Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

Amanda knew the next few minutes might be tricky and still had mixed feelings about Connor’s plan to lure Marty into making a move. She knew that it was smart to explore the possibility of taking on a potential third member—it would make much less work for all three, help keep all three safer, and allow them to increase their pace. Of course, this was true only if the new third member could be trusted.

The man named Marty was coming. Amanda’s knees weakened a bit and she felt a faint need to go to the bathroom.

“Wow, check it out,” thought Marty.

He studied the beautiful young woman in his binoculars. After several moments, he caught himself lightly salivating, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The woman was beautiful. Her hair was combed nicely, long and luxuriant and black as night. Her face held strength suggested by high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes. He enjoyed her movements from house to grill. She moved with grace, almost dancing across the wild grass and lawn weeds. He noticed that she wore a snug-fitting tank top that emphasized the fullness of her breasts and the flat lines of her belly. Her jeans were worn with several frayed holes, but upon closer inspection, they were perfectly fitted to accentuate her hips and buttocks. On her hip, a long knife sheathed in leather hung from a sturdy brown belt and leg strap. He gauged her age at about twenty-five. For another half hour he watched as she prepared a meal. Unbelievably, she appeared to be alone.

Marty decided he’d introduce himself. Stashing most of what he carried, he slipped toward her. After ten minutes of careful progress, he was hidden near a small pine tree twenty feet from the grill. Under closer scrutiny, the woman lost none of her beauty. In closer proximity, she was more enthralling. Marty hesitated. He tried to clear his mind and analyze the tactical combat conditions. The interior of the house was unknown, he reminded himself. It was not conclusive that she was alone. But he admitted the risk of approaching this woman might be worth a closer look.

Connor never lost sight of Marty, changing his position once when his line of sight was slightly blocked by an oak. He watched Marty wipe his mouth, but he couldn’t tell if it was from hunger or lust. Connor admired Marty’s cautious approach—he was clearly skilled in stealth tactics and chose excellent cover. Watching him move, Connor was quite impressed with the distance Marty covered in so short a time. Unless you knew where he was thirty seconds ago, Marty was almost invisible.

Connor moved from his cover, never losing a clear shot of Marty’s position. Amanda acted oblivious of the actions behind her, but Connor knew she was mostly aware of Marty’s position. Her trips into the house were made specifically to determine the whereabouts of her potential assailant. Standing several feet from the window allowed Amanda to peek outside without revealing her position. She had tracked Marty’s progress like this for the last half hour. Glancing further back, she caught a brief glimpse of Connor.

He took cover behind a pine approximately thirty feet from the grill and ten feet behind and to the left of Marty. When he settled into position, he aligned the crosshairs of his M4 on Marty’s left temple. He thought Marty might make a good third man, but he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him if he showed any aggression to Amanda.

Connor realized that maneuvering into position had not alerted Marty to his presence. But in Marty’s defense, Amanda’s attraction was enough to make any man lose his focus—Connor had acted without full caution when he had first met her. He decided to give Marty a little slack for his transgression, knowing the impact Amanda had on a man. The crosshairs of the M-4 however, never left Marty’s left temple.

The cat stew was nearly ready. Amanda entered the house to find a bowl and discovered she was nervous. She knew that Mac had her back, but she didn’t quite know what to expect from Marty. She made a short search for bowls in the kitchen and found several in a cabinet. She chose a few of them, grabbed a handful of spoons from a drawer, and took it all outside to better assess their condition. She set it all on the picnic table near the grill and turned her attention to the stew.

“What’re you cooking?” asked Marty, his voice deep and calm.

She spun quickly, her knife somehow in the hand that an instant ago had held the wooden spoon. Fifteen feet from her, he stood. His arms were held casually at his sides and a hunting knife was tucked into the leather sheath hanging from his belt.

Damn, he was good, she thought. She had known where he was a minute ago, but was surprised that he had slipped so close to her without her hearing him. He looked strong and handsome. His smile was disarming and he held his rifle relaxed in his right hand, his left hand now raised in supplication.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly. The easy smile never left his face.

“Well, you did!”

“Sorry. Would you put the knife away, please?”

“No, I won’t. What do you want?”

“I hope to hell a beautiful woman like you isn’t traveling alone,” said Marty.

“No, I’m not. See? A buncha bowls. Do the math. Who’re you?”

Amanda edged toward the house, as if seeking shelter. Marty delicately cut off an easy retreat.

“Name’s Marty McCullough. I was just passing through when I came across a beautiful woman cooking something on a grill. The grill works, huh? I’ll be damned.”

“What do you want, Marty McCullough?”

“Nothing, I guess. Unless you’d like to share some of that. Smells wonderful. I’ve smelled it for almost an hour.”

“Ahh…”

“I can give you some fresh venison to add if you want.”

“Me and my guys are doing okay all by ourselves, thank you.”

Marty glanced toward the house and then at Amanda. The bowls next to the grill concerned him for a second. At the same time, he was sure no one was in the house. He’d always valued his intuitive sense of whether someone was in a house. Any house. It was an uncanny skill but he was sure no one was there. He just knew is all. It had saved his life on several combat missions after the “all clear” signals of a breach. But he decided to explore his options.

“Well, let’s ask your guys about that.”

“Some are sleeping and some are huntin’ right now.”

“Yeah? Let’s wake up those that are sleeping.”

“They’d probably shoot you, if you do that.”

Marty edged toward the house and peeked quickly in the back patio door. He turned to face her.

“What’s your name?”

Amanda refused to answer. Her hands were shaking and Marty noticed. He spoke softly, as if to a skittish colt.

“Look, lovely lady, I asked you your name is all. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise. I swear. However I will admit, seeing such a beautiful woman as you has put me a bit off my game.”

Amanda stared at the handsome stranger and felt herself calming somewhat. She noticed he kept himself clean-shaven and put him at about twenty-seven to thirty years old. He was well muscled in the legs and shoulders, but not in an overpowering way.

“My name’s Amanda Abbington.”

Marty turned from examining the house.

“Well, Amanda Abbington, that’s a pretty name. It fits you.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you mind putting that knife away?”

“Yeah, I’d mind.”

“Suit yourself.” Marty leaned toward the patio doors and yelled into the house. “Hey! Guys! Wake the hell up, you have a visitor!” He faced Amanda again and she felt the impact of his amazing smile. It was an easy smile, emphasized by deep dimples. They stared at each other for a moment and then Marty yelled the same greeting again, receiving no response. “Okay, Amanda. I’m thinking your guys aren’t in there or never were, or they’re sound asleep. What do you think?”