by Paul Kirk
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Major, it’s a good idea, but I’m just not sure about Phoenix yet, you know?”
“Okay. Oh, and I’m told that only Phoenix Justice and Larry Reed will be attending today. At my request, Phoenix agreed to a full security search before entering our building. He did ask that only you and I have no more than a sidearm so as not to appear overly intimidating. I’ve agreed. So, if you would, please bring your sidearm.
“I have it right here, major.”
Colonel Starkes slipped the belt and holster from her duffle, checking the status of her 92FS nine-millimeter Beretta. Satisfied, she holstered the weapon and strapped on the belt, adjusting the position. She studied Major Mike O’Malley for another few seconds.
“Major, I must say, you clean up nicely. You look almost civilized.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You...do...ahh...you’re civilized too, ma’am.”
She checked her watch, grinning at his reluctance to see her as anything other than his commanding officer. “It’s time, major. Let’s meet the natives.”
“Yes, ma’am. Follow me.”
They left the small quarters attached to what was once a large security monitoring station on the second floor. Previously, the huge, mostly open area, housed monitors and equipment. This was swiftly cleared and the area retrofitted into an operational command center. A few doors down, the men had found a large conference table and had moved it to the open area. The meeting would be held here. There were chairs surrounding the table—many more than would be needed. A high-backed leather chair sat at the head of the table and the major pointed to it. “That’s your seat, ma’am.”
"Thank you, major."
Colonel Starkes assessed the room and spotted the pile of maps and papers resting on top of a filing cabinet. "Let's study those maps again. Bring 'em over to the table."
"Yes, ma'am."
"That's what I'll be doing when Phoenix and Reed enter. I'll be actively engaged in conversation over that map, understood? You'll make the introductions."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll pick up Phoenix and Reed outside the door after the captain brings them up."
"Okay."
The major exited the main hallway door, noting Chad and Burroughs standing guard. Down the hall, GT and Scott approached along with Captain Daubney. Shamus, at the far end, spoke to Edgars and Rice. Captain Daubney approached Major O'Malley.
“Major?"
"Yes, captain? We set?"
"All set, sir. Area is secure. Phoenix Justice and Larry Reed are at the front entrance.
“Bring ‘em up, captain,” said Major O’Malley.
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Daubney left to gather the guests, bringing along Edgars and Rice. Chad and Burroughs met the stern gaze of Captain Daubney as he prepared to leave. They each knew the weight of protecting their colonel had fallen onto them at this juncture. And, if it was possible, they straightened their ramrod posture in preparation for the upcoming proceedings. Though admittedly, each felt uncomfortable without at least their sidearm.
"Major?" said the colonel in a raised voice to attract his attention.
Quickly Major O'Malley reentered the room and came to her side.
"Ma'am?"
“Has Nicole seen you in full uniform?” Colonel Starkes leaned in close so as not to be overheard.
“No, ma’am.”
“Make sure she does—later. I know how Nicole likes her men in uniform.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” said Major O'Malley, blushing. He left to await the guests at the door.
CHAPTER 4.18-Eating Breakfast and Finding BB
“An excellent breakfast, Connor Mac.”
“Glad you like it, McLeod.”
“I discovered a serious hot kick to it that I certainly didn’t expect, but found worthwhile. I see you’re not shy ‘bout eating goose eggs.”
“Yeah. A little bonus I discovered. Snuff likes it too.”
“Snuff?”
“My primary backup the past four months—can put a bullet up a gnat’s ass at 300 yards.”
“That right?”
“It is, John.”
Cautiously, Rhonda poked her head out the front door. Connor waved her over.
“Hey Rhonda. C’mon out, we’re good for the moment. Please leave your weapon on the table by the door."
“Okay.”
She disappeared for a moment and returned, crossing the porch and striding up to Connor. She faced the new men and smiled.
“Rhonda, please say hello to John McLeod and his crew.”
