Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  "A group of men were smoked by Connor MacMillen when they tried to ambush him not too far from here."

  "They did what?"

  "They tried to take Connor MacMillen in ambush and steal his pack. A man named Dave was in charge of their group. A skinny guy with attitude named Buzzy laid it all out for me. He said he knew he was Connor MacMillen because the man told them his name before he took all their stuff. Buzzy said that Connor MacMillen's sniper killed a few men and, once he had control of the situation, he took what he wanted from their packs and left."

  "No kidding?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Wow. How'd this Connor MacMillen find himself caught up in an ambush?"

  "Hard to say, ma'am. Sounds like it was more of an ambush of the ambush the more I think about how it went down."

  "You mean Colonel MacMillen walked into it on purpose?"

  "I dunno. Maybe. He might've had some help at his back and the end result was him getting to take from the people that were trying to take from him. It's has an edge that fits the man."

  "So he planned it? He did it on purpose?"

  "Ma'am, he walked away without a scratch and this Buzzy guy thinks he was kinda like supernatural or something. Had a 'magic' about him the guy said."

  "Huh."

  "We have some work to do, but we've narrowed the search parameters quite a bit."

  "Nice job, major. Nice job."

  "Thank you, ma'am."

  CHAPTER 2.13-Hope for the Best

  “Here are the beans and corn,” said Connor, handing the open cans to Amanda.

  “Terrific, Mac,” she said, taking the cans and sniffing the contents before dumping them into the simmering pot.

  Connor stepped closer to Amanda and gently took her arm. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, Mac. It was a good move on your part, I guess. Now we know. A lot more, anyway.” They both glanced at Marty who was pointedly ignoring the conversation. He sat down at the table and retrieved his Colt, checking its status. He slipped it into his belt at the small of his back and felt complete once again. He opened his backpack and removed a plastic bag of venison and a dented canteen filled with water.

  “Connor Mac? Amanda? You want to add this venison? It’s real fresh stuff.”

  They turned to face him and Amanda answered. “I don’t think we need it, Marty. Why don’t we save it for dinner?”

  “If you’re sure? I mean, I hope you’re not forgetting about Snuff.”

  Amanda turned and smacked Connor hard on the shoulder. Connor grimaced, laughed, and turned to the confused Marty, jerking a thumb in Amanda’s direction. “Marty, I’d like you to meet the very beautiful and talented Snuff.”

  Marty abruptly stood. “What? You mean, she’s him?”

  “Well, Marty, he’s a she, but, yeah, Amanda is Snuff.”

  Marty’s eyes glanced at the rifle leaning against the house. “I see,” he said. His opinion of Amanda was changing dramatically and he decided to accept the situation at face value. “Nice shooting the other day...Snuff.”

  Amanda scooped the stew into the three bowls, handed one to Connor, and carried the other two to the table, placing one in front of Marty. “Thanks, Marty. I hope you like my cooking. It’s way better than Mac’s.”

  “I agree,” Connor said, sitting down opposite Marty. Connor began eating immediately, shoveling food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Marty followed suit, but stopped after a few bites.

  “Amanda, this is a great stew.”

  “Thanks,” said Amanda.

  “Would you prefer if I called you Snuff?”

  Amanda growled in Connor’s direction. “No, Marty,” she answered testily, “I don’t want you to call me Snuff and if you do it again, I might shoot you where you sit.”

  Marty glanced at Connor who was suppressing a grin. The nickname was obviously his doing and the twinkle in his eye invited Marty to play along if he wanted. “Sorry, Snuff—ahh...I mean, Amanda.”

  Marty returned his attention to his food, withering beneath Amanda’s glare. The three enjoyed the stew for several moments, until Marty cleared his throat. He knew there would be ground rules explained later, but now was the time to get to know one another and he was curious about Amanda’s ability to shoot.

  “I imagine that there’s an interesting story behind how good you shoot that rifle, Amanda.”

  “Yeah, there is. Probably not as cool as your story, Marty.”

