Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“It’s out front,” said Connor. “Help yourself.”

Roger held up his bandaged arm. “The arm hurts like hell, sir, but it’s only from the cuts, not from infection. I owe you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Roger. Grab something to eat and, when you’re done, we’ll be saying our goodbyes. You don’t owe us anything.”

Roger grinned and he and Rhonda went through the door and sat down at the picnic table.

Connor joined Cody at the window. The boy was watching his parents with satisfaction. It was obvious he was relieved to see his parents safe and together. Connor studied him and firmly gripped his shoulder. “Enjoy the moment, Cody. But always remember that everything can change in an instant if you’re not careful.”

“I know, Mr. Connor Mac. That’s why I’m happy now.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You need to take care of yourself and your parents, son.”

“Okay.”

Connor and Cody walked outside as Roger spooned a heaping pile of eggs onto his plate. He gathered another spoonful and abruptly stopped. “Is everyone done?” he asked.

“Have at it, Roger,” said Connor, smiling at his courteous hesitation.

“There’s enough here to feed an army.”

“Yeah, there is. Eat what you want and we’ll split what’s left before we head out,” said Connor.

“How’d you find so many eggs?”

“Amanda and I found thirty-two eggs this time. It’s a skill, Roger. Everyone across the country, probably across the world, still equates geese and other birds with the Sickness. So, not many people go after the stuff. You ever eat any goose?”

“No. I thought about it a few times, but I didn’t want to take the risk. You’re saying it’s okay?”

“Yeah, we’ve eaten the eggs, Roger… many times. We’ve also had goose and duck for sure. Shit, I had first-rate horsemeat out west. Damn horses are breeding outta control there. But yeah, all the meat around you is fine. Goose meat is fine. Dog meat is fine, too.”

“I hate them damn wild packs,” said Roger, “Always gotta keep an eye out for ’em.”

“Yeah, the wild packs have been growing—dogs are simply reverting to their true nature, pure pack predators. One day, we’ll probably domesticate dogs again and I don’t personally care for dog meat—it’s a bit stringy for my taste. But it comes in handy if there’s nothing else around and you’re hungry.”

Roger ate his eggs, enjoying a taste that had been alien to him for more than five years. Yet he was listening intently to Connor, nodding his head in understanding.

Connor continued while Roger helped himself to a second plate. “People are superstitious, Roger. I never figured out why they won’t make the intellectual jump that if you’re not dead yet, the geese aren’t the problem.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You know, for the past few months, I’ve thought hard about eating geese or duck.” Roger continued eating, shoveling his food into his mouth, not hiding his voracious appetite. He ate as if he hadn’t had any food for a week. “Who made this?” he asked.

“Mac did,” answered Amanda.

“This is A-one chow, sir.”

“Yeah, I liked it too. If you slow down a little, Roger, you might actually taste it.”

Cody ran to the porch and leaned past the railing. He peered outward, glancing left and right, trying desperately to hear or see something. The others waited.

“Whatta ya hear, son?” asked Roger. Connor was impressed with Roger’s quick shift into reconnaissance. Proudly, he watched Amanda check the load in her weapons and Marty pulled his Colt Defender from the small of his back and clicked off the safety.

“Horse riders,” said Cody. “Four or five of them, maybe. They’re coming our way from the west. They’re pretty close.”

“Shit,” said Connor.

“Cody has good ears, sir. I’ll be happy to follow your orders, but we need a plan.”

“Agreed… Marty, it’s playtime.”

“Copy that, Mac.”

“Amanda, locked and loaded?”

“Yeah, Mac.”

“Roger, you have any weapons other than that knife?”

“A .45 Smith and Wesson with one bullet in the back room.”

“Okay. Marty, take a position near the old shed. I’ll touch my nose twice if I want you to shoot at the primary. I’ll rub my face twice for you to take out everyone you can as quickly as you can.”

“Copy that, Mac.” Marty took off for the shed and Connor turned to face Amanda and Cody.

“Amanda, give Cody some ammo—ten rounds. Cody, I want you over near those trees. Keep hidden for the first five minutes, but try to work your way around behind them if you can. If I yell your name, I want you to start shooting everyone you don’t know, understood?”

“Yeah.” The boy began to run toward the trees but his dad’s voice stopped him.

“Cody, make sure you know who you’re shootin’ at!”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“Snuff, me and you are gonna sit on that bench like we’re southern lovers. Our weapons will be hidden within reach. Roger, my shotgun’s near the couch along with a nine-millimeter from one of those assholes yesterday. Check the loads on those weapons—the shotgun should be fully loaded, but make ’em count. I want you inside that old Ford sitting in the front yard. I want you firing if you hear me yell your name.”

“Okay, Connor Mac. Where will Rhonda be?”

“Rhonda will arm herself with that one-shot .45 and wait inside the door. In the meantime, Snuff and I will be having a good time on the front porch swing if the riders decide to come this way. We’ll act like a very surprised couple.”

Roger entered the house and returned quickly, carrying the shotgun, the nine-millimeter, and the forty-five, which he handed to his wife. He headed to the Ford while Rhonda looked after him with concern.

“Don’t worry, Rhonda,” said Connor, noticing her concern, “they’ll do fine.”

She nodded, not quite convinced, but unable to stop the current events.

“As for your assignment, there’s a shotgun next to that TV inside. Use it, if you have to. You have fired a shotgun before, correct?” Her concern intensified. “Rhonda, I don’t think it will be necessary—that’s just in case.”

“Yeah. A few times.”

“Okay. Good.”

Rhonda nodded again, a bit more confidently this time and went inside.

Connor placed his M-4 on the porch swing and turned his attention to Amanda. “Have a seat in front of my gun. Are you up for some serious kissing?”

She laughed despite her building apprehension. She was surprised that she found the prospect of kissing Connor under these circumstances slightly erotic. “You are a sex-starved bastard, Mac, you know that?”

“You should talk, you shameless hussy.”

“Listen, this shit’s getting old. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my town?”

“Take it easy, Phoenix. I’m in charge now. At least, until I leave.”

“Like hell you are!” Phoenix stood to his full height, bristling with outrage. Larry Reed quickly began rapid but subtle hand signals. His movements weren’t subtle enough to experts in combat leadership.

“Mr. Reed, I suggest you keep your hands still for now and listen to what I have to say. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to end your assault plans prematurely.”

Larry Reed stopped his hand gestures and concentrated on Hannah Starkes. He narrowed his eyes, searching his mind for some clue to who she was. She had either guessed the reason for his signals or she knew them—either way, it surprised him to be outflanked.

“What’s your name, woman?” asked Phoenix, his voice dripping with contempt. “What are your intentions here? As governor, I’m telling you to watch who you’re talking to!”