Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Not very long, ma’am. You were up when they finished the bird repair. You needed it, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes rose from the sleeping bag in the back hatch of the Superhawk. Smoothly, she grabbed her fatigues and moved toward the door in only her t-shirt and panties. Bouncing on one foot and then the other, she slipped into the fatigue pants and shirt before dropping to the grass in bare feet. Turning, she snatched her boots resting at the bay door and forced them over her socks. Shoelaces untied, she stretched her languid form, pushing the last remnants of sleep away. She smiled at the major.

“Coffee?”

“The last we had for the trip is in the pot on the table in the warehouse over there.”

“Excellent.”

“I woulda brought you one, but the last pot’s brewing. Seems we’re out for the duration.”

“No more coffee?”

“Lucky to have made it this far, ma’am.”

“Major?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You find a fresh batch of coffee for tomorrow or I’ll demote you to private. You got that?”

“Ma’am?”

“I want a sufficient supply of coffee before we return to Storm. I don’t care how old. Find it. Those are your orders.”

“Ma’am? Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m not serious?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good.”

“But—”

“Major?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re the most resourceful and creatively clever man I know. Indulge me and find a solution. That’s why you’re my second in command.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“That being said, you have your new orders.”

“Yes, ma’am—um.”

“Now then, to what do I owe the honor of your waking me?”

“A few pressing issues I thought you’d want to know about.”

“Go on.”

“Ren and Stimpy went huntin’ last night. They have something to show you over in the warehouse. You might like it.”

Colonel Starkes smiled, sensing that maybe they had killed a more few members of that damn wolf/dog pack slinking around in the night.

“We got fresh meat for travel, major?”

“Something like that.” Major O’Malley smiled mischievously, glancing at the four men guarding the ’copter. “Guys. I think we have enough coffee left for a cup each if you hurry. I’ll assume guard while you take the Colonel in. Take twenty before I expect your return.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Appreciate it, sir.”

“Sir.”

The colonel walked with the men, entering the warehouse. Following the scent of fresh coffee to the table near the corrugated tin wall, she waved the men to the chipped blue coffee percolator. Touching the side, she pulled her hand back at the heat.

“After you, men.”

All hesitated, until Daniels grabbed a paper cup, filling it nearly to the top. Turning, he handed it to the colonel.

“Here you go, ma’am.”

Smiling, she took her first sip of the black coffee, taking the cup in both hands, as she’d always done since her first cup at age thirteen.

“Thank you, lieutenant.”

The men grabbed cups and looked hopefully for sugar, and, if fate was so pleased, some non-dairy creamer.

“Check out the green bag over to the side,” said Nicole.

The men turned at her voice, watching as she exited the glassed manager office near the doors. Barefoot, she wore worn jeans and a white t-shirt and carried CJ on her hip. All four men appreciated her striking beauty and the natural, sexy movement of her long legs and hips as she moved toward them. Unbidden, each stole glances at the bounce beneath her white t-shirt before quickly returning to gathering up some coffee.

“That’s sugar, guys—it’s edible. It comes out in chunks. But, you hafta break off pieces from inside the container.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s hard, but dissolves okay.”

“It’s hard alright…” mumbled Lieutenant Simpson to Lieutenant Daniels.

“Simpson!” said Daniels, whispering.

“Sorry, sir.”

Daniels reached for the bag, finding a well-used Domino sugar container and a batch of non-dairy creamer packets resting in an open Ziploc bag. The plastic top was popped off the sugar container and he studied the hardened contents. Ignoring the napkins, he snatched up one of the plastic spoons, slipping his K-bar from its sheath at his thigh.

“Oh, my!” he said. Using the knife to cut off four pieces, he laid the chunks on the table. The other three men each took a chunk, watching Daniels examine the creamer packets. Flipping them over, the packets appeared no worse for wear, given that they were way past the expiration date. He handed them out.

“Hi Hannah,” said Nicole.

“Hey.” With a simply focused joy and concentration, Colonel Starkes sipped her coffee.

Nicole continued her walk, nearing the table. “The creamer packets are sorta okay; I had a few. Not bad in fact.”

“Today’s gonna be a great day!” said Daniels, ripping open two packets and tossing them in.

“Let’s hope that’s true,” said Colonel Starkes.

All turned toward the loud noise at the back of the warehouse. Ren and Stimpy walked side-by-side across the wide expanse of concrete from the back rooms. Each pushed a pallet jack, loaded with a large, cardboard box. The men, Nicole and Colonel Starkes waited until they came to a stop near the table.

“Ma’am,” said Sergeant Chris “Ren” McBride.

“Hello, ma’am,” said Sergeant Frank “Stimpy” Bergman chiming in as well.

“Sergeants.”

“We found this stuff in an old basement last night ’bout a quarter-mile west of here,” said Stimpy.

“Scoutin’?”

“Yes, ma’am. Found it about three o’clock or so.”

“Got it.”

The boxes did look inviting, everyone gathering to peer inside. There were at least fifty glass jars and at least a hundred small cans neatly stacked in rows in Ren’s box. Moving left to see the other, Stimpy’s held about the same, along with a few cans and battered boxes of—something. Colonel Starkes grinned, reaching in to grab a jar. Sauerkraut. Another jar held a red sauce. A third, smaller jar, held a homemade grape jelly. She carefully inspected the lids and found them intact. The men and Nicole waited, as she inspected the find. When she picked up a small can of Amour Vienna Sausage, her hand froze mid-stream.

“Oh, my—” Colonel Starkes simply stared at the small can in her hands, momentarily taken aback.

“Major tells me you especially like those, right?” asked Stimpy.

“Oh, my—” Colonel Starkes studied the small can in her hands and then glanced to recheck the contents in the boxes. By quick count, she figured there were at least twenty more cans of Vienna sausage. Salivating, she wiped her lips and felt a savage desire to rip open the can. Worried that her wanton emotion was on display, she calmed, looking at the men and Nicole. They were all smiling, as if she was the favorite child given a special gift on Christmas. “Yeah, Stimpy. I, uh, do favor a good Armour Vienna when—circumstances permit.” Colonel Starkes caressed the can in her hand, quickly setting her coffee on the table. She reached in and grabbed two more cans. Boldly, she slipped both cans into her pant pockets, both embarrassed and shameless in her actions.

“Well, seems like circumstances permit, ma’am. They’re all yours.”

Smiling, Colonel Starkes appreciated the grand gesture, feeling warmth for the men under her command.

“Sergeants Ren, Stimpy, you two are awesome!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thanks, ma’am.”

“And, I appreciate the gesture, but we share our food and play no favorites.”

“Yes ma’am. That’s what the major told us you’d say.” Ren smiled, reaching into his box to pull a small canvas bag from the back of the pile. He walked the few feet to the colonel, handing it over. Sensing the contents by feel, she opened the drawstring and looked inside. There were fifteen additional cans of Vienna sausage.