by Paul Kirk
“Yeah, I imagine you're going a mile a minute out here. How about you take a few more sips of that wine. Let’s talk on this.”
“Right. You be my second pair of eyes on this. My thinkin’s kinda screwed up on the whole damn thing.”
Connor drained his glass and McLeod did the same. Taking the bottle, McLeod refilled the glasses with a flourish.
“Your turn to toast, Mac.”
At that moment, Rhonda exited the house onto the back porch, striding with purpose to the gathered firewood stacked against the rail. She wore tight-fitting blue jeans and a stylish red blouse that caught the sunlight. Both men followed her graceful movements, as she bent to grab several pieces of firewood for the living room fireplace. Glancing their way, she stopped to smile and wave, before reentering the home.
“A toast to women, then, McLeod…there’s nothing better than a good woman.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
They sipped the wine until Cody passed close by.
“Mr. Connor Mac! My Daddy’s makin’ turtle soup for dinner!”
“Wow. Great.”
“Yep. You’ll love it. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m already hungry for it.”
A quick study, Cody sensed his presence was unwanted and decided to make himself scarce.
“Okay. Bye, now. Hi, Mr. McLeod.”
“Hi, Cody.”
Both men followed Cody’s path toward the barn, knowing he was probably keeping tabs on Amanda.
“He’s one smart kid, McLeod.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Make sure you take ‘im under your wing during our travels.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I’m thinkin’ he has what it takes to survive in this day and age. And, you know, I want him to benefit from your knowledge and creative thought processes.”
“Okay. I plan on it, Mac. And, thanks for the back-handed compliment.”
“Hmm.”
Each partook of the wine, before Connor made his intentions known.
“We leave at first light. BB, Marty and Jason will take overwatch until lunch. Not sure how we’ll handle the horses in all this just yet. I’ll probably listen to your take on that. Anyways, we’ll switch teams after lunch. Have Snuff and Rhonda gather up the remaining food, dispersing it across all our packs. Have Jackson bring that small Weber grill; we’ll need it for the crew. I know it’ll be annoying to transport, but we’ll be grateful. And, I’m putting you in charge of making sure we load up on the spring water.”
“Okay. Sure thing.”
Connor took another deep sip of wine. A moment later, McLeod interceded. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Mac.”
Turning, he stared at McLeod and took a deep breath. “I want the entire team to convene after dinner to discuss our planned mission objectives as we head east. I want a clear execution plan to address our approach to Cleveland and this…new problem.”
“Okay.”
“My review of our current position puts us about 110 miles from Cleveland. Today’s August twenty-eighth and the letter suggests a deadline of September eight. How the hell did this President Starkes peg our potential arrival so tightly?”
“What do you mean?” asked McLeod.
“We found this letter only twelve days before our ‘expected’ arrival. The weathering effect on the actual letters can’t be but five, maybe ten days old at most. This morning, I found thirty-two more copies within a mile of Cody’s discovery in a fairly consistent north-south dispersal pattern. Not perfect mind you, but suggestive of a low-altitude drop, perhaps from a ‘copter to canvas the area. And, if you can believe it, I think each one’s an original signature. Both sides.”
“A 'copter in the air? You think?”
“Yeah, that’s the only way I can make any sense of the dispersal. And, I do believe this President Starkes signed each one of ‘em.”
“Oh.”
“I’m real tempted to find out how far south this canvassing goes. It would make a difference if it continued for ten miles, or a hundred. What about five hundred?”
“Yeah, I see your point; the length of the drop would determine the scope and accuracy of their search pattern.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, and one might assume this leaflet drop was launched before a forward trajectory toward Cleveland and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Follow me?”
“Yeah,” said McLeod.
“Which means they were backtracking me from west to east, my actual direction of travel.”
“Uh, huh.”
“But, I’m still thinking…it strikes me as damn near impossible that this new president, or whoever's working with her, could pinpoint my position that accurately. Though, I admit, it damn sure indicates she’s had some pertinent knowledge on my whereabouts.”
“Maybe she’s been searching for years.”
“I considered that, but it makes no sense. Especially based on the fresh paper and Amanda’s ‘baby bullet’ theory everybody’s so fond of.”
“Why?”
“Well, ’cause I only returned to the States last year.”
“So?”
“Why would she be looking for me prior to that? Before last year, I was traveling in the Pacific Ocean, stuck in Japan, some other piss-ass islands, or fighting my way back from Australia before that.”
“Oh, that's right.”
“To make sense of it, I’m thinking Nicole’s the one they found. It’s got to be…”
“She’s the one you mentioned was in San Francisco, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why her…wait…because the president would need to know about a baby and the gestation period takes nine months. Yes! That’s an excellent point,” said McLeod. He smiled at the implications, thinking furiously.
“To me, that means…I have a kid in California.”
“Oh. Yeah. I understand, Mac. But stay with your thinking—”
“That’s where I keep getting hung up...that puts the kid at…what maybe two, maybe three months old.”
“Okay, but—”
“I keep thinking…shit, Nicole’s stuck out there with a kid trying to survive and I just left her.”
