Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  “Oh.” Amanda furrowed her brow, refusing to let dark thoughts of Marty’s death take hold. “He’s not dead...he made it out...I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay, let's hope. But how long was your team supposed to wait in Youngstown? Where in Youngstown? Why Youngstown?”

  “Umm—”

  “Amanda, how long? C’mon—”

  “Ahh, five days max at a steel mill.”

  “Can you tell me where?”

  “At a furnace labeled #1.”

  “You’re three days past that mark,” volunteered the major.

  Amanda rolled her eyes and speared the major with a wicked, frustrated stare. “No shit, Sherlock.” She turned in anger to Colonel Starkes. “The rest of your men this quick, Hannah?”

  With lightening speed, Colonel Starkes jumped in Amanda’s face. “You insult my men again, I’ll leave your ass strapped down on that bed until the rats find you.” The cold fury of Hannah Starkes snapped Amanda from her pain, self-pity and frustration. Colonel Starkes continued, “you won’t find a better man. And, that’s Major Michael O’Malley to you.”

  “Geez, I was just saying,” suggested Amanda.

  “He’s my second in command. I’ll not tolerate that insubordination from anyone. Got it?”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Nonplussed by the skirmish, Major O’Malley smiled, sticking out his hand. Amanda smiled rather apologetically and took it.

  “Sorry, major.”

  “It’s Mike. And, no problem. Glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Yeah.” Amanda studied Scott and Cassie standing nearby and continued her efforts to settle into the situation. With self-discipline taught by Connor, she quelled the blossoming anxiety building in the pit of her stomach.

  “And, you? Mr. Soft Green eyes? What’s your name?” Amanda’s sudden bright smile, blue eyes and courteous demeanor had its intended effect.

  “Umm...”

  “That’s Scott. And that’s Cassie,” said Major O’Malley, “They took care of you round-the-clock from day one. Especially Scott.”

  “Oh...wow.”

  “I don’t think Scott left your side at all for the first five days; slept at your door when he was forced to sleep after that.”

  Amanda refocused on both Scott and Cassie. Registering the realities of her time spent here, she understood the commitment they both had to her recovery. She sniffed herself to find she smelled as fresh and clean as mountain air. Humbled, her intensity softened. “Oh. Well...Scott, Cassie. Geez, thanks so much.”

  “Not a problem,” said Scott.

  “Sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you all since I woke—”

  “Ah, we’re glad to see you’re finally back with the living,” said Cassie.

  “Yeah, you keep healing, Amanda,” said Scott, “If there’s anything you need, anything, just let me know.”

  “Okay. I will. Thanks." Amanda blushed at the attention. She reached to touch the bandage on her head and slipped her hand to the back of her neck, feeling light stubble. Smiling slightly, she sought Scott's attention.

  “Who do I thank for the new hairstyle?”

  “Ahh, that would be me,” said Scott.

  “I see.”

  “And, you have some stitches under that bandage that I hope will end up covered up when your hair grows back.”

  “Great...you think I should cut off the other side and go full Mohawk?” Amanda’s attempt at humor was well received; all laughed.

  “Get dressed, Amanda,” said Colonel Starkes, “Cassie will help you. When you’re ready, come downstairs. We’ll see what we can work out in prep for a Youngstown trip.”

  “Right.”

  “We might even be able to find you some solid food to help gain your strength back.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Yeah, I know that soup broth that Scott’s patiently hand fed you the past seven days isn't enough for you and the baby.”

  Ravenous, Amanda touched her belly and thought of her unborn child and the need for substantial food. The level of care in her twenty-four hour round-the-clock treatment during the past eight days sank in.

  “My goodness. Thanks again for taking care of me, Scott...you too, Cassie.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Cassie.

  “Yep. No problem,” said Scott.

  “No, truly, I'm humbled by your attention, I am.”

  Scott blushed at her appreciation. “We have a good squirrel stew for lunch downstairs. I hope you like it.”

