Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  “I’ll give you three packs of smokes and fifty forty-fives for half your stock.”

  “Not half, that’s too steep. Maybe I’ll part with a third.”

  “I’ll give you three packs of smokes and thirty forty-fives for a third. But I want a half dozen cigars, too.”

  “Those cigars are Rhonda’s—they’re not mine to trade.”

  “That’s my deal, Connor Mac.”

  “If Rhonda agrees, you have a deal.”

  Amanda stepped onto the porch and joined them while they were shaking hands over their transaction. She sat down next to Connor and lightly stroked his shoulder. “Mac, since we’ll be staying here, at least until tomorrow morning, I’m gonna take Marty and Cody out and do a little hunting. Maybe we can scare up some wild veggies, too.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Snuff. Keep an eye out for that wild pack running around that we saw yesterday.”

  “Sure thing, Mac.”

  “Amanda?” said McLeod.

  “Yeah, John?”

  “You should take BB along. He and Marty are inseparable and he can out-hunt just about anyone.”

  “That’s bold talk, John,” said Connor, defending Amanda and Marty. “You haven’t seen what Snuff and Surf Boy are capable of.”

  “That’s true, but I’ve seen what BB can do and I’d put him up against the best.”

  Connor laughed easily and stood. He checked his watch. “Do you want to take him along Snuff?”

  “Sure, why not? The more the merrier.”

  “Okay. Watch out for that pack. I'm serious. They're brazen. Be back by 14:00 or we’re coming after ya.”

  “Copy that, Mac,” she answered in a true imitation of Marty. Connor and John watched her walk to where Marty and BB were talking and, after a few moments, they began preparing to leave. Cody was sitting with his parents, bored. He raised his head in hope at Amanda’s approach. The boy’s face lit up at Amanda’s suggestion and he turned to his parents for their approval. They nodded assent and the boy was out of his seat and into the house for his weapon. He caught up with Amanda, Marty, and BB at the bottom of the porch steps, jumping with excitement like a pup. The foursome disappeared at the tree line and the two men resumed their conversation.

  “So, John,” said Connor, “where were you guys coming from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Not at all. Everyone’s got a story to tell.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “It’s like this. We left Baltimore eighteen months ago to check on a few people out west. We’ve traveled around some—Montana and Nevada were our primary destinations.”

  “For what?”

  “BB was from Montana. Him and I go back a ways—we were in Baltimore and were stuck there when the Sickness hit full force. Nobody expected it—at least, not that aggressively. Before we knew it, the population was dropping like flies.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t matter where you were—if you lived through that time, you were knee-deep in a lot of death.”

  “That’s the truth, Connor Mac. Anyway, BB was at one of my military seminars. Every couple years, the marines would call me up and ask me to speak at a seminar in one city or another. This time, it was at the downtown Baltimore Marriott.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “I'd do about five or six seminars a year for different organizations. Most were on psychology in relation to war, topics of a similar nature. Jason was with me this time since I promised him a trip to DC. It was the perfect time to make that happen. And it was perfect—until everybody started dying.”

  “Yeah, that was a tough time. It happened all over the world, John.”

  “Yeah?"

  "Oh yeah, I've seen it, John. Australia, Japan, everywhere."

  "I can imagine."

  "Yeah, but go on with what you were saying. I know shit was real bad."

  "I know. At the time, in Baltimore, we thought we’d eventually kick the bucket, too. What a terrible feeling—staring at your own son and wondering whether he would be around the next day.” McLeod glanced across the porch where Jason was talking with Jackson and shook his head violently to dispel the evil thought. “Anyway, the three of us stuck together, gathered up some equipment—nice sturdy backpacks, as much canned food as we could carry, and weapons and ammunition. BB knew where to find what we needed and we did it quick. We left the city as fast as possible.”

  “Why? Was there someone following you?”

