Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

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When the hyper-aggressive H5N1 plague spread, the world collapsed. Billions around the world died in a few months’ time and technology and infrastructure disintegrated. Among the survivors, a rare gene in the human DNA emerged as resistant to the onslaught. Devastation Point takes an in-depth look at how one man, trained by America’s best, responds to a world altered by the pandemic destruction.

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The rest of the compartment regained their stomachs, tamping down their fear. Colonel Starkes stared out the window at the man in the truck bed, the helicopter slipping lower and away from the threat.

“We’re good, ma’am!” said Major O’Malley.

“I see that. Very nice evasive, Shamus.”

“Thanks, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes looked over at Scott and GT, each smiling.

“I take it you three have done shit like this before?”

“A time or two, yes, ma’am,” volunteered Scott.

GT quipped a small laugh.

“I’ll bet,” said the colonel.

“There’s no one better than the Professor in the air, isn’t that right Shamus?”

“Oh, but I blush at the compliment, GT.”

Shamus laughed, a deep rumble across the intercom. Nervous laughter blossomed in the cabin as adrenaline-dosed systems recalibrated. Still shaking, Nicole was not laughing. She stared hard at GT after his last comment. Glancing her way, he noticed.

“What?”

“We coulda just been killed.”

“True dat.”

“You think that was fun?”

“Sure beats an office job, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“GT?” The major turned in his seat to face GT. His voice had deepened.

“Yes, sir?”

“You will not call her that, on both her and my behalf. She doesn’t like it. I don’t like. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The major turned to the colonel. He caught a slight grin before it disappeared.

“Orders ma’am?” asked Major O’Malley.

“Let’s take a wide berth. See if we can slow down those horses heading south, keeping an eye out for our people.”

“Got it.”

“I’m hoping our men got a nice head start, if possible. Maybe we’ll be able to pick ’em up on the way to the secondary.”

“Sounds good. Okay, Professor , please use your formidable piloting skills to lead us to our men.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Ren, Stimpy, Daniels?”

“Sir?”

“Ready the mounted weapons. GT, Scott and the rest of you save your ammo when we pass by unless fired upon.”

“Tim?”

“Ma’am?”

“Prep up in case we need a long shot.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes was deep in thought. Based on the new information, her mind was moving a mile a minute. She knew she had to slow those riders down. She turned to Amanda, who was smiling.

“Given the current assessment of circumstances, I’d like to think Colonel MacMillen’s still alive, Amanda. Tell me, is that why you’re smiling?”

“Ma’am, I’ll bet no one’s laid a glove on him or any of your men yet.”

“How can you be sure.”

“Because…”

“Because he’s Connor Mac, that’s why,” said Nicole, interrupting.

“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say.”

“Then, if you two ladies agree, let’s try to slow down those advancing riders.”

“Right.”

“Works for me.”

SECTION 10: A Vacation from Wedding Planning

CHAPTER 10.1-Fishing in Lower Turkeyfoot

“Andy?”

Terry MacMillen walked toward the septic system sand mound built seventy yards from the cottage. Andy was engaged in manual labor, slinging fresh sand and rock onto the top of the perforated piping system built below the sand mound. A priority for cottage upkeep before winter came, rain erosion had created rivulets that were growing too large and had the potential to compromise function. A winter freeze of those pipes could have profound consequences. Ryan and Kevin were chopping out the weeds and tiny trees attempting to grow in the sand mound, or better yet, the fertile effluent beneath.

“Yeah, T?”

“You guy’s been at it all morning. Lunch is ready.”

“Yep.”

“Can I talk to you a sec?”

“Sure.” Andy raised his voice, “Let’s call it a day guys. Wash up good for lunch. Might have some shit on them hands.”

“Yes, father ,” said Ryan, “Hey, T.” He walked past with a gentle smile, grudgingly coming to accept that if Terry favored anyone else, it might as well be his brother. Besides, it was her making a choice that, thinking back, was probably a long time coming.

“Hi Ry.”

Kevin Kowalski strolled past, giving Ryan a glance. He was not yet fully sold on Ryan’s willingness to accept Terry deciding to remarry.

“T.”

“Hey Kev.”

Everyone left, providing Andy and Terry an opportunity to stroll to a small pond up hill fifty yards north of the cottage. They each smiled, content to take in the cool September morning as it eased into afternoon. Coming to a rough-hewn bench resting beneath a red oak, Terry sat while Andy walked to the pond’s edge. Squatting, he dipped his hands in the cold water and washed the dirt and sweat from his arms. He stood and took off his shirt, dunking it into the water. Holding the shirt overhead, he squeezed the water to run in large trickles down his head, face and body. He turned and smiled at her, knowing she was watching. Terry enjoyed every movement with unspoken pleasure, drinking in the taut movements of his shoulders and arms and the pure pleasure he took from the cooling effect. Hungrily, she tracked the water running in small streams down his chest. She fixated on the water as it slipped over his washboard abs and into his waistband, soaking it.

“Whoa, you’re beautiful… you really are,” said Terry. She was unsure her voice carried the full conviction she felt.

“Thank you. But, sitting there all pretty wearing my favorite jeans and top, I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, well… I only got three pair of jeans.”

“And you know those fit you the best.”

“Umm, I came here mostly for clan purposes.”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll need more dried fish for winter.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe you guys might want to travel tomorrow down to Lower Turkeyfoot and see if you still got the knack to catch fish.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You need to be out with just the guys for two or three days, don’t you think?”

“The wedding is in nine days, T. We got all this planning to do.”

“Yeah, I know, and you’ve been real good helpin’ me out and all that—”

“I hear a but …”

“But, it’s not your most comfortable mode of operation, you know, hanging around with all us women and making decisions that you don’t really care about.”

“Now, hold on.”

“No, no, don’t get me wrong, you’ve been wonderful. You’ve been a complete peach through all this… but—”

“But, what?”

“You need your man time. You need to be out and about.”

“And, pray tell, why do you say this now?”

“Because it’s true.”

Andy stared at her and smiled. “And?”

“Because, I’ve drastically disrupted your routine and style.”

“You see me complain’?”

“Oh, no. And, I don’t think you ever would. But, I want to keep my new, future husband very happy. And I say, happiness now for Andy MacMillen is getting out there to do some fishing in Lower Turkeyfoot. Happiness is that same man bringing us back some food stock for the clan.”

“I see.”

“As clan leader, I’m sayin’ you need to take as many men as you feel adequate for the job, along with enough ale and whiskey for all of you to manage comfortably through the next few days. Although, you’ll hafta find most of your own food. Via fish, I imagine.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

Andy walked toward the bench, bending down, as if to gently kiss. Swiftly he snatched Terry up off her feet into a full-bodied hug, sliding his wet face and hair into the crux of her neck.

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