  Mildly amused, Colonel Starkes studied Scott’s schoolboy shyness around the young woman. But, hearing about the stew, Amanda edged to stand with both feet on the floor. Pleased, she found she could stand, but was surprised at her overall fatigue in trying to do so. “Wow. I’m weak as a newborn kitten.”

  “Yeah,” suggested Scott, "You would be."

  Thoughts of squirrel meat chunks dripping with broth filled Amanda’s head and her mouth watered. She waved everyone out the door.

  “Okay, you all. Please get outta here so I can remove this silly shirt and put on my own clothes...I’m starving!”

  The team turned at her request and began to leave.

  “Wait!”

  “Yes?” said Colonel Starkes, glancing back.

  “Anyone know what happened to my rifle?” Bracing for the worst, Amanda stood at the edge of the bed, staring like a forlorn puppy.

  “You mean a 30.06 Remington with a Leopold scope and walnut stock?” said the major.

  “Yeah.”

  “We have it.”

  “No way!”

  “Mickey’s team scooped it up during the firefight.”

  “Wow! I can't believe it!"

  “Sergeant Burroughs grabbed it when he and Mickey dragged you from the front entrance.”

  “Oh...wow. Oh my, that’s great! You guys are so great!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Okay, okay now get out, please.” With a sudden urgency, Amanda used trembling hands to unfold her pants, discovering the ability to stand on one shaky leg, but just barely, as she slipped into her pants.

  “And, make sure you save me some of that stew!” she yelled toward the door. Cassie was still standing there waiting.

  “Oh, hi Cassie.”

  “I’ll wait to walk you down.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “There’s no way you’d make it yourself.”

  “Okay...you might be right.” Amanda wobbled side-to-side as she spoke, feeling lightheaded. Cassie came to help.

  “And, there are no working elevators.”

  “No elevator service? Even for the president? What kinda college are they running here?”

  Surprised, Amanda found it difficult a minute later to even make the first few steps without Cassie’s outstretched arm.

  CHAPTER 7.12- Decay

  “Pittsburgh took a beating, McLeod.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Mac. Didn’t come this way my trip out west.”

  Connor handed the binoculars over on a gorgeous September twentieth morning. Golden yellow sunlight cut across the clear sky above Pittsburgh, reflecting off countless cars and trucks discarded and abandoned on the cluttered Veteran’s Bridge. Edging into the city from the north, they were tucked in at a good defensive position on the elevated access ramp. Sunlight sparkled across a slew of unbroken skyscraper windows spattered throughout the city. Fifth Avenue Place, a newer landmark in the center of town had remained mostly intact with its protruding center roof antenna still sticking defiantly out the top. And, the centerpiece of the city, the famous U. S. Steel Building stood tall, black and sturdy, aside from a fire that had obviously burned inside on several floors. Long scorch marks ran up the sides and many windows were blown out. But, even damaged, the beautiful city looked ready for rebirth.

  “What a kick-ass city.”

  “Ahh, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Nah, no problem. It’s not your city, John, Pittsburgh’s mine. Born and raised here.”

/>   “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh.”

  Connor studied the city noting that several intense military battles had certainly taken place downtown. Discarded military vehicles were scattered everywhere, plugging up many downtown streets. But, right now, there was little in the way of human activity. In fact, Pittsburgh was a ghost town.

  “I think the ‘Burgh’s taken the Sickness harder than most,” said Connor. He stared at the city, saddened.

  John McLeod decided to explore the obvious emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

  “In what way? What are you referencing?”

  “Nothing specific yet, but most of the buildings here are pretty banged up. From what I can see, the majority of bridges are destroyed. There were tons of military engagements. And, I don’t see too much in signs of life right now.”

  “Oh. Yeah, there is that,” said McLeod, “No regrouping of people into an evident population center.”

  “Least not from what we can see from here.”

  The team caught up fast, except for BB, Marty and Jason, running the protective bubble behind them. Jackson and Jude rode horses as rear cover while Rhonda and Roger strolled with the reins of McLeod’s and BB’s horses fifteen yards in front of them. Focused and intense, Rhonda was peppering Roger with comments on some subject. And, off to their right Cody rode Jason’s gentle palomino, wide-eyed, as he caught sight of the huge city visible above the Veteran's Bridge guardrail.