John McLeod and Jason promptly stood at her approach. BB, Jude and Jackson were already standing near the porch table gathering breakfast from the pot. Connor made the introductions.
“Rhonda, this is John McLeod and that’s his son Jason. The big guy over there in the long coat is called BB. Next to 'im is Jude. The guy with the long hair is Jackson. We’re all just getting to know each other. Gentlemen, this is Rhonda McIntyre.”
Each man graciously acknowledged her presence, careful not to stare too long at both her beauty and bruises. She gave a gentle wave to each, smiling, while her eyes drifted toward the old Ford rusting in the yard. She relaxed at the sight of Roger exiting the vehicle. Sensing the slight sounds in the yard to the left, John McLeod and his men each took note of Roger's movement, catching sight of the dark-haired man exiting with his weapon in a safe position.
“I knew it!” said McLeod, pleased.
With a gentle wave, Connor summoned them in. “Roger, we’re good. C’mon in and say hello.”
Once on the porch, Roger hugged Rhonda without losing sight of the new men.
“How ‘bout you set the gun down inside, huh? You’re making McLeod and his men a bit nervous.”
“Oh, right. Yes, sir.” Roger rested his weapon near the front door.
"Guys, this is Roger McIntyre."
The men shook hands by way of introduction. Roger returned to Rhonda’s side, they excused themselves, and reentered the house. The newcomers had noticed his fierce demeanor and protectiveness toward Rhonda. McLeod studied their retreating figures with interest.
“I see the rats were a little bit busy before they were taken care of, Connor Mac.”
Connor nodded. “Yeah, John. Their son Cody was about to take matters into his own hands when I found him. Helped them out a bit.”
“I see that you did.”
“Speak of the devil.”
Cody climbed the porch steps to stand by Connor. Wide-eyed, he shifted his gaze from the men to his parent’s entry into the home, and back to Connor. His weapon was held casually, non-threatening.
“Mr. Connor Mac, I saw your signal.”
“Um, yeah. Relax, Cody. We’re good. These guys just want to talk and maybe trade. Guys, this is Cody McIntyre.”
“Hi, Cody,” said John McLeod. The rest of his men nodded in greeting, but Cody wasn’t satisfied with that. He walked to each man, expecting a handshake as a more formal greeting.
BB smiled in Connor's direction at the young boy’s effort.
“Cody, go inside and check in with your mom and dad,” said Connor.
“Okay, Mr. Connor Mac.”
John McLeod followed the conversation with interest.
“So, those three are brand new to your crew, Connor Mac? You really did just come upon them?”
Connor raised his eyebrows at the comment. “They're not my crew.”
“It’s obvious they’ve not yet adapted to your full command structure based on their actions. Yeah, I’d say they’re very recent additions.”
“Again, McLeod, they’re not my crew.”
“Just an observation.”
“A rather military observation, in fact.”
“Maybe more just observational.”
“If you’re not military, what are you then, McLeod?”
“My dad’s a professor,” interrupted Jason. The evident pride and spontaneity was refreshing to hear
.
“A what?”
“Professor. Doctorate. Psychology. NYU,” said John McLeod.
“No kidding?”
“Yeah, Connor Mac. If you can believe that. I did a good bit of psychological consulting for the DOD off and on for twelve years before the avian flu.”
“Wow. Department of Defense work, huh?”
“Yes. I’m probably still alive from of all those damn inoculations. Year after year, they kept sticking me with needles—they said to keep me safe from the diseases other men might harbor. I rather think they enjoyed sticking in those needles. Everyone in my family had to go through it, too."
"Yeah?"
"Anyway, for the ten years before the Sickness, DOD had me in charge of team-building exercises—coursework or seminars on topics like military cohesion analysis and combat stress.”
“Pretty weird meeting someone like you nowadays, John.”
“Statistically, I'm not so sure how weird it really is. I've given it some thought. I think there's a much higher survivor rate among soldiers or the inoculated, so that increases the likelihood I'm here to begin with."
"I see. I've been wondering about that, too."
