Excerpt from ‘View’:

The truck’s gearbox whined in protest as it plowed through the deep snow, even the rugged off road tires slipping in the wet white stuff. The three heavy Chevrolet Yukons formed a minor convoy, winding up the narrow lane. The first and last SUVs each carried six Special Ops troops, in the middle one were Phillips, Friedman, Willis and a driver.

That morning was the first opportunity in nearly a week to get through the passes. Southern Utah had experienced the worst storm in recorded history and the roads had been impassable. Even now, the going was marginable at best. Zion National Park was still closed, necessitating a detour all the way around, through Arizona and to Fredonia to pick up Route 89 and to Kanab and finally to Glendale. The men had been in the trucks for six hours and were tired and tense.

As the lead truck rounded a slight curve, its brake lights flashed. Ahead, smoke curled into the still air. The radio crackled a warning: "There’s something going on at the target."

“If they’re there, they already know we’re coming.” Willis ordered them to proceed.

There were no tracks in the snow to mark the driveway to the house. Phillips thought that odd, but there had been a record snowfall. As the middle truck pulled up tight behind the leader and stopped, all the occupants were startled by the scene. The once rustic house was a burned out shell. Embers still flared and rose through the quiet, still air. A yellow Toyota FJ Cruiser was parked to the side, only its color betrayed its location under a thick coating of snow.

Phillips was first out and walked to what was left of the structure. Within a few moments, Friedman and Willis joined h9m in what was once the living room. They only knew that because the fireplace still stood; its thick stones able to withstand the flames.

There was a mass of flesh on the floor, charred and black. Phillips bent and studied it. It looked as though there were at least three bodies, huddled so closely the fire must have melted them together as it consumed them.

“Is that them?” Friedman speculated.

“Who else could it be? The truck is there, there are no tracks or footprints in the snow,” Willis commented and went on to look around the remains of the structure.

Willis conducted a brief search of what was left of the house. Next he checked the burned bodies himself. “There’s no one else here, our job is finished,” he pronounced.

“Hey, Max was probably up here to talk her into coming back.” Phillips started to grow angry. “He gave his life for this.”

“Life’s a bitch, and then you die,” Willis said as he walked away.