Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

Major O’Malley and the two newcomers joined Del Re and Colonel Starkes. “Major, follow the advance team and take these men with you,” she ordered, indicating Josh and Russ. “Have them identify the command center and set a perimeter around it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes and Commander Del Re followed the men at a slower pace and the colonel caught the commander looking at her. “What’s wrong, commander?” she asked.

“I find it hard to believe that you gave Connor Mac control of half your men—but you’ve never met him. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Did Colonel MacMillen tell you that?” she asked.

“No, it was Captain Daubney who mentioned it.”

“I see.”

“But you authorized it, colonel?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But why?”

Hannah Starkes smiled, excited about the prospect of meeting Connor MacMillen. She was pleased with her decision to relinquish control of her men to him without benefit of meeting him directly. Her decision and Connor MacMillen’s ability to convince Del Re to hide had likely saved over two hundred lives. “His military record speaks volumes, commander. As I found out more about him, I discovered that he outranks me, not only in position, but also in service time. By all accounts, he’s my ranking commanding officer. We bring him in, he’d be president, not me.”

“But—“

“In addition, he’s a national asset, commander. He’s in a position to ask for—and get—whatever he wants.”

“Does he know that, colonel?”

“I’m sure the captain briefed him. I can’t think there’s any possible way he doesn’t know it.” She noticed Major O’Malley signaling “all-clear” and increased her pace.

They walked quickly to a dark blue building and one of the men held the door open for them. Inside was a long table. On the wall at one end of the table hung a chalkboard and there were at least a dozen chairs around the table, no three alike. Major O’Malley and Amanda stood inside the doors.

“Do you have any further orders, ma’am?” asked Amanda.

“Yes, I do. Scott and GT have fire suppression experience. They’ll go with Josh and Russ to assess any fire damage and determine a containment plan. I think it’s safe to bring back your people, commander. We might need their help.”

“What about me, ma’am?” asked Amanda.

“You? You can join us, Amanda. We have some news that you might find very interesting.”

Commander Del Re was surprised by the young woman’s name. “You’re Amanda?” he asked. “As in Connor Mac’s Amanda?”

Weak in her knees, Amanda’s throat constricted. She opened her mouth, but her ability to speak was impaired. She simply nodded.

“I see,” said the commander. “So, I guess you know a guy named Surf Boy?” He waited for her response, but was met again with Amanda’s stunned silence. “I can see that you must know him,” continued Del Re. “I can tell you, Amanda, that they were both very excited to find out you were very much alive and with the president.”

“Commander, I consider myself a colonel more than I do the president, especially when we’re in an attitude of armed conflict. But let’s forgo the titles for the time being—you can call me ‘colonel’ if you’re so inclined, but you can call me ‘Hannah’ if that suits you better. Either way, you need to tell me what you know.”

“Yes, of course, colonel. Give me a minute, please.” Without waiting for a response, Commander Del Re flipped over a corner of a rug covering the floor and exposed a door cut into the floor. Grabbing the hidden pull ring, he opened the door to reveal a set of stairs and briefly disappeared. He returned with a half dozen Grolsch-topped bottles.

“Commander? What’s going on?” asked the colonel.

“Give me a moment, colonel. You’ll need a pilsner glass.”

“Ahh, I see.”

The commander set the six bottles on the table and hurried to a cabinet where he removed four tall glasses. With a clean towel, he removed the dust from each of the glasses and with practiced ease, he popped the tops off the bottles, sniffing each to verify the freshness of the ale. “Excellent,” he pronounced and began filling the pilsner glasses. With a flourish, he offered one to each of the women and one to Major O’Malley. Del Re lifted his own glass in a toast. “To the President of the United States of America and the perpetuity of the federal government. Madam President, I am at your service.” He bowed briefly, a courtly gesture and Colonel Starkes nodded her appreciation.

“Thank you, commander,” she said softly. She raised the glass to her lips and sipped delicately, surprised at the heady quality of the ale. Del Re watched avidly, hoping for a sign that she liked the homemade brew. Amanda and Major O’Malley had waited for the colonel to taste the beer before they sipped at their own and they were both pleasantly surprised at the heady flavor. They glanced at one another their look of disbelief apparent. Simultaneously, each quickly took a larger swallow of the beer.

The major took his time, savoring the taste of the beer, which he hadn’t had for years. It was a unique tang of bitter hops that had a nice smooth finish. Commander Del Re wasn’t being shy about drinking his own beer—he reveled in the taste and was proud of his town’s recipe. He waited for their reactions to Momma’s Ale and wasn’t disappointed.

“Commander, I’m not a connoisseur of beer, but this is quite tasty. It’s refreshing—nice and cold,” said the colonel.

“I like it, commander,” said Amanda.

“Only one for you, Amanda,” warned the colonel.

“Yes, I know.”

“That’s right,” said the commander, snapping his fingers, “you’re pregnant.”

“How the hell do you know that, commander?” asked Colonel Starkes.

Before he answered, GT and Scott appeared in the doorway. “The area’s secure, ma’am,” said Scott. “The fires are burned out. Russ said that he’ll provide the commander with a damage assessment in a few minutes. Josh went to bring in some of the others from hiding.” Throughout his report, he had never taken his eyes from the beer. GT had silently followed the major’s motion of his glass to his lips.

“That’s good,” said the colonel, oblivious of the two men’s focus. Commander Del Re, however, was not.

He held up his finger, indicating that the men should wait, set his pilsner glass on the table, and returned to the building’s cellar. When he returned to the room, he carried a heavy wooden case that he set on the table. He went to the cabinet and retrieved two more glasses—this time steins—and poured for the two men.

“Thank you, commander,” said Scott as Del Re handed him the ale. GT gave the commander a nod as thanks and quickly tasted his drink.

“Wow,” said GT, “that’s a great ale.”

Scott nodded his agreement and the two quickly finished their beers, knowing that they were in charge of maintaining a perimeter. They thanked the commander again and left the building.

“Commander, that is one very fine ale,” said Major O’Malley, emptying his glass.

“Excellent to hear. Would you like another, major?” asked the commander.

The major flicked his eyes toward Colonel Starkes.

“Just one more, major,” she told him. His smile was almost one of a child granted permission for a second cookie. “Commander,” said the colonel, “this is a great brew and thank you for sharing, but I need to know any information you have. Could you give me the details of the last two days here?”

“Sure, colonel. Connor Mac arrived with a team—about twenty guys, one woman, and three kids.”