Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  “You sonofabitch!” yelled Mark Harmon. He racked the shotgun slide for a second shot. However, since half of Spider’s head was gone, a second shot was not necessary. Spider tumbled off his horse. Rising, Andy slowly holstered his Beretta.

  “You! It was you who killed Brian and Parkman! You damn sonofabitch!” Harmon emptied another shotgun blast into the still figure on the ground. Mark’s newest burst of profanity was broken only by a few horse snorts. Andy moved toward Mark, standing for a few seconds near his horse. He spoke softly.

  “Sorry, Mark…just thought you’d want to know.”

  “You do have some concrete proof in what you’re saying, right?”

  Andy studied the group on horseback and Spider’s fallen form. “Sounds like you have all the proof you might need, but, yeah, talk to Ry on the subject when you see him.”

  “Ryan?”

  “Yeah, him Mark. Heard the condensed story from him. In fact, I’m surprised he let it escalate to the point it did. Probably out of earshot.”

  “Brother, he was dead no matter what went down with you today,” said Ryan.

  He stood near Andy’s left shoulder, like a ghost slipping through a graveyard.

  “Huh…well, here he is Mark. Feel free to ask any further questions.”

  Though Ryan held his M-4 pointed to the sky, he kept a guarded eye on the men behind Mark Harmon. Glancing at each of Mark’s men, his brutal intensity conveyed a confidence for any battle risk required. Shifting in his saddle, Mark drew his Ryan's full attention.

  “Ryan.”

  Glancing up at the horse, Ryan replied.

  “Mark.”

  A mutual, though grudging respect passed between them. Andy spoke. “Bro, that’s him, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s Bill. The sick bastard.”

  Ryan released a measure of the tension in his shoulders. Everybody on horseback took notice.

  “Never expected this kinda shit to go down here and now did we?” asked Andy.

  “Smaller world than you think, bro,” said Ryan.

  Terry settled in beside Andy, her eyes flitted from Spider to Mark to Andy and Ryan.

  “What just happened, Andy?” she asked, loudly for all to hear.

  “We took out the garbage, T. Isn’t that right, Mark?”

  Mark’s eyes settled on Spider. Calming a bit, he smiled slightly before responding.

  “Sonofabitch…seems like it.”

  “Well, there you go,” said Andy.

  Mark signaled his men again and all turned to leave. “I owe you one, I guess.”

  “No,” said Andy, “You’re the Mark Harmon. My brother always told me to stay on your good side. Hope this helped.”

  Mark studied Andy for a few more seconds before he turned toward his men. Several nodded. A wide grin emerged on Mark’s face.

  “You’re one crazy sonofabitch, Andy. Just like Mac.”

  “I’ll take that as a 'yes'.”

  Mark pointed toward a tall, shiny-bald black man wearing a huge diamond stud in his left ear, waving him forward.

  “Tie a rope and drag that sorry ass back to Nemacolin, ” said Mark, “We’ll burn ‘im there, Greencastle. You’re it. You’re my right hand, now.”

  “Will do, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Greencastle dismounted and roped Spider’s ankle to one end and the other to his saddle horn. After securing the rope, he glanced at Andy, Ryan and Terry, nodding a greeting.

  “Your name’s Brad Greencastle, right?” asked Ryan.

  The steel edge in his voice remained, but had softened some.

  “Ry?” asked Andy, mildly concerned.

  “Relax, bro. I’m cool.”

  “Yeah, my friends call me Big G. And, you’re ‘Mad Dog’ Ryan MacMillen. Ex military. Ex Recon. What about it?”

  Calmly, Brad climbed into his saddle, unconcerned.

  “Heard some good things ‘bout you. That’s all.”

  “So you say."

  “Just lettin’ you know,” volunteered Ryan.

  “Well, how about that? I heard some talk on you, too, Mad Dog.”

  “So you say. Like what?”

