Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“I’ll get ’im, Mac,” he said. Nearly satisfied with his sniper position, he took a final, wide-view scan of the city in general with his own binoculars. It was a technique taught in sniper training that he had always performed as instructed, to confirm the overall tactical shooting environment before reacquiring the targets on the West End Bridge. Hesitating, something bothered him on a subconscious level during his broad quick survey of the city. Deciding to glass the city one more time, he hoped to catch what might be amiss. Moving slower in his visual scan, he devoted effort to a closer inspection of the area near the Liberty Bridge. The area that they’d traversed during the last few hours. Grimacing, he did not like the movement near the bridge.

“Mac! BB!” whispered Marty, “Three o’clock. Men are sneaking across the bridge. The… ah, Liberty Bridge we just crossed.”

“What?” Connor lifted binoculars to glass the bridge. “Shit!”

“I’m spotting on the West End Bridge, Surf Boy. I’ll stay on it while you two figure that out.” BB spent some time focusing on the trucks near the onramp to the bridge.

Near the downtown side of the Liberty Bridge onramp, men moved carefully, but were coming into focus. Though cautious, the movement of at least twenty or thirty men, massing at the base ramp near town was not hard to miss, though mostly hidden beneath the overpass. It looked as if they were assessing the bridge before crossing.

“They’re Phoenix’s men, too. I can tell,” said Marty.

“He split his forces. Wow, how big an army does this guy have?”

“Dunno. Though I will say I did nick those bastards some in Cleveland.” Angry satisfaction was evident on Marty’s face.

“Yeah, so I heard.”

“Fucked ’em over hard is what I did.”

“Stay focused, Surf boy.”

“Oh, I’m focused, sir.”

Connor nodded, pointing toward the Liberty Bridge. “Several of those bastards on the Liberty Bridge will have to go down first off. They’re way too close for comfort. Head or chest. That is, if you can manage it.”

“Copy that.”

“Take at least three or four to slow ’em down. Wake ’em up. Then go after the main cluster of Phoenix’s forces over on the other. I’m thinking Phoenix’s still most likely over there.”

“Understood.”

“You need me to help you and BB on this one?”

“No, this will be taking candy from a baby.”

“Wow. I can’t believe that Cleveland army is comin’ after us,” said Connor. He was fast absorbing the fact that his team had been in some jeopardy, unknown to him, for quite some time. He would not make the same mistake again.

“Someone must have pissed them off or something,” suggested Marty. His grim smile said clearly that he’d like such an event to occur again.

“Now who’d go and do a thing like that?” Connor placed a gentle hand onto Marty’s shoulder. They shared a moment of remembered pain.

“Someone who’s gonna make ’em pay in more blood… for Amanda… and her… your…”

Connor lifted the binoculars again to his eyes, interrupting him. “Don’t miss, Surf Boy.”

“Yeah, I never do.”

“I found Mac’s message.”

“Where?” asked Colonel Starkes. She and the major stopped eating chicken MREs.

Standing near the makeshift arrangement of steel plating where dinner was set, Amanda held a small white paper in her right hand. “It was hidden behind that red-lettered sign that was next to #1 Furnace.”

“What are the details?” asked the major

“Mac and my team are making their way to Pittsburgh. He says that he missed hooking up with you, Hannah.”

“Uh, huh. Go on, Amanda,” said the colonel.

“He made a map. They left two days ago.”

“Does the map include his final destination?” Colonel Starkes was elated, hopeful.

“No, just a place on a Brownville Road in Pittsburgh.”

“Pittsburgh?”

“The map says it’s at 910 Brownsville Road.”

“Why there? Do you know? Was this a secondary rendezvous?” asked the major.

Amanda lapsed into hard tears, her shoulders shaking deeply. Scott, speaking with Shamus while breaking pallets into firewood a few yards away, arrived at her side, daring the colonel to say a word about it. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her.

Colonel Starkes approached slowly, concerned. “Amanda? Talk to me, please.”

“Mac… he thinks I’m dead.” Amanda’s tears flowed freely.

Scott smoothly took the small note from her and passed it to the colonel. Reading the note quickly, she flipped it over to study the crude map and agreed. Connor MacMillen did assume Amanda was dead. In fact, the note suggested no one was expected to find it. And, based on the content, it was, in a sense, more a testament to pain and loss. Bringing the major and Scott up to speed, she read the note aloud:

Snuff, if you’re reading this then I’m way beyond ecstatic. You’ve come this far. You’re a survivor. We left. Sorry for not waiting longer. I’d love to hear how you survived. Surf Boy told me a hailstorm of bullets was flying and that you went down hard. We waited 8 days, 3 past the rendezvous window. Perhaps the president is with you. Please give her my regards and tell her I apologize for missing the meet. Can’t say we didn’t try, huh? But, the team’s on the move now. I have my primary mission to consider. Know that I love you. Know that. Take care of our son. Or daughter. Here’s a map. It’s a trip to a little secret place where I plan to regroup and resupply. Get there if you can. We’ll see you if you do. We’ll wait some there, if we can.

Colonel Starkes handed the map to Major O’Malley. “Major, see to our departure. Bring Nicole over here when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The major left immediately to speak with Shamus.

“Amanda?” asked Colonel Starkes.

Amanda’s head was buried into Scott’s shoulder. She was now crying uncontrollably.

“Amanda!” snapped Colonel Starkes. Her command voice had the desired effect. Amanda stared at her through bloodshot eyes, roughly wiping tears with her sleeve. Scott patted her gently on the shoulder and left, returning to Shamus, GT and the major talking animatedly at the helicopter.

“We’ll get you back to him, Amanda. It’s as much my mission as yours.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

“No apologies needed. Stay on task. What do you know about this new rendezvous point? This 910 Brownsville Road?”

“Not a damn thing that I can think of.”

“Nothing? No reference point? Connor never talked about it?”

“No.”

“A code?”

“I’ll have to think about it some more.”

“You up to it now?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Let’s think this through. Maybe Nicole knows something.”

“Okay,” said Amanda.

“In the meantime, let’s find you something more to eat.”

“Thank you.”

“If we figure this out now, we might continue our pursuit of Connor MacMillen today with the remainder of daylight still left,” suggested Colonel Starkes.

“I see.”

Amanda looked past the Colonel’s shoulder, tracking the two big men moving toward Colonel Starkes with Scott in the lead. She knew the two men as Scott’s friends, Shamus with the pointed goatee, and GT who wore thick black glasses and two full sleeves of tribal tattoos. GT was hastily wiping his hands on a gray rag and tucking it into his back pocket. From the main camp area, Major O’Malley returned with Nicole who had CJ in her arms.

“Ma’am?” asked Shamus. He stood before the colonel, waiting.

“Hey, Shamus. Guys. Can it wait? We got a pressing matter right now.”