by Paul Kirk
“One more word. I kill you, you puta,” said Renaldo. In anger, he spit toward the steering wheel.
“I don’t think so, Sport. You need me right now to get your little precious to safety.”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
“Fuck you, Nully!” Phoenix smacked the steering wheel to emphasize his point. “I got 3000 men that’ll be tracking your ass after this.”
The Berretta jammed into his side shifted and now rested atop his kneecap. The Taurus remained firm and pressed hard against the side of his head. Phoenix found the confidence of the boy's movements disconcerting. The young boy spoke with confidence.
“One. More. Word.”
Phoenix glanced at the Berretta, realizing that he’d like to keep his knee in one piece. Sensibly, he kept quiet. For now. Phoenix began driving in the designated direction.
“Drive right up that road there. And trust me, lead man puta, my daddy trained me for this kinda crap my entire life.”
They drove up Arlington Road, passing several rusted wrecks, emerging onto Brownsville Road. They made a right, heading south.
“Gabby, you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“Can I kill ‘im, Nully? Can it be me?”
“Shh! Keep sharp. You know better than to talk like that now.”
“Sorry, Nully.”
CHAPTER 8.20-First Light
“We could leave at first light, ma’am. Good to go.”
“You make it seem so easy to switch out that tailshaft bearing, Scott.”
Colonel Starkes stood in the fast fading glow of the chem-pak lighting positioned around the Superhawk. With the late evening repairs complete, there was no need to break open any more, as the supply was rather limited. Standing near the back rotor, she noticed the tired smiles on the faces of GT, Scott and Shamus. Though each had a mechanics rag and wiped faces and hands, it was clear that they'd require more than just a few swipes to get clean.
“I don't know about easy, ma'am. But, probably easier for us three, I might say. You asked. We delivered. Simple as that.”
"So, the legend lives, huh Scott? GT? Shamus?" She watched their faces and caught the level of pride and satisfaction.
"I don't know about any legend, ma'am," answered Scott for all three of them.
"Well, I thank you for your efforts."
Scott, Shamus and GT were fully spent from their all night overhaul. Grease and gear oil was spattered over large sections of their clothes. They were sorely in need of a bath. And some sleep.
“We don’t need to be there in Pittsburgh until the rendezvous at 18:00. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Scott, speaking for the group.
The colonel focused on Shamus. "Correct, Shamus?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. I want you to calculate our return time. I want to build in an extra sixty minutes for recon over Pittsburgh on our way in.”
“Yes, ma’am. The major has already defined that.”
“Good. In the meantime, each of you has orders to eat and sleep as much as you can before we depart.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But not before you make good use of that water we found. I want you cleaned up spic and span. Use ten gallons each, if necessary”
“Okay,” said Scott, nearly out on his feet.
“Thanks, ma’am,” said GT.
“We’re on it,” said Shamus.
"Feel free to grab a fresh set of fatigues, if you want," suggested the colonel.
Shamus laughed. Once formally retired from the military years back, all three men agreed never to wear such clothing ever again. There were way too many memories between them of the stench such clothing gave off in terms of sweat, blood, and a host of nauseous smells associated with past missions. "We're okay with what we brought, ma'am."
They left as a team, like always, this time heading toward the fresh water reserve.
CHAPTER 8.21-You Drive or Die, Puta
“If you’re not driving your best, you die. Got it?” The pick-up truck that Renaldo, Gabriella and Phoenix were driving had hit a huge pothole that jarred them all, making them bounce. But, both guns in Renaldo's hands stayed jammed into Phoenix temple and side, no matter what movement the truck experienced.
“Screw yourself, Renaldo.”
Calmly, Renaldo shifted the Beretta in his right hand from Phoenix's side and fired the gun into Phoenix’s left foot. The bullet nipped above the boot heel, slicing a half-inch in at a sharp downward angle. Just below the Achilles tendon, the bullet scraped bone, exiting the sole of the boot.
“Owwwwhh!” The pain was incredible and Phoenix turned toward Renaldo in fury, only to have the Taurus placed between his eyes.
“Eyes on the road puta or I’ll kill you now.” The threat in his sweet, young face was unmistakable.
Phoenix returned watering eyes to the road, trying his best to ignore the pulsing influx of pain. His grimace confirmed he was having a difficult time of it.
“I. Will….kill…”
The second bullet entered the top of his boot near his left toes. Probably, the small toe or the one next to it was gone.
“Ah, oh…” Phoenix’s eyes glazed with a new invasion of pain pounding into his brain.
“Shut. Up. And drive!”
“No, fair! … my turn next, Nully…”
Renaldo ignored his sister's outburst. “Focus, puta or die now.”
Phoenix concentrated on the road before him, driving as if his life depended on it. Trying his best to ignore the pain, he kept his eyes on the road, careening passed bunched up cars and debris at a reckless pace. Far behind them, there was some action. He caught a glimpse in the rear view mirror of vehicles bouncing onto Brownsville Road and coming up the small grade from Arlington, but the sounds were distant. As it stood, Phoenix’s army had not yet fully recovered from the surprise kidnapping.
“Where we…going,” Phoenix managed to ask from gritted teeth.
“Where you ain’t,” mumbled Renaldo.
Gabriella kneeled on the seat and peeked out the back window. “They’re real far back. No one’s coming yet, Nully.”
“Good. Keep an eye out.”
“Nully, there’s a big bag of food. And a box o’bullets, .45s.”
“Good. Hold onto it, Gabby. I want 'em. The bullets are for this Taurus, too. We can eat later.”
“’Kay.”