  “Huh. Some say you’re straight shootin’, and that you like the pretty women, those that are big-busted; especially tiny brunettes. One guy told me you’d probably be damn good to have around during a firefight.”

  “Hah, that pegs my little brother perfectly, Big G.”

  “Most of what you heard is probably not true,” said Ryan, embarrassed.

  “And, now that you mentioned it, what have you heard about me? I must admit…I’m a bit curious.”

  Ryan smiled at Andy and Terry. The playful glint was contagious and all men surrounding them on horseback listened with a calm excitement. Ryan glanced at Mark, who was content for the moment to stick around. Ryan’s voice settled into a more amicable tone.

  “Well, G.”

  “Big G.”

  “Right. Well, G, you're not so big to me. But, I did hear some blonde-haired biker with a tear drop tattoo tell a group of ten men, and I only quote: ‘That sonofabitch Greencastle’s got it head & shoulders on that pansy-ass Spider. How the hell can’t Harmon see through that?’ End quote.”

  “Huh,” said Greencastle.

  “Huh…I see,” said Mark Harmon, blushing.

  “Just so you know, I heard that two weeks ago when I was over at the market. I also heard Commander Bastin out at the garrison didn’t think much of the guy, either. Didn’t know what the hell it all meant until today when I laid eyes on him.”

  “I see,” said Brad, visibly pleased with the compliment.

  Mark shifted in his saddle, sheepish and uncomfortable; it was a testament to his good character that he was embarrassed at his current situation. Brad Greencastle and Ryan stared at each other for a few seconds, before Ryan spoke.

  “Greencastle, I’m hoping you’ll help take care of Harmon for the MacMillen clan, if he wants you.”

  “Sure thing, that is, if Mr. Harmon and the men will have me.”

  Mark nodded, still processing the day’s turn of events. Ryan had one final point to make.

  “Big G?”

  “Oh. Now I’m Big G? Yeah?”

  “From this point on, you know I’ll hold you responsible for his safety. His presence helps keep me and mine safe.”

  “Is that a threat? Watch it, Mad Dog,” said Brad Greencastle, a hard edge crept into his voice.

  “Not meant to offend. I mean it.”

  Brad Greencastle studied the men around him before answering.

  “I hear what you’re saying.”

  “Just letting you know we have a vested interest in Nemacolin’s success, next door neighbors and all.”

  “I’ll plan to do that, Mad Dog. And …thanks, I guess.”

  “Takin’ care of business is all.”

  Ryan approached Brad’s horse, taking off his right glove. Brad did the same. Once near, Brad reached down and they shook hands. Thereafter, Ryan reentered the forest.

  Stepping into the fray, Terry approached the horses.

  “Mark?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’ll see you back here in three or four days, if that’s okay with you. Catch up where we left off. Same time. That work?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  CHAPTER 6.7-A Captive Ghost

  “Surf Boy? Can you and Snuff secure a captive? Over.”

  “Hold.”

  Connor squelched in response and the team waited. A full five minutes passed. Finally, Marty returned.

  “Recently grabbed one piss-ass sniper rat. Over.”

  “He approached your position? Over.”

  “Affirmative. Snuff took ‘im down, I might add. Over.”

  “Status?”

  “Based on weapons, he was probably set to take out the roof guards and provide suitable cover fire during a full assault. This punk’s has some decent long-range gear and was damn near silent running, too, except for the last minute
when he thought he was settlin’ in. Almost missed his approach. Over.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Snuff said she’s keeping his fancy scope and NVGs. In fact, she's rather proud of her new equipment acquisitions, especially the goggles. She says they're better than yours. Over.”

  “I doubt that. Did he come with a spotter? Over.”

  “Yeah. We took him down in the east stairwell. Over.”

  “Understood. Is the sniper conscious? Over.”

  “He's a bit dazed and confused. Snuff was pretty hard on ‘im. Over.”

  “Roger that. Yeah, Snuff’s like that sometimes. Especially when they’re playin’ in the wrong sandbox. Can he talk? Over.”

