Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“For real?” asked Connor. His cold desire to kill abated.

“Yeah, Mac. All things considered, he was pretty cool. He’s something of a braggart.”

“I am not!” said Marty, offended.

Connor shifted for a better shooting angle and studied Marty above his shotgun sights. Marty was trying his best to appear calm, but the slump to his shoulders and inability to look into Connor’s eyes made it clear Marty expected the worst. Amanda abruptly stood, surprising both men, and entered the house. She returned quickly with her rifle, carrying it with easy familiarity. She walked to the grill and leaned the rifle against it, stirring the stew.

Marty twisted his body for a better view. “Keep your fucking hands where I can see ’em, Marty,” said Connor.

“Sure. Understood.”

“You know, Mac,” said Amanda, “Marty says he has some corn and beans to go with the stew.”

“Is that a fact?” asked Connor, speaking directly to Marty.

“Yes, sir.”

“What made you decide to call me ‘sir’?”

“Well, it’s obvious I’ve been outclassed—twice, it seems,” answered Marty. “But, in fairness, the first time wasn’t entirely my fault. I guess that’s why I decided to come find you.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come to settle the score, is that it?” asked Connor. A sharp edge returned to his voice and he tightened his grip on the shotgun.

“No, sir!” answered Marty, shocked at the implication.

“Why, then?”

“I dunno. I guess… to…” He had an expression that Connor guessed wasn’t often on his face. It was a look of bashfulness. Marty shyly glanced at Amanda and Connor, obviously hesitant to continue.

“And?” prompted Connor.

“And to see… maybe… to see if you needed—”

“Let’s go grab your corn and beans,” interrupted Connor.

“What?”

“If you’re bullshitting about the corn and beans, you’re bullshitting me now,” said Connor.

Marty smiled, grateful of Connor’s interruption. He realized that Connor was providing a direct way to show his usefulness. With his confidence returning, he felt as if they had reached some small unspoken understanding.

“I have beans and corn. The cans aren’t dented. There’s no reason to think they’re inedible.”

“Let’s go, then. If you’re right, there’s no reason not to invite you to lunch.” Connor lowered his shotgun, a sign of good faith. He glanced at Amanda and she nodded her consent.

“Secure your weapons, soldier,” said Connor.

“Thank you, sir.”

Marty gathered has rifle and handgun. As they moved away from Amanda, Connor sidled up to Marty and whispered, “If you ever set your weapons down for fine pussy again, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

“Yes, sir,” said Marty, reddening slightly.

They walked toward the tree where Marty had stashed his pack. He crouched down and removed two cans, holding them up for inspection. “I think they’re still good. Del Monte. There’s some fresh venison in here, too—it might taste pretty good in that stew. Want to know what else is here?”

Connor was relieved to see that Marty had been telling the truth. He had made a genuine offer to share a meal with Amanda. His actions, so far, suggested a man of true character. “That’s your pack, Marty. What you keep in there’s your business.”

“Heard something like that before from you. I was hoping you’d say that.” Marty hoisted the heavy pack onto his shoulders. Connor was impressed with the Coyote backpack, an excellent choice for space, comfort, camouflage, and durability. Before their short return trip to the farmhouse they faced one another.

“What are you searching for, Marty?” asked Connor. The question was quiet and open-ended. Now was the time to pursue the man’s true reasons for his approach.

Marty gazed toward the farmhouse, taking a few seconds before answering. He straightened, sighed. “I guess I want to join up, Connor Mac. Go where you’re going. I don’t really care where that is.”

“He was here? In this area?”

“Yes, colonel.”

“How long ago. And how’d you confirm his identity?”

The major admired the colonel’s ability to wake immediately. Unlike others, she didn’t wake in stages, but all at once. One moment she was asleep and the next she was awake, fully aware of her surroundings as if she had been awake for hours. Watching her now, she’d taken less than three seconds to exit her sleeping bag, dressed only in a white tank top and briefs that did little to hide her fine figure. Quickly, she dressed while the major turned away to view the men in the distance. He answered her inquiry, ignoring the flash image racing through his brain of his superior officer’s buxom body, tight buttocks and curvy hips.

“A group of men were smoked by Connor MacMillen when they tried to ambush him not too far from here.”

“They did what?”

“They tried to take Connor MacMillen in ambush and steal his pack. A man named Dave was in charge of their group. A skinny guy with attitude named Buzzy laid it all out for me. He said he knew he was Connor MacMillen because the man told them his name before he took all their stuff. Buzzy said that Connor MacMillen’s sniper killed a few men and, once he had control of the situation, he took what he wanted from their packs and left.”

“No kidding?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Wow. How’d this Connor MacMillen find himself caught up in an ambush?”

“Hard to say, ma’am. Sounds like it was more of an ambush of the ambush the more I think about how it went down.”

“You mean Colonel MacMillen walked into it on purpose?”

“I dunno. Maybe. He might’ve had some help at his back and the end result was him getting to take from the people that were trying to take from him. It’s has an edge that fits the man.”

“So he planned it? He did it on purpose?”

“Ma’am, he walked away without a scratch and this Buzzy guy thinks he was kinda like supernatural or something. Had a ‘magic’ about him the guy said.”

“Huh.”

“We have some work to do, but we’ve narrowed the search parameters quite a bit.”

“Nice job, major. Nice job.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Here are the beans and corn,” said Connor, handing the open cans to Amanda.

“Terrific, Mac,” she said, taking the cans and sniffing the contents before dumping them into the simmering pot.

Connor stepped closer to Amanda and gently took her arm. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, Mac. It was a good move on your part, I guess. Now we know. A lot more, anyway.” They both glanced at Marty who was pointedly ignoring the conversation. He sat down at the table and retrieved his Colt, checking its status. He slipped it into his belt at the small of his back and felt complete once again. He opened his backpack and removed a plastic bag of venison and a dented canteen filled with water.

“Connor Mac? Amanda? You want to add this venison? It’s real fresh stuff.”

They turned to face him and Amanda answered. “I don’t think we need it, Marty. Why don’t we save it for dinner?”

“If you’re sure? I mean, I hope you’re not forgetting about Snuff.”

Amanda turned and smacked Connor hard on the shoulder. Connor grimaced, laughed, and turned to the confused Marty, jerking a thumb in Amanda’s direction. “Marty, I’d like you to meet the very beautiful and talented Snuff.”

Marty abruptly stood. “What? You mean, she’s him?”

“Well, Marty, he’s a she, but, yeah, Amanda is Snuff.”