Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Yeah. John told me nineteen men, one woman, and three kids.”

“Okay. And how many do you have, Del?” asked Connor.

“I got 180 people. There’s a dozen kids under the age of twelve, and the rest are split up about two thirds men and one third women.”

“Got it,” said Connor. He clicked on his radio. “Burroughs, do you read?”

“Yes sir, I copy.”

“Bring the team down, lieutenant. When you get here, BB will fill you in on what we’re doing.”

“I copy, sir.”

“Surf Boy,” continued Connor, “do you read?”

“Copy that, Mac. Over.”

“I need for you to maintain position until BB calls you in. Over.”

“Understood, Mac. I am to wait for BB’s go ahead.”

Connor turned to BB who stood ready.

“BB I need you to bring the team up to speed. You stay here. When everyone’s at the gates, I want you to call Marty in and you two will be the last ones through. Remind everyone that we’re guests of Commander Del Re. All riders are to walk their horses, weapons neutral. And ask Rhonda and Roger to keep the kids in line.”

“Yes, sir, Mac.”

Connor turned north and studied his unit appearing at the crest of the hill. They slowly made their way toward the gates, all of them with weapons held in a non-threatening way. He saw the small figures of Cody, Renaldo, and Gabriella racing around the horses and generally displaying twice as much energy as the adults.

“Del,” he said, turning to the commander, “Why don’t we get started. Is there a place we can talk?”

“Sure, Mac,” answered Del Re. He turned to a young man standing at the entrance to the town. “Jay, go tell Big Mama we got guests—thirty of ’em just to be safe on the head count for food. I want her to lay out a spread for ’em as fast as they can ’cause they can’t stay long. Have Jonas break out a fresh barrel of ale.”

“Yes, sir!” Jay answered, and ran swiftly down the main drag of the town. He stopped at what appeared to be a central building and Connor noticed that there were at least twenty people on the porch of the building curiously observing what was transpiring at the gate.

Del Re turned to face Connor and John McLeod. “The jewelry store is our command center. We can talk there without being interrupted.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, Del. I need to fill you in.”

“Okay. Josh!” Del called to the tower. “I’ll be at the command post for a while.”

“Right, commander.”

Walking silently down the street, they came to the jewelry store on the west side of the road. Its sign was faded a bit, but legible. Feinman’s Fine Jewelry it promised. “Please make yourself at home in there. I got a couple people I’d like to bring into this meeting if it’s okay with you.”

“Sure, Del, that’s fine,” said Connor.

Connor, John, and Captain Daubney entered the jewelry store while Del Re walked across the street briskly to the building that Jay had entered earlier. At Connor’s slight nod, Roger stayed outside the door to the store, mostly to ensure they were able to keep an alert eye of the town activity.

Connor, John, and Captain Daubney stood in the middle of the jewelry store. Every display case had been removed to make room for a large conference table that was surrounded by a group of mismatched chairs. There was a map lying on the table and Connor pulled it to him with a hand, studying the notations. It was obviously a map of the area, probably a county map, and it showed Route 51 running in a general north and south direction through the town of Perryopolis.

“Look at this, guys,” said Connor, pointing to a section of the map neatly crosshatched by hand to show a proposed area of wheat. Other map sections showed the existing locations of wheat, corn, tomatoes, and a field of greens.

“Wow, Mac,” said McLeod, “this guy’s got it together. This is the first time in my travels the last five years where I’ve seen the evidence of an agrarian society. At least, one on this large of a scale. There’s gotta be thousands of acres.”

“It’d be great if he could make it work, John,” said Connor, admiringly.

“Look at this, colonel,” said the captain, his finger on the southern part of the map. “It shows the town’s expansion—to the southwest and the southeast. They plan on pushing the southern wall back another four miles.”

“This guy’s got it together,” said Connor. “I gotta hand it to him.”

“Hand it to who?” asked Del Re, entering the room with two people in tow.

“Del, we were admiring your plans to expand this area.”

“Yeah, Mac, we keep taking on more people, so we have no choice. If we don’t address the issue now, we’ll have food shortages a year or two from now.” The commander had assumed an air of excitement while talking about his proposal—he was passionate about the project. “Excuse my poor manners, Mac,” he said. He turned to the two people he had brought along. “Colonel Connor MacMillen, this is Captain Matthew McBride. Everyone around here calls him Matty. He was on active duty in the Navy when the Sickness hit.”

“Colonel, it’s a pleasure,” said Matty, shaking Connor’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, captain,” said Connor.

“Mac, this is my wife, Christina,” said Del with pride. “She’s my best advisor—I’m reasonably certain that this town would’ve fallen on its face if not for Christina.”

“Colonel,” she said. “Welcome to Perryopolis. I hope you and your men enjoy our hospitality.”

“I’m sure we will, Mrs. Del Re. But we can’t stay long.”

“Oh, please call me Tina.”

“Okay, Tina, thank you. My friends call me Connor Mac.” The woman was slightly taller than her husband but not quite Connor’s height. She held Connor’s gaze while they shook hands and he saw that her eyes were a very dark green. “Tina? Matty? These guys with me are Major John McLeod and Captain Marcus Daubney.”

While they exchanged handshakes, Connor stood to the side, deep in thought.

“Mac?” prompted McLeod.

“I’m sorry, John,” said Connor, snapping his reverie. “I’m trying to re-orient to the real-time situation. You know—what to do here.”

“Whatta ya mean?” asked Del Re.

“Several things. Your offer to feed us is generous, Del, and much appreciated. I’d like to know what we can give you in exchange. It’ll be quite an expense to feed my team.”

“You’re our guests, Connor Mac. We’re not in the habit of charging our guests for a simple meal. All I ask for is the information you think is so important to us.”

“Del, we have the ability to pay—we’re not in the habit of representing the United States government by taking a free ride.”

“Tell me more, Mac. What’s the story about representing the government? And what’s this important information you have for us?”

“We’ll talk about that, Del. But first, tell me, what would you accept for feeding my men today?”

“Consider it a gift, Mac.”

Connor looked out the front door and spotted Rhonda talking with Roger. “Hold on a sec, Del,” he said. He walked out the front door and pulled her gently away from the large jewelry store windows.

“What’s up, Mac?”

“How many cigars you got left?”

“About a dozen, I think.”

“Could you part with them?”

“Sure, Mac. Let me get them.” She slipped her pack from her shoulder and sat it on the ground.

“Open your pack slowly, Rhonda. I don’t want anyone watching to think anything crazy is going on.”

“Okay. I understand. Good point,” said Rhonda. She opened her pack and removed the wooden box. She handed it to Connor.

“I’ll make it up to you, Rhonda.”