"You know, one of the last courses I taught was called The Psychology of War. Pretty well read on the subject.” McLeod paused for a moment, considering what he had said earlier to Connor. “I’m sorry, Connor Mac, I probably shouldn’t have said anything about your crew you might have considered offensive.”
“Nah, that’s okay. And, c’mon John, they’re not my crew.”
“They will be. The necessary integration has already begun.”
“Wow, starting with the psycho-babble bullshit on me already, are you?”
McLeod laughed, choosing to ignore the gentle insult and continued. “Connor Mac, as you might imagine, I can get pretty hyped up meeting new people who might be worth a damn…given the current demographics.”
“Psycho-babble and ten-dollar vocabulary! Well then, I think I'll take that as a compliment, McLeod. I too, enjoy when events become both viable and provocative. Find it keeps me sharp, know what I mean?”
“I do. Oh, I seriously do.”
A noise off the porch near the shed made the six men turn toward the sound. Marty stood at the open shed door, the sniper rifle held at port arms. At the sound, Connor noticed that BB’s hand slipped inside his duster to the small of his back, presumably for a weapon. Quickly, Connor moved to the porch railing to intervene.
“Hold on, guys! He's with me. He’s part of my crew,” said Connor. BB relaxed slightly. “He’s with me, guys. Marty, stand down.”
“Copy that, Mac.”
"Marty?" asked BB, stunned.
“Come on up here and meet these guys, Marty.”
The sniper shouldered his weapon, confident in Connor’s ability to assess the absence of an imminent threat, and walked to the porch steps. BB straightened his coat, convinced that the moment of danger had passed.
“Hello, Marty,” said John McLeod, walking to the top of the porch steps with his hand outstretched. “My name’s John McLeod.” The older man had expertly attempted to ease the tension from the situation.
“How ya doin',” answered Marty as he reached the top step and shook the man’s hand. “My name’s Marty McCullough. Pleased to meet you.”
Standing just behind McLeod, BB took note of the beautiful sniper rifle and the easy way Marty carried himself. His shock and surprise was apparent.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” said BB. He brushed past McLeod toward Marty. “I come half way around the world to avoid your ugly mug and you turn up here?”
“No fucking way,” said Marty, incredulously. “BB! Where ya been hiding all these years, you recon pussy?” The two men crashed together in a fierce embrace like two rams colliding in battle.
Any remaining tension in the air evaporated and Connor smiled at the unpredictable reunion. “Obviously—you two know each other. Where’d you guys meet?”
"Iraq,” answered Marty, his hand resting on BB’s shoulder. Both men wore silly grins as if their chance meeting, so far from their last one, bespoke of some great achievement.
During the excitement of the reunion, Connor waved Amanda in from the trees. Knowing her training had allowed him to anticipate her approximate location and he had caught her movements at the tree line. She shouldered her weapon and walked brazenly toward the porch.
The McLeod contingent noticed her approach, but relaxed when they recognized her. The sense of danger did not equal that of the appearance of Marty—the men had seen her briefly during the porch ruse.
“I wondered where she disappeared to,” said McLeod. “I figured she was still in the house. Who is that lovely lady, Connor Mac?”
“That's Amanda. But, I call her Snuff for good reason. She's my primary backup since finding her in Kansas four months ago."
“That's your Snuff? A woman? I’m ashamed to admit that I find that surprising. I guess I have some stereotypes I need to work on—it's good to see I can still be fooled."
"Uh, huh."
"So, she went in the house earlier and slipped around behind us?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Nicely done.”
“Thanks. She’s worth having on your side.”
CHAPTER 4.19-An Olive Branch
“Here they come,” said Major O’Malley. “Stay sharp.”
“Yes, sir,” they answered. Chad and Burroughs stood at attention outside the command post watching Captain Daubney escort the two visitors their way. Edgars and Rice trailed behind the guests, keeping pace with Larry Reed and Phoenix Justice.
