Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Why? Was there someone following you?”

“No. As far as we noticed, we were the only ones alive in the city. No, we left to avoid all the dead bodies—the stench was unbearable and I knew the longer we stayed, the more likely we’d fall prey to some disease or other. BB made it clear he was coming with us and I’m not sure we would’ve made it if it wasn’t for him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. His survival skills are exceptional and I’m forever in his debt for sticking with us all this time. Hanging with a group of guys like him and his brother and cousin certainly increases your chances of survival.”

“Sounds like you guys made a good team. BB speaks as if you contributed much more than he did.”

“Really? Well that’s good to hear. How do you know that?”

“He told me when we first introduced ourselves. Said you got most things figured out.”

“Huh. That’s nice to hear, Connor Mac. Yeah, we pulled our weight, Jason and I. But BB was in the zone, hyper vigilant. Let’s face it, I can theorize all I want about war strategies and potential urban scenarios that we might walk into, but BB was a true soldier, trained to kill and he did just that when it was called for. I’ll tell you, Connor Mac, he knew where to locate fresh water and supplies like they were just waiting for him when he arrived.”

“I hear you. He was trained well by Uncle Sam.”

“For sure. He was that. He made living and traveling much easier and he was going in the same general direction as we were.”

“Which direction was that?” asked Connor.

“He wanted to go north to his brother’s house—to Jude’s house. The house was about thirty miles north of the city. When we made it, we found out that Jude’s wife had died.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But, thankfully, there were no kids involved.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” answered Connor. His voice was quiet and he cleared his throat, waiting for McLeod to continue.

“Later, we met up with BB’s cousin Jackson. He lived a few miles away. Surprisingly, Jackson and twenty-four other people were living in a fancy mansion at the end of the street. It was a nice set up—the end of a dead-end road, a large flat back yard—there was no way to sneak up on this place. It was easily defended.”

“No Kidding? A mansion?”

“Yeah, no kidding. Jackson is ex-army. He served two tours in Iraq like BB. He and some other guy named Rudy shared the command in the mansion. They’d made a good functioning command post and perimeter guards.”

“Sounds like they had a strong defensible position there.”

“Oh, yeah. And the food, Connor Mac! There was some good stuff there. One of the women worked as a master chef at a four-star restaurant before the destruction—what she did with trout was a thing of beauty.”

“So, why didn’t you stay?” asked Connor.

“BB had a wife in Montana.”

“Oh.”

“His wife was visiting her mother in Helena. She was still there the last time he talked with her—you know, before the phone lines decided to quit working. He had two kids, too. Both were with Julie, his wife.”

“You said ‘had’?”

“Yeah, ‘had’. We found his wife and both his kids in the master bedroom.”

“Aww, shit,” Connor cleared his throat again.

“She had outlasted the kids by maybe a day or two. I think she tried to clean ’em up nice. We found her lying next to them. Her mother was in the next room—the old lady had probably died many days prior.”

“What a raw deal, man,” said Connor, his eyes misting.

“BB took it hard… real hard. Julie left a note.”

“Aw, man.”

“The note said that she knew he would come for them and that she’d wait. She said she loved him and she’d see him soon.”

“Oh, hell.” Connor wiped his eyes.

“What hit him the hardest, Connor Mac, were the kids asking about him. They wrote their own notes—well, sort of. Julie helped put their words down on paper. They drew pictures around the words—they were young kids, Jacob, four and Bobby Junior, six. They said they hoped Daddy was okay and that they wanted him to come kill the bad monster bug that made everyone sick.”

Connor dropped his face into his hands. After a few minutes, Connor asked him to continue.

“Tell me more, John.”

“Sure. It was a tough few weeks in Helena. I’ll tell you that. It took BB quite awhile to get going again after we buried his wife and kids. I think he’s coming out of it, though. I know he won’t ever fully recover, but it feels like he wants to join the land of the living again. Him meeting up with Marty is a good twist of fate. It’s given him a positive connection to life, don’t you think?”

“It seems like it.”

“Anyway, Jackson came along with us. There was nothing holding him there and I think he felt more comfortable with family.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Jason and I are originally from Reno. We had some business there, so we went with BB, Jude, and Jackson to check on BB’s wife and kids and they agreed to come with us to Reno to check on my wife.” It was McLeod’s turn to clear his throat. The tears came freely and Connor waited patiently for him to continue.

“Maggie left notes for me and Jason, too.”

“Oh, man,” said Connor. “John… man, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “She said she was dying and that she hoped I found the note. She put the notes in the hidden floor safe. She wanted one more opportunity to tell me and Jason that she loved us. Said she’d lived a full life and knew, just knew, that Jason and I would live through this… petty pestilence , she called it.”

“I’m very sorry, John.”

“More than anything, she wanted a chance to tell us she loved us.”

Tears flowed freely and John let them flow. Connor chewed absently on the end of his cigar—it had gone out some time ago and he hadn’t bothered to relight it. Exiting onto the porch, Roger, Rhonda, Jason, and Jackson noticed the intensity of the conversation. Jason came over and sat down next to his dad and the other three walked down the porch steps, unwilling to intrude.

“You okay, Dad?” asked Jason, staring at Connor as the source of his dad’s apparent grief. The young man’s eyes showed a clear warning—he would go to great lengths to keep his father from any source of pain. Connor nodded gently and this gesture satisfied Jason.

“Yeah, son, I’m fine. I’m just letting Connor Mac know a little bit about what we’ve gone through.”

Jason stood, gripped his father’s shoulder briefly, and walked down the porch stairs to join the others.

“What’s the story here, Toby?” asked Terry, voice was barely above a whisper. Ryan, Andy, and Terry had approached the second perimeter guard position soundlessly, the last twenty feet on their hands and knees.

“When we discovered them, I sent Kristen back for you guys. Your orders are to shoot first and ask questions later, but only if we had to shoot.” Toby spoke gently and had yet to lower his binoculars. He was not one to say much unless it was important. “I sent Kristen back for you guys to decide what to do. We spotted them a couple hours ago and waited long enough to verify that there were only three of them. But, they haven’t made a move yet.”

Toby, Terry, and Andy had binoculars. Ryan chose to use a fancy Leica Monovid 8X20 monocular he treasured since Iraq—he felt that binoculars took up too much space—and Kristen used the scope of her rifle to scan the area. “Clue me in on where these bastards are,” said Terry, prone next to Toby and peering through binoculars.