Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Copy that, John. We’re standing down and awaiting further instructions.”

“Mac?” asked Del Re.

“He’s my commander. I insisted he take a back seat on the introductions. I’m better at it than he is.”

Commander Del Re laughed again. “You’ve been the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time. Welcome to Perryopolis.”

“Thanks, commander,” he said, approaching Del Re with his hand extended. The two men shook, pleased to be beyond the awkward and tense beginning.

“C’mon in and we’ll find you something to eat. How many men do you have with you?”

John smiled but then grimaced at the inquiry. “Back to that, huh? Here’s where it gets a bit squirrely.”

“What?”

“It comes back to the same issue. Can I trust you? Do I simply bring everyone in? What if what you’re offering is a trap? There’s all kinds of strategic and tactical questions here.”

John waved at the skeletons hanging on pikes on each side of the road. Commander Del Re smiled.

“Each of them had it coming, trust me. But, I see what you mean. We need a way to build trust.”

“Exactly. I’m thinking you’re a person I can trust, but how can I be sure?”

“How do we build trust? I have just as much reason not to trust you,” said Del Re.

“True. Maybe you could have those two sniper nests inside stand down and bring ’em out onto the street for our team to see.”

“Your guys spotted them?”

“Yep. At least the two on this end. We’ve assumed two more on the south end. Nice job by the way.”

“Hmm, will you show four of your men in exchange?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s you and I walk closer to the gate so I don’t have to yell my orders.”

“That’s fine,” said McLeod. He spoke into the radio. “Proceeding toward the gate to confirm stand down position of the four snipers.”

“Copy that.”

They stopped fifteen feet from the gate. “That is one impressive gate,” said John.

“Yes, it’s done its job on a number of occasions.”

“The evidence of that is written all over this thing.”

Commander Del Re instructed one of the gate guards to have the four snipers stand down. He turned to McLeod. “Where you want ’em?”

“Outside the buildings they’re in would be fine.”

“Your men would have visual confirmation from that far up the highway?” he asked, pointing north along Route 51.

“Many of my men are closer than that. In fact, they may be close enough to hear your voice.”

“No way. I figured you were bullshitting me before about ten men being close.”

“Nope, it’s true, commander. Though it’s more like six or seven men. Most are Special Forces of some type or another.”

“I see. I got two people assigned to each gate besides the guards. Their job is to watch this road for anything out of the ordinary.”

“What’s the length of a single shift?”

“Eight hours.”

“That’s much too long,” said McLeod, “visual surveillance greater than two hours becomes less effective. After four hours, efficiency drops almost fifty per cent. Limited change in scenic view in a kill zone or limited engagement activity over less than week’s time helps efficiency plummet another ten per cent.”

“Now, how would you know that kinda shit?”

“I teach things. At least, I did before the Sickness. I’m a psychologist. My specialty was in the psychology of war.”

“No shit?”

“Yes, as you so aptly put it, no shit.”

“Okay, I admit that you’ve piqued my curiosity. I spent some time in the Marines. I finished a civil engineering degree when I got out.”

“When we’re situated, we have some very important news to share, Commander Del Re.”

“Are you in a hurry, John? Running from someone?”

“You could say that.”

“Is that part of the information you’re planning on sharing?”

“Part of it, yes.”

“Bad guys?

“I’ll be glad to provide you with all the intelligence we have once we’ve agreed to the terms.”

“Alright, John. What do you have to trade? Any hard stuff—bullets, gold, silver, medicine… tobacco?”

“Sure, we got a lot of stuff to trade. But this information itself is invaluable. We can hammer out what we want in exchange for it while we move through your town.”

“How can I know if the info’s worth squat?”

“I think you’ll thank us for it.”

“So you say.”

“I’m reasonably certain you’ll want this news. I might also add that we’re on a mission as representatives of the President of the United States.”

“No shit?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Wow… this day gets more and more interesting.”

“I’m not sure you know the half of it, Commander Del Re. In fact, I’m not sure you know a third of it.”

“Then we should finish this and you can bring me up to speed.” Del Re studied the man, assessing his character. “Are you for real, McLeod?”

“We’re for real, commander. What about you?”

“Yeah, I’m for real… but I don’t take kindly to strangers trying to take our shit.”

“And you shouldn’t take kindly to that. Anyone who tries to take your shit should be shot first and asked questions later.”

“I hear ya.”

“You wanna hold some of those Special Forces men back in case I’m trying to pull the wool over your eyes?”

“Not thinkin’ so. But, I think if we come in with our weapons neutral and you line up as many men as you want, weapons neutral, we can make this work. My commander can make the call when we’ll tuck ’em away.”

“You want a head count of my men?”

“I’m thinkin’ no. You and I’ll merely make some radical assumptions here and assume we’re each on solid ground.”

“Hmm, a bit careless on both our parts.”

“True.”

“Rather bold.”

“Again, true, commander.”

“I like it. You and I walk side-by-side. You got a weapon?”

“I do.”

“On you?”

“No, didn’t think it was appropriate for introductions into a tough town.”

“Care to go grab it?”

“I’ll take the risk that my men will take care of me.”

“Some faith, major.”

“No faith, commander. A proven track record through some hairy… shit as you might say.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Well, I heard the events of the last few minutes were certainly exciting, uncle.”

“Uh, yeah…” Larry Reed studied the gleam in Phoenix’s eyes as he stood outside the McDonald’s watching the helicopter take a wide turn around their encampment. After the turn, the helicopter headed south.

“Rather impromptu as well, don’t you think?” Phoenix clamped down tight on his unlit cigar, but relaxed his jaw. He was calm, cool and very calculating. Perhaps with a touch of his trademark fury.

“I agree,” said Larry.

“At least the RPGs kept the Bitch from taking us out in our sleep.”

“Yeah, but we missed ’em clean, Phoenix. A failure on my part. I shoulda prepped the men better. Stewart should’ve waited another minute for his shot. Billy never even got off his shot.”

“From what I’m told, that pilot did some serious juke and jive. Shamus was his name, right? Fucker ducked and rolled like he’d done this kinda dirt-devil dive before. In fact, it was probably a good thing not to let that bastard fly in close enough to fire off one of those Hellfires,” said Phoenix.

“Huh, yeah.”

“They’re going to probably cross paths with our cavalry running out there now. We getting anything from ’em?”

“Been outta range for awhile.”