Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

In obvious pain with any movement, Cody’s father removed himself from his wife’s embrace and stood, teetering. He held out his hand. “My name’s Roger McIntyre. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

“Yeah, well, it’s good to meet you Roger. My name’s Connor Mac. You shouldn’t thank me—you should thank your son for doing what he had to do. He took out the cockroach in the hallway.”

“Cody did that?”

“Your boy handled himself exceptionally well, sir. He’s a well-trained young man and, from what he’s told me during our brief visit, you probably had something to do with that.”

Roger smiled through the pain of busted lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Connor Mac. It’s good to know Cody can find a friend when he needs one.”

“Yeah… it’s amazing who you can meet when you’re simply passing through.”

“Did you get that bear all by yourself, Liam?” whispered Ryan into his nephew’s ear. He had snuck up on the boy, a game they had played since Liam was able to walk. Ryan was a pro at startling Liam, but this time Liam had paid him no mind. He continued to strain under the weight of the bear. Ryan, who was Marine Recon and exceptional in staging any ambush, always counted on scaring Liam to elicit a nervous, frustrating laugh. This time, Liam redoubled his effort with the bear without so much as acknowledging his uncle’s existence.

“What the hell?” commented Ryan, confused at the behavior. He slipped his hands in his pants pocket and stopped to watch Liam dragging the bear toward the cottage. Staring after the boy, Ryan knew Andy and Terry were coming up on his position. Purposefully, he pulled a black-n-gold Steeler cap from his back pocket and slipped it on, figuring they would fill him in on what was going on.

Terry caught up to Ryan, “Hey, Ry.” They stood next to one another, both watching Liam and his struggles.

“What the hell you wearing, little brother? Where’d you find a Steeler hat?” Andy strided toward them both, a few steps behind.

“What? This old thing?”

“Yeah, that old thing.”

“Traded it with a hunter passing through Nemacolin. Gave him a pound of deer jerky.”

Ryan was pleased that his big brother had noticed. Both were huge Steeler fans before the Cuckoo Flu knocked the world into medieval times.

“Damn, can you find me one?”

“Nah, you get your own, bro. You know, that resort’s popping with some new blood the past month,” he said, referring to Nemacolin. “There’s close to four hundred traders there. It’s becoming a great flea market.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“What’s up with Liam?” asked Ryan. Terry slipped her hands into her back pockets, forcing herself to relax. She studied Ryan, the youngest surviving member of the MacMillen brothers, and thought that he was the most beautiful of the three by far. His long copper-brown hair, mostly hidden now by his hat, was smooth and shiny, eliciting the desire to touch the silky locks. Ryan sensed her gaze and turned, his brown eyes bright with intuitiveness. He considered her intense stare while she realized, once again, that his eyes had the same green flecks as Connor Mac’s. When she looked into Ryan’s eyes, those green flecks were a beacon of hope—hope that her husband was still alive. Sadly, the hope was always followed by ugly reality—the reality that she was alone on a mountaintop without Connor MacMillen and that he had been gone for too long to come home to her now.

“Terry?” Ryan stepped toward her. “Are you okay?”

She felt the strong, sexual power of the man. Damn it, she thought, he moves with such an animal grace. “I’m fine, Ry,” she answered, her voice slightly quivering.

“Okay,” said Ryan, unconvinced.

Andy sensed her anxiety, shifting closer for support. He too, moved with a well-trained elegance that spoke of incredible body control. He reached to touch her shoulder.

“Damn all you MacMillen men!” she exploded. She felt the animal magnetism and it made it hard for her to think. Angrily, she swatted away Andy’s hand. She was surprised that she had spoken aloud, but she didn’t hide from the fact that she had said what she said.

“Well… uh…” stammered Andy.

“What’s the deal with Liam,” pleaded Ryan. He knew it was time to change the subject, allowing the three to relax. Their focus now turned to Liam who had dragged the bear to the skinning area near the fire pit. Hands on his knees, Liam was thoroughly spent.

Kevin Kowalski came out of the house calling something to Liam, the sound of his voice making it to the three watchers, but not the specific words. Kevin helped Liam load the bear onto the stringer post. Terry’s eyes softened as she watched her daughter Shannon run to her older brother, bright red hair glimmering in bouncing locks.

“Andy,” said Terry, touching his arm, “let’s figure this out soon, okay?”

“Sure,” he answered. “Okay, we will.”

“Right now, I’m gonna see if I can help Sandy with dinner.” She strolled toward the cottage without waiting for a reply, her hands still tucked into her back pockets. Both men followed her movement until she reached the deck. The spell of her movement was broken.

“Animal magnetism, she says. Hear that, bro? Just fuckin’ look at her,” muttered Ryan. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’ve dreamed about her on more than one occasion. That’s a fine ass. Very fine. I mean, I dreamed about her even before the Sickness.”

“Yeah, me too, Ry.”

They continued watching her. Shannon ran to greet her, bouncing with enthusiasm. They heard the little girl’s squeals of delight when her mother grabbed her hands to swing her in dizzying circles. Terry’s own squeals of laughter brought a crowd to the deck. Besides Shannon, Liam, and Kevin, there were fourteen others, most standing on the deck, smiling as if the laughter was contagious.

Out of habit, Ryan touched his Beretta in his hip holster and stared at his brother. Andy stared back and, as was often the case, each knew what the other was thinking.

“Are you planning something, brother? You writing Mac off now, is that it?”

“C’mon, Ry, We’re talkin’ over five years. It might be time to move on.”

“So, that’s what Liam is pissed about.” He snatched the hat from his head and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re an asshole, bro.”

“Listen, Ry, I know you’re gonna tell me to fuck off again, but it’s time we moved on. We should start claiming what we want.”

“Right. Right,” said Ryan, nodding his head wryly. “So, it’s time to snatch up Connor’s wife—that the fucking answer? You’re crazy, man. I know the woman is fine, hell, more than fine, but he’ll kill you when he gets back—he’ll fucking kill you. He won’t care that you’re his brother.”

They stood together for several moments without speaking. Upset, Andy brushed a few flakes of dust from his Mossberg. “It’s been five years, Ryan. We know he was in Australia at Craig’s place when the Flu hit, but that’s all we know. He’s not coming back.”

“Yeah?”

“Do the math, man. There’s no way he can make it back here.”

“Yeah? I say screw you. You never had the faith I had in Mac.”

Andy shook his head sadly. “You always thought Mac walked on water, little brother. But, I’ve seen him have to swim his way through some serious shit, and this… this is too much for anyone. He’s not coming back.”

“Whatever.” said Ryan. He turned his back on his brother and walked deeper into the woods. After a few steps, he disappeared from view.