Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Go!” said Mickey, “Go, colonel! Go, captain! We got this.”

The entire unit ran through the wreckage of cars and debris while Mickey and his team held back cover, defending their rear. The wave of the army in the distance rushing toward them was impressive.

“Jason get those kids and Ronnie on the horses once we’re fifty yards further out of range!”

“Yes, sir!”

“It’s gonna be a real situation if we don’t slow them down, Mac.”

“Tell me about it Surf Boy. Grab Jude. Take the eastern edge. BB, take the west with Roger. Keep everyone moving away up passed that underpass. Surf Boy, BB, I want you to take position there, if need be.”

“Copy that.”

“Yes, sir,” said BB.

“Captain?” asked Jackson, weapon ready. He was still in pain, but the adrenaline rushing through his body made him more mobile than most.

“Jackson, you’re with me. C’mon. Let’s set up a last little surprise a hundred yards after that underpass to slow that army down. Knowing these combat inexperienced pussies, they’ll think we’re gonna load up on the underpass and bring it down.”

“Hoorah,” said Jackson, understanding the plan.

“But, let’s give them a healthy surprise as if we did just that. Surf Boy, set some trip wires beneath that underpass with a few grenades, okay?”

“Copy that.”

“They’ll think that’s all we have left. Now, I know the remainder of the C-4 not much—”

“It’ll do, Mac. Just line me up besides,” suggested Captain Daubney, “Bastard’s hit Jackie.”

“Let’s take it to them, cap’n.”

“Yes, sir.” Captain Daubney was firing rounds at the army nearly a hundred yards away with an impressive accuracy. Connor considered the three enemy who tumbled off horses in quick succession.

“Some good shootin’, cap’n.”

“Just getting started, sir.”

Connor fired several rounds of his own into the mix. Not one shot missed. He was targeting the men working to move debris from the road. When opportunity presented itself, he took anyone near the white trucks.

Jackson fired at the white trucks trying to take out the tires. Not being able to kneel in his favored firing position, he used the cars for rifle support as they faded south on Route 51. Connor took in the target selection of his team and smiled. Each man was spontaneously filling a need and complimenting the others in their efforts to slow the advance team and massive army Phoenix had brought to bear.

“We move back fifty, now!”

They ignored the bullets striking metal around them.

“So, you’re part of Harmon’s Army, Keenan? Who’s he?”

“General Mark Harmon runs Nemacolin Woodlands Resort, colonel.”

“General? Self-made, I’m guessing. Nemacolin?”

“Yeah, it’s a decent-sized five-star mountain resort with everything you’d expect.”

“A five-star resort you say? Even now?”

“Oh, yeah. Hah, you don’t believe me, I can see. But, even now, General Harmon’s managed to keep that place suitable for the bigger players in the area, like you, Madam President.”

“It’s Hannah for now, Keenan.”

“Trust me, General Harmon will be excited that you’re real and here! Right, Evan?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hannah held out her hand. “Sorry, I know we were introduced before, but who are you?”

“Captain Evan Dawson, Madam President.” He tried his best not to be intimidated at meeting the President of the United States.

“Ma’am. He’s my second,” said Keenan, “He’s a man you’d want with you in a firefight, Hannah.”

“Captain, nice to meet you.”

“Madam President—”

“It’s Hannah, please. What are your thoughts on all this, captain?”

“A bit of a surprise, ma’am.”

“How so? Please speak freely.”

Captain Dawson looked to Keenan who nodded.

“General Harmon’s gonna be excited to see you, that’s for sure. He likes all the… pomp and circumstance —”

“He’s a good guy though, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Keenan, “He’s trying real hard to rebuild, you know? He’s a smart man and Commander Bastin’s loyal to him to a fault.”

“Commander Bastin?”

“My superior officer. Commander Grant A. Bastin. An excellent soldier as well. Spent time in the sandbox before the Sickness. Was awarded too many medals to count. I’d follow him anywhere.”

“I see. Good to know.”

“Commander was a major, Air Force before the Cuckoo Flu. We’re in charge of the mountain pass on this side.”

“Commander Bastin saw our bird today?”

“No, not directly, one of his young sons did. They were playing games on the gates.”

“Ah, I see. How strong and secure is that gate? You say it’s at the top of the mountain? Route 40? How many men?”

Major O’Malley strolled toward them, Nicole at his elbow, CJ in his arms. Amanda trailed behind with Scott and GT, following. The group was becoming too large as everyone sought to hear what was going on.

“Let’s move to the main office,” said Hannah Starkes.

With the meal finished, she motioned all to follow her into the large hangar office. Once inside, she took position near a desk that held her map. All gathered, waiting.

“Andy, Kevin… what’d ya think?” asked Mark Harmon. The general was sitting at the head of a rectangular dining table large enough to hold thirty people. Jake and Pete, his personal security team, sat at either side of him. Places were set for only fifteen, creating an excess of space for each guest. Mark’s question was a thin attempt to be casual about the gifts he had presented to the men of the MacMillen clan—his smile belied his cavalier attitude.

“What’d I think? Awesome, Mark! You’ve blown us all away with your generosity.”

The general’s smile widened and he stood to shake the hands of the thankful men, one by one. He basked warmly in their thanks and each man took his turn in offering his appreciation. “Gentlemen, please find a seat—Cecilia has prepared a small meal for us after which we’ll retire to the den for cigars and cognac.” There were several sounds of whispered excitement at this news—what the general offered was the epitome of opulence.

Andy approached the general. “Mark, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s my pleasure, Andy. You’re hunting pheasant with me tomorrow, right?”

“Sure—that’s the plan,” answered Andy. Kevin, Ryan, and Toby had found seats close to Andy and Mark and the rest settled in their chairs leaving four unnecessary place settings quickly cleared away by the wait staff.

When the men were seated, a small team of servers fanned out around the table and distributed platters loaded with Stromboli and breaded mushrooms.

“That smells wonderful!” said Ryan. He reached for a piece before the platter had touched the table.

“I love Stromboli,” said JR.

“Are those breaded mushrooms?” asked Toby.

“Yes, they are,” answered Harmon. “Eat up, gentlemen.”

The radio on Jake’s belt squelched and he stared at it, surprised by the interruption. He removed it from his belt with practiced ease as he stood smoothly and walked a few steps from the table, whispering a response into the device. Harmon’s eyes followed Jake’s action in mild annoyance, but his attention returned to his guests and he thought no more about the interruption.

“How’d you like the shotgun selections, Andy? Kevin? They told me I nailed it—did I?”

“Oh, all day long, you nailed it, Mark!” answered Andy.