by Paul Kirk
“Yeah, Andy, okay. I won’t make you wait much longer.”
He gave her a final squeeze and slid away from her on the bench. “You think I should go find Mother Hen?”
“I do, but go easy on him for me, Andy. He’s just trying to protect my family and me. And, why don’t you invite whoever’s awake out to enjoy the fire.”
"You sure?"
“Yeah. Now that I think back on it, it is kinda obvious how everyone’s made the effort to give us some space over the last couple weeks. It’s not good for our families.”
“I agree. Seventeen adults and seven kids sharing thirty-five hundred square feet makes a small space to keep secrets."
"How 'bout you tell whoever’s awake that we have something to say. You should probably wake up any sleeping adults.”
“Really? You wanna do this, now?”
“Yeah, Andy, let's put this out in the open. We’ll tell ‘em that we’re thinking of sharing a bedroom. That should put to rest what they’ve probably been thinking for awhile.”
“Okay, I guess,” said Andy. “You might want to pay special attention to Ry. He’s not gonna like the news."
"I know."
"He’s got a real soft spot for you, T. And he thinks Connor walks on water.”
“Yeah, that's true. Well, Ryan's just gonna have to face up to the fact that Connor’s not coming back.”
“Yeah.”
“Five years, Andy.”
“I know.”
“It’s obvious he’s not gonna be part of the future of this place.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Let me handle Ryan.”
“It’s not gonna be easy to convince him, T.”
“I know. He thinks Mac can walk on water.”
“Don’t hold that against him. I thought the same when I was his age. It’s funny, you know? It’s not hard to think of the bastard waltzing up to the fire at any moment.”
“You think so?” There was a hopeful lilt in her voice.
“No—it’s been too long. I do miss the sonofabitch.”
Terry slid closer to Andy, letting her hand fall to his inner thigh. She gave him a tender squeeze and faced him in the firelight, gray eyes shining. She giggled like a schoolgirl. “We’d certainly have some explaining to do if he ever came back, wouldn’t we?”
Andy smiled, sharing the terrible irony of the moment. He had given the matter some thought and he answered her in a serious tone. “I dunno, T, I think Mac might understand. It's just that, c’mon, we’ve waited five years and it’s not like he doesn’t know where to find us. He’s the one who set up this contingency plan bullshit anyway. To my way of thinking, it’d be better if you ended up with me and not some complete stranger.” He rubbed his hands together and stood. He bent over and gently kissed her forehead, turned toward the cottage and took a step.
“Hey,” she said, stopping his progress. She quickly drained her glass and held it out to him. “How about bringing me another. There seems to be a hole in this glass.”
He laughed deeply, the rumbling sound speaking of happiness and a bright future. “It’ll be my pleasure, T.”
CHAPTER 4.8-Not Coming to Talk
“Who the hell are you?” asked Major O’Malley. He had assumed a defensive position against the sidewall near the front doors of the Hall of Fame. Captain Daubney and three other men served as the major’s primary backup. Phoenix Justice and Larry Reed stood about twenty-five feet from the entrance, unimpressed by the weaponry aimed at them. About fifteen feet behind them, the horsebacked entourage held their positions; the horses impossibly still except for an occasional swish of a tail. The cavalry held their weapons loosely, the barrels pointing down.
“My name’s Phoenix Justice. I’m the governor of Ohio and Cleveland’s my town. The people of Ohio voted me into office. This is Larry Reed. He’s the sheriff of all territories under my jurisdiction.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” answered Phoenix as if talking with a slow-witted child. “We’re unarmed, as you can see. We come in peace.”
Major O’Malley did not respond, waiting instead for additional input from Phoenix. He wasn’t disappointed.
“We’d like to determine who you are and what are your intentions,” offered Phoenix. He was a study in calm confidence, exuding a charismatic energy that demanded attention. It was difficult to ignore his curly red hair and bright green eyes. The man was well over six feet tall and had a broad muscular build that suggested a coiled power waiting to happen. He was young, probably closer to twenty-five than thirty, and he looked like the epitome of health.
