Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Copy that, Mac.”

“Ma’am, we’re in position and ready to start the drop,” said Shamus. His hand moved smoothly on the stick as he flew the helicopter a mere ten feet above the treetops.

“Okay, Shamus, let’s do it.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve figured out the dispersal rate at the current speed, height, and course direction.”

“Dispersal rate?” asked the colonel.

“Yes, colonel. For maximum leaflet distribution. About twenty-five sheets per hundred square yards. That doesn’t account for wind disruption and other variants beyond our control.”

“Excellent, Shamus. How about some more details?”

“Sure, colonel. You and the rest of the crew must maintain a steady dispersal flow rate of five hundred pages per minute of travel at our current speed. This will maximize coverage across Connor MacMillen’s projected travel route.”

“Okay, Shamus.”

“It’s about nine or ten sheets per second, ma’am.”

“Understood, Shamus. You know, I’m starting to love the fact that I brought you along on this trip.”

“It beats the hell outta fishing the Inner Harbor, ma’am.” The laugh that followed was contagious and it put a smile on the colonel’s face. Scott and GT smiled at his laugh, knowing Shamus was in his element. The colonel grabbed a ream of paper and removed the rubber band. There were seven other men on the ’copter with her and they were in position, four on one side and three on the other. She nodded to the major and they began tossing the first sheets of paper twenty miles east of Toledo, Ohio.

“Did you kill that bear, Liam?” asked his nine-year-old sister. She touched the thick coarse fur, hesitant at what she might feel.

“Yeah, Shannon.”

“You shot it?” she asked. “Not Mommy or Uncle Andy or Uncle Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

“So, it’s your bear? Whattaya gonna do now? Are we gonna eat it? Are we gonna have bear for dinner?”

“No. C’mon, Shannon! Move outta the way. Can’t you see we’re working here?” The blunt tone surprised Shannon—her brother was rarely mean to her.

“Sorry,” she said. She wasn’t sure what was going on and she was happy for her Uncle Kevin’s support.

“Liam, give her a break—she didn’t do nothing.” Kevin had a soft spot for Shannon. Her innocent green eyes and angelic face made him do practically anything she asked. He hated to see her berated for anything, and refused to stand by and watch her take the heat when she didn’t do anything. He stretched his lanky frame, raising his hands to the hook, straining at the dead weight of the bear. Liam helped him by lifting a portion of the bear’s weight and Kevin hooked the bear. He turned to the two MacMillen children. “She’s as excited to see this bear up close as you were shootin’ it.”

Kevin was surprised at Liam’s shrug of indifference. It wasn’t like the boy. He studied him, considering the abrupt way Liam had cut the bear from the plastic sheet. He was in a fierce mood and it became obvious to Kevin that Liam would be better off preparing the bear without Shannon’s interruptions.

“Shannon, sweetheart, go see if your mommy or Aunt Sandy needs any help, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Kev.” She ran off, happy again.

Kevin considered Liam’s mood. “Okay, out with it, Liam. What gives?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, fathead. I’ve known you since you were pooping green in your pants and I’d like to think I can tell when something’s wrong with you. What’s up?”

Liam slashed the final pieces of plastic away from the hind legs of the bear and stabilized its extremities with a length of rope. He stared toward his mother. His Uncle Andy stood next to her and they were talking with several other clan members.

“Start talking, Liam, or I’ll ask your mom.”

“You better not!”

“Then, out with it! Now!” Kevin ignored his nephew’s withering stare. Liam spoke.

“Uncle Andy thinks my daddy’s not coming back. He wants my mom. He told me so.”

Kevin was stunned at the boy’s statement. He had seen the increasing affection between Terry and Andy during the past several months and he had considered that they might eventually take the next logical step. He was caught off guard at the speed of their progress—he had always considered Terry untouchable despite the recent flirtations. Present or not, Connor MacMillen was his lifetime friend and not one to mess with when it came to his woman. He touched the scar on the left side of his jaw, remembering a time long ago. “Aw, fuck me,” he said in exasperation.

For the first time in the past hour, Liam grinned. His Uncle Kevin never swore and the shock of hearing it immediately lightened Liam’s mood. He became serious again. “What do I do about that , Uncle Kevin?”

“Dammit.”

“My daddy’s alive—I know it. He’s coming back.”

Kevin took his corncob pipe from his breast pocket and packed it with precious tobacco. He lit the pipe with care and Liam sat down on a large rock next to the fire pit. When the pipe draw was perfect, Kevin said, “Liam, there’s probably not much you can do, you know? They’ve waited a reasonable amount of time. The more I think about it, I think they only waited this long outta respect for your daddy.”

“Uncle Kevin, my daddy will be back. He wouldn’t let no damn Sickness whoop his ass. It’s just taking him some time to get back. He’s coming all the way back from Australia.”

“Yeah, sure, you might be right, Liam. But even so…”

Amanda and Cody were still in the woods when Connor approached from the farmhouse. They had found a landscape cart in the detached garage of the house and they had brought it along, using it to carry the deadfall they found. They stopped what they were doing and turned at the sound of his approach.

“Mister Connor Mac?”

“Yeah, Cody.”

“How’s my mom?”

“She’s doing much better, Cody. She’ll need a day or two for some rest, but I think she’s gonna be fine.”

“What about dad?”

“He’s all stitched up. He’s taking care of your mom now—they’re in the back bedroom on the left. We should all make as little noise as possible. They both need their rest.”

“’Kay.”

“Cody, make sure you check in with Marty. You and him are on guard duty until Snuff and I return. We’re gonna hunt some goose for dinner.”

“Mister Connor Mac?”

“What?”

“Thanks for saving my mom and dad.”

“You’re welcome, son. I’m glad they’re okay.”

Cody slowly pulled off his right glove and took a few steps toward Connor. He held out his small hand and, without hesitation, Connor took it in his own and matched the boy’s steady grip. The boy had an intense blaze in his brown eyes.

“You didn’t have to help me, but you did. I owe you, Mister Connor Mac.” The boy’s voice was solemn.

“That’s nonsense, Cody. I expect you and your daddy would’ve done the same for someone in trouble—it’s what good people do, Sickness or no Sickness.”

Cody shyly kicked at some leaves at his feet. “Yeah,” he said, staring at the ground, “well, I’m not just saying about saving my family.”

“Oh?”

“No. I’ve thought a lot ’bout what you did to me before you left to get Marty and Amanda.”

Connor glanced at Amanda who was clearly enjoying the conversation.

“How’d you know to do that with me, Mister Connor Mac? How’d you know I wouldn’t freeze up?”

Connor cleared his throat. “I learned it a long time ago, son.”