Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“We screwed?”

“No. Not yet. Don’t think so, BB and Surf Boy confirmed covert assaults have stopped. I think we got us another meeting of the minds here—just like you said.” Connor studied the men slowly approaching. Big, cautious men. Though assessing their approach with intensity, his casual posture conveyed nothing more than a relaxing respite.

“I want you out here, John. That is, if you feel up to—”

“You want me to come out now ?”

“Yeah. Change of plans. Hand off bug-out to Rog. I want your psychological assessment skills.”

“Well—okay. This is getting quite interesting.”

“It is that.”

John McLeod made his way out the door of the KFC after updating Roger. He moved slowly and empty-handed toward Connor, a burning pit resting in his stomach. As he neared, Connor reached for his radio.

“BB, Surf Boy? Two men are approaching me in the middle of the road, weapons stowed. Over.”

“Understood,” said BB.

“Roger. Copy that.”

“Slide on closer to home and prep to set ’em straight if need be. Over.”

“The side probes? Over.” asked BB.

“Keep an eye on ’em. But I expect they’re gonna stay back for now. Over.”

“Roger that.”

“Copy that, Mac,” said Marty.

Connor gently placed the radio on the car roof and waited.

“Wow! Check it out! That’s Colonel Connor MacMillen!” said Captain Daubney. His voice was soft, but insistent; and he lowered his binoculars.

“You sure?” asked Mickey.

“Yeah. Saw the painting Nicole made. Dead on likeness, though he looks a bit older.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Leaning on a car in the middle of the damn road—he knows we’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Caught us like we caught him.”

“So what do we want to do?”

“Hold on, he’s signaling something to us.”

“Shit. He knows we got men comin’ at ’im on both sides! He’ll defend and take ’em out. Stand down! Tell ’em, Top.”

Mickey radioed the advance teams. They paused. “They’re holdin’, sir.”

“Good.”

“He’s waving us in.”

“Should we go? I don’t like it,” said Mickey.

“Why not? That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“Yeah, but, we can’t just walk in there unarmed, sir.”

“He’s figured it out, Top. He knows who we are. Think about it from his perspective. C’mon, who’d just up and stand out there for everybody’s eyes knowing he’s got a firestorm comin’ down on ’im?”

“Huh. Good point, sir.”

“To make it more interesting, I guarantee he’s got his team painting us right now, especially that Marty guy.”

“That’s what concerns me, cap’n.”

“Which tells me we’re fairly safe for the moment. Marty could’ve taken at least one good kill shot at us already.”

“True. Another good point, sir.”

“Let’s move.”

“The main warehouse facility is surprisingly intact, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes smiled and waited for the major to catch up. She was walking through the yard surrounding the Coatesville helicopter complex.

“Yeah, I know major, I’ve poked around… it’s almost like the locals took little interest.”

“Coatesville proper is no longer a viable city based on our flyby. Nothing organized, anyway. No obvious massing of people. In fact, none visualized. No food production. Overgrowth everywhere.”

“True. I saw that. This whole area’s been left to the dogs—or wolves for that matter.”

“Definitely. And don’t forget the rats.”

Already safely inside, they approached the main gates to the Sikorsky plant. Pre-Sickness, this facility was a top-secret and a highly guarded location spread across 3000 acres. The ten-foot high perimeter fence surrounding the main grounds had remained intact with brutal razor wire shiny on top. Though the main gate entry lock was cut open by prior scavengers, the sturdy fence remained unbroken around the main buildings, outbuilding and huge warehouse and helicopter storage facility. Granted, the entire Coatesville plant was in the middle of nowhere and, with the gates wide open, there was little reason to break through any fencing.

“Dogs will take care of those rats, given enough time, ma’am.”

“I dunno. Rats are everywhere, even in my dreams sometimes,” said the colonel. She shivered despite her efforts to avoid the reaction.

“You don’t like rats?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“I don’t like what they represent, major. The United States will not become a rat-infested sinkhole if I can help it. And no roaming wild dog packs, either.”

“I hear that.”

As if on cue, a large pack of wild dogs, thirty or more, roamed the area outside the fence, perhaps one hundred yards away. Major O’Malley reached for the main gate to ensure that the rope they used to close it remained in place. He glanced through the fence to see the core of the pack running near a thick stand of woods that covered several acres before opening into a large open meadow. The dogs, with at least five or six clearly identifiable wolves mingling, were well nourished and quite wild.

“Glad we got those gates closed, major. That pack is huge.”

“I know. I think that gray wolf’s definitely alpha—”

“Oh yeah, big bastard to boot.”

“I bet he goes 180 pounds easy.”

Earlier, the wild pack had taken an interest in the arrival of the helicopter. In between snatching up the numerous rats around a large culvert pipe, the pack did hesitate to determine the potential threat of Colonel Starkes and her team. As the two stared through the gate, the pack became focused on the massive deer herd cresting the edge of the meadow in the distance. As one, the pack turned and sprinted toward the meadow.

“Hope those deer can haul ass, ma’am.”

“Yeah.” Colonel Starkes turned to ensure his full attention. “What do we have here at this place? Anything usable? Give me your update.”

“Area’s secure. Secondary perimeter’s set at the fencing with a primary around the main warehouse. Of the eight remaining men with us, I got Daniels and Timmy sittin’ on the bird. Both Ren and Stimpy are with Amanda, Nicole and CJ. They’re all scrounging around for supplies. Of course, the trio’s already in the warehouse trying to locate the bearing. That leaves me and you to roam.

“Nice use of resources, major.”

“Thank you, ma’am. We found some stored water, high quality.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in that half-filled 500 gallon tank to the left.”

“Excellent find.”

“I know. We did discover some human remains, probably about thirty people holed up in the main office building. Based on my initial assessment, they died fairly quick. Years ago.”

“Supplies?”

“Some. Not much. No real food. No weapons or ammo. Scavengers were at it.”

Colonel Starkes scanned the meadow in the distance through her binoculars. The deer herd had not yet detected the presence of the pack fast approaching.

“Where’s the trio, again? The warehouse, you say?”

“Yes, ma’am. Shamus, GT and Scott secured the warehouse with Ren and Stimpy before those two took over sniffing for supplies. I’m heading over that way for a sitrep.”

“Excellent.”

“Those guys are somethin’ else ma’am. Glad we have ’em on our side.”

“There is that, major. Let me know when they find what we need.”

“If they find it.”

“They will. Go check it out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Major O’Malley left the Colonel alone to continue her surveillance. She turned back to the gate to see the setting sun bathe the meadow ahead of her with a golden sheen. A slight wind caressed the thick grass of the meadow in soft, pulsating waves. Raising the binoculars, she watched several deer succumb to the ferocious pack that came fast upon them. In the heat of the evening, she shivered once more.