“From what you told me, the trust factor was gone. And, you certainly didn’t know she was pregnant when you left.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“C’mon, Mac, you know as well as I do that you made the right decision. She couldn’t be trusted, right? I think the idea of a new baby’s making you forget the world we live in. It’s a hard world, there’s no second chances.”
“Yeah—”
“But go on. Continue. What else are you thinking?”
“Finding Nicole would help the president’s predicament, John. I’ve gone back on all the conversations I had with Nicole. She probably has enough intel about me to help refine any search.”
“She knows where you're going?”
“Well, not specifics, but if the president and her men had any access to my military record to go with it, and, had Nicole shared my habits and tendencies—”
“Such as?”
“I dunno. Like I keep a very low profile. I travel light. Avoid possible nuclear fallout. No horses like you and your men. No use of motorized equipment. No playing around in the larger population centers, general purpose and direction, you know shit like that—”
“Still, Mac, that’s an impressive logistical feat to have narrowed you to this general area.”
“I know! Tell me about it."
“They woulda had to talk to someone else besides this Nicole.”
“Probably. But, I’ve had maybe less than twenty direct interactions with people during the past year. Granted, most were short duration, maybe a day or two. Most of ‘em didn’t even know who I was let alone where I was going. And, I can’t begin to figure out who that might be. But, any of the other women I’d spent time with wouldn’t have produced any baby. I’m sure on that...Hell, like I said
, before Amanda and after Nicole, there were only three other woman and…”
“Let’s just forget how Starkes did it and focus on what we plan to do about it once we’re there,” suggested McLeod.
“You mean at the Hall of Fame?”
“Yeah.”
Connor slugged back the last dregs of the second glass of wine, standing. It was obvious from his demeanor that the current conversation was coming to a close.
“If we’re going to do this, McLeod, it’s gonna have to be a team decision from the start.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not gonna drag this new crew into this kinda shit.”
“Makes sense. It’s a good way to test the cohesion, integrity and stress-tolerance of the new crew.”
“Mr. Psychology of War talking.”
John McLeod smiled. “Another back handed compliment?”
Connor walked around the table, handing his glass to McLeod. “I’m thinking you and I’ll make a damn good team, McLeod.”
“So do I, Mac.”
Nodding, Connor turned toward the barn. “Thanks for the wine. Good call on your approach. Be sure to do it again…and, thanks.”
“Welcome.”
Connor slowly started his walk toward the barn. After a few steps, he stopped. “We’ll need to cover twenty miles per day, minimum, to reach the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before September eighth. We're going have to be real careful and consistent now to assess the impact of radiation fallout as we near Cleveland. There's several nuke plants nearby and we don't want to be walking into a hot zone. Plus, we’ll be able to conduct a preemptive assessment.”
“Okay.”
“This is some crazy bat-shit,” said Connor, nearly out of range.
“That's for sure,” mumbled John McLeod.
CHAPTER 5.15-Killington Makes His Mark
“I need to talk with you, Phoenix.”
“Come back in ‘bout an hour, would ya, uncle? I’m almost through with breakfast.”
“Best not.”
Phoenix relaxed his grip on the slender hips of the scared young teen sitting on his lap. The serious expression of Larry Reed gave him pause in his fondling.
“Go on, then. Talk.”
“Private.”
Sighing audibly, Phoenix slipped the leather recliner footrest closed and slid the thirteen-year-old brunette from his lap. Raven hair disheveled and white blouse in disarray, the barefoot teenager stood and shook slightly in front of him, waiting for his next instruction. With a dismissive nod, Phoenix sent her away and she adjusted her short skirt as she bolted passed Larry in bare feet.
“Something’s supposed to happen here on September eighth.”
“Source?” asked Phoenix, instantly alert.
“Luke was able to sneak within thirty feet of the northeast perimeter guard posted last night.”
“Luke Killington or Grabel?”
“Killington.”
“Alright. A good man. Go on.”
“He heard that Colonel Starke’s expecting somebody September eighth.”
“No kidding? Reinforcements?”
“No, sounded like there’s just one guy coming. Luke thinks the guy’s name is something like Connor or Connor Mac.”
“One man?”
“Yep.”
“What? Was he separated from their unit before they came here?”
“Didn’t sound like it.”
“Get Luke. Bring him here.”
“Yep. He's right outside, hold on.”
Larry Reed slipped the penthouse door open, waving Luke Killington in with a subtle nod. Once in the room, they walked together across the plush carpet to stand at the wall-to-wall windows. Already at the window and deep in thought, Phoenix lit a thin cigar, staring below at the rooftops of downtown Cleveland. Both men near him waited a half-minute for him to acknowledge their presence.
“Go ahead, Luke,” said Phoenix, “You have my full attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Start from the top. From the point when you heard the discussion.”
Luke was twenty-one and fiercely battle tested in seven bloody skirmishes he survived the past few years. Rail thin and wiry, he had an intensity that reminded you of a wolf who hadn't found food for the past week. Point in fact, he was one of Larry’s infamous “Pride Brigade” that helped keep the city in line; was known to be a ferocious competitor in the annual Cleveland mixed martial arts combat games. And, he was the best of the human trackers they had. Phoenix had become quite impressed with the man the past year, so much so, that he was considering some way to assign much greater responsibility to test the man.