“I see,” answered the major. Larry Reed matched the calm confidence of Phoenix. The major studied Larry Reed and thought he had the look of an ex-marine, maybe an MP. He noticed the natural athleticism of the man and the unmistakable bearing of a warrior. Reed was the type of person that the major had long ago discovered that you dealt with very carefully, that is, if you survived his initial onslaught. Reed kept in excellent shape and was fond of displaying his physique. For this occasion, he wore a bright white tank top and crisply ironed fatigue pants. He was around forty-five years old, but hadn’t lost any of the ropey muscles adorning his six-and-a-half foot 250-pound frame. His square face showed his age, wrinkles surrounding darkly hooded eyes that had seen their fair share of violence. Neither man appeared to be armed.
“My name is Major Michael O’Malley of the United States Army. I am under strict orders to take control of this building for the duration of our assignment. You are not yet welcome here, but I’ll give you an opportunity to vacate the premises. You have two minutes.”
“What is your assignment, major?”
“That, Mr. Justice, is on a need to know basis.”
“I see. And it's Governor Justice. Who might be your superior officer?”
“That is also on a need to know basis.”
“C’mon, major! You can’t expect to waltz in here under the cover of darkness and take over a building in my state without me asking a few questions.”
“You now have less than a minute to vacate the premises, sir. It’s likely we may approach you at a later date if it’s determined we need your help.”
“How many men are with you, major? Where’d you come from? Are you military personnel? What are your intentions in my city?” Phoenix gave Larry Reed an almost imperceptible nod and Reed turned to his men as if to check on them. Major O’Malley noticed the subtle gestures and provided updates to his own men.
“Echo merge one. Alpha prep. Echo merge one. Alpha prep.”
Captain Daubney and his three men shifted weapons into a more aggressive attitude. Behind them, Colonel Starkes strolled calmly from the entrance to the Hall of Fame. When she spoke, her voice had the crisp edge and experience of comfortable command. “Thanks for the introduction, major. Right now, Phoenix, Cleveland's under my jurisdiction. You'll probably need to absorb that fact real quick.”
CHAPTER 4.9-Breakfast Interrupted
“Are you ready, Marty?”
“Almost, Mac. Give me a minute.”
“We’re moving out shortly.”
“Copy that.” Marty slipped another book into his backpack. He had found several in a small bookcase in the spare bedroom. He finished his packing and turned to glance toward the front of the house where Rhonda was looking out the door. He whispered to Connor. “You, know, Mac, that’s one fine-looking woman. I—”
“Leave it. That’s an order.”
Marty blinked away the dreaminess from his eyes and nodded. “Understood, Mac. Sorry...really, I am. It’s just that she has a certain something, doesn’t she? And it’s been awhile.”
“Yeah, Marty, I hear you.” Connor rolled his blanket and strapped it to his backpack.
Marty shouldered his pack, picked up his rifle, and headed for the front door, brushing gently past Rhonda. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Sure, Marty.”
He settled onto the porch steps and i
nspected his weapon for the fifth time that day. Unsatisfied, he pulled a blue cloth from his shirt pocket and wiped the invisible dust from the barrel.
Inside the house, Roger exited from the back bedroom, feeling surprisingly refreshed and strong even after a fitful night of sleep. He was wearing the same worn army pants that he wore the night before with a rugged brown sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off. He calmly scanned the room and approached Rhonda who had turned to face him. He hugged her fiercely and made an exaggerated sniff in the air. “Do I smell breakfast?” he asked.
“Yeah, you do,” answered Rhonda. “Connor Mac was nice enough to make breakfast for everyone.”
“It’s out front,” said Connor. “Help yourself.”
Roger held up his bandaged arm. “The arm hurts like hell, sir, but it’s only from the cuts, not from infection. I owe you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Roger. Grab something to eat and, when you’re done, we’ll be saying our goodbyes. You don’t owe us anything.”
