Free Executive Orders: Part 2 of the Homeland Series by R.A. Mathis

they saw as trouble makers. We built this camp with our bare hands. The warehouses were already here, of course. We put up the fences and towers and the like. We even built the guards’ quarters. They’re a heck of a lot nicer than this hole—especially Foucault’s place. I’m the last of those guys. The others are buried in a mass grave across camp.” He sighed. “I’m the senior resident here. So if you want to know anything, I’m the guy to ask.”
    Cole asked, “What will happen tomorrow?”
    “We will work.”
    “What do they have you building now?”
    “We don’t build things anymore. We break them.”
    “What kinds of things?”
    “Electrical facilities, telephone lines, cell phone towers. Power and communication nodes. They want to make sure none of it ever works again.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense.” Cole wondered if this was more deranged rambling. He looked around the massive cell. “Why aren’t there any women here?”
    “They’re on the other side of the camp.”
    “What do they do?”
    “I don’t know. I heard rumors in the early days about them making uniforms. Others said they were used as comfort women for the Green Guards and the few DHS agents that hang around to keep an eye on things.” He motioned to Cole’s uniform. “You guys are soldiers, eh? Fort Campbell, right?”
    “Mind your own business.”
    Alex nodded to himself. “Yup, definitely Fort Campbell. 101st Airborne by the looks of you.” He waved a hand at the sleeping inmates. “We have a few other Army types here, but they’re all National Guard guys. We had some other guys from the 101st a while back. Officers. They didn’t last long.”
    That got Cole’s attention. Homeland Security arrested most of the officers of his battalion and sent them away after the grid went down. “What happened to them?”
    Alex drew a finger across his scruffy neck. “Citizen Foucault didn’t like ‘em.”
    “Do you remember their names?”
    The man shook his head. “I don’t learn names here anymore. It’s easier that way.”
    “Then why are you talking to me?”
    “Because I think you got what it takes to get outta here.” Alex smiled, revealing a mouth full of mossy teeth. “And I know how.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Not so fast.” Alex held up a bony finger. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You have to promise to take me with you.”
    “Deal. Now tell me how to get out of here.”
    Alex beckoned Cole closer.
    Cole leaned in to listen, his heart pounding at the thought of escape.
    “We drive out the front gate, of course.” Alex’s chest wheezed with laughter.
    Cole slouched back and sighed. “You really are insane.” He couldn’t decide whether to punch the man or pity him.
    Hicks groaned behind Cole. His broken ribs and constant shivering colluded to keep him on the edge of sleep without the ability to actually rest.
    Alex looked at the private. “He’s not gonna make it. I’ve seen plenty of guys in his shape. It’s not pretty.”
    “We’ll take care of him,” Cole snapped, “He’s going to be fine.”
    The door rattled, clunked, then slid open with a grinding shrill.
    Cole expected the men inside to rush the entrance as they did when he and his men arrived. But none moved. He asked, “What’s going mmff…”
    Alex covered Cole’s mouth, putting a finger to his own lips.
    Foucault appeared in the entry, flanked by Green Guards wielding flashlights and pistols. He covered his nose with a kerchief as he stepped into the putrid prison. The warden walked silently among his prisoners, pausing every so often to study a terrified individual before moving on.
    Alex removed his ratty shirt and put it over Hick’s head. Cole reached to remove the covering. Alex grabbed his hand and shook his head. Cole withdrew.
    Foucault made his way to where Cole and Alex sat. Alex feigned sleep, but Cole met the prison master’s cold gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment. A cruel smile crept across