Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

Knowing her men and the probable reason for the continued absence of chatter, Colonel Starkes keyed the intercom. “Men, you will get your chance! I guarantee it.”

The men nodded. GT and Scott spoke for them all. “Yes, ma’am,” said Scott.

“We know, ma’am,” said GT, “It’s just that we are getting a bit tired of waiting.”

Major O’Malley interjected, “Approaching the eight mile mark, ma’am, they made us. They’re slowing and turning.”

“Keep sharp, Professor.”

“Ma’am.”

“Wow!”

“Major?”

“I count 120 or so riders.”

The colonel turned and faced front. She peered through the window. “That’s at least half Phoenix’s cavalry. Now we know why we came up so short on our count at McDonald’s.”

“Professor?” Scott’s elevated voice expressed some concern on the intercom, interrupting the conversation.

“I know, Scotty,” said Shamus.

“Know what? That they’re probably carrying at least two RPGs in the bunch?” suggested the colonel.

“Ah, yeah, yes, ma’am.”

“It’d be inexcusable if they didn’t, Professor. But thanks for the heads up, Scott.”

“No problem, ma’am. Just saying’.”

Across the bay, GT raised his eyebrow toward Scott, who was smiling, as if to say that he’d clearly not given the colonel enough credit in her tactical assessment.

“Loop around, Professor,” said the major, “come at ’em from the other side. Come straight up the road lining up on the biggest cluster concentration of those horses.”

“Understood, major.”

“Maintain at least 1500 meters separation. I want to make sure we’re outta range of those RPGs.”

“Same here, sir.”

The colonel turned in her seat to face the cabin. “Scott, GT, all of you, start searching for rear and advance teams hiding and providing cover as the main force advances.”

“Good idea, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes turned to stare at Scott. She did not appear happy. “Well, I’m glad that meets with your approval, captain.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Spoke outloud, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

GT busted into a laugh, before he muted his headset. Shamus laughed outright, before cutting it short. Scott had the grace to blush, ignoring the harsh stare.

“They’re using an advance team. They’ve sent twenty men about one hundred yards ahead of the main force for reconnaissance,” said Major O’Malley.

“Agreed, major.” Colonel Starkes held the binoculars tight, scanning the riders, who were now tracking their approach. Each crewmember studied the scene below, looking for the RPGs. Those devices had the potential to do serious damage to the Superhawk.

“See anything, major? Professor?”

“No ma’am,” said the major.

“Negative, ma’am.

“Search for empty saddles. Track the men nearby hiding on the ground. They got the RPGs,” said Scott.

“Excellent advice,” said Starkes, “Everyone, look for any man hiding on the ground near his horse.”

“I got one!” said Ren, “Shoulder tube spinning toward us! Man on the ground.”

“Good catch.”

“There’s another. With the advance party. Left side of the road.”

“Range professor?”

“2000 meters to the advance team.”

“Hold up. Take stationary position. Remain out of range.”

“Roger that.”

Colonel Starkes turned to Scott, smiling. “Find me another pretty lady, Scott.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Guide it in real nice for me.”

“Will do.”

“Major, do you concur in the use one of the remaining two ladies to slow that charge toward our men?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Scott, take your best shot.”

“Understood. Readying Hellfire. Professor, line me up… twenty degrees left… slower… drop horizontal five degrees… there… there. Hold. Got the visual… firing.”

The Hellfire roared from the side of the Superhawk in a burst of intense flame. Men below, 2000 meters away caught the launch and scattered, jumping off horses, diving behind cars, and running over an embankment. In seconds, the missile was upon them, taking one rider in the chest before the explosion lit up into a fireball. Inching the helicopter a few hundred meters closer, the devastation point seen below was enormous.

“Give me a live count, major.”

“Working on it…”

“Nice launch, Scott.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Scott stowed the laser guidance system within its protective sheath.

Nicole stared out the window, horrified at the destruction of so many beautiful horses and the men upon them. Mildly shaking, tears formed and she kept her head held in her hands.

Colonel Starkes placed a gentle, reassuring hand to her shoulder. “Sorry, Nicole. I know you’re just along for the ride… but it had to be done.”

“I know,” said Nicole, head still in her hands.

“Ma’am, I’d say we got a soft count of forty men down, about a third.”

“Excellent, that outta slow them up a bit.”

“Indeed,” said Shamus.

“Don’t stop. Kill ’em all, colonel,” said Amanda, furiously.

Colonel Starkes, Scott, GT and the rest of the cabin stared at her ferocity. Calmly, the colonel unfastened her seat harness and moved to face Amanda. “I feel your fury, Amanda. I do. But we’ll get them all back. And, we’ll do it my way. We now have an expanded window to find our team.”

“But—”

“But nothing! Sitting here taking more pot shots at those riders risks CJ, Nicole, you, my men, and this bird at unacceptable levels. Do you understand me?”

Amanda faced Colonel Starkes with a desperate bloodlust that slowly settled into a softer expression of understanding. Grudgingly, she nodded.

The colonel placed a hand on her shoulder. “Keep your eyes on that window and find our men as we go, Amanda. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Shamus made a half-circle swing around the devastation before pulling away, heading south.

“Mister, that’s far enough!” said the gate guard. All four guards were pointing their weapons at John McLeod.

McLeod stopped forty yards from the massive doors. The gates were more formidable up close. Holding a long stick in his left hand with a white t-shirt tied at the end, he kept calm. His right hand casually held the reins of his horse. He remained confident despite the aggressive posture of the guards. He glanced at the fast-rising sun, estimating the time at around nine-thirty. He quashed his faint feeling of hunger and stayed focused, slipping into what he referred to as his “negotiating mode”.

“Turn around and leave, mister. If you leave now, you’ll live.”

“I have information to trade that’s very critical to your town. My men and I would simply like to pass straight through in exchange for this knowledge.” He tired of shouting to be heard and nudged his horse gently with his heels.

“Stop right there, mister!”

McLeod stopped again, waiting patiently. Under prior cover of night, Connor and both advance teams were hiding no more than thirty-five yards behind him. He glanced behind him, knowing where they were hidden at the edge of the cleared killing field, but was again impressed that he did not see them. Marty had remained hidden in the copse of trees further back. John was receiving updates through an ear bud connected to the radio in his inside jacket pocket.

“Snipers inside are now aware of your presence, John, but you’re too close to the gates for them to see. There’s no danger from them until you’re inside. Hang on… there’s a man running with two women from a building in the center of town.” This feed was coming from Marty who had the only position capable of seeing inside the walled community.