Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“We gonna wait the day out, Mac?”

“Your thoughts?”

“We go.”

“Just like that! It’s that easy?”

“Never said it was going to be easy. Not for you. Not for Marty. Not for any of us. You know that.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s simply something that has to be done. And, trust me; I know a little bit about moving on.”

“Hmm.”

“We need to move, Mac. As a team. Have some direction. We’re following you, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“So, what’s it going to be? Huh? We here for another day?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, I need to know because I have a new basket weaving project I’ve just got to finish.”

“You always this much of a prick, McLeod?”

“No.”

Connor stared at his empty mug. McLeod continued. “Only when it seems necessary.”

“Never did kill that fat rattlesnake for dinner,” mumbled Connor.

“What’s that?”

“Never mind.”

“Okay.”

Connor studied John McLeod, critiquing him deeply. Early in their travels, he’d come to the conclusion that the older man was a hard, yet gentle traveling companion and, surprisingly found he was glad to have him around. Casting a serious eye toward the bleakness of the barren steel yard, he whispered his thoughts. “I’m glad you found us, McLeod.”

“What’s that?”

“I said I’m glad you had the guts to come up on us at that old farmhouse.”

“Ahh, yeah.”

“You’re a great traveling companion.”

“Oh… right.” McLeod took a moment to sip his tea, making an effort to clear his throat; Connor noticed.

“Don’t go all wispy eyed ’cause I said that, McLeod. It just needed said.”

McLeod swiped at his left eye, as if some dust had blown in before squinting hard. They stared toward the main camp and saw Marty and BB stroll up to check in, likely wondering what today might bring.

“Hey Mac. John,” said Marty. His makeshift fishing rod bounced in hand as did BB’s larger version made from a tiny maple sapling.

“Hey.”

“Everything copasetic?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“For real? ’Cause I’m thinking you two are talking some shit, John.”

“I guess we are, Marty,” said John.

“Uh, huh.”

“Well?”

Connor stepped into the conversation. “We’ll be leaving in four hours, Surf Boy. Alert the crew. Right now, we’re heading to the ’Burgh.”

“Pittsburgh?” asked BB.

“Yeah, Pittsburgh. We’ll need to take a route that avoids making that Geiger counter jump, but we need to move. We spent enough time here waiting.” Connor was all business.

“But, Amanda?”

Connor slipped from the steel billet, standing before Marty and BB. Almost wistfully, he glanced northwest toward Cleveland before his voice became soft. “She didn’t make it, Marty… she’s not coming.”

“Hmm… but—”

“We have to face facts.”

“Aww, man. Don’t do this! Not yet. Let’s wait another day. We have the time—”

“No, Marty. Not that don’t I want to. For real.”

“Aww… man.”

“But we gotta move on from here. No good’s being done. BB?”

“Yeah, sir?”

“Help ’im out for me would you? Take him fishing for a few hours. He’ll need some attention for a bit.”

“Yep.”

“McLeod… let the rest know.”

McLeod slid off the steel to stand near BB, Marty and Connor. Concerned, he looked at each. BB and Marty headed off toward the pond. McLeod began to leave but after a few steps, he stopped and turned. “What about you?’

“Me? What about me, John? I’ll make it. Got no choice at this point. Go on. Let’s leave this mill.”

“Let me know if you need anything.” John turned and walked toward the farmhouse

“Yep.”

In the early dawn, Terry gently touched the tanned bearskin strung out, curing on the wire frame near the fire pit. Caressing the fur stretched tight, she acknowledged the exceptional softness of the treated fur, noticing that the leather hide was taking on a nice suppleness as it cured. Clearly, Liam was having some expert help in preparing the hide, since it was turning out perfectly, as if a man with twenty or more years experience gave the bearskin an expert treatment. Sipping her spearmint and honey tea, Terry strolled the grounds near the cottage, as was her morning ritual when she had time. Not too far out and not breaching the first perimeter, she enjoyed moving about while most of her clan peacefully slept. Here in the mountains, early autumn came quickly and she already noticed leaves taking on fall colors while the ground cover slowly died off to brown.

“Ahh, fall is coming fast,” she thought. Slipping her Kimber into her gray hoodie pocket, she settled onto her favorite large boulder and, once again, was pleased with the view such access permitted. Taking a full scan of the property near the cottage, she took another sip of tea. And, after a few minutes of contemplation she caught Toby and Kristen coming in from nightwatch. Strolling by, Toby tossed a small, tired wave her way. Kristen, close by his side, seemed almost as exhausted.

“Hey Toby? You happen to know who’s helping Liam prep the bearskin?”

“Nope,” said Toby. He continued toward the cottage, clearly in need of sleep.

“Talk to your new man about that, T,” said Kristen. Not breaking stride, she barely hid a small grin while cruising past.

“Alright.” A pulse of joy seeped into Terry’s thoughts. Maybe Liam was letting go a bit concerning his father. Maybe Connor Mac was shifting more into the past for Liam. And maybe, a future with Andy was feasible. He was certainly the one helping Liam in preparing the bear fur. A wave of pleasure ran freely in her thoughts while she considered the future. Catching movement near the cottage, she found Kevin exiting the back door onto the large deck. He lit his pipe and looked around, spotting Terry. After a moment to fully stoke the pipe, he took an easy stroll in her direction.

“Morning, T.”

“Kev.”

“Are there any big plans for today?”

“Nope. Nothing more than bringing in the rest of the September kale harvest. Should probably start thinking about bringing in some of the squash and early pumpkin.”

“Right.”

“Why’d you ask? Is something else on your mind?”

“Umm, well, yeah, I guess.”

“And that is?”

“Mark has that big fall festival going on today at Nemacolin. People from all around will be coming to see the fireworks and do some serious trading.”

“Uh huh.”

“We should sell some of our Jasmine soap. Fetch a good price. We should send a few of our own people and trade what we can.”

“Yeah, we talked about this already last week, remember? Jessie and Ryan are going.”

“Yep, that’s right. But… I’d like to go, too.”

“Well, plan on it then. What’s keeping you?”

“I was assigned to help with lunch and dinner.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I’ll have Christy pitch in and take your assignment.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Kevin turned and walked toward the cottage.

“Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“You got someone at Nemacolin you’re looking at?”

“T?”

“C’mon, Kev.”

“Umm…”

“Kev? It’s not like you’ve kept it a secret. Is it that Aldonza girl?”

Kevin puffed hard on his pipe and studied the two-lane blacktop evaporating a light fog in the distance. Smiling, he found it difficult to hide his affection. “Yeah, maybe.”

“What do you know about her?”

“A little. She comes from Miami. Has a kid named Carlos, fifteen or so years old. And, she used to work at a bank as a mortgage broker.”