by Paul Kirk
Andy stopped digging, laid his shovel on the ground next to the grave, and climbed out. He walked to the water jug, picked it up, and drank deeply. Terry continued to express her anger toward Liam.
“You need to start figuring this out for yourself, Liam. If you’re ever gonna become a leader, you need to grasp this concept.”
Andy walked to the edge of the grave and watched Ryan and Liam digging. He tapped his brother on the shoulder with the jug and handed it to him.
“Almost not worth killing the bastards, having to dig three graves in this heat, T. I’m with Liam on this one.”
“For real, Andy?” countered Terry. “You have anything better to do right now?”
Andy ignored her fierce stare and assessed the other two graves. They were deep enough to his satisfaction. He turned and gently smiled at Terry. “I say we’re done here, guys. Let’s toss ‘em in. That’s more than deep enough for these assholes.”
Ryan and Liam stopped their digging and climbed out of the graves. Ryan immediately walked to the three bodies and began dragging one by the arm to the nearest hole. Andy picked up the corpse’s legs and they unceremoniously dumped the naked body into the hole. Toby and Kristen gathered the large corpse near their grave, rolling him in with minimal concern. Ryan and Liam dragged the last one to the edge of the final grave and Andy pushed him in with a solid flick of his muddy boot.
Andy, Ryan, Toby, Liam and Kristen began to shovel dirt on the bodies. Terry glared for a moment before abruptly leaving. All but Kristen refused to watch her leave.
“C’mon, you guys,” said Andy, “let’s finish this shit right now and we might have time for a couple beers before dinner.”
“A beer or two will go down real good about now, bro.”
Andy turned and faced Liam.
"You can break out one of those strawberry juice jars from the storage shed."
"All right!"
CHAPTER 5.9-Finding a Letter
“Mister Connor Mac!”
“Whoa, slow up Cody! What’s going on?”
Nearly colliding, Cody entered the small two-story house they’d claimed as home base just east of Toledo. They’d stayed there for the past four days.
“Look! Look what I found! It’s got your name on it! I think, maybe. It’s from the President of the United States!”
Connor registered the concern in Amanda’s eyes, standing beside Cody and fresh from their recent hunting excursion. Her serious expression was out of place on such a beautiful August morning. Staring at the bright yellow paper held toward him, Connor took it, bold handwriting evident.
“What’s this?”
“A paper from the President of the United States...is your Army serial number 1985638?” asked Cody.
Shocked, Connor stared down at the paper. He’d not thought of that number in a long time. His expression turned decidedly serious; the fierce expression caused Amanda and Cody to instinctively step back.
“How’d you know that, Cody?” demanded Connor, his tone deadly.
Subdued, Cody politely pointed to the paper.
“It’s…right there.”
Connor read with confusion.
Attention All. Under orders of the President of the United States, Colonel Connor MacMillen, serial # 1985638, is to report to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio by no later than September 8th. Your services are required. Your country needs your help.
Signed,
Colonel Hannah Starkes, President of the United States
“Where’d you find this?” whispered Connor, stunned.
“Is it you?” asked Cody.
“I said, where’d you find this?”
Amanda chimed in. “He found it ‘bout a half mile from here, Mac. They’re lying around every couple hundred yards or so. I have two others like it in my pocket.”
Connor reread the note, studying the signature. Flipping it for further inspection, he noted that the same information was on both sides of an original document. His mind reeled with possibilities, none of which made much sense at the moment. Distracted, he took the letter outside to the porch steps and sat with Cody and Amanda following. Rhonda, McLeod, Marty, BB, and several others, sensing something unusual happening, exited the house, gathering round.
“What’s going on?” asked McLeod.
Amanda shushed him with an abrupt hand while Connor studied the crumpled note for more several moments, lost in thought. Tense, the crew waited.
“Damn, this is definitely me,” mumbled Connor, “What’s going on here?”
CHAPTER 5.10-Newbies
“She’s smart, Phoenix.”
“Never said she wasn’t, Larry.”
“Just so you know, I don’t think she’s fallen for your wining ‘n dining and all that fancy horseshit.”
“C’mon, uncle. She’s human, just like the rest of us. It’s has to be softening her up at least a little. If nothing else, it’s sure got her men craving for their next time at the feed trough.”
“Maybe. But, you know, we could do this above board. After all, she mentioned forming an alliance, like she said, to help rebuild this country.”
“Yeah, right.”
“And, still, you know, get what we want.”
“You admire her!”
“I respect the office of the President of the United States. Always have. The Sickness don’t change that. And, yeah, she’s one that I could’ve served under. From what I know about her, so far.”
“Well, then shit uncle. I guess you better do a self check right ‘bout now and figure out where your loyalty lies.”
Larry Reed stuffed a large chunk of Lake Erie walleye into his mouth. Pointedly, he ignored Phoenix’s last outburst, studying the contents of his wine glass. Taking his time, he sipped the merlot and stood, refilling at the wet bar. Uncomfortable with the building silence, he decided to answer.
