* * *
Everson jerked upright from a dead sleep in the bed of the Manolithic truck. He had been dreaming fitfully of battle and suspected that the pervasive smell of dried blood must have prompted his subconscious. He was still surrounded by a clutter of corpses, none made the fresher from a night in the open. He also realized, with more than a little trepidation, that his bed was no longer moving.
A furtive glance to the front of the truck confirmed that the driver was no longer present. Everson slowly extricated himself from the tangle of dead warmen, no easy task given the stiffness of his bunkmates. He crawled quickly, but gingerly, over the bodies and hazarded a peek over the side of the transport.
Everson’s vehicle was still last in the line of the now parked trucks. Two of the l