  “Go on, Snuff,” chimed in Connor, “tell him about how your grandpa taught you.”

  CHAPTER 2.14-Altering the Hunt

  “Based on the projected timelines, Connor MacMillen may be thirty or forty miles east of Fort Wayne by now. Is that correct, major?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How do you propose to track him, now that the search grid's refined?”

  “I’m not sure, colonel.”

  “Not sure?” she asked.

  Nicole strolled into the small airplane hanger wearing fresh oversized fatigue bottoms and a pale green tee shirt. Her hair was combed back from her oval face and Major O’Malley noticed immediately that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She carried the sleeping CJ in her arms and the major had a sudden attack of jealousy for the way CJ was nestling quite comfortably against Nicole’s breasts.

  “Not sure of what?” asked Nicole.

  Colonel Starkes smiled at the sudden expansion of Major O’Malley’s chest.

  “Hi, Nicole,” said the major, shyly. “Can we help you with something? Do you need anything?”

  “Hi, Mike. Hi, Hannah. No, I don’t need anything—I just couldn’t sleep. I'm glad you're safe, Mike. I heard you were back,” she said, smiling at Major O’Malley.

  “Yeah,” he managed as an answer. He reddened with embarrassment as he realized that he had ignored his commanding officer’s question for the last several moments. “Colonel, I think—“

  “I’m glad you’re safe, Mike,” said Nicole. Her silky voice suggested more than a passing concern for his welfare.

  Colonel Starkes recognized that Major O’Malley was stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to respond to two women, one of which was his commanding officer. To ease his embarrassment, she decided to help him. “Please join us, Nicole. We were discussing how best to handle the new intelligence we’ve learned about Connor MacMillen.”

  “You found him?”

  “No, not quite, but we know where he was about two weeks ago.”

  “Close to here?”

  “Yes, somewhere southwest of Fort Wayne.”

  “So, what are you not sure of?”

  “We’re trying to figure out how to refine the search grid,” said Major O’Malley.

  “Can’t you use your fancy equipment to find him?”

  “No, not right now. It’s too broad of an area to cover.”

  Colonel Starkes was thinking of the time and manpower necessary to continue the search for Connor MacMillen. Inwardly, she groaned, dreading the fact that this small hanger outbuilding on the edge of an abandoned private airstrip was going to be her new home for the next several days. She needed a status report on the other Superhawk undergoing a retrofit and inspection near Camp David. Jimmy had told her before they left that he was sure he could deliver the second bird in the next few weeks. She had confidence in Jimmy. He was certain to come through on his promise, but it would be nice to have a that second bird here and now—she could use the extra twenty-two men.

  There was no use thinking about the other Superhawk—either Jimmy would fix it or not, but, either way, it wasn’t here now, so it did her no good. She turned her attention back to the conversation between Nicole and Major O’Malley.

  “Major,” said Nicole, “you won’t find Connor Mac unless he wants to be found.”

  “Please call me Mike, Nicole.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, blushing slightly, “I like the name Mike. It was one of the names I picked out for CJ before he was born. Maybe I’
ll name my next baby Mike.” She boldly held his gaze. He began to blush, but was unable to take his eyes from her.

  Once again, Colonel Starkes came to his rescue. “Major, have you figured out a solution yet?” She allowed an element of irritation to creep into her voice, effectively obtaining his undivided attention.

  Major O’Malley cleared his throat. “I’m thinking that we can target the search corridor, colonel and...umm—"

  “I’m thinking you won’t find him, Hannah. Not in a million years.”

  “Why’s that, Nicole?”

  “I know him. Connor Mac will walk around your men and pick their pockets whenever he wants.”

  “I know he’s well-trained, Nicole. That’s not the question here.” The colonel’s frustration was evident in her voice. She walked a few steps to Nicole and gently touched the sleeping CJ’s pink cheek. “Do you know anything else that might help us now?”

  “No, not really, Hannah.”

