Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Right, sir. Good point. The plan was that you and your team would board, depending on head count. We would assemble a separate team to fast-track it back to Mount Storm on foot.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. A possible alternative would be to set up a recovery of the balance of men a few days later.”

“That sounds like a better plan, captain. Make it happen. I don’t want to leave good men isolated in the field if we can avoid it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You guys spent some time on this—on locating me. Why all the attention?”

“Well, sir, you’re a national treasure.”

“A national treasure? Explain yourself, captain.”

“We’ve tried to find you for about a year, sir. Wanna know why?”

“No. I think I know the reason, captain.”

“Sir?”

“Nicole Townsend with you?”

“She is.”

“So, she’s alive?”

“Very much so, sir.”

“I’m glad,” said Connor. “Amanda didn’t fill you in on how we figured out that Nicole was with you?”

“Ahh… no, sir. We haven’t had much time for the full story—she’s only been awake for less than forty-eight hours.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes, sir. She’s fine, but very weak. Our medic says she’ll fully recover. A bullet creased her skull and that’s what knocked her unconscious. She was wounded across her thigh too, sir, but Scott, our medic, stitched that up and said that there wouldn’t be much of a scar.”

“She’s an incredible young woman, captain.”

“She impressed all of us, sir,” said Mickey. He was embarrassed by his interruption.

“Very true, colonel. Believe me when I tell you, sir, that Mickey doesn’t offer praise lightly.”

“Captain, there’s a lot I need to know.”

“You have a son, sir.”

“Yeah, we figured something like that.”

“Your son’s name is CJ, colonel—Connor Junior.”

“Wow—another son?” Connor’s eyes adopted a faraway gaze. John McLeod and a few men approached with some hesitation, sensing the importance of the conversation they hadn’t heard.

“You okay, Mac?” asked McLeod.

“His name’s CJ, John. Connor Junior . Nicole had a boy—I have another son.”

“So, it’s true,” said McLeod.

“Yes, sir, major, it’s true,” answered Captain Daubney.

Mickey spotted Marty carrying his sniper weapon and approaching from an alley south of their position. He decided to walk in Marty’s direction. But Marty noticed the man’s movement and sensed the fierce intensity pouring from him. He slowed considerably and scrutinized Mickey’s approach.

“You’re Captain Marty McCullough?” asked the first sergeant.

Marty knew he was in the presence of a man who defined the term ‘military combat’ experience. Not sure if he was being challenged, he held the man’s gaze and tried to assess his intent.

Mickey held out his hand. “I’m First Sergeant Mickey McGuire, sir.”

“Top? John says you’re with the president. What’s the story? What can you tell me about Amanda Abbington?” asked Marty.

“She’s safe, sir.”

“Excellent news!” yelled Marty. “Mac! She’s alive, Mac!”

“I know, Surf Boy,” answered Connor, laughing.

Marty shook the first sergeant’s hand. “Thanks for the news, Top.”

“Yes, sir. I wanted to personally thank you, sir, for your efforts at the Hall of Fame. That was some nice shooting.”

“Shit, Top, my pleasure. I’m happy that Snuff made it outta that assault in one piece.”

“Snuff?”

Marty studied the first sergeant’s face. “Amanda never gave you her tag?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s not something she likes, but it’s a well-earned name.”

“Huh—Snuff.”

“Yeah, Snuff. But be careful about using that name when you see her, Top. Have an exit strategy ready before you call her that.” Marty laughed, slapped Mickey on the shoulder, and rushed to Connor. He hugged Connor fiercely and without embarrassment. “She made it, Mac.”

“Yeah, Marty, she made it,” answered Connor, hugging Marty as fiercely.

The two men parted after a few seconds and Connor made some formal introductions, as did Captain Daubney. The captain let his team know the transfer of command had taken place and that Colonel Connor MacMillen was their commanding officer. All of the men knew of this option and it came as no surprise. Each saluted Connor after introduction.

“Well, sir, what’s our plan?” asked Captain Daubney.

“That’s a good question, captain. Top, Major McLeod, Captain Daubney, and Captain McCullough—you gentlemen will join me in the KFC in ten minutes.” They all nodded their assent. “Top, have the men maintain cover and provide a replacement team in one hour rotation.”

“Yes, sir.”

Connor raised his radio. “BB? Do you copy?”

“Yes, sir, I’m here. Over.”

“I’ve taken command of the unit tracking us. I want you in here, weapons neutral, to meet these guys. I’ve assigned overwatch to four of their men—they’re holding a fifty-yard perimeter. You’re relieved, BB—I want you in here for a strategy session. Over.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll be in there in a couple minutes. Out.”

“Captain,” said Connor, turning to Daubney, “I’ll trust your judgment to bring who else you think is necessary into this meeting. We can update the others afterwards.”

“Yes, sir.”

Connor walked to the KFC with his arm around John’s shoulder.

“We found the tail shaft bearing, ma’am.”

“Excellent news, GT,” said the colonel. The colonel stood in a rough circle with Scott, Shamus, and O’Malley discussing the potential repair or updates to the helicopter. The pale moonlight was enough to see fairly well, though the bearing, slathered liberally in grease, was a shapeless blob in GT’s hand. The colonel, who wasn’t mechanically inclined, didn’t like to think of the age of the part GT held.

“Great job, GT,” said Shamus.

“Yeah,” said Scott.

Shamus turned to the colonel. “We should be on our way as scheduled, ma’am, as long as the installation goes as planned.”

“Major,” said the colonel.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Assign a few men to bring in some fresh game. A little celebration is in order for breakfast in honor of the continuing capability of flight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Let whoever you send know that I’d prefer wolf or dog if that’s possible.” Her face set into a distasteful grimace at her mention of these animals and the major caught the firmness of her voice—this was more of an order than a preference.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll see to it.”

The colonel turned away from the men, knowing that her orders would bring fresh dog or wolf meat to the table. She headed toward Nicole and Amanda who were talking near the hangar.

Shamus, Scott, and GT studied Major O’Malley who observed the colonel’s retreating figure thoughtfully. The three men suspected they had witnessed an exchange with some type of undercurrent. When the major turned to face them, GT lifted an eyebrow in question.

“She watched that wild dog pack take down half a herd of deer over in the meadow,” said the major in answer to the eyebrow.

“Like she’s never seen a dead deer before?” asked Shamus.

“Of course she has, but it pissed her off,” answered the major.

“I see,” said GT.

“I don’t,” said Shamus. “That’s just nature taking its course.”

Major O’Malley sighed, not sure he wanted to share his thoughts. But then again, these three were different. They had seen and done things many men would never believe possible. They had survived it all and remained intact with such a depth of knowledge and experience that they had become invaluable to Colonel Starkes and her goals as President of the United States. He liked these men and trusted all three. Besides, it wasn’t like his thoughts at the moment were some great national secret.