Captain Daubney stopped a few feet from the major and the entourage followed suit. “Sir!” he said. “I’d like to introduce, Mr. Phoenix Justice and Mr. Larry Reed. Gentlemen, this is Major Michael T. O’Malley, United States Army.” The captain took one large step to the side of the three men, assuming a position of parade rest.
Major O’Malley and Phoenix shook hands, nodding amicably to one another. Phoenix was dressed in a beautiful blue Armani suit that, despite its pre-Sickness creation, was well kept and expertly tailored to fit his large shoulders and heavily muscled frame. He looked the part of a man accustomed to control, even while unconsciously brushing back a strand of his curly red hair. It was combed straight back from his forehead and he was clean-shaven.
“It’s nice to be meeting under better circumstances, major,” offered Phoenix. His handshake was firm and well practiced. His smile was perfect.
“Yes, Mr. Justice. Let’s not have a repeat of our earlier meeting.”
“Of course not, major,” Phoenix agreed. “Major, I’d like to introduce my right hand man in all matters, Mr. Larry Reed.” Larry was dressed in a dark brown suit that hung uncomfortably from his broad-shouldered frame. Formal wear was a new experience for the man. He held out his hand in greeting.
“Hello, major.”
“Mr. Reed.” The major turned to Captain Daubney. “Captain, you and your men are dismissed, thank you.” The three men walked briskly away.
“Mr. Justice, Mr. Reed,” said the major, “follow me, please.” He turned and opened the door to the command post, entering the large room with Larry Reed and Phoenix Justice close behind. “Mr. Justice, Mr. Reed. I’d like to introduce you to Colonel Hannah Starkes, President of the United States.”
Hannah Starkes was concentrating on a detailed, hand-drawn map of the new Cleveland area with Shamus, GT, and Scott. Shamus was patiently pointing out key reference points to the colonel. The four pointedly ignored the approach of the guests, continuing their discussion of the maps.
“Madam President?” prompted the major.
Colonel Starkes pulled her attention from the map and waited for further introductions.
“Madam President, let me introduce you to Mr. Phoenix Justice and Mr. Larry Reed.”
The colonel smiled and extended her hand. She was pleased with Phoenix’s gentle, but confident
handshake.
“Madam President. I would like to apologize for my earlier indiscretion and for any inconvenience I may have caused you. Please, call me Phoenix.”
“It’s nice to meet you under more civilized circumstances, Phoenix.”
“Yes, Madam President. I want you to know that me and the entire city of Cleveland are at your complete disposal.”
“That’s good to know, Phoenix. Thank you.”
Phoenix laid a hand on Larry Reed’s shoulder. “Madam President, you seem to know quite a bit about my right-hand man. This is Larry Reed.”
“It’s good to meet you, Sergeant Reed.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you. I’m retired now, Madam President—I gave up that designation a long time ago.”
“Not anymore, sergeant. I’ve reinstated your military service, effective immediately. The president is capable of doing that.”
“Yes, ma’am. But, umm, why Madam President?”
“Well, if we’re going to get this country back on its feet, we need men like you and Phoenix in an official capacity, don’t you think?”
The two men smiled at the colonel’s statement.
“What exactly does that mean, Madam President?” asked Sergeant Reed.
“It means that, over the next few weeks, we’ll be talking about how we can help rebuild the United States of America.” The men exchanged another glance. “I like the sound of that, Madam President,” said Phoenix. “I’m sure my uncle, Sergeant Reed, agrees.”
“Your uncle?” she asked. “I see. Good. Let’s get started, then. Can I offer you some refreshments?”
“Juice, or even water, would be fine for me, ma’am,” said Phoenix.
“I’ll have the same, Madam President,” said Sergeant Reed.
“Captain?” beckoned the colonel. “Please see to our guest’s request.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Gentlemen,” she continued, indicating chairs for the guests. “Please have a seat and fill me in on all your impressive accomplishments over the past five years.”
CHAPTER 4.20-Spoons in a Drawer
“You awake, T?”
“Sure. How could I not be?”