Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

6: Two fully working .50 caliber machine guns atop pickups with dummies mounted on two others for potential part salvage and intimidation.

7: A total of twenty (now eighteen) Honda and Yamaha 250cc quads with some essential spare parts and nine usable replacement tires. Highly experienced riders for each.

8: Sixteen motorcycles (Honda only) with highly experienced riders.

9: 240 cavalry separated into brigades with spare horseshoes and decently trained men to ride and care.

10: At least one experienced farrier established for each cavalry Pride Brigade.

11: Forty well-trained logistic and supply managers

12: Five full capacity Pride Brigades 200 men strong using motorcycles, four-wheelers or the truck beds for mobile transport.

13: A forty-man Log/Sup team keeping the logistics and supply line rolling forward.

14: Luke’s twenty-man Hunter/Tracker team.

Watching the organized chaos in creating a new camp, Phoenix considered the seasoned men of the Pride Brigades. They were as impressive as the machines, horsemen and equipment that supported them. To a man, each was in excellent physical condition and wore light body armor beneath urban army camo, despite the heat of the day. His search of army installations, depots, and law enforcement barracks over the years had produced a plethora of suitable equipment for his men. Well-trained and well fed, with fastidious hygiene instilled, his army was a supreme fighting force, bar none, in today’s new world order. Strict discipline was paramount.

“And I have the controls,” said Phoenix aloud.

Each man carried enough food for three days on the march and enough ammo to take on any standard military events. Of course, that was only when they didn’t have to resort to the RPGs and more powerful munitions stashed in the truck beds for those bigger ticket events. Thinking back on the development of his army, Phoenix admitted his uncle had done a fine job finding and recruiting military-minded men and then developing an excellent fighting force. On the other hand, he wouldn’t be the first to fawn over his uncle’s accomplishments. Phoenix glanced down to see a group of men walking below his seat atop the steel billet. Listening closely, he caught whispers of a few men under the command of Brigade leader Kaiden Hatch, a staunch veteran of many skirmishes during the past four years. The men proudly spoke of the time when they took down Erie, PA and how they fully enjoyed the rape and pillage that went with it. Quickly, they became quite descriptive in their stories.

“The small minds of small men,” Phoenix thought, “Why rape a few women when you can have the entire country begging on its knees.”

Used to climbing from tall heights during his days as an elevator adjuster, Phoenix descended from the stack of steel with liquid ease, strolling toward the supreme command tent the log-sups had already set up. Mildly aroused in spite of himself, he adjusted his erection for comfort and was somewhat irritated that he’d specifically ordered no young women to attend to and service the men during this expedition.

“Hannah, I… we need to…” said Amanda. She scanned the room obviously searching for something. “Where are my clothes?” She wore an extra large T-shirt and nothing else. Easing up onto her elbows, she dared anyone to intervene. She made another concerted effort to rise further into a sitting position; forcing her legs beyond the edge of the bed. Woozy, she reluctantly let Scott and Cassie support her arms and shoulders. After a moment, she regained her bearings. “We need to get to Youngstown.”

“Youngstown?”

“She’s talking about Youngstown, Ohio, ma’am,” said Scott, “She was asking about it before I went to find you.”

“I see.”

“It’s ahh… a small town sixty-five maybe seventy miles southwest of here.”

“Thanks,” said Colonel Starkes. She turned toward Major O’Malley, but before speaking, the major placed a hand on Daubney’s shoulder.

“Captain? See to it that mission specs are drawn up for a full team transfer to Youngstown. Immediate daylight arrival near dawn.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Locate proper fuel conduits for both north and south approach landings, if possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And make sure the men and all supplies are fully replenished prior to departure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That goes for the fresh water containers we were talking about, even if you have to commandeer ’em.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”

“I think Phoenix is traveling to Youngstown and not toward Akron like we thought. Make Shamus aware and have him lay in a flight plan giving us a chance to track current position before going in.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a rush, Captain Daubney left the room and nearly collided with Cassie, returning with Amanda’s freshly laundered clothes. At the bed, Cassie placed them in her lap. “Here you go, honey.”

“Thanks.”

“Do me a small favor right now would you?” said Cassie, “Don’t try to stand yet, okay? You’re going to be very, very weak for a few days.”

“Okay.”

“Is Youngstown your fallback rendezvous point, Amanda?” asked Colonel Starkes, interrupting.

“Umm, yeah… did Marty tell you that? Where’s Marty?”

“Marty?”

“Yeah, the guy with me. Sniper. Marine Recon. You didn’t see him? Blonde, long hair, ’bout six foot?”

“No,” said Colonel Starkes.

“No? Damn! Marty was… providing cover fire for me. We hid out in the old warehouse across from the Hall of Fame.”

“I knew it!” said Major O’Malley.

“Nope,” said Colonel Starkes once again.

“Tell me more about Marty,” said Major O’Malley, interested.

“He never made it to you?”

“No, like I said, we high-tailed it outta there.”

“Oh,” said Amanda. She closed her eyes, deeply tired, but snapped them open, trying to refocus.

“Amanda, there was some serious firepower brought to bear that night.”

“Tell me ’bout it.”

“By the end of it, that entire warehouse was a burning and exploding fireball.”

“Oh.” Amanda furrowed her brow, refusing to let dark thoughts of Marty’s death take hold. “He’s not dead… he made it out… I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, let’s hope. But how long was your team supposed to wait in Youngstown? Where in Youngstown? Why Youngstown?”

“Umm—”

“Amanda, how long? C’mon—”

“Ahh, five days max at a steel mill.”

“Can you tell me where?”

“At a furnace labeled #1.”

“You’re three days past that mark,” volunteered the major.

Amanda rolled her eyes and speared the major with a wicked, frustrated stare. “No shit, Sherlock.” She turned in anger to Colonel Starkes. “The rest of your men this quick, Hannah?”

With lightening speed, Colonel Starkes jumped in Amanda’s face. “You insult my men again, I’ll leave your ass strapped down on that bed until the rats find you.” The cold fury of Hannah Starkes snapped Amanda from her pain, self-pity and frustration. Colonel Starkes continued, “you won’t find a better man. And, that’s Major Michael O’Malley to you.”

“Geez, I was just saying,” suggested Amanda.

“He’s my second in command. I’ll not tolerate that insubordination from anyone. Got it?”

“Okay. Sure.”

Nonplussed by the skirmish, Major O’Malley smiled, sticking out his hand. Amanda smiled rather apologetically and took it.

“Sorry, major.”