. Each of you will be responsible for four teams. Pick your four team leaders and their second in command carefully. Communication will be by runner. The runners will move back and forth along the line. Each night, we’ll camp in the same order, teams spread out. I’ll give you further orders as we go. Be ready to move out at daylight.”
Rex dismissed the men and returned to his wall tent. He had chosen a camouflaged baker-style tent. Each evening when his men set up the tent, camouflage netting was placed over it and brush worked into the net. From a distance it would be invisible, the netting also allowing him to have a small, dim light inside without showing through the tent walls. Inside, the radio operator had set up the receiver and batteries that had been carried by the lowest rank men. A temporary antenna had been installed in a nearby tree. The radio was up and running. Rex had told the operator, “Focus on the Colorado and Fort Brazos signals. I want to know all traffic that moves between them. When I get the information I want, I’ll send you and the equipment back to your family.” He now stretched out on his bunk, staring at the tent’s ceiling with unblinking eyes, seeing only images of Adrian suffering.
JANUARY 21, EARLY MORNING
Rex watched as the men began moving into a north-south line. They were heading west by north with four hundred and fifty miles of country to cross. Some of this land would be either swamp or pine forest until they reached the Trinity River in Texas. After that, it would be rolling plains. They would use roads only where necessary to cross difficult terrain. Rex wanted the men spread out to make as much “noise” as possible. His orders to burn every house along the way had been supplemented with another order: to allow some of the women and children to escape. He didn’t explain that order to his men, knowing they would wonder but obey—after the women had been thoroughly raped, of course. He hadn’t forbidden that. Rex wanted the news of his men’s travel to spread far and wide and fast. When the time was right, he would step up his plan by planting the idea that the raiders were coming toward Fort Brazos, but not why. Using runners, he would keep the men in line in fairly good order.
By midafternoon, Rex could see plumes of smoke on both sides of his position as his men torched every building they came to. Burning the houses not only signaled their position, but also let everyone in the area know in which direction they were moving. It would take a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks, but it would soon be common knowledge. He had considered that other villages or small towns might send out men to attack, to stop them from reaching their villages and homes. He wasn’t expecting any serious resistance, but if any were encountered, he would simply move around it and continue his line. His goal was Fort Brazos, not the people in between.
They marched all that day, picking up less food than Rex had expected. They were primarily coming across single farms and ranches with one or two defenders at most. He hadn’t realized how poor the pickings out here were. These people were growing and raising their own food, not dependent on outside help, but having a hard time of it. Their independence and self-sufficiency was less than he had expected. His men were still happy with the results; they might not get fat until they reached his promised Shangri-La, but they were getting enough. Good, that’ll keep them moving forward until it’s too late to turn back, he thought. Once they were into the far side of East Texas, the pickings would be even slimmer as the farms became farther apart, making Fort Brazos all the more desirable to them.
They had been on the move for a little over a week, leaving death and destruction behind. Rex was continuing the scorched earth policy while allowing enough survivors to escape to make sure everyone knew about their line of march. The radio reports had been infrequent, but from the ones they had, he gathered that Adrian was still at war with the cannibals. He couldn’t recharge the car batteries, but they were picking up plenty of them as they went. Every night before Rex went to sleep, he said what almost amounted to a prayer: “Please don’t let Adrian get killed.” Rex’s plans would be ruined if that happened.
Rex visited a different group every night. He observed the men’s morale and found it typically good. These men were doing what they liked best: raping and pillaging and destroying. The body count they were leaving behind had crossed two hundred. Rex made sure his men counted the dead—he wanted to know how many every day. Rex himself had accounted for more than twenty. Each killed with a slashed throat as his eyes drank in the sight of squirting arterial blood. He had never been so relaxed. He was confident that word would soon reach Fort Brazos that they were directly in his path of destruction, and when it did, that Roman would call Adrian home. He was sure the news would get there, but he wasn’t depending on it; he had a plan to make absolutely certain. It would be implemented soon. It might be overkill, but Rex wasn’t taking any chances. Getting Adrian to come home was the keystone in his master plan; everything else depended on it.