Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Where do you think they’re headin’?” asked Captain Daubney.

“I dunno, Akron’s that way.”

“Who they going after? Connor MacMillen?”

“Maybe, Mickey and his team did confirm Phoenix’s men were dropping dead like flies outside the front doors when that woman come crashing in. Johnny, Rob, you both were on the roof. It was you confirmed the fast cycling sniper fire coming from the warehouse.”

“Yep,” said Second Lieutenant Johnny Robertson.

“Oh, yeah. It was something to see. Truly… like to meet the man doing that dance,” said Sergeant Robby Bernstein.

“In fact, each of you said it might’ve been two men in that sniper nest given the fast delivery cycle.”

“Go on… major,” said Colonel Starkes.

“Phoenix musta caught wind of Connor MacMillen. I’m thinkin’ they musta found his trail or the trail of anybody else that was with him.”

“Uh, huh.”

“The way I figure it, Phoenix’s probably pretty pissed this Connor MacMillen ruined his ‘surprise’ assault plans.”

“Sniveling prick bastard,” said Colonel Starkes, growling. Embarrassed by her own furious outburst, she had the grace to blush in front of her men. “Sorry, men.”

The men let her off easy for disregarding her own orders, since she was speaking in terms they undoubtedly understood. Taking a moment to compose herself, she studied the room, seeing many men holding onto anger, barely contained. Taking this opportunity, she slammed her papers down onto the table. Startled, everyone froze. “You. Will. Get. Your chance with that man. If, and only if, it coincides with our mission objective to return Nicole and CJ safely back to Mt. Storm.”

The room became silent.

“Are we clear?” In unison, she received affirmation. She shifted to a more friendly tone. “Now then, major. Do you have anything else you’d like to add that we need to know about?”

“Well, if Connor MacMillen and any of his friends are in that area, they better be able to hide small in a very tight crevice.”

“How long? Huh? Huh?”

“Please, stay calm, please.”

“What day is it? How long was I out?”

“Ma’am, can you tell me your name? What’s your name?” asked Scott.

Cassie stood close, but quickly went to the window, opening curtains to a bright September sixteenth morning.

“Amanda. My name’s Amanda Abbington, please… how long have I been… umm, unconscious?”

“Eight days since we scooped you up at the front door of—”

“Eight days? Shit!” Amanda tensed at the news and slumped into her pillow. Exceptionally weak, she tried lifting her hand, only to be gently stopped by Scott. Thinking hard, she let the concerned man brush her forehead with a cool, wet cloth. Drifting back into unconsciousness, she struggled to stay focused. Opening her eyes with supreme effort, she stared at the man with the soft, bright green eyes and easy smile. Turning her head, she glanced at a woman nearby who she’d only now noticed.

“Where… am I?’

“You’re in a hospital bed on the third floor of a college campus called Allegheny College.”

“Where’s that?”

“We’re in Meadville, Pennsylvania.”

“Not Cleveland? How… far’s Cleveland?”

“Maybe seventy or eighty miles. You’re safe here, Amanda. Just lay still and relax. You’re in good hands.”

“No—”

“Yes, you’re safe. We’re taking care of you.”

“Okay. Okay… yeah, how far’s… Meadville from Youngstown?” Amanda struggled to concentrate, finding it difficult to maintain focus. The hard, seductive pull of sleep beckoned.

“Youngstown?”

“Youngstown, Ohio!”

“Umm, I’m not sure. Cassie?” asked Scott.

“Youngstown’s south and west across the border. I dunno, maybe sixty-five miles.”

“The… I need to talk to the president.”

“Okay. Sure,” said Scott, “She was here to check on you an hour ago.”

“Can you get… umm, President Starkes… I need to talk now.”

“Relax, Amanda. Please. Try to rest. A bullet creased your left temple, knocked you around a good bit… plus, you took a deep hit to the thigh. You need to rest and recover.”

“Okay… umm, but, get President Starkes for me now… please?”

Scott studied the desperation and intensity. Impressed at the woman’s focused fortitude, he decided to help.

“Alright, I’ll go after her. But, you hafta stay calm for me.”

“I will… I promise.”

“Cassie, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Scott.”

Scott rushed toward the stairs, scrambling down to enter the command center. Quickly, he approached the colonel, major and captain. He overheard their discussion concerning the need for at least thirty more portable containers to hold fresh water for transport.

“Ma’am?”

“Yeah, Scott? She alright? She awake?”

“Yep. She’s asking for you.”

“Good.”

“By name.”

“Wow. By name, no kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“What’s her name? She tell you?”

“Amanda Abbington.”

“Amanda Abbington. Okay then. Let’s go. All of us, c’mon.”

Hustling, they reached Amanda’s room only to see Cassie trying desperately to keep the young woman calm. Amanda was trying hard to sit up, despite her weakened state and was being met with fierce resistance and consoling words.

“Amanda!” yelled Colonel Starkes, entering the room.

“Who’re you? Huh? This can’t wait. Get me the damn president!”

“I am the damn president!”

Amanda ceased thrashing and stared. Taking stock, she relaxed under Cassie’s firm pressure, slipping deep into the pillow with a heavy sigh.

“Okay… alright. We’re making some progress… I guess.”

Nearing the bedside, Colonel Starkes slowed, calming herself. Scott, O’Malley and Daubney took position around her; each glanced at the other and then Amanda, evaluating.

“You’ve been out for awhile, Amanda. And, in case you’re wondering, because you probably are, your baby’s doing just fine.”

“Oh.” Amanda’s eyes took on a brief faraway stare.

“You’re President Starkes?”

“In the flesh.”

“We… we got your letter.”

“Obviously.”

“And Connor Mac?” asked Amanda, hopeful.

“Umm… we’ve yet to meet the man.”

“Shit! What… what happened… after I got shot?”

“Well, let’s see—”

“Tell me!”

“Hold on! Here’s how it was. Mickey and his crew gathered you up from the first floor of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame like a sack of potatoes.”

“Uh, huh.”

“They carried you to the command center while a huge firefight took off. And, from there, we high-tailed it outta the Hall of Fame like it was on fire, bringing you with us.”

“Oh.”

“In fact, we jumped onto our bird right when Phoenix’s men laid on a full frontal assault to take the building.”

“Phoenix?”

“The sniveling, evil rat prick bastard who thinks he runs Cleveland.” The growl beneath the colonel’s voice came through easily. She sought a modicum of calm, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh,” said Amanda.

“After we cut loose, we slipped away as they swarmed the building. But, I’m happy to say that your warning helped me keep all my men safe and sound. Barely a few scratches.”

“A huh.”

“So I owe you a debt of gratitude, Amanda Abbington.”

“But… Connor Mac?”

“He never made it. We never saw him. Was he nearby?”

“Crap!” said Amanda. She flopped onto the pillow, frustrated. After a few seconds, she squinted in pain and reached up to touch the bandage on her head. Momentarily shocked at the lack of hair on her left side, her eyes flew open. Breathing deeply, she released the tension in her shoulders and slid deeper into the pillow. Nearly spent, she made a final effort to compose herself.