Roger grinned and he and Rhonda went through the door and sat down at the picnic table.
Connor joined Cody at the window. The boy was watching his parents with satisfaction. It was obvious he was relieved to see his parents safe and together. Connor studied him and firmly gripped his shoulder. “Enjoy the moment, Cody. But always remember that everything can change in an instant if you’re not careful.”
“I know, Mr. Connor Mac. That’s why I’m happy now.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t.”
“You need to take care of yourself and your parents, son.”
“Okay.”
Connor and Cody walked outside as Roger spooned a heaping pile of eggs onto his plate. He gathered another spoonful and abruptly stopped. “Is everyone done?” he asked.
“Have at it, Roger,” said Connor, smiling at his courteous hesitation.
“There’s enough here to feed an army.”
“Yeah, there is. Eat what you want and we’ll split what’s left before we head out,” said Connor.
“How’d you find so many eggs?”
“Amanda and I found thirty-two eggs this time. It’s a skill, Roger. Everyone across the country, probably across the world, still equates geese and other birds with the Sickness. So, not many people go after the stuff. You ever eat any goose?”
“No. I thought about it a few times, but I didn’t want to take the risk. You’re saying it’s okay?”
“Yeah, we’ve eaten the eggs, Roger...many times. We’ve also had goose and duck for sure. Shit, I had first-rate horsemeat out west. Damn horses are breeding outta control there. But yeah, all the meat around you is fine. Goose meat is fine. Dog meat is fine, too."
"I hate them damn wild packs," said Roger, "Always gotta keep an eye out for 'em."
"Yeah, the wild packs have been growing—dogs are simply reverting to their true nature, pure pack predators. One day, we’ll probably domesticate dogs again and I don’t personally care for dog meat—it’s a bit stringy for my taste. But it comes in handy if there’s nothing else around and you’re hungry.”
Roger ate his eggs, enjoying a taste that had been alien to him for more than five years. Yet he was listening intently to Connor, nodding his head in understanding.
Connor continued while Roger helped himself to a second plate. “People are superstitious, Roger. I never figured out why they won’t make the intellectual jump that if you're not dead yet, the geese aren't the problem.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You know, for the past few months, I’ve thought hard about eating geese or duck.” Roger continued eating, shoveling his food into his mouth, not hiding his voracious appetite. He ate as if he hadn’t had any food for a week. “Who made this?” he asked.
“Mac did,” answered Amanda.
“This is A-one chow, sir.”
“Yeah, I liked it too. If you slow down a little, Roger, you might actually taste it.”
Cody ran to the porch and leaned past the railing. He peered outward, glancing left and right, trying desperately to hear or see something. The others waited.
“Whatta ya hear, son?” asked Roger. Connor was impressed with Roger’s quick shift into reconnaissance. Proudly, he watched Amanda check the load in her weapons and Marty pulled his Colt Defender from the small of his back and clicked off the safety.
“Horse riders,” said Cody. “Four or five of them, maybe. They’re coming our way from the west. They’re pretty close.”
“Shit,” said Connor.
“Cody has good ears, sir. I’ll be happy to follow your orders, but we need a plan.”
“Agreed...Marty, it’s playtime.”
“Copy that, Mac.”
“Amanda, locked and loaded?”
“Yeah, Mac.”
“Roger, you have any weapons other than that knife?”
“A .45 Smith and Wesson with one bullet in the back room.”
“Okay. Marty, take a position near the old shed. I’ll touch my nose twice if I want you to shoot at the primary. I’ll rub my face twice for you to take out everyone you can as quickly as you can.”
“Copy that, Mac.” Marty took off for the shed and Connor turned to face Amanda and Cody.
“Amanda, give Cody some ammo—ten rounds. Cody, I want you over near those trees. Keep hidden for the first five minutes, but try to work your way around behind them if you can. If I yell your name, I want you to start shooting everyone you don’t know, understood?”
“Yeah.” The boy began to run toward the trees but his dad’s voice stopped him.