  “No. As far as we noticed, we were the only ones alive in the city. No, we left to avoid all the dead bodies—the stench was unbearable and I knew the longer we stayed, the more likely we’d fall prey to some disease or other. BB made it clear he was coming with us and I’m not sure we would've made it if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. His survival skills are exceptional and I’m forever in his debt for sticking with us all this time. Hanging with a group of guys like him and his brother and cousin certainly increases your chances of survival.”

  “Sounds like you guys made a good team. BB speaks as if you contributed much more than he did.”

  “Really? Well that's good to hear. How do you know that?"

  "He told me when we first introduced ourselves. Said you got most things figured out."

  "Huh. That's nice to hear, Connor Mac. Yeah, we pulled our weight, Jason and I. But BB was in the zone, hyper vigilant. Let’s face it, I can theorize all I want about war strategies and potential urban scenarios that we might walk into, but BB was a true soldier, trained to kill and he did just that when it was called for. I'll tell you, Connor Mac, he knew where to locate fresh water and supplies like they were just waiting for him when he arrived.”

  “I hear you. He was trained well by Uncle Sam."

  "For sure. He was that. He made living and traveling much easier and he was going in the same general direction as we were.”

  “Which direction was that?” asked Connor.

  “He wanted to go north to his brother’s house—to Jude’s house. The house was about thirty miles north of the city. When we made it, we found out that Jude’s wife had died.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. But, thankfully, there were no kids involved.”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” answered Connor. His voice was quiet and he cleared his throat, waiting for McLeod to continue.

  “Later, we met up with BB’s cousin Jackson. He lived a few miles away. Surprisingly, Jackson and twenty-four other people were living in a fancy mansion at the end of the street. It was a nice set up—the end of a dead-end road, a large flat back yard—there was no way to sneak up on this place. It was easily defended.”

  “No Kidding? A mansion?”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Jackson is ex-army. He served two tours in Iraq like BB. He and some other guy named Rudy shared the command in the mansion. They’d made a good functioning command post and perimeter guards.”

  “Sounds like they had a strong defensible position there.”

  “Oh, yeah. And the food, Connor Mac! There was some good stuff there. One of the women worked as a master chef at a four-star restaurant before the destruction—what she did with trout was a thing of beauty.”

  “So, why didn’t you stay?” asked Connor.

  “BB had a wife in Montana.”

  “Oh.”

  “His wife was visiting her mother in Helena. She was still there the last time he talked with her—you know, before the phone lines decided to quit working. He had two kids, too. Both were with Julie, his wife.”

  “You said 'had'?”

  “Yeah, ‘had’. We found his wife and both his kids in the master bedroom.”

  "Aww, shit," Connor cleared his throat again.

  “She had outlasted the kids by maybe a day or two. I think she tried to clean ‘em up nice. We found her lying next to them. Her mother was in the next room—the old lady had probably died many days prior.”

  “What a raw deal, man,” said Connor, his eyes misting.

  �
�BB took it hard...real hard. Julie left a note.”

  “Aw, man.”

  “The note said that she knew he would come for them and that she'd wait. She said she loved him and she’d see him soon.”

  “Oh, hell.” Connor wiped his eyes.

  “What hit him the hardest, Connor Mac, were the kids asking about him. They wrote their own notes—well, sort of. Julie helped put their words down on paper. They drew pictures around the words—they were young kids, Jacob, four and Bobby Junior, six. They said they hoped Daddy was okay and that they wanted him to come kill the bad monster bug that made everyone sick.”

  Connor dropped his face into his hands. After a few minutes, Connor asked him to continue.

  "Tell me more, John."

  “Sure. It was a tough few weeks in Helena. I'll tell you that. It took BB quite awhile to get going again after we buried his wife and kids. I think he’s coming out of it, though. I know he won’t ever fully recover, but it feels like he wants to join the land of the living again. Him meeting up with Marty is a good twist of fate. It’s given him a positive connection to life, don’t you think?”

  “It seems like it.”

  “Anyway, Jackson came along with us. There was nothing holding him there and I think he felt more comfortable with family.”

  “That sounds reasonable.”

