Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Thank you. A good sign, Renaldo. We’re not out to take advantage of you.”

“You Colonel MacMillen?”

“I am.”

“Who’s he?”

“That’s Captain Marty.”

“Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” said Marty. Self-consciously, he brushed back the long, blonde bangs that kept trying to settle before his eyes.

“Marty and John, who you’ve met, have been with me for awhile before we formed up with the rest of the men around you.”

“Yeah?”

“These two others are Captain Daubney and First Sergeant Mickey. And don’t let that fierce glare from Top scare you.”

Renaldo caught the intense stare, but refused to accept it. “I won’t.”

“Captain and Top think I’m pushing the envelope, paying a bit too much attention to you.”

Renaldo studied the men surrounding the colonel. Reaching a decision, he took a step forward, standing in front of the colonel. “Phoenix’s army is around that corner by now. His men are all wearing body armor.”

“You had a run in with him?”

“You could say that.”

“Go on…”

Renaldo began his story. Gabriella could not help but stare at the meat grilling on the three makeshift fires in the back of the KFC. Mouth watering, she hesitated at the mention of Phoenix being in the truck with them.

“I didn’t like him at all, Nully!”

“I know, Gabby. I’ll be sure to tell the colonel. Can she get us something to eat, sir?”

“Sure.”

“Go on, go grab us some food, Gabby.”

“Yeah?”

Connor crouched down in front of her and smiled. “Is it okay if I call you Gabby?”

“’Kay.”

“Good. Thank you. Gabby, go ahead. Go see Jackson and Rhonda over there for some food. Bring your brother over a plate, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Gabriella rushed over to where Rhonda and Jackson were grilling meat in the back kitchen, or rather, what was left of it. Renaldo filled Connor and his team in on recent events. The words came fast, knowing time was of the essence. Everyone within earshot listened without a sound; it was only Gabriella’s reappearance, handing over a plate that prompted questions.

“You say there are hundreds of men?” asked Connor.

“The crazy puta said 3000 men, but he was full of crap. I counted 520 men with more men coming around before I lost track. It was hard to track ’em all they were moving around setting camp.”

“They were using horses and white trucks?”

“Right, exactly like the one I stole. There were fifty-six of them pickups. Lots and lots of horses. Couldn’t get a real count. Over 200 hundred for sure. There were some four-wheelers, too, about fifteen. A few dirt bikes.”

“Tell me about the trucks,” insisted Mickey.

“Yeah, tell us about them. We took out a few flying over downtown Pittsburgh,” said Captain Daubney.

Marty, Captain Daubney and John McLeod stared at Renaldo, waiting for further details. Mickey leaned in closer, causing Renaldo to back up a step. Connor noticed.

“Give him some room to breathe, Top.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Renaldo hesitated, studying Connor.

“Sir? You seem to have a burning question?”

“You are perceptive, son. I do.”

“What is it?”

Connor laughed aloud. “Did you really shoot the son-of-a-bitch?”

Renaldo turned serious. “I did. Had to get his attention. He deserved it.”

Connor laughed hard. “Damn, son, you got some serious stones for your age.” He smiled, thinking through the new information Renaldo provided. “By best guess, how much time do you think we got before they’re on us?”

“I dunno, like maybe twenty or thirty minutes—they’re pretty pissed. They’re probably gathering together… regrouping before they come this way.”

“Oh, I imagine you’re quite right—we’ll talk some more later.” Bursting with a voice built to shout orders, Connor pushed each man into action. “That means you, too, Rhonda.”

Rhonda quickened the pace of her packing. “Yes, sir!”

Within seconds, purposed movement spread around the KFC. Radios blared and a defensive exit strategy was put in place. Brownsville Road had become a hot zone and each man responded as trained. Within the new command structure, plans were laid out based on the new information.

“We head away down Brownsville with a squad running counter. We move fast, captain. With your hand-picked men, you’ll lead us up front to the primary evac point,” said Connor.

“Understood, sir”

“Team designation: Black.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Top?”

“Sir?”

“I want you runnin’ the back team to cover our exit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Designation: Team Green. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Team Green.”

“Take as many men as you require from your prior unit.”

“Yes, sir.” Mickey bustled away to a group of men gathering up their gear for transport.

“Surf Boy? BB?”

“Yeah, sir?”

“Go on… sir.”

“Run tight overwatch. Mainly behind us. Designation: Team Blue.”

“Got it, sir,” said BB.

“Copy that.”

“Roger? Stick with me. Jackson? John? Jason? Jude? Take those horses and ride ’em around us up front and keep us safe. Cody, you manage BB’s horse. You’re all designated Team Red right now, got it??”

All agreed, moving out.

“Captain Daubney?”

“Sir?”

“Every so often, personally hang tight near me as we walk. Let’s keep this thing tight like a gnat’s ass to the junction of Route 51.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Renaldo? You and Gabriella stay close to Rhonda and Cody over there. Got it?”

“Ahh, yeah.”

“Eat while you move, son. Get going.”

“Right—”

“Keep an eye on your little sister.”

“Always.”

“They’re situated near a shopping center. At a KFC. They got a perimeter set at about one hundred yards. They’re vigilant, expecting trouble.”

“What else, Luke?”

“Jon’s best count when he got back is there’s at least twenty or so.”

“That all? That boy and girl with ’em?”

“If you mean Renaldo and Gabriella, I believe so, Phoenix.”

“Good.”

Luke grinned at the tunnel vision of Phoenix Justice. Larry Reed, standing beside Luke simply shook his head and briefly rolled his eyes. Phoenix caught the exchange.

“Don’t worry, you assholes. I know what I’m doing. I was only wondering if there was a bonus in the mix—seems there is.”

“Okay,” said Larry.

“Luke?”

“Sir?”

“You bring that boy to me alive and I’ll make sure you get 3000 credits.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But right now, let’s focus on the needs of the moment.”

“They’re armed and military trained.”

“You sure, Luke?”

“Sir?”

“Answer the damn question, Luke,” said Larry Reed. Leg hurting painfully from the bullet that had passed through his quadriceps, he was in no mood to deal with Luke’s little quirk of not repeating himself.

“They are, sir. Their perimeter team moves with precision as a unit. Their weapons are top military grade and their uniforms are well tended. I believe they’re wearing Kevlar. They have radios.”

“Mobility?” asked Phoenix.

“A few horses were spotted.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Piece of cake. Let’s take ’em,” said Larry.

“Hold on. This team’s not attached to the president’s team, is it?” asked Phoenix.

“There’s no ’copter in site nor any place to land it nearby. Though Jon did say a few guys looked kinda familiar, but he was too far away.”

“Jon see Starkes?”