“You know I got your back, Phoenix. Blood always runs thicker than water.”
“Huh…”
“But, I’m thinking you could get what you want and not have anyone killed in the process.”
“Since when do you know what I want?”
“C’mon, nephew. Since maybe when you were ‘bout sixteen and were caught with the ten-year-old Crawford twins in my basement,” said Larry, laughing, “Those girls sure were scared of you.”
Phoenix ignored the reference to their shared past, staring with a burning fury. Larry pretended not to notice, continuing his train of thought.
“I thought you wanted to be governor of Ohio.”
“Of course! That’s true. But, that was before Starkes and her posse rolled into Cleveland with a whole new set of problems.”
“Problems?”
“Now, c’mon! Use that pea-sized brain of yours, uncle! She has a woman with her that has a newborn.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! Steve pretty much confirmed it last night. And, from what I’m told, the woman’s drop-dead gorgeous at that.”
“Huh.”
“Lemme ask you something, uncle.”
Phoenix was lost in thought. Finally, he looked toward Larry Reed.
“Well, go on, ask.”
“You seen any newbies around Cleveland the past few years?”
“A newbie?”
“Yeah, newbie, you know, little red tricycle engine, mustard poop maker. Seen any of them lately?”
“No…now that you mention it.”
“Me neither. And, I’m figuring that’s what brought our fine Colonel out of her hidey-hole somewhere near DC.”
“What?”
“We have us a whole new set of problems moving forward in this day and age.”
“What the hell you rambling on about, Phoenix?”
“What I’m thinking is that the Flu kicked our asses where having kids is concerned.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah, babies, bambinos. Know the type?”
“Yeah?”
“I think that the kid she’s
got, and probably the woman too, are worth their weight in gold nowadays.”
“Why?” asked Larry, beginning to grasp new possibilities he’d not considered.
“Think about it, uncle. Without new blood, young blood, we have nothing left to control. No future. No young flesh. Most certainly no young flesh. Think about it.”
Larry considering this perceptual change.
“I never had kids. Wanted to, just never got around to it.”
“Uncle, please…spare me. We're not here to talk about your past fuckin’ love life. We’re here to plan what we should do next to gain the best advantage.”
“Oh. I see. So you want the woman and kid?”
“That, among other things.”
“Such as?”
“How’d you like to be Vice President of the United States…or what’s left of it?”
Larry smiled at the audacity. He nodded.
“You got some balls, Phoenix. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, how ‘bout you start using all that military knowledge you claim to have and figure out how we can get that sweet little colonel under wraps?”
Larry finished the last, tasteful morsel of walleye. Raising his glass, he confirmed the new orders.
“I’ll start first thing in the morning.”
“It’s our destiny, you and me. Our destiny. Don’t lose sight of that. I can feel it in my bones.”
CHAPTER 5.11-First Fight
“I’ve run this clan for damn near five years!”
“I know that, T.”
“You pull that shit again out there, Andy and I’ll kick my boot so far up your ass you’ll taste nothing but mud and leather!”
Changing clothes in the master bedroom after the grave digging and before dinner had become dangerous ground. Andy glanced at his new fiancée and tried to gently laugh at the images she suggested, hoping to deflect some of the anger; it was not well received. Quickly, he chose a new approach, deciding to explain. He took a risk.
“C’mon, T! You’re clueless.”
“What?”
Terry approached in fury until Andy held up his hand to stop her; his fierce expression gave her pause.
“Blood tone, T. You have to learn the blood tone of your men…”
“What! What?”
Terry turned away from him and moved about the room unable to stay in one place for long. Her hands shook in anger, waiting for Andy’s response.
“I’ll say it again. The Blood Tone, T. You know, how the men are responding to your command decisions.”
“Can you just speak fuckin’ English for once?”
“Sure! Setting the blood tone’s the best way to keep your men in check. And, if I must say, that’s always been your primary weakness in the management of our clan.”
Terry, freshly showered and wearing only pink lace panties, pulled on a pair of fresh jeans. Angrier than he’d ever seen her, she wriggled into her jeans, so much so, that Andy felt she might rip the top of her jeans off.
“What the hell you talkin’ about?”
“Don’t act like we’ve never gone over this. Even before we became ‘official.’”
“Damn it, talk some sense!”
“You see how quickly the men...and Liam I might add, responded to my suggestion?”
“Yeah, so? The lazy pieces of shit!”
“No. C’mon, you know better. They just knew it was wrong, at that point to be spending any more time on that garbage in that summer heat. Human beings or not. La de da da. You gotta remember that sometimes, killing is just what it is. Killing. No grave digging or fancy ceremonials to act like it’s more that it was—”
“We’re not savages, Andy! I won’t have my son grow up thinking that being a savage is okay.”
“I agree. I mean it, T, I do. But remember that after a fresh kill of three men who were planning to come in and take what they wanted, well, taking time in the summer heat burying ‘em don’t sit well with the men. Me neither. Never did. In fact, celebrating our killing is more like it. ”
“So, you planning on taking over now?”
