Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“We gonna pass through or skirt this city, Mac?” asked McLeod, “We’ve not yet talked this part through.”

“Umm, I dunno. It’ll save us at least two day’s travel if we can walk straight through it, maybe into those Liberty Tunnels onto Route 51, if it’s not blocked or set up to trap.”

“You want to enter the city? We’re going in the city?”

“Ahh, let’s scope it out, but, yeah, I think we might give it a shot if it seems fairly safe.”

“Huh. You know I don’t personally like moving around in the bigger cities anymore.”

“I know, John.”

“The trip out west taught me that.”

“I’m with ya. Don’t favor them myself.”

“Cleveland’s reinforced the point, don’t you think?”

“Hah. Yep, sure did.”

As the group gazed toward the city, each pointed out different points of interest.

“The river’s so clear,” said Roger, “Wasn’t Pittsburgh supposed to be a shithole, dirty city?”

“Bite your tongue.”

“There’s a bunch of army tanks down there, see? Right there,” said Cody.

He pointed to their immediate right, on the north side, fairly close to their position.

“I see it,” said Connor, “Yep, I think some army pricks made an effort to surround Allegheny General Hospital, maybe protect it, at some point early on in this mess.”

“Oh.”

The fire-blackened tanks and green motorized military equipment sat decrepit in heavy weeds and rubble near the wrecked hospital. The streets were barely recognizable. At least fifteen tanks had apparently guarded the wide city roads that wrapped around the huge hospital complex; the main hospital campus had seen better days. Nearby buildings were half crumbled, huge holes blown open to advertise the innards of several floors; nearby businesses fared no better.”

“What the hell do think happened there, McLeod?” mumbled Connor.

“Dunno. You say that’s a hospital?”

“Yeah. A big one. One of the best in the country. We had some heavy hitter docs. Dr. Maroon for one.”

“Well, I dunno then… maybe they were working on a fast cure and people caught wind of it. Maybe they’d set up a perimeter.”

“Didn’t work so well for them, if that’s the case,” said Roger.

“Yeah, didn’t work so well for too many of us, honey,” said Rhonda. She hugged his forearm tight at the comment; leaned further on the concrete guardrail.

“Hey! I see a few boats moving… over there,” said Cody.

“More than a few,” said Jackson.

“Yep, they’re hanging around the Point, I wonder where they find the gas,” said Connor, “Don’t plan to find out.” Taking the binoculars back from McLeod, he studied the city in earnest and took his time with the area nearest to them, mapping out their safest probable route. After a few moments, his scan broadened. With the binoculars still held to his eyes, he smiled. “Ahh, yeah, that’s where Primanti’s would be. Over there.”

“What?”

“Oh, there used to be a restaurant called Primanti’s over in the warehouse strip district that makes a fantastic sandwich. I was just thinking about it.”

“Oh. A pretty good one you say?”

“Yeah.”

The team listened with rapt attention at the mention of freshly prepared food.

“Sorry guys. I was just reminiscing, you know, about a Primanti’s sandwich.”

“Huh,” said Jackson.

“They make them in the ’Burgh. A specialty. Damn, now I’m thinking of Pasta Too and Carbonara’s, oh, man, now those were two Italian restaurants that had the best damn pizza and fettuccini on this planet.”

“Tell me more about this Primanti’s sandwich,” asked Jackson. He slid off his horse, his eyes never stopping on one point of interest too long.

“Sure, a Primanti sandwich is loaded with tons and tons of sliced meat, cheese, and tomatoes.”

“Yeah, so do plenty of other sandwiches, so what?”

“ And , it has Cole slaw and French fries sitting right on the sandwich.”

“Oh.” Jackson was not impressed, “Sounds rather gross.”

“No, I’m serious! Wish you coulda had one. You’d think you died and went to heaven. Especially at two in the morning.”

Connor and John settled back to scan the next 200 yards of their forward travel to help establish the safest route. Based on their blossoming plan to enter the city proper, they needed to strategize with the entire team.

“Bring in Marty, BB and Jason, would you?”

“Sure,” said John.

“We’ll need to set up a new game plan to sneak through this city intact. We’ll need to keep an especially sharp eye out for snipers in those high windows.”

“Agreed. You know, it’s good to have you back some, Mac.”

“Sure.”

“No I’m serious. It’s good to see your head’s at least somewhat back in the game.”

“Ah, huh.” Connor swallowed deeply as his thoughts returned to Amanda and the unknown.

John softened his tone even further. “But… I know it takes time.”

“Yeah, it does that, don’t it?” Connor closed his eyes and took a deeper breath. “Not knowing is the tough part. For everything.”

“So true.”

Having left the Youngstown mill three days ago, they’d made good time in their southeastward travels in the woods beside Ohio 193 and I-680 and then onto their shadowing of the Ohio/Pennsylvania Turnpike (I-76). The time was uneventful while Connor kept up a silent vigil, mourning the loss of Amanda. That is, except, when his expertise was directly called upon. During that time, Marty took overwatch, since neither he nor Connor were able to face each other for more than a few moments, without an obvious pain seeping into their eyes. Not knowing Amanda’s fate was hitting each hard, though, both had lost good men in the past and, in their own ways, were trying to deal with the cold reality of the new world situation.

“How’s our water?” Connor asked Marty as he approached.

“We’re good, Mac.”

“Okay.”

Aside from Rhonda nearly breaking her right ankle in a gopher hole and Cody stepping on a copperhead that clamped hard onto his boot, their only harrowing situation was during the third night in their travels. When, settling in at an old house just north of highway signs for Beaver Falls, PA, they’d met up with a huge pack of wolves and wild dogs. Large and well fed, the pack attacked the entire team brazenly and almost too fast to defend. With some luck, BB, Marty and Jude were able to fire off a few decent shots before the pack fully converged onto the main porch where the team was setting up camp. A bold pack, nicely sized and confident in their numbers, they were unconcerned that they were attacking human prey. And, it was only Jude’s well-placed shot to the head of the lead wolf that had a strong, sobering effect on the pack. In retrospect, only Roger and Jason were in any clear danger. Roger had fought off a large German Shepherd slipping a knife into its belly before Connor angled up to snap its neck; Jason slammed three quick 9mm shots into the chest of a black wolf that had knocked him down, landing on his head. The rest of the wild pack scattered at the intuitive counter attack, leaving many dead dogs and wolf behind.

The team ate well that night, despite a few bites, bruises and stitches. In fact, after that evening, the team made it a point to find high-quality canine cuisine whenever they had the opportunity. As an emblem of team pride, wolf or wild canine meat was now their new favorite and preferred meal.

“We’re set to leave at five o’clock for dawn arrival in Youngstown, ma’am,” said Major O’Malley.

“Understood, major. Thank you,” said Colonel Starkes.