Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

The group of men were no more than fifteen feet from the lone man and GT quickly walked over to collect Del Re’s gun.

“Enough of the reunion, commander. Is there anyone else we need to worry about?” asked Major O’Malley.

“No, it’s just me.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Can I approach?” he asked.

“Yes,” agreed the major. “Very slowly.”

Del Re approached slowly, walking straight toward Major O’Malley. When he was within a few feet, he stopped and held out his hand. The major ignored it and Del Re lowered his hand slowly. “Are you with Connor Mac?” he asked the major.

Major O’Malley ignored the question. “Search him, Scott.”

“I can vouch for him, major,” said Keenan.

“Fair enough,” said Major O’Malley. He held out his hand and Italo Del Re grasped it enthusiastically. “Commander, I’m Major Michael O’Malley, United States Army. It’s good to meet you, sir.”

“It’s good to meet you, major.”

“GT, please return the commander’s weapon.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, checking the safety and handing the weapon to Del Re, grip first.

“Commander, I need to update my commanding officer—she’s in the helicopter. I would appreciate if you could quickly inform me of what has occurred in your town.”

“Whatta ya need to know, major?”

“Where are your people? Are they dead?”

“No, major, let me bring you up to speed,” he said. “My people are hiding out in a cave a little less than a mile from here. Connor Mac made it clear we couldn’t defend ourselves against the army that was coming. A guy named Phoenix and his men were chasing Connor Mac and his men. He convinced me to clear out with everything we could—we only had a couple hours.”

“You’ve spoken with Colonel MacMillen! Your people are safe?” asked the major.

“Yeah, they’re safe—a little cramped maybe, but safe. And you’re with Connor Mac, right? He told me about you guys. Is President Starkes in the helicopter?”

The major relaxed substantially. “Commander, are you sure there’s no one around here who’s gonna take a shot at us?”

“There’s nobody out here, major. At least not anyone from my town. I know it was a risk coming out here, but I heard the rotors of the ’copter and I knew it was you.”

“Hang on a second, commander. I gotta radio the bird.” Major O’Malley lifted the radio. “This is O’Malley. Over.”

“We read you loud and clear, major. Over.”

“We have a Commander Del Re with us, colonel—he and his people are friendlies. Over.”

“Is it safe to land, major? Over.”

“Affirmative, colonel. There’s no threat detected. I have news.”

The Superhawk settled gently in a field about fifty yards from the gates. It disgorged its occupants with Colonel Starkes in the lead and a perimeter was quickly established. The colonel nodded approval as Shamus and two others stayed with the aircraft, each eyeing the empty field with distrust. On the ground, Lieutenant Daniels began a slow circuit of the helicopter, searching for any sign of a threat and Lieutenant Tim McDonald stayed on station at the bay doors, seeking sniper-ready targets. His focus was primarily aimed at the city itself in case there were hostiles yet unseen. Amanda stood next to him, hoping for a chance to be more involved. As the distance grew in her slow trot away from the helicopter, Colonel Starkes turned and caught the hungry way Amanda waited in the bay, gun ready.

“Dammit!” mumbled the colonel. “I guess if Connor Mac can send her in harm’s way, she must be something more than a pretty face.”

With a point and a wave, the colonel motioned for Amanda to join up. Wasting no time, Amanda jumped down, the Remington comfortable in her hand.

“About damn time,” she said under her breath. Excited, Amanda’s health increased with each jolt of adrenaline.

“We did some damage to that fucker’s army, colonel,” said Mickey. He was speaking of the chaos Connor’s group had created within the ranks of Phoenix Justice’s men. Connor recognized Mickey was trumpeting the positives of the destruction they had wreaked to avoid his mounting anger over the serious wounds Burroughs had sustained during the fighting.

They had reached the RV minutes before. Mickey had carried Burroughs’ unconscious body to the back of the vehicle and had deposited him on a sofa bed where Rhonda began to cut away the wounded man’s shirt.

“You guys did a good job, Top,” said Captain Daubney, unwilling to trust his voice to say anything else.

“You stopped most of the bleeding, Mickey,” said Rhonda. She was worried that Burroughs looked exceptionally pale. She suspected he was bleeding internally, probably into his lung.

“It went straight through him, ma’am,” said Mickey.

“I see, Mickey,” she said, tearing the shirt away from Burroughs and inspecting the entrance and exit wounds. Rhonda had had four years of training as a nurse before she had decided to follow an occupational path in the corporate world. “Mickey, go get Rice,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.” He left, but was back in a few moments, Sergeant Rice at his heels.

“You’re a medic, right?” Rhonda asked Rice.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is an excellent field dressing.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Rhonda waved him to the back corner of the RV, out of earshot of the others. “What’s your survival assessment?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am. He got hit high up—I would guess a lung shot, right upper lobe. There’s not much we can do. He’ll bleed out into his lungs unless we can perform some kinda surgery to aspirate and close up his internal wounds.”

“How long can he hold out, Rhonda?” asked Captain Daubney.

“I’m not sure. Let’s just keep him comfortable.”

“How long?” asked Connor icily.

“Mac, just let me help this man, would you? Rice, do you have any more codeine?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Give him one—it should make him more comfortable.”

Rice delved into his bag for the medicine. Burroughs hadn’t regained consciousness. His head lolled on the dusty mattress and his shallow breathing had an unpleasant and portentous rasp. A small amount of blood had seeped from his mouth. Everyone but Rice and Connor had moved outside the RV.

“He’s not gonna make it, Mac,” whispered Rhonda with tears in her eyes. “His lungs are filling with blood. The best we can do is take away his pain.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, unfortunately. We don’t have the trauma equipment and if we did, his survival would still be iffy. I’m so sorry, Mac,” she said, wiping at a running tear.

Connor touched her arm. “Rhonda, thank you for trying. I’ll tell the men.”

He exited the RV, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Listen up, guys. Burroughs took a lung shot and he’s bleedin’ out. He’s not gonna make it. Rhonda’s in there making him as comfortable as possible.”

Edgars unleashed a single sob, the truncated sound exposing his level of grief.

“I swear I’m gonna find the fucker who shot him if it’s the last thing I do,” said Mickey through gritted teeth.

“Not if I find him first,” said Edgars matter-of-factly.

“I’m more interested in making the whole army pay,” said Connor.

“What’s the plan, colonel?” asked Captain Daubney. “We going after ’em now?”

“No, their army’s too large. I have no doubt we’d put a serious hurtin’ on ’em, but eventually they’d wear us down with their numbers.”

“Never happen!” yelled Mickey, forgetting military decorum for the moment.

“I hear ya, Top. I sympathize—I do. You’re better than twenty of those guys put together—each one of you is. But, they have too many men and too many weapons—we can’t handle them head on. We’ll continue south on Route 119 and then east on Route 40. We need to get up that mountain—we’ll secure reinforcements there and make a stand.”