  “Jason and I are originally from Reno. We had some business there, so we went with BB, Jude, and Jackson to check on BB’s wife and kids and they agreed to come with us to Reno to check on my wife.” It was McLeod’s turn to clear his throat. The tears came freely and Connor waited patiently for him to continue.

  “Maggie left notes for me and Jason, too.”

  “Oh, man,” said Connor. “John...man, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “She said she was dying and that she hoped I found the note. She put the notes in the hidden floor safe. She wanted one more opportunity to tell me and Jason that she loved us. Said she’d lived a full life and knew, just knew, that Jason and I would live through this…petty pestilence, she called it.”

  “I’m very sorry, John.”

  “More than anything, she wanted a chance to tell us she loved us.”

  Tears flowed freely and John let them flow. Connor chewed absently on the end of his cigar—it had gone out some time ago and he hadn’t bothered to relight it. Exiting onto the porch, Roger, Rhonda, Jason, and Jackson noticed the intensity of the conversation. Jason came over and sat down next to his dad and the other three walked down the porch steps, unwilling to intrude.

  “You okay, Dad?” asked Jason, staring at Connor as the source of his dad’s apparent grief. The young man’s eyes showed a clear warning—he would go to great lengths to keep his father from any source of pain. Connor nodded gently and this gesture satisfied Jason.

  “Yeah, son, I’m fine. I’m just letting Connor Mac know a little bit about what we’ve gone through.”

  Jason stood, gripped his father’s shoulder briefly, and walked down the porch stairs to join the others.

  CHAPTER 5.5-Marauders

  “What’s the story here, Toby?” asked Terry, voice was barely above a whisper. Ryan, Andy, and Terry had approached the second perimeter guard position soundlessly, the last twenty feet on their hands and knees.

  “When we discovered them, I sent Kristen back for you guys. Your orders are to shoot first and ask questions later, but only if we had to shoot.” Toby spoke gently and had yet to lower his binoculars. He was not one to say much unless it was important. “I sent Kristen back for you guys to decide what to do. We spotted them a couple hours ago and waited long enough to verify that there were only three of them. But, they haven't made a move yet.”

  Toby, Terry, and Andy had binoculars. Ryan chose to use a fancy Leica Monovid 8X20 monocular he treasured since Iraq—he felt that binoculars took up too much space—and Kristen used the scope of her rifle to scan the area. “Clue me in on where these bastards are,” said Terry, prone next to Toby and peering through binoculars.

  “They’re about eighty yards out. They're twenty yards to the right of the Japanese maple. See the group of six trees with their trunks real close together? They're behind those trees. I think they’re trying to work up the nerve, T.” Toby lowered his binoculars. “They’re up to no good, but they know there's a large bunch of people here to deal with.”

  “I don’t see ‘em,” she said, straining to catch any movement.

  “I got a boot,” said Ryan. “And there’s a flannel shirt sleeve. Boot’s to the left of those trees and the shirt’s to the right. They don't belong to the same person. I make that as two definite.”

  “I’m seeing the same thing, brother,” agreed Andy.

  The three strangers were well hidden in a position that provided a long-range view of the cottage. Without Toby’s precise targeting and reference, the strangers would have likely gone unnoticed, they were that good at camouflage.

  “I see a third definite,” said Terry. “There’s a space between trunks in the middle of that group of trees—I think the third guy just stood up.”

  “Yeah,” said Andy.

  “Yep,” agreed Ryan.

  “That’s the little guy,” offered Toby. “He’s how I caught onto ‘em. He’s pissed three times in the last couple hours.”

  “What weapons do they have?” asked Andy.

  “Rifles—unsure of the make, but they’re all scoped.” Toby had resumed his study of the area. “They’re gonna make a move—they’re gettin’ antsy. Impatient. I've seen it before.” The man’s words carried weight within the clan. He rarely spoke more than a dozen words a day, but they had all learned to listen when he spoke.

  Terry turned toward Ryan and Andy. “Whatta you guys wanta do?”

