Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Sir?” asked Reggie Watson.

“Nothing, Reggie. I’m just figuring some shit out. Keep your eyes on each side of the overpass. Send a couple men to the east to see if they can catch anyone moving for new cover. Tell ’em to stay low—that fuckin’ sniper’s still out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Luke held the radio to his lips, but didn’t depress the talk button to explain himself to Phoenix yet. He studied the teams of men crossing the road—they were trying to sneak beyond the overpass to cut off any possible escape. Both were part of other units, not under his command, and while he recognized their ability as soldiers, he also recognized they couldn’t hold a candle to his own elite fighting men. These clowns were destined to get in his way.

“Luke to Phoenix. Over.”

“Yes,” came the immediate reply.

“Sir, I’d ask again that you have those other teams stay back in a position of support only. Over.” As he waited for a response, he saw another man from the intruding teams dropped from a sniper bullet. The commander of the team found cover and urged his men to do the same.

He studied the overpass again and considered the feasibility of the enemy hiding in the adjacent weeds. There hadn’t been any shots from the area of the overpass for some time, but Luke was uneasy about it. It was his team’s responsibility to investigate, but he wanted to do this without losing anyone else to sniper fire or to a possible trap.

“Sir. Phoenix, I think the overpass is set to blow. Over.”

Phoenix was resting in the cab of his pickup near the south gates of the town. When he heard Luke’s comment from the truck’s radio, he laughed and slapped Larry on the back. “I think Luke’s shittin’ his shorts, uncle. He’s too cautious.”

“I dunno, Phoenix. He has a point. Blowing the overpass would slow us down.”

“It won’t slow down the cavalry or anyone on foot. Only our trucks. It’ll be an end around—a ten minute delay at the most.”

“Sure. You’re right, but those ten minutes might be the difference between our success and failure.”

“Send everyone. Load ’em up and send ’em. Plain and simple. Keep the teams split to each side of the road. Have them converge a hundred yards beyond the overpass. Once they’re formed up, we’ll be in a position for full pursuit. There’s a cluster of eighteen-wheelers beyond the overpass—tell the men that’s our mustering point.”

“Yes, sir.” Larry Reed issued the orders to the commanders and the army began moving. The two units on each side of the overpass began to move in a direction beyond it.

Luke clipped the radio to his belt and studied the overpass. At the edge of his vision, he saw a group of the enemy breaking cover from a small ditch beyond the overpass. They were running at top speed towards the wooded area further south. He counted six men running. They were using abandoned vehicles and other debris as evacuation cover and had easily slipped behind the men advancing around the overpass. They were quickly beyond the eighteen-wheelers and lost from sight.

Luke settled comfortably into his firing position, preparing to shoot at the retreating men if they came into view again. He scoped the area slowly, focused intently on where he had last seen the fleeing men. There they were. There must be a swale in the field beyond the overpass and that’s why they had disappeared into thin air. Luke slowed his breathing. His position didn’t feel quite right—he slid forward six inches and reacquired his target. He aligned the crosshairs of his scope on the broad back of one of the enemy and laid his index finger on the trigger. A severe pain in his shoulder made him roll quickly behind the Grand Am. He knew he’d been shot before hearing the repercussion of the sniper’s rifle.

“Oww!” he yelled in pain. The round had struck his shoulder, passing through the meat of the left trapezius muscle. With his right hand, he inspected his wound, gauging the extent of the damage. A warm flow of blood seeped onto his back and into his armpit.

“Luke!” called Reggie softly from behind the car. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay! I’m hit in the shoulder. Scope the field between the overpass and the woods and see if you can spot anyone. Watch out for that sniper, but shoot those runnin’ bastards if you see ’em.”

Luke lifted the radio with his good arm. “Phoenix, they’re breaking cover beyond the overpass. Slipped right passed the men doing the end-around. We need to watch out for a timed explosion—maybe something on a fuse. Now would be the time. Over.”

“Understood, Luke. I’ve sent the two teams to converge a hundred yards beyond the overpass to avoid any explosion. That’s based on your recommendations. Over.”

Luke considered the recent departure of the men. His uneasiness continued. This particular foe was too devious. “Reggie, I’m gonna go search that overpass area. I’m gonna find out if it’s booby trapped.”

“You’ll be blown to pieces,” whispered Reggie.

“Maybe. But something don’t feel right, you know?”

“No.”

“Something’s not right and I’m gonna find out what it is. Wish me luck.”

“Well, okay, Luke… good luck.”

Without another word, Luke made a mad dash toward the overpass, expecting to be shot at any moment. After running in the open for ten seconds, he was sure the sniper was in the process of retreating. When he was beneath the overpass, he assessed the area for an immediate threat. He was sure he was alone and he began to study the underside of the span for structural integrity. He heard the army passing on either side of the overpass, following their orders to converge a hundred yards further south.

He discovered nothing under the bridge and climbed the hillside on the south side of the span. When he gained the roadway, he discovered a thin wire placed across the width of the road. He dropped back down under and swiftly inspected the abutment where he discovered five grenades, their pins connected cleverly to the thin wire across the roadway.

“Luke here,” he said into his radio. “The overpass is set to blow. There’s a trip wire rigged with five grenades. Repeat. The overpass is rigged with a trip wire connected to five grenades. Over.”

“I read you, Luke,” answered Phoenix. “Nice job. Can you disarm it? Over.” The vehicles had begun moving slowly toward the overpass. He was anxious to secure his prey, but he didn’t want to overplay his hand.

“Yeah, I can disarm it—it’ll take me a few minutes. Over.”

“Let me know when you’re clear. Over and out.” Phoenix turned to Larry who was driving. “Stop about fifty yards short of the overpass until we have the go ahead from Luke.” Larry nodded and eased slowly south on Route 51.

Beyond the overpass, Phoenix’s two teams had nearly hit their convergence mark.

“Phoenix, we’ve spotted a group of men ahead and they’re running hard for the woods,” said Kaiden over the radio. “Over.”

“Give me more info! Over.”

“There’s ten or twelve men about 200 yards ahead. Over.”

Luke heard this information over the radio and did a quick count. He knew there were at least six more men running much closer to them. He wondered how they had disappeared. “Kaiden? This is Luke. Where’s the team that just ran from the overpass? Over.”

“We didn’t see ’em, Luke. Over.”

“Shit,” said Luke, thinking furiously. He calculated the explosive power of the five grenades and realized they would’ve only done minimal damage. His anxiety increased. “Phoenix, do you copy? Over.”

“Go ahead, Luke. Are we clear? Over.”

“I think the grenades here were only a diversion. I think they’re settin’ us up for something else. Over.”