Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

Phoenix tossed the flaming match out the window and drew deeply on his freshly lit cigar. He grinned at Larry Reed. “Whatta ya think, Larry?”

“I think I’d listen to the man, Phoenix.”

“Yeah, I guess you would,” said Phoenix, offering his uncle a derogatory sneer. The blood scent of the enemy filled his nostrils and he grabbed his radio. “Disarm the grenades, Luke, and let me know the minute you’re done. The trucks will be passing through there in a few minutes. Over.”

“Understood, sir, I’ll disarm them. But we need to be careful tracking these guys. I have a funny feeling about this. If this overpass is a decoy, there’s a bigger problem ahead we’ll need to deal with. Over.”

“Just disarm the fucking grenades and let me worry about the strategy, Luke! Over.”

“Yes, sir, working on it. I saw a half dozen guys running away in the wheat field beyond the overpass. They’ve disappeared. The sniper’s unaccounted for. Over.”

“Luke, they got nothin’ left—they’re buggin’ out ’cause they can’t stop my army. Thanks for the advice, but just let me know when you’re done disarming those grenades. Over and out.”

Phoenix tossed the radio on the seat of the pickup and confidently waved the remainder of his army forward. He used his binoculars to study the convergence of his men beyond the overpass and spotted Kaiden arguing with several other officers about fifty yards before the bunch of eighteen-wheelers. Their discussion was heated and he saw Kaiden raise his radio and heard the squelch of his own.

“Phoenix, this is Kaiden. Over.”

“Go ahead Kaiden,” he said into the radio without losing sight of him through his binoculars.

“I recommend we send twenty-five men on point from here on. We’re too congested right now—we need to fan out and cover a larger area. Over.”

“Don’t worry, Kaiden. We’re keeping a close eye on the skies—we don’t want to get caught in the bitch’s fire again. Over.”

“Yes, sir, I understand. But I’m more concerned with the team we’re chasing. Something don’t feel right—I agree with Luke. I don’t think we should bunch everyone up. It’s too big a target. Over.”

“Kaiden, those bastards are running scared—they’re running as fast as they can to get the hell away from here. They don’t have anything that can hurt us now. All we have to do is mop up. Over.”

“I understand, sir, but can we at least break off a brigade to run ahead of the main force? Over.”

“Oh, we’re gonna get them,” grumbled Phoenix. “We’re gonna get them soon, you can count on it.” He had neglected to speak into the radio. His anger rose and he lifted the radio to berate Kaiden, but caught the furrowed brow of his uncle. “What?” he asked defensively.

“I dunno, Phoenix.” Reed drove and studied the road, feeling connected to Kaiden and Luke, sensing somehow that Phoenix wasn’t seeing everything. He nursed a sense of unease.

“C’mon!” screamed Phoenix at his uncle. “You sound just like those—“

An immense explosion interrupted his tirade. He focused on the fireball that was once a group of eighteen-wheelers and saw body parts falling from the sky among a fierce bloom of crimson. He dropped his radio on the seat.

“Fuck me.”

“That outta slow them bastards down,” said Connor. His Spartan grin and intensity made it clear he’d seen this type of explosion once or twice before and appreciated the destructive power.

“What a waste of good horse.”

“It is that, John…”

Near a black RV being used as cover, Renaldo and Cody shared binoculars side by side, watching the calamity unfold a half-mile behind them. They stood next to Connor, John McLeod, Jason and Captain Daubney, ignoring the insistent demands of Gabriella to use the binoculars. Unobtrusively, they listened to the men talk.

“We gonna wait here for Marty and Mickey?”

“Nah, Top and Surf Boy are doing fine, I think. They’ll run cover while we head up the mountains. C’mon, we gotta move. John, talk with Rhonda and see who needs recovery time. Make sure those that do, ride for the next ten miles. I want a report on how Jackson’s doing, too, would ya?”

“Sure thing.” John turned to leave, but stopped. The radio in Connor’s hand crackled to life.

“Mac, Team Green. Do you copy?”

“Go Team Green.”

“We’re barely a quarter click out from the little surprise we left. Burroughs is down. Repeat, Burroughs took a hit high in the left lung. It bypassed the body armor. Not sure he’s going to make it, over.”

Connor swallowed deeply. His arm holding the radio dropped to his side. Beside him, Captain Daubney raised his hands to his head, issuing forth a fierce stream of profanity.

“Not Burroughs! Fuck!” said Daubney.

John quickly motioned for Jason to usher the children away and came to stand beside Connor, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Furious, Captain Daubney paced behind the RV with raw energy. As he passed, Connor grabbed his shoulders to slow him down, consoling. A few seconds slipped by before the radio was raised again.

“You have him, Top. Correct? Over.”

“Of course, sir! Over.”

“You bring Burroughs to the black RV at the top of the crest up ahead. Bring the entire team in for now. We’ll regroup. If need be, I’ll carry Burroughs from there. We have meds standing by. Over.”

“Understood, over.”

“Give me a sit-rep on the explosion, over.”

“Yes, sir. We had a solid vantage point. Estimate at least twenty or so horses and as many men down, probably dead. Unknown how many incapacitating injuries involved. Complete chaos. White trucks and men are coming up on it now. We’re heading up to your position. Surf Boy is laying back, radio silence, taking what he can. He thinks he has a bead on that Phoenix guy based on Daubney’s description. He wants a head shot if he can before he has to fall back. Over.”

“See you here ASAP. Over and out.”

“Cam? What the hell’s wrong?” asked Terry, studying the sweat dripping from his forehead. The man was having some difficulty catching his breath, but Terry MacMillen recognized the urgent look on his face.

“Nothin’, T,” he answered between deep breaths.

“Nothing? You’re sweating like a racehorse and so is JR. What the hell’s going on? You’re supposed to be with Andy and Ryan. Has something happened to them?” Her hand went to her mouth.

“No, they’re okay, T. We have to initiate the H-4 protocol immediately.”

“What?”

Cameron took a long gulp of water, swallowing half of it and spitting the other half out. “Andy wants you to begin the H-4 protocol. There’s an army coming up the mountain with around two hundred men. They’re using horses and trucks, dirt bikes and four-wheelers. They’re well armed and they’re coming fast, T.”

“Tell me you’re kidding, Cam.”

“No joke, T. We need to button down our place for a shit storm.”

“How do you know this?”

“General Harmon’s in contact with Commander Bastin at the Summit garrison. He talked to his scouts—to Major McLoy down in Masontown. I’ll fill you in on the way, T. You and Liam and Shannon need to come with us. Andy and Ryan said you won’t come to Nemacolin without the kids. C’mon, T, we need to go. Make sure everyone’s started on the H-4 protocol and let’s go.”

“This is for real?” she asked again. “This isn’t some elaborate test run Andy came up with to see how prepared we are? What makes you think I’d leave this place after calling for an H-4 protocol? Let alone take my children closer to the danger?”