  “We gonna pass through or skirt this city, Mac?” asked McLeod, “We’ve not yet talked this part through.”

  “Umm, I dunno. It’ll save us at least two day’s travel if we can walk straight through it, maybe into those Liberty Tunnels onto Route 51, if it’s not blocked or set up to trap.”

  “You want to enter the city? We’re going in the city?”

  “Ahh, let’s scope it out, but, yeah, I think we might give it a shot if it seems fairly safe.”

  “Huh. You know I don’t personally like moving around in the bigger cities anymore.”

  “I know, John.”

  “The trip out west taught me that.”

  “I’m with ya. Don’t favor them myself.”

  “Cleveland’s reinforced the point, don’t you think?”

  “Hah. Yep, sure did.”

  As the group gazed toward the city, each pointed out different points of interest.

  “The river’s so clear,” said Roger, “Wasn’t Pittsburgh supposed to be a shithole, dirty city?”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “There’s a bunch of army tanks down there, see? Right there,” said Cody.

  He pointed to their immediate right, on the north side, fairly close to their position.

  “I see it,” said Connor, “Yep, I think some army pricks made an effort to surround Allegheny General Hospital, maybe protect it, at some point early on in this mess.”

  “Oh.”

  The fire-blackened tanks and green motorized military equipment sat decrepit in heavy weeds and rubble near the wrecked hospital. The streets were barely recognizable. At least fifteen tanks had apparently guarded the wide city roads that wrapped around the huge hospital complex; the main hospital campus had seen better days. Nearby buildings were half crumbled, huge holes blown open to advertise the innards of several floors; nearby businesses fared no better.”

  “What the hell do think happened there, McLeod?” mumbled Connor.

  “Dunno. You say that’s a hospital?”

  “Yeah. A big one. One of the best in the country. We had some heavy hitter docs. Dr. Maroon for one.”

  “Well, I dunno then...maybe they were working on a fast cure and people caught wind of it. Maybe they’d set up a perimeter.”

  “Didn’t work so well for them, if that’s the case,” said Roger.

  “Yeah, didn’t work so well for too many of us, honey,” said Rhonda. She hugged his forearm tight at the comment; leaned further on the concrete guardrail.

  “Hey! I see a few boats moving...over there,” said Cody.

  “More than a few,” said Jackson.

  “Yep, they’re hanging around the Point, I wonder where they find the gas,” said Connor, “Don’t plan to find out.” Taking the binoculars back from McLeod, he studied the city in earnest and took his time with the area nearest to them, mapping out their safest probable route. After a few moments, his scan broadened. With the binoculars still held to his eyes, he smiled. “Ahh, yeah, that's where Primanti's would be. Over there.”

  “What?”

  "Oh, there used to be a restaurant called Primanti's over in the warehouse strip district that makes a fantastic sandwich. I was just thinking about it."

  "Oh. A pretty good one you say?"

  "Yeah."

  The team listened with rapt attention at the mention of freshly prepared food.

  “Sorry guys. I was just reminiscing, you know, about a Primanti’s sandwich.”

  “Huh,” said Jackson.

  “They make them in the ‘Burgh. A specialty. Damn, now I’m thinking of Pasta Too and Carbonara’s, oh, man, now those were two Italian restaurants that had the best damn pizza and fettuccini on this planet.”

  “Tell me more about this Primanti’s sandwich,” asked Jackson. He slid off his horse, his eyes never stopping on one point of interest too long.

  “Sure, a Primanti sandwich is loaded with tons and tons of sliced meat, cheese, and tomatoes.”

  “Yeah, so do plenty of other sandwiches, so what?”

  “And, it has Cole slaw and French fries sitting right on the sandwich.”

  “Oh.” Jackson was not impressed, “Sounds rather gross.”

  “No, I’m serious! Wish you coulda had one. You’d think you died and went to heaven. Especially at two in the morning.”

