Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“They’re about eighty yards out. They’re twenty yards to the right of the Japanese maple. See the group of six trees with their trunks real close together? They’re behind those trees. I think they’re trying to work up the nerve, T.” Toby lowered his binoculars. “They’re up to no good, but they know there’s a large bunch of people here to deal with.”

“I don’t see ’em,” she said, straining to catch any movement.

“I got a boot,” said Ryan. “And there’s a flannel shirt sleeve. Boot’s to the left of those trees and the shirt’s to the right. They don’t belong to the same person. I make that as two definite.”

“I’m seeing the same thing, brother,” agreed Andy.

The three strangers were well hidden in a position that provided a long-range view of the cottage. Without Toby’s precise targeting and reference, the strangers would have likely gone unnoticed, they were that good at camouflage.

“I see a third definite,” said Terry. “There’s a space between trunks in the middle of that group of trees—I think the third guy just stood up.”

“Yeah,” said Andy.

“Yep,” agreed Ryan.

“That’s the little guy,” offered Toby. “He’s how I caught onto ’em. He’s pissed three times in the last couple hours.”

“What weapons do they have?” asked Andy.

“Rifles—unsure of the make, but they’re all scoped.” Toby had resumed his study of the area. “They’re gonna make a move—they’re gettin’ antsy. Impatient. I’ve seen it before.” The man’s words carried weight within the clan. He rarely spoke more than a dozen words a day, but they had all learned to listen when he spoke.

Terry turned toward Ryan and Andy. “Whatta you guys wanta do?”

“What else can we do, T? They’re not looking to trade. If they’re sneaking up on us this way, they’re going to take. I say we take ’em down—hard and fast. Sound good to you, Ry?”

“Yep.”

“Whatta you think, Toby?” asked Terry.

“Andy’s right. They ain’t the trading type.”

Kristen nodded in affirmation. “I agree. They’re going to make a move on our place.” She spoke softly and directly to Terry.

“How you wanta do this, Andy?” asked Terry.

“Me and Ryan will take ’em down. Hard and fast. Toby and Kristen will maintain their positions here as backup. T, I recommend you go back to the cottage and let everyone know there may be some rifle fire.”

“Okay,” said Terry. She began making her way back, crawling for the first twenty feet. Out of sight, she stood and jogged to the cottage.

Ryan and Andy fanned out low and slow—they had done this before, working in unison, an experienced killing team. Fifteen minutes later, they’d successfully eliminated all three men where they lay. As it was, Ryan found great satisfaction in the large man’s surprising resistance and his unwillingness to surrender beneath the blade of a knife. His need to push the blade deeper into the man’s neck made him truly smile for the first time in many months.

The tall, buxom blonde was dressed in a black strapless evening gown, its simplicity enhancing her beauty. Mid-twenties, maybe a bit younger, her smile was dazzling with perfectly aligned white teeth between full parted lips shaded a bright red. There was sincere pleasure in her smile and it reached her expressive dark blue eyes. She exuded pure sexual energy as she moved in black stiletto heels and the men struggled not to notice her incredible body, firm with youth. “Welcome to the Hilton Hotel, Madam President,” she said, her voice smooth and silky. She extended her slender hand to the colonel, the nails perfectly manicured in clear polish. “Madam President, my name is Monica Bauers. I’ll be your hostess for this evening’s events.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bauers,” said Colonel Starkes, shaking the woman’s hand. By the colonel’s estimate, this woman was no older than twenty-five but had a poised appearance, capable and confident.

“Has the rest of your party been delayed, Madam President?” she asked, glancing at the men behind the colonel. Each man smiled, some further straightening their bearing in the hopes this lovely young woman would notice them.

“No, Monica, this is it. The rest of the men are pulling maintenance duty this evening.”

“I see… how unfortunate.”

“It comes with the job,” said the colonel, quickly becoming annoyed with this woman’s overpowering sexuality and the easy ability she had to compromise the focus of her men. “Monica, how about we just move on, okay?”

“Yes, of course, Madam President. I was told that there would be another woman in your party,” she said, again scrutinizing the men.

“Nope. There’s no other woman. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.”

Monica furrowed her brows in confusion before shifting into an easy smile. “Very well. Please, follow me.”

Colonel Starkes turned to her men. Not happy, her tone was biting as she whispered to them. “Are you men capable of proceeding without tripping on your tongues?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and followed Monica, trying her best to block the view of this woman’s graceful movements.

Studying the hotel as they entered, it was clear an effort had been made, successfully, to maintain the five-star status of the Cleveland Hilton after the devastation placed upon the city by the Sickness and its inevitable aftermath. The curving staircases at each side of the lobby led to the dining room on the mezzanine level and the group took the staircase on the right, their footsteps echoing loudly on the bluestone steps in the cavernous room. The top of the stairs brought them eye level with the opulent chandelier, recently shined and brightly lit. In fact, all the lights in the lobby were lit, an impressive display of available electricity in today’s world. Monica led them along the hall to double oak doors, intricately carved and beautifully stained. Despite their large size, the doors swung easily on well-oiled hinges, coming to rest gently at the rubber doorstops mounted in the floor.

Phoenix stood inside the door, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and talking with a tall well-dressed man with short red hair. At the sound of their entrance, Phoenix dismissed the man and turned to face the colonel and her men. “Madam President—Colonel Starkes, welcome.”

“Phoenix,” she said, dipping her head slightly.

“You and your men are most welcome here as my guests of honor.”

“Thank you, Phoenix.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you, Monica. I’ll take it from here.”

“Okay, Phoenix,” she said nervously. “Madam President, please let me know if you need anything. You can ask any of the servers to find me.” She spun on her stilettoes and made her way to the kitchen.

“A nice girl, Phoenix,” said the colonel, watching Monica walk across the large dining room.

“Are you referring to Monica?”

“Yes, Phoenix, I’m referring to Monica.”

“She comes with the hotel.”

“I’ll bet.”

Phoenix led the group to two tables in the center of the room, obviously the places of honor. “Colonel? I notice that your group only includes about half your men. Am I correct in assuming the remainder will be attending to matters elsewhere?”

“Yes, Phoenix, that’s correct.”

“I guess my luck’s holding, colonel. I only have place settings for—well, it seems like I’ve guessed correctly.” She studied the two tables and realized immediately that the number of place settings was equal to the number of her men. A small woman dressed in a server’s uniform, newly pressed and perfectly fitted, was setting a short flower arrangement in the center of a table.