Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Mark… ah… Mark, I’m not sure how you knew, but… well, it was perfect,” said Kevin.

“That’s all I hoped for, guys—that you selected a shotgun you wanted,” said Mark. He glanced toward his security detail. Jake was intensely speaking into Pete’s ear. Pete heard what he had to say and left without a word. Throughout that exchange, Jake never lost eye contact with Mark.

“General, we have a report from Commander Bastin.”

“Take it easy, Jake,” said the general, trying to calm the growing concern in Jake’s voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You know that helicopter that was spotted in Masontown earlier today?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Commander Bastin’s men went to locate it.”

“Yeah, Jake, I know.”

“They found ’em.”

“Was it a two-seater?”

“Nope.” The men around the table silently stared at Mark and Jake, transfixed by their conversation.

Mark brought them up to speed. “The toll gate spotted a helicopter earlier today. I made the assumption that it was a two-seater someone got up and running, but apparently that’s not the case. It wasn’t a small bird.”

Jake listened intently to his radio and, based on what he heard, handed the device to Mark. Mark increased the volume so that everyone was able to hear. He spoke into the radio. “This is Harmon. Over.”

“Commander Bastin here, sir. We have a priority one situation with radio relays in place. It’s a rush basis, sir. Over.”

“What’s your news, commander? Over.”

“Sir, Major McLoy and his scouting team’s located the ’copter. They’ve reported in just now. Stand by. Over.”

The men around the table began to talk with one another, but Andy hushed them quickly enough to hear Commander Bastin’s voice on the radio. “Major McLoy’s confirmed the helicopter is that of the President of the United States, sir. A Colonel Hannah Starkes claims to be the president. A very well trained protective detail and a couple civilian women accompany her. Over.”

Mark Harmon was staring at the radio as if he didn’t believe its existence. “Commander, I want you to repeat what you said. Be very clear. Over.”

“Yes, sir. The existence of the helicopter is confirmed. Call sign designation is Marine One. They were in Masontown for the purposes of refueling. Colonel Hannah Starkes claims to be President of the United States. She’s in Masontown with a highly trained group of men—her protective detail—and two civilian women and one very small child accompany her. The president has just finished briefing Major McLoy on their mission plan. Over.”

“Commander, what makes you think that her credentials are bona fide? Over.”

“Sir, Major McLoy has confirmed her designation as Commander-in-Chief. He believes her to be the real deal. Over.”

“Wow,” said Mark, absorbing the news and not bothering to speak into the radio. There was excitement in his eyes and his mind was moving a mile a minute. He was evaluating possibilities.

“Sir? Do you have any orders or instructions? Over,” asked Commander Bastin

After an additional pause, Mark spoke into the radio. “What did she say was her mission, commander? Over.”

“They’re searching for a specific individual, sir. She suggested that we might be of assistance. Over.”

“How can we help? Do you know who they’re looking for? Over.”

“I understand that you’re holding a pre-hunt dinner with members of the MacMillen clan—is that right, sir? Over.”

“Yes, commander, that’s right. But it’s not as important as offering our assistance. This dinner can be postponed. Over.”

“Yes, sir, of course. Sir? Is Andy or Ryan MacMillen with you now? Over.”

“Yes, commander, both of them are here and they’re listening to our conversation. Over.”

“Sir, those two need to come over to the garrison ASAP. Over.”

“Why’s that, commander? Over.” The entire table stared at Mark Harmon waiting for the answer to his question.

A joyful laughter surfaced. Ryan MacMillen stood and walked around the table, continuing his laughter. Andy studied his brother, thinking hard and trying to figure out what Ryan had already concluded.

Mark didn’t know why Ryan was laughing either, but was determined to find out. “Commander,” he said into the radio, “I asked why the MacMillens need to go to the garrison. Over.”

“Yes, sir,” came the response. “General, they’re looking for Connor MacMillen. Over.”

“Did you say they’re looking for Mac? Our Connor Mac? Over.” He stared at the men around the table, conveying his disbelief. Despite his shock, he felt a hopeful surge of emotion. His friend was still alive after all these years. He listened intently to the radio.

“Yes, sir, that’s correct. They think Connor Mac might be around here somewhere, heading home. They’re trying to track him down since he passed through Cleveland. Over.”

“Cleveland?” interrupted Harmon. “What the hell was he doing in Cleveland? Over.”

“I don’t know yet, sir, but they’ve known of his general whereabouts for awhile and they know he’s come across the country from San Francisco. Over.”

“Wow,” said Mark, “ He was in Australia five damn years ago. Over.”

“I know, sir. Over.”

JR and Cam stood. “We’re so going with you, Andy,” said JR—he wasn’t asking permission, he was stating a fact. The rest of the men also stood, nodding their heads in agreement.

“Yep,” said Toby, “we’re coming along.”

Andy stared at nothing, shocked. Ryan walked up to him and grabbed his arm. “How about that, brother? Mac’s here!” he said. He turned to face Mark Harmon. “Mark, tell the commander we’ll be there ASAP.”

Mark relayed the information. “Commander, we should be there in less than ten minutes. Over.” He set the radio on the table and waited for a response.

The men at the table were in the process of checking their weapons when the radio crackled. “Understood, sir,” said the commander. “You’ll be here in ten. Sir, Major McLoy confirms there’s a huge army on the way. They’re not friendly, sir. Repeat, not friendly. Credible reports of around two hundred well-armed men—some on horses, some in pickup trucks—coming our way. Over.”

Mark knew his life and lives of the people at Nemacolin were shifting to a new plane, a new reality. The shift was happening quickly and the prospect excited him as he visualized potential battle plans. “Copy, commander. I’ll issue a full alert to all our people. Alert your people, commander—we are under full battle conditions. Over.”

“Copy, sir. I have some details, sir, if you’d like to hear them. Over.”

“Go on, commander. Over.”

“There are at least a 500 men, sir. At least 200 are mounted on warhorses. The others are in about fifty-six pickup trucks, four-wheelers, dirt bikes or foot soldiers. Two or three pickup trucks are mounted with fifty caliber guns mounted in the beds. Over.”

“Is there any idea of their intentions? Any idea why they’re coming here? Over.”

“Sir, it appears they’re coming after Connor Mac and the team he’s with. The major says he pissed ’em off in Cleveland. I guess Connor Mac prevented the leader of this group—his name’s Phoenix Justice—from kidnapping the president and stealing Marine One. Over.”

Mark stared at the radio, dumbfounded. His entire world was shifting quickly. An army that size was formidable—infinitely formidable in today’s world. He began to visualize this invading army, well equipped and coming their way. He began to compare what he visualized to his own existing army and weapons. “Commander, what’s the time frame here? How long before they’re at your gates? Over.”