“Yes, sir. Sims and Marco, of Starkes' unit, were covering the northeast guard post last night. Their usual overlap routes let ‘em meet up three times an hour, always varying time and location. Kept at it most of the night. Good discipline, but once, at around three o'clock, they chatted for a bit.”
“Yeah?”
“Centered ‘round a guy called ‘Connor’ or ‘Connor Mac’ and the fact that they’re waiting ‘round for him and would he show.”
“They know him?” interrupted Phoenix.
“No. That’s what confused me, at first. It's like they’re expectin’ him to show up like he was invited or somethin’. Said somethin’ about San Francisco, but I didn’t catch it all.”
“And?”
“And they said that they were wondering if Starkes was gonna decide to stay much longer if he didn’t show up on the eighth. That was the date they said. Said it twice.”
“September eighth.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else?”
“Not much. But, Sims seemed impressed with the guy. Said he hoped this Connor Mac showed up ‘cause he wanted to see ‘what such a bad ass is like in person’. But, Marco stepped in and said ‘not to believe everything you hear’ and they started talking about Cindy, Rachel, and Luanne down at the goods store and how they were…you know comparing notes.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that Edgars, the black-haired guy with the missing left ear…well, they thought he was distracted and ‘seriously looking to nail Suzie’, you know, Suzie Hoffman the…”
“That’s all, Luke?”
“Yep.”
“Okay then, Luke. I’m impressed. Good job.”
“Thank you.”
“Larry, see to it Luke is given an added 600 RCs this month.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Luke.
The generosity of Ration Credits was the equivalent of six months pay.
“That’d be all, Luke,” said Larry.
The watched the young man leave. Larry went to the wet bar, lifting the lid of a mahogany humidor resting on the granite countertop. Taking his time, he extracted a Royal Jamaican Buccaneer and, surprisingly, found it still moderately fresh. Waiting patiently for Phoenix, he lit it. He did not have to wait long.
“I’m impressed with Luke. He has an allure and ferocity that seeps out despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He’s a hunter-killer all the way. Anyway, what’s your take on this new guy Luke’s talking about, uncle?”
Larry took his time before answering, choosing instead, to twirl the cigar in his hands. He slipped the cigar beneath his nose, appreciating the scent and his eyes followed the smoke trail towards the ceiling.
“Starkes has a man coming from out west and I’m thinking they picked the Hall of Fame as an easy, recognizable rendezvous.”
“One man?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking one man at this point,” said Larry Reed.
“Why? What for?”
“I dunno yet. He must have something they need.”
“Yeah, obviously, but from what Luke said, they were talking a ‘bad ass’. That can only mean they’re trying to add him to their current military strength,” said Phoenix.
“Maybe. Makes some sense that they might need all the help they can get—”
“Go on.”
“But, that don’t make total sense. Too much energy and effort. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I do. Doesn’t fit with my current assessment. The way I see it, I’m pretty sure Starkes came out for that kid and that ghost image of a woman, Nicole. That’s my take,” said Phoenix.
Both men sat thinking; finally, Phoenix spoke.
“But, why the hell did they chose to sit here for the past two weeks waiting for this guy Connor Mac to show up?”
“Yeah, does seem kinda strange.”
“Strange is right. Man’s important somehow. But, there’s more to it, I’m sure.”
“Well you’re the big thinker, Phoenix. I’ll let you figure that one out.”
“You think Starkes is gonna try to take Cleveland?”
“Phoenix, no offense, truly, but if Colonel Starkes wanted to take this town, she’s certainly not going about it in any sensible way. Hell, she’s left herself practically wide open for counterassault for that matter.”
“Yeah, well remember what I said before, don’t underestimate Starkes. That Bitch probably knows her shit.”
“I agree.”
“You think we can take ‘em down and grab this Nicole and her child…um, CJ is it? At the same time?”
“Who? Starkes?”
“Yeah, uncle…Starkes.”
Larry relit his fading cigar, taking a contemplative drag. He blew a deep cloud of blue smoke toward the windows, watching it cascade in waves against the glass before answering.
“Yeah, I guess that's possible. I'll have the men ready by Friday.”
“September sixth.”
“Correct.”
“What do you need from me to make it happen?”
“You wanna do it?”
“Yep.”
“Then just the green light…and, maybe a chit for each man for one night access to the Pound after the mission.”
“Okay, done. But, I’m thinking we wait another day. Take ‘em down on the seventh, late evening around midnight.”
“Why wait until then?”
“I want to make sure nothing else is going down beforehand, understood? Keep the men sniffing around. Expand the perimeter. Toss out a 200 RC for the first man to locate this Connor Mac, if he does, in fact exist.”
“Sure, I will.”
“Remember, I need at least Colonel Starkes, Major O’Malley, Nicole, Shamus the helicopter guy, and the baby CJ alive. That’s non-negotiable. We clear?”