  “Hold…yeah, Snuff’s waking him up a bit. He’s some skinny-ass kid, maybe nineteen or twenty.”

  “Extract all data on present ops. Priority one. Use all available means. Over.”

  “Copy that. Out.”

  Marty sat atop the young man, holding a gleaming Colt Defender to the young man’s right eye. Snuff seamlessly continued full surveillance duties near the window.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Screw you!”

  Reaching behind him, Marty swung his Colt in a smooth arc, striking the young man in his genitals; the strike was well placed, having the desired effect.

  “When you’re able to speak, you prick, I expect some respect.”

  Marty assisted the young man onto his side, so he could puke properly. Once done, he flipped him on his back, placing the Colt to his right eye.

  “What’s you’re name?”

  After a brief resurgence of resistance, the young man answered. “Ghost.”

  “Ghost?”

  “Yeah, Ghost.”

  “Huh. That’s a pretty high and mighty tag for a puke kid, don’t you think, Ghost? Bit of an overachiever?”

  Marty studied the ferocity of the young man, deciding he was probably not one to be easily broken. As such, he tried a more discreet tactic.

  “You know, I admit, you did move kinda ghostlike. We almost missed ya. Seriously. And, I’m force recon. Her, she’s full blown Army Airborne.”

  “Bitch hits hard, I’ll give you that.”

  “Whoa, watch your mouth! Cleo’s liable to come back and finish the job. And besides, she’d enjoy knocking you around some more.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’d be dead she wanted you dead. Truly. Ain’t that right…Cleo?”

  “Get the fuck on with it…Skel.”

  Amanda presented the image of raw Airborne competence. Confident, she stared at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame through binoculars. Marty pushed the young “ghost”.

  “What the hell is going on here? Huh? We come passing through Cleveland and come into some piss-ass firefight about to go down? Is that it?”

  “Ahh…”

  “We don’t want none of that! For real, we’re only wantin’ some solid food and a couple fast horses that can take us to the east coast.”

  “Ahh…”

  “I’ll tell ya, we got business to attend to there out east, wanna get there fast.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What did we walk into here, Ghost?”

  Ghost studied Marty atop him. It was fairly obvious he liked to hear his nickname repeated and his demeanor changed slightly.

  “I dunno.”

  “What you mean you dunno? Huh? You’re a top-notch sniper and you don’t know?”

  “I’m—”

  “How can we glide past here without getting screwed? This is Cleveland, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where’s the food supply and some horses for me and Cleo? Can you help us get the fuck out of here?”

  “Ahh,” said Ghost.

  “Just kill ‘im Skel. He’s worthless,” said Amanda.

  She left the window, approaching with an obvious intent toward further cruelty. Her rifle was pointed center mass, her hand on the trigger; it had the desired effect.

  “Hold on, Cleo! He’s mine for now. Okay? Keep an eye out for shit, would ya?”

  Quickly, Marty turned to face Ghost.

  “Listen, dude. I’m not up for killin’ ya like we did your partner, you know? I’d rather have some food in me and…hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where I can find some decent whiskey?”

  “Umm—”

  “Hey? Maybe Cleo and me can help you guys out, Ghost. You got some good food and whiskey lying around?”

  “You’d have to talk to Larry or Phoenix ‘bout that.”

  “Who’re they?”

  “They run Cleveland.”

  “Oh. Okay, I will then. How ‘bout you take us to them?”

  “Okay.”

  “In the meantime, what’s going on now out there? I'm thinkin' that somethin’ over in that building there’s in for a terrible kaboom.”

  “Well…”

  “C’mon, Ghost, we’re friends now, ain’t we? I ain’t killed ya have I?”

  “I dunno. Well, maybe if you let me up.”

  Ghost made an effort to rise beneath Marty. Marty relented.

  “Oh, sure. Sorry ‘bout that. I admit I’m seriously hungry and focused on finding some food. Haven’t eaten good in a week. Even all them rats is lookin’ good lately.”

