Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“His take? Shit, bro, he’ll hug his wife and kids and then, I’ll hug him and then you’ll hug him and then he’ll probably hug Mark.”

“True, it’s the point after that I’m considering.”

“Hah! You think bringing Liam and Shannon over here is the right thing? Bringing over T, her, I can understand—”

“She won’t come, without them anyway. So tell her to bring them. Make it clear.”

“’Okay. You do know you’re going to get seriously fucked up no matter what you do, right?”

“We’ll see.”

Ryan held his hand to his chin, thinking. He turned more serious. “Bro, I’ll try to help you out.”

Andy laughed at his attempt. “Nah, you just want to see me get my ass kicked.”

“You could take him… you’ve had some advanced training since the last time.” Ryan’s voice held no conviction, though he tried.

“Yeah, for a few minutes. Maybe more than I did when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, that was true drama, bro. At least—”

“Talk to Cam and JR. Have them go right now.”

“Right.” Ryan returned to Cam and JR. “I want you two to run like hell back to our place and bring Terry, Liam and Shannon back here to the hotel. They need to be here for this.”

“C’mon, Ry,” said Cameron, “I’m going with you guys!”

“I know you want to, Cam, but someone has to alert the rest of them to prepare for a full assault. Tell ’em Andy has initiated H-4 Protocol. Immediately.”

“H-4. For sure?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan, “I trust you two to do it. The clan needs to move now and Andy wants T. She won’t come without her kids. So, I want you to bring Terry, Liam and Shannon back with you after the hunker down plans are in place—you got it?”

“Yeah,” answered Cameron, not happy about the prospect of leaving, but knowing that a clan update would be required.

“Here’s the thing, Cam. This goes for you too, JR. You guys have to keep the fact that Mac might still be alive completely to yourself. You can’t tell anyone. That’s news that, right now, I think only Andy should deliver. Understand?”

“Yeah, Ry, I do.”

“JR? You on board?” asked Ryan.

“Yeah, I understand.”

“When you guys are finished, we’ll need you back at the garrison ASAP. By then, I’m sure we’ll be needing ya.”

“Okay, everybody, gather around,” said Colonel Starkes. The men circled the desk that held the map of Southwestern Pennsylvania. Amanda and Nicole kept to the back of the crowd with CJ resting on a chair in his makeshift carrier. The map showed an area from the western border of the state all the way to Somerset County, about one hundred miles directly east of Pittsburgh.

Starkes waved her index finger between Pittsburgh and Perryopolis, a town situated southeast of the larger city, along Route 51. “We’re looking for a particular guy who might be around here somewhere.”

“What he do, ma’am?” asked Captain Dawson.

“We need to speak with him about a matter concerning national security, captain.”

“Yes, ma’am—I’d like to know why,” he pushed. Nervous, Captain Dawson wanted to know for whom he was risking his life despite the fact he was addressing the President of the United States. Major McLoy nodded in agreement.

“You guys will find out once we have all the pieces. In the meantime, what do you know of Perryopolis?”

“It’s a secure town, ma’am,” answered Major McLoy. “It’s run by Commander Del Re—he’s a good man. He’s ex-military. Marines. Anyway, we’re on good terms with the town—we trade for their homemade brew.”

“Okay, good. How smart is this Commander Del Re?”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but what the hell’s that got to do with anything?” asked Captain Dawson. His irritation with the president had quite overtaken his trepidation. Major McLoy willingly permitted the latitude of his question.

Hannah Starkes was saved the inconvenience of dealing with Dawson’s growing anger when a young lieutenant pushed through the circle of men. “I can tell you anything you need to know about Commander Del Re and the town of Perryopolis, ma’am,” he said. His ruggedly beautiful face wore a look of amused confidence and his tall, slim build fit his uniform nicely. When he smiled, he gave off an energy that piqued the colonel’s interest. He had a broad and sincere smile beneath soulful brown eyes that failed to hide the desire he felt for the leader of the free world—or maybe that’s what Hannah Starkes hoped the young man was feeling.

“And… and who are you, soldier?” she asked sternly, trying to rein in her galloping emotions.

“Ma’am, this is Lieutenant Chris Wahlberg,” interrupted Major McLoy. “He spent several months in Perryopolis before he ended up here.”

“Why’d you leave, lieutenant?” asked the colonel.

“It was a bit too slow for my taste, ma’am,” he answered. His dark eyes were bright with intelligence as he ran his strong fingers through his full wavy brown hair.

Hannah felt as if his eyes were peering deep into her soul and that he felt amused and enticed by what he found there. Her blush deepened when she considered his strong hands and how his soft and gentle fingers would feel against her flesh.

She shook her head sharply to help focus her mind on the task at hand. “Rather impressive,” she said to nobody in particular. She focused upon Keenan, not yet trusting herself to look again at the handsome and cocksure lieutenant. “Your lieutenant has some juice in the charisma department, major.” She didn’t hide from the fact that the young man had caught her off guard. She turned a bit further and caught the eyes of Major O’Malley, who was smiling at her quick recovery. He nodded at her, indicating he understood her momentary lapse.

Lieutenant Wahlberg had the gift of amazing good looks and Hannah Starkes risked falling under his spell again, but attempted to assess him more analytically and objectively. There was a slight hint of entitlement in his demeanor and she wondered how she had missed him and his good looks until now. He smiled broadly at her, as if reading her thoughts, and she nearly returned to her mesmerized state of mush.

Colonel Hannah Starkes, President of the United States and leader of the free world cleared her throat, reined in her emotions, and took control. First and foremost, she was a colonel in the United States Army and a leader of men. “Keenan.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I realize you’re not within my present chain of command. Despite this fact, would you permit me to render a personal opinion that might be considered out of bounds?”

“Umm… sure, colonel.”

“Would you permit me a bit of latitude with your men for a few moments?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Hannah Starkes addressed the young lieutenant standing before her. “Lieutenant, you are, by far, one of the handsomest men I have ever laid eyes on.” Lieutenant Wahlberg accepted this as his just due and smiled. She turned to Major McLoy. “Is it your assessment that your lieutenant has personal knowledge of Perryopolis and its people?”

“Yes, ma’am. He lived in Perryopolis for several months. Whenever we go there to trade, him and Commander Del Re greet each other as friends.”

“Excellent. Lieutenant, start talking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Wahlberg. “Perryopolis is a small town along Route 51. It’s about thirty miles south of Pittsburgh. There’s about two hundred people living there now—there used to be more than two thousand, but the Sickness took most of them. Some people, like me, moved away, but there were others who passed through there, liked what they saw, and decided to stay. The fields of wheat and corn produced by the town provide an abundance of good food. About a fourth of the population is ex-military. There’s about forty women in the town—almost all of ’em are of childbearing age, but no babies. The youngest kid is probably seven or eight years old.”