The things that sound the simplest
are the most complicated
The things that sound the safest
are the bloodiest
And your luck
will always run out

Barracks CQ Area, Ground Floor
2/19th Special Weapons Group Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, West Germany
04 October, 1988
1945 Hours

"This is going to be easy duty," The Specialist said. Blond, stocky, with freckles and farmboy front teeth. He dropped his rucksack behind the CQ desk as I moved around it.

"Beats wintering at Wildflecken," The Staff Sergeant said, following me around the desk and through the open doorway arch to behind the CQ desk. He pulled his cold weather cap off, revealing his black hair and looked around with clear blue eyes.

"This place is creepy as hell," The Pv2 said. His back skin was already slightly waxy from exposure to the cold. His tightly kinked black hair was cut close to the scalp, but he had three lines shaved in his left eyebrow like a lot of the brothers.

I just grunted, moving around to pick up the log book.

Beyond us the last of the Rear Detachment we were replacing stopped at the desk. A Captain, his face tight with stress. I slapped the log book in front of him, opening it wordlessly.

Relinquished Responsibility of 2/19th Group Area - Captain Lonnie Crawford

I signed my initials, the Captain looked at the Staff Sergeant, who just looked at him confused. I sighed, and saluted.

"I relieve you, sir," I said, my voice drained, bleak, emotionless.

"I am relieved," He answered. His voice and mine matched. He dropped the salute and I followed suit, dropping my arm down. Unlike him, my shoulder gave a loud wet pop. He flinched. I didn't. He picked up his rucksack and M3 and walked out through the airlock double-doors to the 5-ton truck we'd taken up the mountain.

I sat down behind the desk, facing the bank of black phones. There were ten in all. Heavy duty black plastic phones, two sitting on cradles that allowed the cryptography gear for secure lines. I reached out and flicked the switches, shutting the crypto gear off, then used my thumb to switch the six counters all to zero.

"Lines are secure, Staff Sergeant," I said. My voice was still empty. I didn't care.

"So who's on CQ first?" The Private asked. He shivered and rubbed his upper arms. The chill was already setting into him. He couldn't shake the cold from the outside, and the barracks were sitting at a steady sixty-five degrees. Warm to me.

"We'll run a security sweep again, sign our initials, then meet up back here," The Staff Sergeant said, looking around.

One of the lights in the CQ Area buzzed, flickered, and went dead, leaving only five working long florescent tubes still working in that light.

"We should follow the Rule of Four," I said, staring at the phones.

Behind me, the clock ticked.

"Rule of Four?" He asked.

"There's only four of us. We should make sure that we can all see each other at all times. At the very least, two man rule. We should follow NoLoneGo Zone protocols," I said, still staring at the phone.

The Staff Sergeant snorted. "It's the barracks, Sergeant. I'm the only one who doesn't live here, I'm pretty sure that since we're on top of a mountain, nobody is going to bother us if we go off alone."

I just shrugged. "I'm the one who's survived three winters, all of you got here just before REFORGER," I told them. "But by all means, tell me all about your experience."

"Look, you jumped up little punk. I was an E-6 before I got here," The Specialist said.

"You were arrested for fucking a thirteen year old slope in Korea," I said, shrugging. "By all means, tell me how your taste for underage pussy relates here."

He turned and faced me, his face reddening. "I should bust open your fucking," He started.

I stayed in the chair, just looking up at him, my hand dropping to my belt and wrapping around the hilt of the knife riding there. I knew my face was expressionless, and he stared into my single uncovered eye with his two blue ones, his eyes flicking quickly to where my hand was and then back to my face.

The color went out of his face as he stared at me, swallowing thickly.

"No. Lone. Go. Zone," I growled.

"Everyone relax," The Staff Sergeant snapped. "Sergeant, enough. We'll go all four together and run a security sweep. I want to check the fuel, make sure we have the," His voice trailed off as the airlock doors pushed open with squealing.

The Magazine Platoons Operation Officer stepped in. A Captain, snow already on his shoulders and head. He pulled off his cap, slapping it on his leg.