“Cody, make sure you know who you’re shootin’ at!”
“Yeah, Dad.”
“Snuff, me and you are gonna sit on that bench like we’re southern lovers. Our weapons will be hidden within reach. Roger, my shotgun's near the couch along with a nine-millimeter from one of those assholes yesterday. Check the loads on those weapons—the shotgun should be fully loaded, but make ‘em count. I want you inside that old Ford sitting in the front yard. I want you firing if you hear me yell your name.”
“Okay, Connor Mac. Where will Rhonda be?”
“Rhonda will arm herself with that one-shot .45 and wait inside the door. In the meantime, Snuff and I will be having a good time on the front porch swing if the riders decide to come this way. We’ll act like a very surprised couple.”
Roger entered the house and returned quickly, carrying the shotgun, the nine-millimeter, and the forty-five, which he handed to his wife. He headed to the Ford while Rhonda looked after him with concern.
“Don’t worry, Rhonda,” said Connor, noticing her concern, “they’ll do fine.”
She nodded, not quite convinced, but unable to stop the current events.
“As for your assignment, there’s a shotgun next to that TV inside. Use it, if you have to. You have fired a shotgun before, correct?” Her concern intensified. “Rhonda, I don’t think it will be necessary—that’s just in case.”
"Yeah. A few times."
"Okay. Good."
Rhonda nodded again, a bit more confidently this time and went inside.
Connor placed his M-4 on the porch swing and turned his attention to Amanda. “Have a seat in front of my gun. Are you up for some serious kissing?”
She laughed despite her building apprehension. She was surprised that she found the prospect of kissing Connor under these circumstances slightly erotic. “You are a sex-starved bastard, Mac, you know that?”
“You should talk, you shameless hussy.”
CHAPTER 4.10-Staking a Claim
“Listen, this shit’s getting old. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my town?”
“Take it easy, Phoenix. I’m in charge now. At least, until I leave.”
“Like hell you are!” Phoenix stood to his full height, bristling with outrage. Larry Reed quickly began rapid but subtle hand signals. His movements weren’t subtle enough to experts in combat leadership.
“Mr. R
eed, I suggest you keep your hands still for now and listen to what I have to say. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to end your assault plans prematurely.”
Larry Reed stopped his hand gestures and concentrated on Hannah Starkes. He narrowed his eyes, searching his mind for some clue to who she was. She had either guessed the reason for his signals or she knew them—either way, it surprised him to be outflanked.
“What’s your name, woman?” asked Phoenix, his voice dripping with contempt. “What are your intentions here? As governor, I’m telling you to watch who you’re talking to!”
“Can it, Phoenix!” yelled Colonel Starkes. “Major O’Malley will handle any future diplomacy sometime tonight. Right now, I’m going to get some shut-eye. Major, wake me a half an hour before ops review.”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the major. Colonel Starkes turned her back on Phoenix and Larry and walked calmly behind the protective cover of her men toward the stairwell. Her pace was slow, expecting to be delayed by Phoenix. She was not disappointed.
“Hey lady,” said Phoenix, “you’re in no position to tell the governor of Ohio what to do.” The frustration in his voice conveyed his building anger. The colonel continued her slow walk to the stairwell. Blood boiling, Phoenix yelled at her retreating figure. “You’ll speak to me directly, right now, or we’ll resolve this with the bloodshed!”
Colonel Starkes turned to face the two men, unwilling to ignore the direct threat to herself and her men. “Phoenix? Do you have any formal military training?”
“What the hell’s that got to do with anything?
“Please answer the question.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Mr. Reed, aside from your prior duties as a marine MP, do you have any in-depth training in tactics and strategy?”
“How’d you know I was an MP?”
“I know quite a bit about you, sergeant. And right now, a superior officer asked you a question. Answer me, soldier.”
Years of answering superior officers were too ingrained to ignore the colonel's commanding tone. “No...ah, ma’am. I don’t have any formal military training in tactics or strategy.”