Adrian looked around again, spotting Dale, but none of the others. The new group of rookies was currently in the middle of individual challenges, and he allowed himself a rare, brief flash of pride at having made it this far with them. It was their final test to be full Level One Eagles in his army, and only his approval on this would pass them. It wasn't just a police force he was training, and the men involved were very aware it was much more. Hopefully, it would be a long time before the main camp discovered it, though. Suspicions were running very high, thanks to dear old dad and his Freemason pals.
Missing being able to look up and see the moon and stars, Adrian ignored the glittering green eyes that watched him, burned holes into his back from the female side of the tents. He slid a bright red bandana into his front pocket, leaving the ends dangling. Was the radio quiet? It hadn't been last night, and understanding the transmissions through the loud, violent storms raging around them had been near impossible. The screams had been clear enough though, and it bothered him that he couldn't help.
There were other groups around. They heard people regularly on the CB pleading for help, and occasionally they saw campfires. Those close enough, he sought out quietly, leaving on supply runs with a few of the more promising guards, and returning with survivors. Only those with him knew that he had planned it that way, down to the very last detail. They were part of his American herd and he wanted them all.
Adrian moved quietly to the north end of the half-mile wide camp, wishing he had ten more alert-minded men to put on guard duty at night. Hell, another five observant bodies would help, would let him get four and a half hours of sleep a night instead of the three he was averaging as he struggled to get everything done - to keep up his end of the deal. It was a strange, dangerous life and while he didn't baby the refugees, he did try to distract their attention from some of the things that might have caused rebellion - like training his army. He gave them soccer and football games, poker nights, and shooting contests, knowing that eventually they'd start feeling like Americans again. Once that happened, they would wake up to the unpleasant reality that it was going to be a very long trip, and they had to work together. It was slow-going, with only a few exceptions.
The guard on the north end of the dimly lit parking area was Doug, now fully recovered from his trial under the bridge. With red hair, and a red vest under a raggedy green jacket, the 6'4" Army vet was hard to miss even in a crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen as Adrian stepped between the new, rusty, old, beat-up, muddy, and shiny vehicles. Doug may have been years out of service due to a small injury that had left him with a limp, but he was a great comfort to have around during this time of chaos.