Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Understood. We’ll be outta range in a minute or so. Good luck and good hunting. Find ’im for us, would ya? Over.”

“Roger that, sir. Update. Based on the descending addresses, we have some ways to go to find the map location of 915 Brownsville Road. Over.”

“Understood. Best estimate. Couldn’t be helped, captain. Over.”

“No problem, sir. We plan to see you at the extraction point here in twenty-four hours. We’ll sit on it for another twenty-four, if need be. If no go, we’ll meet at alternate rendezvous in forty-eight hours. Over.”

“Roger. Correct. Primary extraction in twenty-four hours at established rendezvous. Twenty-four hours of secondary wait period confirmed. Secondary rendezvous confirmed based on Amanda’s route projections forty-eight hours after that. Over.”

The secondary rendezvous was to be Uniontown Hospital in Uniontown, PA.

“Good luck finding what we need out east, sir. Daubney team out.”

“Understood. Over.”

Mickey completed a comprehensive assessment of the area as they secured their initial drop zone and before they headed northeast from the intersection. Several men took better cover positions while his evaluation continued. Mickey signaled for extra caution; he did not want to walk into an unknown given their recent helicopter insertion.

“Be safe,” whispered Colonel Starkes to herself, as the helicopter pulsed forward and headed east.

On the ground, Captain Daubney slipped beside Mickey, watching the staff sergeant in action. Mickey’s Special Forces skills helped meld the men into a finely tuned team of manhunters. Captain Daubney gave the seasoned veteran the go ahead to lead the team toward the designated address and mission objective.

“Take it from here, Top.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Move to channel Charlie,” said Mickey across the channel.

He switched to channel twenty-one and all team members did the same. With check-in confirmed, Mickey set the game plan in full motion.

“Move out. Zulu nine.”

The team pressed forward using an impressive array of stealth and defensive coverage. Carefully, they made their way down Brownsville Road, meeting no interference. A few signs of possible human activity in nearby houses, yards or side roads were immediately assessed for threat. An old Burger King restaurant and pizza shop on their left was a veritable volcano of brown rat population, but humans, if around, were keeping a very low profile. None were yet encountered. The team made solid progress until 18:07 when Burroughs, running point, called them to a sudden halt. After a small delay, Mickey and the captain slid beside him. They settled in behind an old, overturned Ford pickup resting on disintegrating asphalt. The weed-infested intersection in front of them led to a street that ran slightly downhill. The bent metal sign of the intersection confirmed the name: Nobles Lane .

“What we got?”

“Captain, I caught movement near that KFC. Just barely, but I think at least three or four unknowns slipped in behind the parking lot.”

“Threat?”

“Dunno. Got the impression they moved real smooth to avoid detection that last few yards once they caught on to us.”

“Military training?”

“Possibly. Be hard to catch sight of us that easy, if they did at all.”

“Agreed. You’ve had us running good, sir. Top-notch.” Mickey made sure Lieutenant Burroughs knew he was not being blamed for any changes in tactics that might occur based on this newest discovery.

“Uh, huh.”

“Opinions?”

“Those people faded real slow like they knew how to evade without being seen, especially when they were caught out in the open like it seems.”

“Understood.”

“They might have had on large packs, but not sure.”

“Suggestions?” asked Mickey.

Burroughs thought for a moment, keeping his binoculars trained on the KFC.

“Based on map coordinates, we’re about a quarter click from the map target of 915 Brownsville Road. Could be them or they might know of this Connor MacMillen if he was in the area recently.”

“That kinda timing would be pretty weird,” said Mickey.

“Not if you think about it,” mumbled Captain Daubney.

Both Mickey and Burroughs turned to listen.

“Captain?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was just thinkin’ to myself.”

“Well continue, sir.”

“Alright. What I’m thinking is the timing might be about right if they were near here. It fits in terms of probable travel from the mill, timewise. Let’s say that Colonel MacMillen was, in fact, near and heard the bird on its flyover. From this area, it looks like we didn’t pass anywhere too close for a visual, so that didn’t happen.”

“Yeah?” asked Mickey.

“But a man trained as Colonel MacMillen, Marty or even Roger for that matter would know the sounds of our bird. So would Jackson and BB, too.”

“Good point.”

“Connor MacMillen could easily think through several tactical options at that juncture.”

“Meaning?” asked Mickey.

“He’d hafta make the high percentage assessment that the bird was probably the same presidential transport he likely saw in Cleveland, which would mean he’d want to wait to see if, in fact, the map made for Amanda was discovered and our team showed up. Not sure what percentage he’d place on that this far out from the Cleveland fiasco. He likely assumes Amanda’s dead by now based on the time lapse.”

“Or?”

“Or, he could assume hostile intent, especially if he’s had any direct dealings with Phoenix and his nasty entourage while making his way through Pittsburgh.”

“Hmm,”

“Let’s not forget that Phoenix is a serious mean dog in this hunt; probably pissed at Connor MacMillen and especially Marty, the sniper. And, it does explain the almost ‘forced-march’ feel of the army from my perspective. Phoenix’s army is clearly goal-directed since they left the mill.”

“I gotta meet those guys that saved our asses. Marty did some fine shootin’ for sure,” said Burroughs.

“Huh, are you forgettin’ about Amanda’s laying her ass on the line?” asked Mickey. His soft spot for Amanda grew daily, almost as much as Scott’s.

“Of course not. It’s just that Marty did some serious damage… and he’s Recon.”

“On task, guys, on task,” said the captain.

“Sorry,” said both Burrow and Mickey, embarrassed by their distraction from the current assessment.

“I do appreciate your insights into the matter. Phoenix Justice nearly killed us all before Connor MacMillen and team wrecked his plans. Fuckin’ bastard.” Unable to help himself, the captain spit onto the road in disgust. He found himself losing his focus to anger. He recovered quickly.

“Go on, cap’n,” said Mickey, “I’m listening.”

“Right… I’m wondering if Colonel MacMillen might think that’s a hostile bird, maybe even in the hands of Phoenix. Maybe he wants to leave the area before Phoenix gets a fix on ’im.”

“Lotta unknowns,” said Mickey.

“Agreed.”

Mickey checked his watch and Captain Daubney did the same.

“Let’s check it out.”

“Recommendations, cap’n?” asked Mickey.

“Burroughs, your thoughts?” suggested the captain.

“We secure our position and see what the KFC people are about. Wait fifteen and see if they try to bypass, backtrack or disappear.”

“Agreed. Top?”

Intently studying the weed-infested parking lot of the KFC, Mickey used his binoculars to scan every inch of the area. A battered eighteen-wheeler, long since trashed, blocked a good portion of his view.

“The plan works.”

“Your show, Top.”

“Thank you, sir. We wait here for now. I’ll have Edgars and Simpson make their way down below that row of buildings. They can slip into that alley to do an end around. Burroughs, you take Rice behind that Kroger’s store to the right. We’ll hold position for fifteen. We’ll converge on the KFC. Three clicks on my count. Got it?”