  “What else can we do, T? They're not looking to trade. If they’re sneaking up on us this way, they’re going to take. I say we take ‘em down—hard and fast. Sound good to you, Ry?”

  “Yep.”

  “Whatta you think, Toby?” asked Terry.

  “Andy’s right. They ain’t the trading type.”

  Kristen nodded in affirmation. “I agree. They're going to make a move on our place." She spoke softly and directly to Terry.

  “How you wanta do this, Andy?” asked Terry.

  “Me and Ryan will take ‘em down. Hard and fast. Toby and Kristen will maintain their positions here as backup. T, I recommend you go back to the cottage and let everyone know there may be some rifle fire.”

  “Okay,” said Terry. She began making her way back, crawling for the first twenty feet. Out of sight, she stood and jogged to the cottage.

  Ryan and Andy fanned out low and slow—they had done this before, working in unison, an experienced killing team. Fifteen minutes later, they’d successfully eliminated all three men where they lay. As it was, Ryan found great satisfaction in the large man’s surprising resistance and his unwillingness to surrender beneath the blade of a knife. His need to push the blade deeper into the man's neck made him truly smile for the first time in many months.

  CHAPTER 5.6-The Hilton

  The tall, buxom blonde was dressed in a black strapless evening gown, its simplicity enhancing her beauty. Mid-twenties, maybe a bit younger, her smile was dazzling with perfectly aligned white teeth between full parted lips shaded a bright red. There was sincere pleasure in her smile and it reached her expressive dark blue eyes. She exuded pure sexual energy as she moved in black stiletto heels and the men struggled not to notice her incredible body, firm with youth. “Welcome to the Hilton Hotel, Madam President,” she said, her voice smooth and silky. She extended her slender hand to the colonel, the nails perfectly manicured in clear polish. “Madam President, my name is Monica Bauers. I’ll be your hostess for this evening’s events.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bauers,” said Colonel Starkes, shaking the woman’s hand. By the colonel’s estimate, this woman was no older than twenty-five but had a poised appear
ance, capable and confident.

  “Has the rest of your party been delayed, Madam President?” she asked, glancing at the men behind the colonel. Each man smiled, some further straightening their bearing in the hopes this lovely young woman would notice them.

  “No, Monica, this is it. The rest of the men are pulling maintenance duty this evening.”

  “I see...how unfortunate.”

  “It comes with the job,” said the colonel, quickly becoming annoyed with this woman’s overpowering sexuality and the easy ability she had to compromise the focus of her men. “Monica, how about we just move on, okay?”

  “Yes, of course, Madam President. I was told that there would be another woman in your party,” she said, again scrutinizing the men.

  “Nope. There’s no other woman. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.”

  Monica furrowed her brows in confusion before shifting into an easy smile. “Very well. Please, follow me.”

  Colonel Starkes turned to her men. Not happy, her tone was biting as she whispered to them. “Are you men capable of proceeding without tripping on your tongues?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and followed Monica, trying her best to block the view of this woman’s graceful movements.

  Studying the hotel as they entered, it was clear an effort had been made, successfully, to maintain the five-star status of the Cleveland Hilton after the devastation placed upon the city by the Sickness and its inevitable aftermath. The curving staircases at each side of the lobby led to the dining room on the mezzanine level and the group took the staircase on the right, their footsteps echoing loudly on the bluestone steps in the cavernous room. The top of the stairs brought them eye level with the opulent chandelier, recently shined and brightly lit. In fact, all the lights in the lobby were lit, an impressive display of available electricity in today’s world. Monica led them along the hall to double oak doors, intricately carved and beautifully stained. Despite their large size, the doors swung easily on well-oiled hinges, coming to rest gently at the rubber doorstops mounted in the floor.

  Phoenix stood inside the door, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and talking with a tall well-dressed man with short red hair. At the sound of their entrance, Phoenix dismissed the man and turned to face the colonel and her men. “Madam President—Colonel Starkes, welcome.”