"Gentlemen," He said. He turned toward the stairwell. "I'm just here to pick up some records for Third Platoon's hot sites."

"I'll go with you," The Specialist said, standing up at the Staff Sergeant's motion.

"You two, come with me, we'll do a security sweep while the Captain gets his paperwork," The Staff Sergeant said.

I stood up, my knee brace creaking. The Staff Sergeant glanced at the hilt of my knife. "I'd like it if you put that away somewhere."

"I'd like it if I wasn't on Rear Detachment," I growled. "Looks like we're both disappointed."

He just grunted, and together we started security checks. CO's office. First Sergeant's Office. Orderly Room. Arms Room. NBC Room. Secure Items Room. Supply Room. War Stocks Room. Morgue. QASI Office and Vault. Fuel Storage. War Fighter Storage. War Fighter Tunnels Access. Site Operations Records. Kill Shop. Communications Office. Chief Henley's Office. First Platoon Records. First Platoon Office. Second Platoon Office. Second Platoon Records. Third Platoon Records and Office. Motorpool Records. Tactical Operations and Command Office. Deep Storage Access. Far Ground Floor Access. Attic Access. Mid-Point Ground Access. Mid-Point Lower Access. Orderly Room Access.

Each one, check the door that it's locked. Check the seal on the door. Record seal number. Remove seal. Unlock door. Log time and date of door unlock. Open door. Sign clipboard of who is accessing the room. Check secure records. Lo seal number if sealed. List down inventory check. Skip inventory. Log inventory skip. Sweep room for problems. Log leaving. Log door locking. Seal the door. Log seal number. Move on.

All three of us were stretching and yawning. They'd chatted, talking between them, I'd stayed silent, watching and looking at everything.

We were in the barracks. It was snowing.

"We going to deploy the blast shutters?" The Private asked when we logged that the Imminent Impact System was live and active.

"No. Why would we?" The Staff Sergeant asked.

"The doors seem like they're going to get blown open by that wind," The Private said, rubbing his upper arms. It was chilly at the Orderly Room Access Door. There were two doors, both heavy duty ceramic and steel layered blast doors. Half-inch steel casings, heavy duty bronze gearing to handle the extreme cold, limestone cores. Reinforced tempered glass with wire reinforcement. Four panes, quarter inch thick each.

"They won't," I said. "These doors are designed to jam into the frame, that's why they open outward. They're rated at two hundred kiloton near impact, 9.5 kPa hit. Building itself is rated for 22 kPa."

The Private looked at me in surprise and I just shrugged, my shoulder popping.

"The Sergeant here is Special Weapons, that kind of math is his bread and butter," The Staff Sergeant chuckled.

I just shrugged again as we turned and headed for the Near Stairwell.

"You survived three winters here?" the Private asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

There was silence, all three men quiet as we moved up the stairs. I counted each stair, paying attention to how the metal framework flexed with our weight, looking at the bolt heads where it attached the frame of the stairs to the heavy ceramic cored cinderblocks under the wall tiling.

"How?" The Private asked.

"I followed the rules," I grunted. "We already broke one."

The Staff Sergeant looked at me as he held open the door to the CQ Area. "What do you mean?"

I pointed at the Specialist, who was sitting behind the CQ Desk reading a porn mag.

"No. Lone. Go. Zone," I growled.

"Where's the Captain?" the Staff Sergeant asked as we moved across the CQ Area, over the unit crest on the floor. My leg brace thumped with each step.

"He left," The Specialist said, slightly sulky.

"You log what he took and reseal the cabinet?" The Staff Sergeant asked.

"Yeah," The Specialist grunted, opening back up his porno. Busty Latino Sluts was more important than what the Staff Sergeant was asking, I guess.

"All right. Phone logging has been rerouted to Group," the Staff Sergeant said. "All we're responsible for is the building security."

and surviving

We all sat down in the chairs behind the CQ Desk. I took the time to stretch my leg out in front of me, dig out my cigarettes, then light one before pullling out a 3/16th's wrench.

