"Ah. A worshipper," Artemis said. "At least the soldiers treat me with respect. They don't nag me. To them, I'm God."
"Move it, turkey," the lieutenant said to Artemis. His words were thickly accented, and his breath gusted clouds of curry and kibbe.
"What kind of soldier are you?" Artemis demanded, letting the edge in his voice show that he didn't approve of rudeness toward his person. The lieutenant slapped him across the face and spewed out a stream of guttural foreign-sounding words.
Outside, a black Lineóla limousine waited. As the lieutenant pushed Artemis and Samantha out onto the roadway, he squeezed one of Samantha's breasts energetically, expressing his delight in a high-pitched giggle.
"Now wait a minute," Artemis said. "You can't treat my wife this way."
"My apologies, O divine Artemis," the officer said, still chuckling. He bowed in mock obedience, withdrawing a billy club from his belt as he did. He whirled the club in his hand before bringing it forward with a crack on Artemis's kneecaps. Thwill buckled under the pain and sank to the ground.
"Get in," the lieutenant commanded. He opened the door to the limo and roughly pushed Artemis inside. "At Vadassar you are not God, white-skinned imperialist American," the officer spat. He slammed the door.
In the corner of the back seat, Randy Nooner
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looked up from her newspaper. "Nice trip?" she asked.
"Did you see what your driver did to me?" Thwill asked, gesturing toward the lieutenant in the front seat.
Randy pushed a button and the locks on the doors clamped shut. "You probably irritated him." From the front seat came a stream of angry, incomprehensible monologue. "Drive," she said, and slammed the partition between the front and back seats. They sped off into the night.
"How can that man be an officer in the United States Army?" Artemis continued. "He hardly speaks English."
Randy Nooner jabbed Artemis in the knee, sending sparks of pain blazing up his leg. "I'd say he gets his message across," she said. "Besides, there are more like him where we're going."
"Where's that? Dante's Inferno?"
"I thought you'd never ask." She tossed him the newspaper in her lap. On the front page was a photograph of the bloodied grounds at Fort Wheeler with the banner headline: UNEXPLAINED MASSACRES AT ARMY BASES.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Artemis gazed at the wirephoto for a long moment before realizing that a thin stream of saliva had dribbled down his chin. "It's beautiful," he said.
"Magnificent. All those recruits you've been preaching to at Fort Antwerth, Fort Beson, Fort Tannehill, and Fort Wheeler held a little revolution today. They've killed the officers and deserted the bases."
Artemis pointed to the story. "It says here that it happened at all four bases at the same time."
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"We had recruits of our own planted to time the whole operation. An ingenious coup, don't you think?" She went on without waiting for an answer. "Now all the deserters are in one place, waiting for you to appear."
"Where's that?"
She spoke her words reverently. "The culmination of all our efforts. The beginning of a new army, Fort Vadassar."
"You mean the place that I've been telling those zombie soldiers all these months is the Promised Land? That Vadassar? A fortT
Randy smiled. The limo rolled over mile after mile of highway and onto a series of dirt roads leading deep into the Texas heartland.
"I thought you made that name up. I didn't know there was a real Vadassar," Artemis said.
Randy smiled. "Of course not, dear. It didn't exist until today. Originally, Vadassar was private property, built by private funds."
"Whose?"
Randy smiled. "Don't ask so many questions, Art. You'll live longer."
They drove in silence the rest of the way.
Fort Vadassar was a miracle of modern engineering, gleaming under its acres of electric lighting like a star in the Texas wasteland. Its pristine buildings were magnificently designed with sojar panels. Its •grounds were lush, with oases around deep lagoons that were carved into the dry earth and irrigated by underwater pipes. On the banks around the lagoons sprouted wild tropical flowers. In the recreation compound, an Olympic-sized swimming pool shim- '
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mered in the moonlight, next to a row of perfectly kept tennis courts and a football stadium.
"Holy Moses," Samantha said. She shook Artemis awake. "Get up, Artie. Look at this."
Artemis's eyes rolled groggily. "Wha—we there?" He spotted the tennis courts and the pool. "Where the hell are we?"
"Vadassar," Randy Nooner- said- breathlessly. "The headquarters for the new army of the United States of America."
The car pulled in noiselessly beside a smallish ultra-modern building constructed from steel and mirrored glass. "These are the guest quarters, where you'll be staying," Randy said.
"How long?" Artemis asked warily.
"Well, let's see." Randy ticked off the agenda on her fingers. "First, there's the address to the troops. Then tomorrow we're holding a press conference—"
"I thought you said nobody knew this place existed."
"No," she said. "I didn't say that. I said Fort Vadassar didn't exist. It still doesn't, in fact. It won't exist officially for another four hours or so."
"How do you arrange that?" Samantha asked eagerly. ¦'
Randy chucked her under the chin. "I already told your husband not to ask so many questions. It's bad for your face, honey."
"You mean, like, I'll get pimples?"
Randy nodded. "And scars," she said cordially. She led them to the house, past the corporal assigned to guard the entrance. The soldier stared blankly ahead of him, chanting, "Hail Artemis," as . they passed.
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"Hey, I don't think I like your threats," Artemis said to Randy Nooner.
"Hail Artemis," said the guard.
"I don't care if you like them or not," Randy said.
"Hail Artemis," said the guard.
"Oh, will you shut up?"
"Hail Artemis," said the guard.
"Drop dead, Corporal," Artemis raged.
Immediately the soldier put his hands around his own throat and squeezed until the color in his face changed from white to red to purple to blue. When his eyes were bulging and his tongue lolled darkly out of his mouth, the soldier collapsed in front of Artemis.
Samantha screamed. "What the hell did he do that for?" Artemis asked.
"You told him to drop dead, didn't you?"
"I asked him to shut up first."
"But you ordered him to drop dead. These men only respond to direct orders," Randy explained.
Artemis whistled low. "Because they love me," he said.
"It's not exactly you. Lehammet, bring me another foot soldier." The swarthy lieutenant rambled off without acknowledgement. In a few minutes he returned with a private in uniform.
Artemis checked his watch. "It's almost four a.m.," he said. "Aren't these men supposed to be asleep?"
"They sleep when we tell them to." Randy turned to the young soldier. "Private, eat dirt."
The soldier dropped to his knees and began stuffing handfuls of earth into his mouth. "Go on, tell him to do something."
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Samantha giggled. "Can I really?"
Randy nodded. "Okay," Samantha said with a shrug. "Drop your pants."
The private obeyed. "Jesus Christ," Artemis said. "What've you done to them?"
"You and Samantha helped," Randy said cheerfully. "You got them to set aside their own personalities for the good of the idea. All great speakers have that power. And since I wrote your speeches, their ideal was my ideal—Vadassar. Of course, Sa-mantha's stone pony cocktails helped get the men's minds in a receptive state."
"It was nothing," Samantha said modestly. "Just apple juice laced with PCP and a little acid. I used to mix it up for parties back in junior high. One drink and your brains turn into scrambled eggs. A real blast."