  “Okay, Nicole. Why don’t you try to rest while me and the major figure out our next move,” said Colonel Starkes dismissively.

  “Okay, Hannah. Good night, Mike.”

  “Good night, Nicole.”

  At the door, Nicole turned and faced them. “I guess I do have one suggestion.”

  “What’s that?” asked the colonel, making an effort to keep her tone pleasant.

  “I don’t think you’ll find him, like I said. So, why don’t you let him find you?”

  CHAPTER 2.15-Grandaddy Frank

  “Go on, tell him, Snuff. Tell him how you learned to shoot from your granddaddy.”

  “Okay,” said Amanda. “Are you sure you want to hear this, Marty?”

  “Sure, why not?” Marty leaned on his elbows and waited patiently for Amanda to begin her tale. He hadn’t spent enough time with the last group to care about any of them and, before that, he was on his own. The isolation had helped foster his killing mood for a quite some time. A story was a welcome distraction. Besides, it gave him the excuse to stare at Amanda.

  “It’s like this,” began Amanda. “My granddaddy was a military sniper, back when iron sights were the norm."

  "Okay."

  ”When I was ten, I was a bit of a tomboy. Okay?"

  "Sure."

  "And one day, when I was at Grandpa Frank’s house, he let me shoot his .22 rifle. I took to it right away and he told me that I ‘had the eye’, you know?”

  “Sure. He recognized that you were a natural.”

  “Right, a natural. It was easy. After about 250 rounds, I could shoot the heads off those small, green plastic soldiers at fifty yards.”

  “I loved to melt those little soldiers with matches when I was a kid,” said Marty.

  “Yeah. Well, my Grandpa would give me a dollar for every one I shot at fifty yards while he was watching. But after a while, he told me he couldn’t pay me anymore because I was costing him too much money. So, he moved me out to seventy yards. Hitting those little guys from seventy-five yards took some time to master, but I worked at it over the summer and trained to the point that I could take their heads off pretty regularly.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked.

  “Just wondering.”

  “It’s doable.”

  “Oh, I know it can be done, because I could do it. I’m simply trying to wrap my head around you doing it.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Hey, I’m just being honest,” argued Marty.

  “Fair enough.” She quieted for a moment, but continued after Connor’s nod of encouragement. “Eventually, Grandpa brought out his favorite hunting rifle—a Remington 30.06. He made me work with that gun over the next few years until I could plug straight ten’s at 200 yards. Each time, every time.”

  “No kidding? That’s the gun?” asked Marty, indicating the rifle leaning against the house.

  “No, not this one. This is a newer version. With a better scope, but yeah, it’s about the same.”

  Connor interrupted. “She’s not bullshitting you, Marty.”

  “I’ve seen her shoot, sir, remember? She’s not bad for someone with no military training.”

  “Yeah, she can shoot,” agreed Connor. “And, she was trained by military personnel. In fact, at this point, I’d take her expertise in any of today's combat situations. I trust her to cover my ass, Marty—that’s not something I take lightly.”

  “Really, sir? She’s that good?”

  “Yes, she’s that good. She’s a natural. But, let’s be perfectly clear, Marty. Rule number one is that she’s mine. Understand?”

  “Understood.”

  “Even a minor infraction of this rule will bring down a shitstorm on your head.”

  "Copy that, sir.”

  Amanda watched the exchange between the two men, especially pleased at the compliment from Connor concerning her rifle expertise. But then the full content of Connor's words hit home and a pleasurable warmth suffusing her body demanded her attention. Amanda shifted her hips and bottom on the picnic bench solely for the feel of mild friction and self-stimulation. Smiling at both men, she hungered with a need to please Connor and knew that nighttime might not come soon enough.

  CHAPTER 2.16-A Sweet and Gentle Kiss

  “What do you mean, Nicole? How do you propose we let Connor MacMillen find us?”

