Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

Officially in full charge of the clan since the beginning, nearly five years ago, Terry had their undivided attention. There was an obvious excitement in the air.

“Like we don’t already know,” murmured Allan to Nicky. His gravelly voice carried for all to hear.

At the comment, Terry studied the two lovebirds in the flickering light. Allan Waltman was a big-boned, attractive man who’d accidentally entered their cottage defenses three years ago hunting white-tailed deer. His sincerity, honesty and much-needed skillsets kept him alive after the clan council voted to give him a chance to live. Afterwards, he’d never left and beautiful Nicky was what kept him here. She also kept him in line with the stringent clan rules of behavior. Though quite surly and aggressive by nature, Allan had a good heart and felt it his duty to protect the cottage and its inhabitants. His close-combat skills were like none seen, though he was not yet ready to share where he’d obtained them. Even so, he’d protected the clan when it counted, as recently as last year, when twenty-four West Virginian marauders crossed the border into Pennsylvania and tried to take what was not rightfully theirs. As it stood, both Andy and Ryan considered him a man to watch their backs, and this was some serious high praise. Terry probed his comment to evaluate the general feeling and clan consensus. She’d used this technique many times in the past with good results.

“Allan?”

“Sorry, T. Go on now.”

“No, please. You’re not a man to hide behind formality. C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

Allan disengaged from Nicky’s soft embrace. Standing, he took a long pull from his mug, finishing with a loud satisfying lip smack. Obviously, he liked the extra attention and it was equally obvious that the remaining crew were comfortable with him as front man for what was, most likely, already on their minds. He stared directly at Andy and flicked a quick glance in Ryan’s direction. Andy smiled and laughed. Ryan kept his head down, staring into the fire.

Andy sipped from his mug, shaking his head in mild exasperation. “Go on man, say what you want to say.”

Allan looked over at Terry.

“T?”

“I already told you to speak your mind you big son-of-a-bitch. You deaf?”

“No.”

“Then have at it.”

Allan sat down again next to Nicky, smiling broadly. Before speaking, he wrapped his arm around her and gave her a hard squeeze making sure to gauge her resistance.

“Okay, then. What I’m thinking is that you and Andy are ’bout ready to do what you shoulda been doing probably two years ago the way I hear it.”

Inwardly, Terry smiled, flicking a quick glance toward Andy. Allan had pegged the course of the fire chat and clan business from step one.

“And what might that be, Allan?” asked Terry.

Allan’s crooked grin was contagious and most of the clan members smiled. With rising confidence, he gently stroked Nicky’s soft blond hair, leaning in to take a loud, proprietary sniff. He turned toward Terry, smiling.

“I’m thinking you two are about to let us all in on the fact that you’re going to officially hook up. That right?”

At the statement, Ryan rose, tumbling his bench backwards and, in a split second came a few, fast steps around the fire to stand in front of Allan. Almost expecting confrontation, Allan had stood immediately and was ready to meet any further charge. Neither man had drawn weapons, but it was clear violence was imminent. Ryan growled before his words were understood.

“How ’bout we let T speak for herself, Allan? Huh? That okay with you?”

Ryan’s menacing tone was unmistakable. Both Andy and Terry had stood.

“Ry!” said Andy.

“Ryan!” said Terry.

Allan faced Ryan.

“I got no problem with you, Ry.”

“That right?”

“Unless you want one,” grumbled Allan. It was obvious he held no desire to continue the confrontation, but was not one to ever back down from a fight. After a few seconds in shock, Nicky jumped up, trying desperately to squeeze herself between the two men. Forcefully, she sought to drag Allan away, pushing hard into his chest to gain a few more feet of separation.

“C’mon, baby. You know you got no problem with Ryan… never have. C’mon now.”

“Yo, little brother, sit your ass back down on that bench!” yelled Andy. He hadn’t moved, but his voice spoke of doing so. Ryan stole a glance at Andy. The firelight glimmering in Ryan’s eyes was unnerving.

“Sit… down… little brother,” said Andy. His words reverberated with a menacing sound in their own right; they also spoke of a deep understanding and connection with Ryan. The fierce tension in Ryan’s shoulders tapered and he gave a subtle, conciliatory nod and wave toward Allan before returning to his overturned bench. He retrieved his beer stein and mumbled an almost inaudible apology directed toward Allan who nodded, relieved. Terry tried to regain control of the meeting, speaking to the entire crew.

“Well, now then! I guess that’s out in the open. And, yeah, if you haven’t figured it out yet, well, Andy and I are going to ‘hook up’ as Allan so nicely put it.”

A few murmurs of affirmation and acknowledgement carried around the fire. Glances were cast over to Ryan and Allan.

“Let me explain a bit further, okay? Today, Andy and I kinda got started on the reality of it. We haven’t figured it all out yet, obviously. And, I know there might be some confusion about this, but it’s something we’re going to do.”

Terry sat next to Andy after her last words. The clan took the revelation at face value. Voice just above a whisper, Ryan spoke. “What about Mac, T?” Ryan rubbed his hand across his goatee and took a deep draw from his stein.

“Ry, c’mon,” said Andy, “We talked about this before. Mac’s not coming back. It’s five years man… time we accepted that and moved on.”

Several clan members nodded in silent agreement; several expressed emphatic approval. The remainder did nothing but wait. Standing again, Terry directed her attention to Ryan.

“Ryan, listen. Okay?”

Ryan kept his focus on the fire and sipped his beer. Terry continued with a soft, gentleness in her voice.

“Ry, I’ve loved you for over fifteen years. You know that.”

“Huh,” said Ryan. Focused on the fire, it was clear he was listening. The clan kept silent, watching. Terry slipped toward him and stood in front of him waiting for eye contact; he refused. Above the crackling fire, Terry’s voice softened to a whisper.

“You know that, Ry. C’mon, look at me would ya?”

Ryan kept his focus on the fire, saying nothing.

“Ryan, I’ve watched you grow into the wonderful man I see today. Truly. And, you must know that I share your pain. Deeply. I miss Mac—sometimes I have trouble breathing, I miss him so much. But he’s not coming back—it’s time to move on. You know?”

The fire crackled and popped and throats were cleared. A few clan members drank deeply. Ryan lifted his mug, draining the last dregs before he stood to meet Terry’s gaze. The clan waited. No one moved until Kevin grabbed his fire stick, stirring the embers. Ryan raised his empty mug to tap his forehead and wave it toward Andy in mock salute.

“Well, congratulations to the both of you,” said Ryan. Swiftly, he left the fire, mumbling. “I need another fuckin’ beer.”

All turned to watch Ryan enter the cottage, closing the door softly behind him. He did not return.

John McLeod did a spin in front of Connor. He held his unbuttoned leather vest out far to the sides, lifting the back to show nothing was hidden at his waist or the small of his back. By his father’s side, Jason held the tails of his denim shirt untucked and out at arm’s length, spinning simultaneously in the same direction as his father as if the event had been choreographed. It was obvious that the two were unarmed or, at least that they carried no heavy firepower. Connor wondered where McLeod and his boy had stashed their weapons.