Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Jason,” said John, “save some for the others.” The boy stopped spooning the eggs onto his plate and sat next to his father. Without a word, he began to eat.

The three men in the driveway were dismounted and stayed mostly still, waiting. The fact that John and Jason were already eating at the porch table helped ease their minds, but each still moved prudently with slow, deliberate movements, well-versed in the delicacy of the current situation. Appreciative of their efforts, Connor noticed their well-choreographed movements to keep all compass points in view. He decided they probably worked extremely well as a coordinated team and wondered if they’d shared a life before the Sickness. Studying them more closely, he thought they might pass as brothers, certainly cousins or relatives at least. Appreciative of their situation, he sought to place them further at ease, starting down the steps, hands out and unarmed.

“You guy’s been riding with McLeod for long?”

The two men in front cast a glance back at the man behind them, as if waiting. Connor advanced toward them and paid particular attention to the man hanging back. It was hard to ignore his piercing blue eyes. His face was chiseled with a worn look, one of endured hardship. He approached Connor as an equal, with confidence in his step and appraisal in his eyes. Taking his time, the man removed the leather glove of his right hand and they shook. His deep, gravely voice gave credence to his hidden power.

“Yeah. The name’s Bobby B. They call me BB.”

“I’m Connor Mac,” he replied, shaking BB’s hand.

“We cool?”

“Yeah, I figure you guys earned a free pass right now. McLeod got some balls coming in the way he did, I’d give him that.”

“Yep. I agree with you there, Connor Mac. I signed on with him and his boy when the Sickness hit. We picked these two up shortly after that. John has figured most things out. Smart as hell—kept us alive through some serious shit.”

“You hungry?”

BB glanced at the two men nearby and nodded. “We could eat.”

“Excellent. Bring you and those two bad mothers onto the porch.”

“Sounds good, Connor Mac. How many eyes on us right now?”

“I won’t lie to you, BB. There’s two I can count on to put a bullet where it needs to be. A few others.”

“Hmm, good to know. Nice show on the porch, by the way. Good diversionary tactics while you gathered fresh intel.”

“Uh, huh.”

“But, I’m thinkin’ you probably set that up on the fly when you heard the horses—there was some risk exposure involved to the pretty lady.”

Connor smiled and nodded in appreciation of BB’s analysis. BB grinned, realizing he may have nailed the scenario dead on with his statement. His eyes brightened, transforming him into someone that Connor would like to know. He wished he had a cold beer to offer him.

“Better hop up on that porch before McLeod and son eat the whole damn pot, BB. And, I imagine you and I’ll trade some stories later.”

“For sure, Connor Mac.”

“You know, I wish I had a cold one to offer you in proper introduction.”

“Huh, I was thinkin’ something like that right now.”

“No kidding? Yeah, though it’s a bit early for me,” said Connor.

“Well, me too—used to be.” BB gave a curt nod to the men beside him, instantly relaxing their demeanor. He made further introductions.

“Connor Mac, that one there, with the long hair and shitface scar across his potato nose is my second cousin Jackson. Him there is Jude, but we call him Judy to piss ’im off. So, make sure you do the same.”

“Piss up a stick, BB,” grumbled Jude. He grinned at Connor enjoying the attention. They shook hands all around. BB continued to explain.

“We like to keep Judy pissed off most of the time because he’s my little brother and he’s fun to fuck with.” Satisfied, BB pointed for them in case they might miss the porch steps. “C’mon, let’s grab us a cooked meal. We’re cool here, I think. Judy, you can serve us our meals and then do the dishes.”

“Piss off, BB.”

BB, Jackson and Jude ensured their horses were hobbled. They carefully secured their long rifles in the saddle sheaths designed for that purpose. Connor was confident they’d still be armed in some, more limited capacity, but decided sufficient trust had been established. He began to relax more completely, knowing they’d not jeopardize the current situation unless desperate or, at McLeod’s command. The three men ascended the wide porch stairs in unison, BB glancing back in time to catch the subtle hand gestures when Connor gave the official ‘all clear’ sign toward the shed and old Ford.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, major?”

“Larry Reed and four men dropped off the RPGs at the front door at eight o’clock. He also laid out three cases of ammo to go with them. Funny thing, there’s an actual requisition note requiring their prompt return when we leave Cleveland.”

“A requisition note? Is that right?” Colonel Starkes laughed at the thought.

“I’m taking it as a good sign, ma’am.”

“Hmm. We’ll hafta see, major.”

With a bit of nervous energy, Colonel Starkes walked toward the second floor window and glanced out at the early morning sun. Already, the sun bore down on the asphalt outside with the heat slipping into the open window in pulsing waves. Dressed in formal military attire, medals prominently displayed, she brushed back a strand of hair that refused to stay put behind her ear. Spinning gently on her heel, she turned to look behind her into the room, taking a moment to consider the major. She found him to be quite handsome in his dress uniform and even his bushy, red mustache was fairly tamed. Thinking back, she was proud of her issued orders, prior to their departure from Mt. Storm when she’d demanded that all her men bring their parade best. She knew it was times like these that pomp and circumstance might have some constructive merit.

“Major, you sure you don’t want to conduct these meetings on your own?”

“Ma’am, the cat’s outta the bag. The President of the United States is here and Cleveland knows it. We might as well claim what we need for our current mission objectives. And I’m thinkin’, maybe we can use some of Phoenix’s men to scout out the territories west of here. You know, search for Colonel MacMillen.”

“Let’s keep that in our back pocket for now, major. I’m not sure we want to let Phoenix in on the true purpose of our visit yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Major, it’s a good idea, but I’m just not sure about Phoenix yet, you know?”

“Okay. Oh, and I’m told that only Phoenix Justice and Larry Reed will be attending today. At my request, Phoenix agreed to a full security search before entering our building. He did ask that only you and I have no more than a sidearm so as not to appear overly intimidating. I’ve agreed. So, if you would, please bring your sidearm.

“I have it right here, major.”

Colonel Starkes slipped the belt and holster from her duffle, checking the status of her 92FS nine-millimeter Beretta. Satisfied, she holstered the weapon and strapped on the belt, adjusting the position. She studied Major Mike O’Malley for another few seconds.

“Major, I must say, you clean up nicely. You look almost civilized.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You… do… ahh… you’re civilized too, ma’am.”

She checked her watch, grinning at his reluctance to see her as anything other than his commanding officer. “It’s time, major. Let’s meet the natives.”

“Yes, ma’am. Follow me.”

They left the small quarters attached to what was once a large security monitoring station on the second floor. Previously, the huge, mostly open area, housed monitors and equipment. This was swiftly cleared and the area retrofitted into an operational command center. A few doors down, the men had found a large conference table and had moved it to the open area. The meeting would be held here. There were chairs surrounding the table—many more than would be needed. A high-backed leather chair sat at the head of the table and the major pointed to it. “That’s your seat, ma’am.”