Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Can I ask why?”

“You and CJ are under protective guard. Too many unknowns out there.”

“Hannah, I can handle myself. You should know that by now.”

“Yes, I don’t doubt that, Nicole. I really don’t, but unfortunately the safety of you and CJ is our primary objective. I brought you along today because there are not many safer places than this helicopter. My job as president is to return you safely to Camp David where we can keep you from harm and evaluate the incredible potential that both you and CJ have to offer.”

“But, I’d like to help, Hannah.”

“You are helping. You’re allowing us to take you and CJ to Camp David for evaluation—that’s help enough. You wanna help more? Make sure you keep your head down and out of harm’s way. Our little reconnoiter of this target is not your concern.”

“But, Hannah—“

“It’s not Hannah right now. I’m speaking to you as the President of the United States.”

Nicole studied the president’s insistent and serious face. “Okay, I understand, Madam President.” She offered the colonel an impertinent salute. “Make sure you take good care of the major—I’ve grown quite fond of him.”

“Nicole, I ensure the safety of all my men,” said Colonel Starkes. She leaned out the helicopter door. “Major O’Malley?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Proceed. There’s plenty of daylight left, but we’re a bit exposed here. Be quick about it.”

“Understood, colonel. C’mon, guys. Let’s do some shopping at FedEx.”

“Snuff, I found you and Mac by following the sounds of the gunfire at that subdivision. That was you guys, wasn’t it? What happened there? It sounded intense?”

They walked side-by-side due east, Marty scanning the horizon from north to east and Amanda scanning it from south to east. Connor was running overwatch somewhere behind them. It was early morning and they had decided that this arrangement would work well for the next few days as they got to know one another. Amanda found that she liked Marty’s easy style of walking, an almost effortless glide. She noticed too, his roving eyes and intense attentiveness to the forest sounds.

“C’mon,” he said, “I asked you a question.”

Amanda ignored him and increased her pace. After a few minutes, Amanda stopped and turned to Marty. “Only Mac can call me Snuff, alright? And I don’t even like it from him. You haven’t earned the right to call me that.” She continued her fast pace.

Marty hurried to catch up. “I hear ya, Amanda. I’m sorry, I forgot, okay? I understand and you’re right, but I just forgot. Besides, I like the name Amanda. It fits you. I promise to call you that from now on.”

“Right.”

“To be honest, it’s good to know that it bugs you. I guess I can’t promise not to forget again.”

Despite a budding anger, she grinned at his honesty. She slipped the Remington into a more comfortable travel position. “Be careful, Marty,” she warned. “I already have a nickname picked out for you.”

“You do?”

“Yep.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Why not?”

“I’m waiting to see how you play.”

“What dya mean?”

“I play hard, Marty. Mac taught me that. And, I’m a very quick learner.”

“Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t expect anything less since you’re with him.”

“It was us at the suburb. That’s where I found this Beretta and Mac got his deck sweeper. We had to shoot our way out of that one.” She slid the Remington onto her shoulder and transferred the shotgun into her hands. The Berretta was a beautiful weapon, its deep-grained wood stock gleaming in the sunlight. She never tired of gazing at it.

“I was there, you know,” said Marty. “I showed up about an hour or so later and waded through the damage you guys did. Are you always that lucky?”

Amanda turned to him again. “Surf Boy, you’ll come to find that when you’re hanging with Connor Mac you don’t need much luck. You just gotta be ready to do what needs to be done.”

“Surf Boy? Really? How’d you know to call me that?”

“A lucky guess.”

“Do we have any credible intelligence on Cleveland?” Colonel Starkes fed CJ from the small bottle of breast milk Nicole had provided. She lounged comfortably in the makeshift hammock stretched between the tails of two small Cessna.

“Give me a few minutes, ma’am and I’ll have your info.” Major O’Malley jogged to Captain Daubney who was talking with a corporal outside the tent pitched near the helicopter. They disappeared inside the tent and returned to the colonel in less than five minutes.

“Whatta you got?” she asked.

“Ma’am, Jimmy sent us what he had over the data link and I knew that Captain Daubney grew up in Cleveland so I thought he might be some help to us.”

“Sure, captain, thanks for joining us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jimmy told us there’s an official mayor in Cleveland—one elected each year since the Sickness,” said the major. “He’s voted in by the people and goes by the name of Phoenix Justice. That’s probably not his real name.”

“Please continue, major.”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the major, either unwilling or unable to detect the sarcasm in the colonel’s question. “He’s formed quite a following, ma’am. He’s young—maybe thirty.”

“Phoenix Justice… why does that name ring a bell?”

“The majority of this report was obtained from the group he sent across the country as emissaries to see if the federal government remained intact. Colonel, there were seven men and seven women in that group.”

“Yes, that’s it! I remember. How could I have forgotten that power hungry bastard—even though I never met the man. His people came out to DC—what, was it that last July?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“As I recall, Phoenix was seeking an officially sanctioned Marshal Law declaration for Ohio. He wanted to expand his domain.”

“Yes, ma’am. He was petitioning to be appointed the Governor of Ohio, but only if a working Federal government was still in place.”

“I told the leader of that group—wasn’t his name Ken?—that if Phoenix wanted so bad to be Ohio Governor, he needed to talk with me directly.”

“Yes, ma’am. But we haven’t heard from him or his representatives since then. They haven’t set up the datalink we gave them last summer. Colonel, there’s also the possibility that that group never made it back to Cleveland alive.”

“Okay, we’ll talk more about Phoenix later. I want to know more about the city. Give me some demographics. Do we have any info on their military strength?”

“We do. But, obviously its second hand data.”

“Sure, I understand, continue.”

“Population’s a little more than 2,500. The emissaries reported that three quarters are male, but that may be an exaggeration.”

“Never show your hand before you have to, major?”

“Yes, ma’am. It may be an effort on Phoenix’s part to present Cleveland as more formidable than it is, or was last year. The primary seat of government is housed in the downtown Hilton on Crestwood Avenue. It’s likely a solid defensive structure and I’m sure it’s well guarded.

“The present population is considered self-sustainable, food-wise. One of the first things Phoenix put into place was an organized paramilitary police force under his control. He’s said to have started this immediately after the Sickness unfolded and had a man named Larry Reed, an ex-marine, run it. Apparently, Phoenix and Reed are pretty close. And the dossier info confirms Reed’s capabilities in this capacity. He was an MP for twenty years prior to the Sickness and, by all reports, a mostly likeable man. Jimmy’s research into Reed did confirm he was active when the bird flu hit. Also, Stevie suggests the Cleveland community should be considered moderate to well trained in self-defense. There are no children older than the onset of the Sickness.”