Andy calmed, trying his best to communicate his perspective.
“C’mon, T, you know me better than that. I hope you do…I’m just trying to help you out when I think you might be going all ‘woman soft’ on the men of this clan.”
“So, you’re not pullin’ some bullshit move on me?”
“Never, T. We’re a team. I’m yours and I’ll back you up ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“Huh.”
“But, you’d do even better if you took my advice once in awhile.”
Terry buttoned her jeans before edging closer to Andy. Zipping up, she leaned her head into his chest, looking up to study his eyes. Seeing his concern, she softened considerably. Terry’s breathing gradually slowed.
“Understood. Point taken.”
“Alright, that's good.”
Terry gently lifted her hand, resting it on Andy’s bare chest. Absently, she twirled her finger in his chest hair.
“So, what might you advise, right now, smartshit?”
Slowly, Andy wrapped his arms around her bare back before he let them slip to rest upon her hips. He pulled her tighter and whispered.
“Well, I’m thinking we might have fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before dinner.”
“And?”
“I’d like to show you the new bruise I have after killing that fat man. Bastard packed a punch. Can’t believe how lucky he got.”
“Huh.”
“Maybe you can kiss it and make it all better.”
“You’re a sonofabitch, you know that?”
“Take off those damn jeans before you lose ‘em permanently.”
“But, I just put them on.”
“Take ‘em off.”
“No, you do it.”
“Yeah, I think I will.”
CHAPTER 5.12-A Connection Made
“That’s you they're referencing on that paper, Mac.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing that, McLeod.”
Connor stared into the distance, thinking. By now, the entire crew had gathered around the porch steps.
“But, why?” asked Marty.
For a moment, no one responded.
“You have something they want, Connor Mac,” said Rhonda, softly.
“Or something they need to know about,” added McLeod. “Maybe some special military op that had something to do with H5N1?”
“No. Nothing like that, John. I don’t think. My job, the last four years before the Sickness was training men for Special Forces combat. I have nothing to do with it, H5N1, black ops or not.”
“Think on it, Connor Mac,” said BB.
“Don’t you think I’m doing that?” Connor abruptly stood, pacing in front of the porch steps.
“Copy that, Mac,” said Marty. Thinking hard on the ramifications of the president's letter, he was unaware he had spoken aloud.
“You have something or some knowledge, that they want, Connor Mac, simple as that,” said Rhonda.
“Meaning?”
Before answering, Rhonda sought her husband’s vote of support. Roger nodded, since over the years, he’d come to rely on her perceptiveness; he’d always valued her ability to pinpoint the crux of any issue.
“Meaning, you have key knowledge or some special skills or ability that the existing President of the United States desperately wants. See, it’s obvious from the letter that they’re expending a great deal of effort trying to track your whereabouts and, by some serious persistence, somehow they figured out you were near Toledo.”
“How the hell could they do that, in this day and age?” asked Connor, “I just don’t understand it.”
“POC,” suggested McLeod.
“What?” asked Amanda.
“Point of contact?” asked Marty.
“Yeah,” confirmed McLeod, nodding.
�
�Makes sense, that’s the way they found him,” suggested BB, “no doubt.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rhonda.
John McLeod stepped off the porch, gently taking the letter from Connor’s hands. Glancing at it before responding, he was deep in thought. Seeing the interest in reviewing the letter, Amanda passed around the duplicate copies from her pocket. Jackson, Jason and Jude read the letter together.
“They tracked Mac by his human contacts, following his trail across the United States,” said John McLeod. “Wow, in thinking on that, it sounds like a helluva logistical feat…I can’t imagine the resources and brainpower that must be involved.”
Rhonda nodded and continued with his train of thought.
“I agree, John. And that’d explain the blunt paper tracking mechanism. It’s the best they could do, though, I can’t quite figure out how they might’ve even done that. Something in the air, most likely? As it stands, there’s no radio communication anymore, is there? There’s no electricity to speak of, right? Besides, who the hell’d they talk to? How? And, in any event, before that matters a hill of beans, we need to know about this existing president and the ‘why’ that they’re going to all the trouble.”
“Yeah,” muttered Connor, “Good questions, Rhonda.”
The crew sifted through the implications surrounding the change to the day’s events. Connor shook his head and stood.
“Damned if I can figure it out, guys. This is screwed up is what it is.”
“Me neither, Mac. That is, if you’ve truly have nothing to do with the Flu or no knowledge in what the hell happened,” said McLeod.
“I’m tellin’ ya, McLeod! I got nothing to do with this shit,” said Connor, exasperated.
“But, there’s something you have going on, Connor Mac. I know it. Why else would they go to all the trouble?” asked Rhonda, “How many of these did you find, Amanda?”
“Four so far,” interrupted Cody, proud of his discovery.
“I wonder how many we’d find? Across what dispersal area?” asked BB.