"My God!" Early screamed.

It suddenly dawned on him that the car was not the best place to be at that moment. He quickly slid across the seat and scrambled out into the wind and sand, slipping once and falling to one knee, then finally gaining his feet and using the rear quarter of the Chevy for a guide. He fought his way to cover, all thoughts of protecting the debris and bodies lost in his panic to escape. He hunched low and started to make his way to the first truck in line when five .45-caliber bullets slammed into him from behind. Early hit the windswept road and rolled into the side ditch. As his life's blood was soaking into the sand, he saw a tall man dressed in black combat gear standing, over him. The man looked around, then slowly leaned over, going to one knee and placing a gloved hand on Early's quivering shoulder. The man spoke apologetically, as if he had done anything other than to brutally end Early's life.

"I'm sorry for this, Doctor, but your boss doesn't understand what it takes to make this country safe from our enemies," he said loud enough to be heard above the blowing wind. A confused Early could only look up at him.

"Controlled violence, planned well and executed, is a valuable tool, a new one to be sure, but one our new enemies understand." The man looked around a moment and shook his head and leaned even closer to the doctor's ear. Gunfire had erupted up and down the line of trucks. "I'm just sorry it's you and these American boys that got in our way" the man said sadly, shaking his head. "A goddamn shame."

The killer in black lowered his head as he watched Dr. Early take his last breathy then he stood and started shouting orders.