  Marty stood, helping the young man rise. And, in a show of good faith, he returned his rifle to the young man, silently confirming with Snuff that she’d removed the five bullet cartridges from the magazine.

  "So, Ghost, tell me, what the hell’s going on?”

  The young man moved to the window, taking a moment to analyze the increasing activity below. As they had trained, Phoenix’s men were massing on each side of the main doors to the Hall of Fame, but back away from the front staging area until the go signal was called. All preparation for full breach entries were converging and Ghost knew there were other Pride Brigades prepping in reserve on each side.

  “Well?”

  Ghost turned to Marty and glanced warily at Snuff.

  “That’s the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame over there…”

  “Alright?”

  “We’re taking it tonight!”

  “Taking it? What do ya mean? Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, why?”

  “See that helicopter?”

  Ghost pointed left. The helicopter was easy to notice beneath faint spotlights on the retrofitted landing pad.

  “Yeah, I see it. That’s what got me interested in snooping around here in the first place.”

  “That’s the official helicopter of the President of the United States.”

  “What! He’s here?”

  “Yeah. But, it’s a she now and she’s been here for weeks.”

  “What the hell? We got a woman president now? What’s the world coming to Ghost? What’s she doing here?”

  “Don’t know. Waiting that’s for sure. But, we’re takin’ her and her men down tonight. There’s twenty-two of ‘im.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yeah, I ain't shittin' ya…and there’s some woman and a baby we’re not to touch.”

  “A baby?”

  “But we’ll get…when we’re done…umm…”

  Ghost quickly glanced toward Amanda.

  “Get what?”

  Marty prodded, moving closer for a conspiratorial discussion.

  “Umm…”

  “C’mon, Ghost. What’d you get if you capture the woman and baby?”

  “Ahh…”

  “C’mon, are we new friends or not?”

  Marty let a slightly steel edge slip into his voice. Ghost whispered to keep Amanda from hearing.

  “We each get a nights use of the ‘Pound’.”

  “The Pound?”

  “Yeah, the Pound.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s where…it’s where they keep...all the pretty woman. You know. For the men.”

  “No shit! A whorehouse?”

  “Well…I guess, so
rta. A pretty nice one, yeah.”

  “Oh, man! You think they’re some prettier than Cleo over there?”

  Ghost risked a surreptitious glance toward Amanda, still standing at the window studying the buildup of men. Pointedly, she turned with annoyance in her eyes, but not before Ghost snatched a full glance at her face and scanned the long, lithe curves of her hips and buttocks. He blinked, swallowing hard when she shifted slightly in her camo pants.

  “Umm, I dunno… maybe…I don’t think so.”

  “Where can you find me some food, man?”

  Ghost refocused on Marty.

  “If you help me in taking out those roof snipers, I can almost guarantee you some good food and those horses you want.”

  “Good deal! That’s what I need to hear. When do we start?”

  Ghost checked his watch.

  “We start at midnight.”

  Marty settled the Colt into Ghost’s right eye.

  “Do we now?”

  CHAPTER 6.8-Trust

  “Andy, that was some real serious shit that just went down.”

  Slowly, Terry and Andy walked toward the cottage.

  “Tell me about it, T.”

  Several concerned clan members had made their way from the cottage along the main gravel driveway after the shotgun blasts. But, they were moving calmly, updated by the perimeter guards.

  “You knew something about this Spider guy beforehand?”

  “Nah, nothing but what Ry briefed me on. Though I did hear the name once or twice back in the day. Obviously, I put the pieces together when that same piece of shit came to sit right there out on the blacktop.”

  “Oh.”

  “More importantly, thanks for trusting me out there, T.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Terry was noncommittal.

  “I’m serious! I don’t know if you realize it or not, but that little incident went a long way to you getting the unconditional respect of all our men in the woods. You know, the true warriors of this clan. Including Ry.”

  “Hmm…”

  “I know you went up a notch in his book.”