  “I told you I was an artist, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did some bulk graphic art projects in school many years ago. I'm thinking we might send him a personal message. You know, drop a bunch of eye-catchy leaflets like they did during World War II.”

  “Leaflets?”

  “Yeah! I had the idea when we were flying here. Do you remember when we flew over that strip mall? The one where half the mall had caught fire? Anyway, there was a FedEx store there. I remember saying to myself that there wasn’t any use for a FedEx store anymore...guess I was wrong.”

  “Nicole, what’s your point?”

  “Paper!” interrupted Major O’Malley excitedly.

  “Paper?” asked the colonel.

  “Yeah, colonel. We grab reams of it, all different colors, and write messages for Connor MacMillen on them. We can let him know where and when to meet us. We can drop thousands across a wide dispersal area in front of his travels. The more we drop, the likelier he is to find one.”

  “I see,” said Colonel Starkes.

  “We can put his name big and bold across both sides. Everyone here can help to write the message.”

  “Leaflets,” mumbled the colonel. “Nicole, that’s a great idea.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean it. It’s simple and it might work. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Hannah. I’m glad to help.” She smiled with some pride.

  After a few seconds, Colonel Starkes turned to Nicole. “What do you like, Nicole?”

  “Sorry?"

  “What is it that you miss most from the old days? Before the Sickness?”

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “I like to reward the people under my care when they have a brilliant idea.”

  “No, Hannah, that’s not necessary. It’s just common sense.”

  “Sometimes, and I’m sure the major would agree, common sense is awful hard to find.”

  “That’s a fact, ma’am,” agreed Major O’Malley. He took the opportunity to study Nicole, obviously enjoying her presence.

  “So, again, Nicole, I ask what is it that you miss from the old days? Chocolate? Wine? A certain food?”

  Nicole shifted CJ in her arms and smiled, thinking warmly of her past. The major felt a glowing warmth of his own fed by her smile. Nicole felt quite fond of Hannah Starkes. It was refreshing to have another female around. She glanced quickly at Major O’Malley, grinning mischievously.

  “Well, Nicole?” prompted the colonel.

  “I guess what I miss the most is a sweet and gentle kiss from a strong and handsome man.”

  “Is that ri
ght?”

  “Yes, that’s right. One in uniform,” she said, staring brazenly at the major.

  Colonel Starkes was surprised by Nicole’s bold approach. When it came to flirtation, the colonel was more old school than most, but she realized the social code of conduct now was entirely different than prior to the Sickness. Nobody danced around the issue anymore; time was too short.

  “I think I understand, Nicole. Would you call the major ‘handsome’?”

  Nicole studied the major, going so far as to circle the man twice and gazing with an appraising eye. “Yes, Hannah, I think the word ‘handsome’ easily applies to the major.”

  “And you recognize, of course, that he is, in fact, in uniform?”

  “I have noticed that, yes.” Major O’Malley straightened to his full height and expanded his chest, following Nicole with his eyes.

  “Nicole, in your opinion, would the major meet the criteria you’ve established?”

  “Yes, Hannah, I do believe that he meets that criteria.”

  The colonel turned sharply to face the major. In his eyes was a mixture of fear and excitement.

  “Major?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I order you to provide a sweet and gentle kiss to the young lady.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Are my orders unclear, major?”

  “Yes, ma’am...I mean, no, ma’am.”

  “Then, proceed. I’ll leave you for now. I have some business to attend to with Shamus. Nicole, I’ll look after CJ for a while—I think you need a break. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, major. We’ll discuss how to put Nicole’s leaflet plan into effect.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 2.17-Ground Rules

  “Do you care to fill me in on the rest of the ground rules, sir?” It was evening and the three had settled around the small fire in the living room of a fairly spacious house. They had laid several blankets and pillows on the floor near the fire, creating a very comfortable area. It was slow talk time and Amanda leaned cozily against Connor’s shoulder, staring into the fire and absently twirling a strand of her hair. She occasionally cast a glance in Marty’s direction, finding the new stranger interesting.