Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“If he would’ve, I woulda told you outright, sir.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it, Luke. We’ll find them.” Phoenix did enjoy the fact that his comment irritated Luke. Continuing to regain his cold, calculating demeanor, Phoenix thought for a moment longer and turned to Larry Reed. “Can we loop around and catch them from behind? In a pincher? How ’bout it, uncle?”

“Based on the map, we could do an end-around down to Route 51 and up into Brentwood/Carrick. It’d take some time; they’d have to stick around some for that to happen.”

“How passable is the road for movement up here on Brownsville?”

“Jon says the mile or so past the church is fairly clear to the shopping center and the KFC. We’d have to go single file at a few points, but doable.”

“Your thoughts on a night engagement, Luke?”

“Be dark in about half hour. Don’t much matter to me when we go in.”

“Uncle?”

“The men are tired, but after—after what just happened, a night’s sleep might not go well. I say we press on and take these men now. Score a win to reestablish.”

“Control? Are you suggesting I lost control?”

“No, Phoenix! But like I said before, a win right now would be real nice to set matters straight—even an active engagement with the enemy would help set the tone.”

With the entire army massing near the church on Brownsville Road and waiting for the green light to set camp, Phoenix considered the advice.

“Luke? Can your men sneak up on them with the army behind you?”

“Sure, if they’re still there.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“These are most likely the same guys who took shots at us, back in the city. They know we’re tracking them, they know we’re coming. They might not be sticking around. I sure wouldn’t.”

“Larry, instruct the men that we’re traveling through the night. Any grumbling, please shoot the first two men to prove the point. Got it?”

“Right.”

“The first two little bitches who complain.”

“I know. I’ll plan on it.”

“And send the Ninth brigade down onto Route 51 to begin the pinch maneuver. Have ’em use four trucks, but tell ’em not to let the trucks slow them down if impeded. They’re the fastest. See to it.”

“Got it.”

“Luke, take the men you want and go after them bastards.”

“Yes, sir. Right.”

“You’ll have America’s best army at your back, so radio in when the time’s right and we’ll come running.”

“I’m taking half a brigade, twenty men, trackers. All equipped with nightvision. I want two RPGs. Four radios, sir.”

“They’re yours. Go.”

Though night was fast approaching, Phoenix knew there would be no stopping until the recent debacle was put down and the Rat Pack and young boy and girl were recaptured. Phoenix caught many men staring his way. He also noticed numerous smiles at the sudden change in the boring routine. Itching, many men were ready for bloody combat. Phoenix touched his leg above the ankle, feeling the pain run up from his foot in agony.

“Fuck me.”

“Sir? Team Green to Team Black, do you copy?”

“Copy. Black Team here. Go Team Green,” said Captain Daubney.

“We got well-trained men comin’ our way. I spot five. NVG use. One radio. Over.”

“Say again? Over.”

“A five-man unit of well-trained men is slipping around roadway obstructions. They’re equipped with night vision. One has a radio. He’s in communication with others. Over.”

“Well-trained. Got it. Part of Phoenix’s army? Over.”

“Likely. Coming from that direction. They move exceptionally well, they’re great trackers. We barely caught their movement. Over.”

“Roger that. Fall back toward us and close to 200 yards. We’re making good time.”

“Yes, sir. I copy.”

Captain Daubney updated Connor, who’d been talking at length with Renaldo for the past five minutes.

Connor simply nodded. “That’d be the plan. Plus, I’d assume Phoenix would try to send men down Nobles Lane and up around to Route 51 now that he thinks he’s got a bead on our last position. Instruct Green to fade back with us, keeping a nice cushion, captain.”

“Yes, sir. Already gave that order.” Captain Daubney nodded.

Connor grabbed his radio and spoke. “Teams Red and Blue, do you copy?”

“Blue here. Five by five.”

“Red here. Copy.”

“You catch that update from Green Team, over?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roger that.”

“Kitchen’s getting hot. Over.”

“Roger that.”

“Copy. You want me to hang back toward ’em, Mac? Use my little friend? Over.”

“Nah, hang tight, Surf Boy. Let’s see how this evolves. Over and out.”

“Copy that.”

Nearly a mile from the KFC and moving toward the junction of Route 51 and Brownsville Road, Connor continued his tactical and strategic assessment. Renaldo’s information was proving exceptional for their continued egress.

“Captain?” said Connor.

“Sir?”

“My projections confirm the rendezvous point will be overrun before Colonel Starkes and her bird can pick us up.”

“Based on?”

“Phoenix’s army’s gonna push through the night right now with their best trackers and scouts up front and at least two or three squads trying to sneak up past us on Route 51. With an army that big we’ll not be able to wait it out. We’d be sittin’ ducks.”

“Phoenix’s army is slow-moving, sir. I’ve seen it. I don’t think that scouting team’s much of a concern at this point. They’re scouting the area, trying to get a fix on us.”

“Could be. Don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Let me ask your opinion.”

“Please, go ahead, sir.”

“You’ve seen Phoenix in action up in Cleveland and know a bit about him, right?”

“I do. Okay.”

“Would you say Phoenix is a crazy sonofabitch?”

“Yeah, I most certainly would. He’s certifiable bat-shit crazy.”

“Agreed. And based on Renaldo and Gabriella’s escape, that unfortunate shooting of his foot, and his profound humiliation in the doing, is he the type of man who’d simply sit back and wait until morning with a large army at his disposal?”

“Ahh, I see. You’re thinking he’s coming balls to the wall.”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

“We’re maybe three miles from the rendezvous point.”

“Yeah, I know cap’n. But, I’m thinking, we’re definitely gonna see some fireworks before we arrive.”

They walked together, thinking. Connor grunted and the captain noticed.

“What, sir?”

“Tell me again what your guys got in the way of explosives. C4, right?”

“Yeah. A bit over two pounds of it. I got a pound. Mickey’s got the rest.”

“That’s perfect. Standard load for an elite team.”

“Sir, no offense, but I’d prefer not to use the C4 unless circumstances are quite dire. It’s not like there’s a lot of this plastic explosive stuff laying around now.”

“Quite dire , indeed.”

Captain Daubney smiled at Connor’s emphasis of the word and they continued walking, each assessing the immediate tactical area for threats while thinking of the emerging situation.

“Mickey’s carrying a bit over a pound, you say?”

“He is, sir.”

“You know that squeeze at the intersection we passed where those two apartments and that old library collapsed close to the road?”

“Yeah?”

“Have Mickey blow a big-ass ditch across that road.”

“Sir? That’s what you want to use it for? A ditch?”

“Captain, do you think we have an army coming after us from behind? In the night? With purpose?”