Late at night, a small mountain town sleeps as an unnoticed truck drives through. The loud Diesel engine rumbles through the empty streets of downtown, past all of the parks, schools, and homes, then back out into the darkness of the open highway.

The driver is a young man, but one with age and wisdom far beyond his years. These qualities were paid for with sweat, blood, and the heart-wrenching loss of many of his brothers. Along with that wisdom, he has learned a very specific skill set that make him an anomaly in the average population, but an immeasurably valuable asset to his company. He has learned to ignore pain, exhaustion, and boredom. To fight on, even when there seems to be no energy left in him to do so. These painful things, all in the name of doing his duty.

He’s missed the Marine Corps for many reasons since getting out, but the greatest of which are the feeling of pride earned by protecting the innocent, and the camaraderie he felt among other Marines. This is why he is doing what he is doing. His company is composed of all veterans, many of them Marines from his unit. Men that he fought alongside, and would die before letting them down. He looks at the other driver, sleeping in the passenger seat of the cab, and wonders if sleeping beauty will wake up if he jacks up the volume on his favorite workout song to wake up a little. He turns it up, does a little headbanging to get some blood moving, and his partner carries on napping.

This man is not driving a military convoy, a nuclear arsenal, or some kind of highly explosive jet fuel. He’s transporting 10,000lbs of plant matter. It’s hemp. Not marijuana; hemp. Because of the amazing medicinal properties of CBD, there is an enormous demand for high quality hemp material. The value of processable plant matter is high enough, and the quantity is large enough that a shipment of this size can top one million dollars. There’s an obvious reason a man with skills like his has been entrusted to ensure this shipment’s safe delivery.

Just before dawn, he steers the hulking box truck through some weaving mountain backroads to the gate of a little horse farm that’s perched atop a hill. At the top of the hill, he carefully maneuvers the awkward vehicle into a 3 point turn to back the truck up to the loading bay of a large barn. This is where a local processing facility has leased some space to make their miracle oils.
He parks the truck, engages the air brake. And steps out. As he walks up to the office door of the barn, he straightens his uniform shirt, combs his beard straight with his fingers, and gives himself a quick visual check to ensure he is a presentable representation of this company that he considers a brotherhood. He knocks on the door and it opens slowly, and a very sleepy-eyed man looks at him quizzically, surprised to see someone that he didn’t expect to see for another hour.
“Good morning sir, I’m here with Patriot Shield Security. I have a hemp delivery for you.”

Written by: Tom Morton