Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Steve pretty much confirmed it last night. And, from what I’m told, the woman’s drop-dead gorgeous at that.”

“Huh.”

“Lemme ask you something, uncle.”

Phoenix was lost in thought. Finally, he looked toward Larry Reed.

“Well, go on, ask.”

“You seen any newbies around Cleveland the past few years?”

“A newbie?”

“Yeah, newbie, you know, little red tricycle engine, mustard poop maker. Seen any of them lately?”

“No… now that you mention it.”

“Me neither. And, I’m figuring that’s what brought our fine Colonel out of her hidey-hole somewhere near DC.”

“What?”

“We have us a whole new set of problems moving forward in this day and age.”

“What the hell you rambling on about, Phoenix?”

“What I’m thinking is that the Flu kicked our asses where having kids is concerned.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, babies, bambinos. Know the type?”

“Yeah?”

“I think that the kid she’s got, and probably the woman too, are worth their weight in gold nowadays.”

“Why?” asked Larry, beginning to grasp new possibilities he’d not considered.

“Think about it, uncle. Without new blood, young blood, we have nothing left to control. No future. No young flesh. Most certainly no young flesh. Think about it.”

Larry considering this perceptual change.

“I never had kids. Wanted to, just never got around to it.”

“Uncle, please … spare me. We’re not here to talk about your past fuckin’ love life. We’re here to plan what we should do next to gain the best advantage.”

“Oh. I see. So you want the woman and kid?”

“That, among other things.”

“Such as?”

“How’d you like to be Vice President of the United States… or what’s left of it?”

Larry smiled at the audacity. He nodded.

“You got some balls, Phoenix. I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, how ’bout you start using all that military knowledge you claim to have and figure out how we can get that sweet little colonel under wraps?”

Larry finished the last, tasteful morsel of walleye. Raising his glass, he confirmed the new orders.

“I’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“It’s our destiny, you and me. Our destiny . Don’t lose sight of that. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I’ve run this clan for damn near five years!”

“I know that, T.”

“You pull that shit again out there, Andy and I’ll kick my boot so far up your ass you’ll taste nothing but mud and leather!”

Changing clothes in the master bedroom after the grave digging and before dinner had become dangerous ground. Andy glanced at his new fiancée and tried to gently laugh at the images she suggested, hoping to deflect some of the anger; it was not well received. Quickly, he chose a new approach, deciding to explain. He took a risk.

“C’mon, T! You’re clueless .”

“What?”

Terry approached in fury until Andy held up his hand to stop her; his fierce expression gave her pause.

“Blood tone, T. You have to learn the blood tone of your men…”

“What! What?”

Terry turned away from him and moved about the room unable to stay in one place for long. Her hands shook in anger, waiting for Andy’s response.

“I’ll say it again. The Blood Tone, T. You know, how the men are responding to your command decisions.”

“Can you just speak fuckin’ English for once?”

“Sure! Setting the blood tone’s the best way to keep your men in check. And, if I must say, that’s always been your primary weakness in the management of our clan.”

Terry, freshly showered and wearing only pink lace panties, pulled on a pair of fresh jeans. Angrier than he’d ever seen her, she wriggled into her jeans, so much so, that Andy felt she might rip the top of her jeans off.

“What the hell you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t act like we’ve never gone over this. Even before we became ‘official.’”

“Damn it, talk some sense!”

“You see how quickly the men… and Liam I might add, responded to my suggestion?”

“Yeah, so? The lazy pieces of shit!”

“No. C’mon, you know better. They just knew it was wrong, at that point to be spending any more time on that garbage in that summer heat. Human beings or not. La de da da. You gotta remember that sometimes, killing is just what it is. Killing . No grave digging or fancy ceremonials to act like it’s more that it was—”

“We’re not savages, Andy! I won’t have my son grow up thinking that being a savage is okay.”

“I agree. I mean it, T, I do. But remember that after a fresh kill of three men who were planning to come in and take what they wanted, well, taking time in the summer heat burying ’em don’t sit well with the men. Me neither. Never did. In fact, celebrating our killing is more like it. ”

“So, you planning on taking over now?”

Andy calmed, trying his best to communicate his perspective.

“C’mon, T, you know me better than that. I hope you do… I’m just trying to help you out when I think you might be going all ‘woman soft’ on the men of this clan.”

“So, you’re not pullin’ some bullshit move on me?”

“Never, T. We’re a team. I’m yours and I’ll back you up ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the time.”

“Huh.”

“But, you’d do even better if you took my advice once in awhile.”

Terry buttoned her jeans before edging closer to Andy. Zipping up, she leaned her head into his chest, looking up to study his eyes. Seeing his concern, she softened considerably. Terry’s breathing gradually slowed.

“Understood. Point taken.”

“Alright, that’s good.”

Terry gently lifted her hand, resting it on Andy’s bare chest. Absently, she twirled her finger in his chest hair.

“So, what might you advise , right now, smartshit?”

Slowly, Andy wrapped his arms around her bare back before he let them slip to rest upon her hips. He pulled her tighter and whispered.

“Well, I’m thinking we might have fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before dinner.”

“And?”

“I’d like to show you the new bruise I have after killing that fat man. Bastard packed a punch. Can’t believe how lucky he got.”

“Huh.”

“Maybe you can kiss it and make it all better.”

“You’re a sonofabitch, you know that?”

“Take off those damn jeans before you lose ’em permanently.”

“But, I just put them on.”

“Take ’em off.”

“No, you do it.”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

“That’s you they’re referencing on that paper, Mac.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that, McLeod.”

Connor stared into the distance, thinking. By now, the entire crew had gathered around the porch steps.

“But, why?” asked Marty.

For a moment, no one responded.

“You have something they want, Connor Mac,” said Rhonda, softly.

“Or something they need to know about,” added McLeod. “Maybe some special military op that had something to do with H5N1?”

“No. Nothing like that, John. I don’t think. My job, the last four years before the Sickness was training men for Special Forces combat. I have nothing to do with it, H5N1, black ops or not.”

“Think on it, Connor Mac,” said BB.

“Don’t you think I’m doing that?” Connor abruptly stood, pacing in front of the porch steps.