We were pretty silent as I used the wrench to tighten the bolts on the brace, then adjust the tension on the spools that were supposed to take the stress off my ligaments and tendons.

"What are you doing?" The Specialist asked as I unwound the tension on the inside spool and then began to rewind the spring assembly.

"Maintenance," I grunted. The spring hit max tension and clicked as I ran the wrench a full revolution just to be sure. I pulled the hex wrench end free and shifted it to the cable spool, winding it. My leg was stretched out straight, in the neutral position.

The damn brace required a lot of maintenance.

"How bad's your knee?" The Private asked.

"Attacked by wolves," I half lied.

"Leave the Sergeant alone," the Staff Sergeant said, shaking his head. We were silent for a moment before he looked up at the clock right as I slipped the wrench  back into my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes. "We need to break it into two shifts, maybe four. Either day on day off or something like that."

"NoLoneGo Zone," I grunted.

"That's not in the manuals," The Specialist sneered.

"Three winters," I snapped back, holding up three fingers on my right hand. My pinky bent sideways and tilted outward slightly.

"When did the 'NoLoneGo Zone' thing become part of Rear Detachment, Sergeant?" The Staff Sergeant asked.

"First winter, third incident," I said, shaking my head. "Couldn't take the risk of going anywhere by ourselves."

The Staff Sergeant shook his head. "Does it work?"

I nodded. "Kept people alive."

"Any other rules, you'd like to share, Sergeant?" The Specialist half-sneered.

"We came up with a bunch," I told them honestly, shrugging. My shoulder popped.

It was quiet for a long moment. The clocks, all six of them, ticked loudly behind us. I knew without looking that despite how many times we corrected them they were all off time.

"Care to share, Sergeant?" The Specialist half sneered.

I sighed, looked at the Staff Sergeant. He nodded slowly as I snapped the lighter shut and tucked it into my pocket.

"All right. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't go into the dark. Don't open any door that someone is knocking on, no matter who they sound like. Don't trust anyone. Have an evac plan. Don't go into the cold. Stay away from mirrors. Stay alert. Make sure you have optional ways out of a room," I told them. "That's skipping the Rule of Four."

"What that?" The Private asked, rubbing his arms.

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. It's already broken, now I'd sound like a crazy person."

"You already do," The Specialist sneered.

"Three winters," I told him, holding up my fingers again.

"All right, Sergeant, you and him are on tomorrow," The Staff Sergeant said, pointing at the Private. "Get some rest."

I sighed, shaking my head. "I live up in Far Hammerhead Hall," I told him. "Room 275. Any problems, come get me."

"I'm in room 238, second floor," The Private said. He and I stood up at the same time, my knee giving a loud pop.

"I don't want you carrying that knife while you're on duty," The Staff Sergeant said.

"Your wife wants a ten inch cock, guess that's two people who are disappointed," I told him, limping past him. He went to grab my arm but I pulled it away before he could touch me. "Three fucking winters."

The Private hurried to catch up to me. We mounted the stairs silently before exiting out into Near Hammerhead Hall. By the fourth step he couldn't hold back any more.

"What's the Rule of Four?" He asked. "You make it sound like we're in a horror movie."

"You better hope not," I told him.

He gave me an odd look. "Because I'm black?"

I nodded. "Because you're black and these were Nazi barracks. They didn't exactly appreciate the untermensch, you know?"

He nodded slowly. "What's the best way for me to survive?" He asked.

I just shrugged. "Do your best. When everything starts coming apart, listen to me, do as I say, and follow the rules."

We stopped at his door. He stared at me for a second, then unlocked his door. I turned to leave, pivoting on my left bootheel and ignoring the flare of pain in my knee and thigh.

"Hey, Sergeant?" He asked. I knew what he was going to ask before he even asked it. "How do you think this is going to turn out?"

I thought for a long second.

"You and me," I told him. He nodded. "We'll end up sitting in chairs, facing each other. The power will be out, we'll be down to MRE's, and it will be dark and cold."

I could see the fear in his eyes as I turned away, taking a deep drag off my cigarette as I headed down the hallway.

Step, drag, step, drag.

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