  Connor and John settled back to scan the next 200 yards of their forward travel to help establish the safest route. Based on their blossoming plan to enter the city proper, they needed to strategize with the entire team.

  “Bring in Marty, BB and Jason, would you?”

  “Sure,” said John.

  “We’ll need to set up a new game plan to sneak through this city intact. We'll need to keep an especially sharp eye out for snipers in those high windows.”

  “Agreed. You know, it’s good to have you back some, Mac.”

  “Sure.”

  “No I'm serious. It's good to see your head's at least somewhat back in the game.”

  “Ah, huh.” Connor swallowed deeply as his thoughts returned to Amanda and the unknown.

  John softened his tone even further. “But…I know it takes time.”

  “Yeah, it does that, don’t it?” Connor closed his eyes and took a deeper breath. "Not knowing is the tough part. For everything."

  "So true."

  Having left the Youngstown mill three days ago, they’d made good time in their southeastward travels in the woods beside Ohio 193 and I-680 and then onto their shadowing of the Ohio/Pennsylvania Turnpike (I-76). The time was uneventful while Connor kept up a silent vigil, mourning the loss of Amanda. That is, except, when his expertise was directly called upon. During that time, Marty took overwatch, since neither he nor Connor were able to face each other for more than a few moments, without an obvious pain seeping into their eyes. Not knowing Amanda’s fate was hitting each hard, though, both had lost good men in the past and, in their own ways, were trying to deal with the cold reality of the new world situation.

  “How’s our water?” Connor asked Marty as he approached.

  “We’re good, Mac.”

  “Okay.”

  Aside from Rhonda nearly breaking her right ankle in a gopher hole and Cody stepping on a copperhead that clamped hard onto his boot, their only harrowing situation was during the third night in their travels. When, settling in at an old house just north of highway signs for Beaver Falls, PA, they’d met up with a huge pack of wolves and wild dogs. Large and well fed, the pack attacked the entire team brazenly a
nd almost too fast to defend. With some luck, BB, Marty and Jude were able to fire off a few decent shots before the pack fully converged onto the main porch where the team was setting up camp. A bold pack, nicely sized and confident in their numbers, they were unconcerned that they were attacking human prey. And, it was only Jude’s well-placed shot to the head of the lead wolf that had a strong, sobering effect on the pack. In retrospect, only Roger and Jason were in any clear danger. Roger had fought off a large German Shepherd slipping a knife into its belly before Connor angled up to snap its neck; Jason slammed three quick 9mm shots into the chest of a black wolf that had knocked him down, landing on his head. The rest of the wild pack scattered at the intuitive counter attack, leaving many dead dogs and wolf behind.

  The team ate well that night, despite a few bites, bruises and stitches. In fact, after that evening, the team made it a point to find high-quality canine cuisine whenever they had the opportunity. As an emblem of team pride, wolf or wild canine meat was now their new favorite and preferred meal.

  CHAPTER 7.13-Recovery

  "We're set to leave at five o'clock for dawn arrival in Youngstown, ma'am," said Major O'Malley.

  "Understood, major. Thank you," said Colonel Starkes.

  Entering the Allegheny College cafeteria after checking in with Shamus and the helicopter crew, Mike settled next to Amanda, Starkes, Daubney, Scott and Cassie. All watched Amanda eat; their own meals long completed. Slurping the last remnants of her squirrel stew, Amanda was disappointed that her third large bowl was empty. With some regret, she sat the bowl on the table, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

  "No offense, but let's hope you don't bust your gut after that performance, Amanda," said Captain Daubney.

  "Gross...c'mon, Mark."

  "What? Tell me you weren't thinkin' the same thing, Scott."

  "I wasn't."

  "Sure."

  "Sorry guys…I couldn't help it."

  "No problem, Amanda," said Colonel Starkes, "You want another bowl?"

  "Ahh, we better hold off right now, Hannah,” said Cassie.

  Scott nodded in firm agreement.

  "See, Scott! Admit it...you’re thinkin' she might puke."