Phoenix drove the truck about a mile and a half, twisting past wreckage, ruts, shattered asphalt, fallen trees and debris. A half-mile back, he passed Luke’s team and their last stated position. Driving past the old church where Luke was likely hidden, he had a fleeting desire to slow, hoping Luke was being updated. But, he knew he would not make any obvious moves of his own with the two guns held on him and a clear willingness of the young boy to use them. Making good time, while his blood drained onto the floor beneath the brake pedal, Phoenix felt a cold anger build. With the pain starting to subside, his icy, calculating mind returned.
“Why’re you lead man, huh? What makes you different?” asked Renaldo.
“Umm," said Phoenix. His mind was in the process of calculating angles, speed and vectors.
“Gabby, see what else is in that bag.”
Phoenix concentrated on the sharp right turn coming up ahead. Renaldo was distracted and talking to Gabriella when he slammed hard on the brakes. He grabbed for the door handle with lightening speed, ignoring the Taurus bullet fired inches past his face and the Berretta bullet missing his midsection. Slipping from the truck, he hit the pavement and slid at first then rolled as the truck slid past. Smacking his right side against the curb, Phoenix followed the truck. It nearly collided with a guardrail, before slamming into a Volkswagen. Scrambling up and behind a broken brown building, He turned, limping back the way they’d come. Renaldo jumped out of the truck, staring at the retreating figure, gun pointed. Urgently, he waved Gabby out.
“C’mon, Gabby
!”
“I got the bag!”
“C’mon, we gotta run!”
“’Kay.”
Gabriella and Renaldo took off down Brownsville Road at a blistering fast pace. Running hard, Renaldo found it difficult to tuck the Taurus into his pants after slipping the Beretta into the bag that Gabby carried.
“Where we going, Nully?”
“Away! Away to hide.”
“’Kay.”
“Let’s go to the shopping center. Hide. Kroger’s roof.”
“Yeah.”
Not surprisingly, Renaldo and Gabriella showed little exertion for their efforts. Preparation was the key. Even when low on edible food periodically the past few years, they both continued to train as they were taught, running at least two hard miles every day. Today, as luck would have it, they were running into familiar territory; this area of Brownsville Road only had seven adults to watch out for, five of which were mostly harmless. Turning the bend toward the Burger King, Renaldo heightened his already sharp vigilance, keeping an eye out for crazy Betty. Recalling what his father had said, he knew the woman had made the Burger King restaurant her own personal fiefdom and had many large caliber weapons to emphasize the point.
“We better slow up, Gabby. We can walk a bit.”
“Good. I wanted to stop.”
“See why we train? Huh? See, Gabby?”
“Yeah, … we did good, Nully.”
“I know it. Lucky’s all.”
Renaldo gave the Burger King a wide berth, continuing a fast walk down Brownsville Road. And, nearing the small dilapidated Smithy’s bar at the next curve, his eyes were trained to keep an eye out for the bright red backpack carried by Tinderbox, an on again, off again friend of his daddy. Often, Tinderbox was seen tending to the large vegetable garden he’d fashioned in the Carrick Cemetery that was situated behind the old corner bar.
“Want a snack?” asked Gabriella.
“What’s in there?” Renaldo grabbed the bag from Gabby, opening the top. Feeling the heft of the bag, he was impressed at the weight that Gabby had carried with no complaint. Setting the bag on the ground, Renaldo reached into the bottom and pulled several large chunks of dried deer or dog meat wrapped in gray cloth. Reaching in further, he pulled three red apples into the evening sunlight. He handed one to Gabriella and held one for himself.
“Wow!” said Gabriella in delight.
“Wow’s right. Let’s keep walking, Gabby.”
"’Kay.” Gabby took a huge bite. Renaldo did the same, picking up the bag to carry. “I didn’t like that man, Nully.”
“I know, Gabby. Neither did I.”
“Papa woulda killed him.”
“No.”
“No?”
“He woulda let you kill him, if given the chance.”
“Oh…”
They walked, taking smaller bites of the delicious apples.
“I miss Papa…Momma, too.”
“Me, too. C’mon, let's pick up the pace, Gabby. We need to get up into the back alley behind Kroger’s.”
“’Kay.”
SECTION 9: Rat Pack on the Run
CHAPTER 9.1-The Perimeter
“Mickey, you copy?”
“Copy. Go.”
“We got movement, back alley. Over.”
“What kind? Over.”
“Not sure. Wait, I see two kids. Young. One hundred yards out. Over.”
“Threat?”
“Nah, not likely. Over.”
“Okay. Keep an eye on them. Over.”
“Roger that.”
Mickey turned and approached Colonel MacMillen and the newly established team. Captain Daubney, Major McLeod, and Captains BB and Marty were speaking in the KFC dining area. Detailed plans were being arranged for the much-anticipated rendezvous with Colonel Starkes set for tomorrow at 18:00. Spirits were high and the men of his team were spending a great deal of time getting to know the colonel’s team. Sniffing the air, he appreciated the smell of a few cigars. The smell of fresh meat cooking made his mouth water; he realized he’d not eaten since early morning.
“What we got?” asked Captain Daubney, hearing Mickey on the radio.
“Nothing. A few kids walking near an alley.”
“How old?” asked Connor.
“I dunno. Young.”
“Rare to see kids. How young?”
Mickey was momentarily embarrassed that he did not have the information readily available and that he’d not thought to seek further clarification.
“Hold on, sir.” Mickey moved slightly away, radioing his men. “Stretch, do you know young those kids are? Over.”
“I dunno, Top. The boy’s maybe thirteen or fourteen. Girl’s maybe ten. Over.”
“Continue assessment. Over.”
“Understood, hold."
"Holding for assessment. Roger."
"They’re little, but sturdy. I'd say they’re a pretty good-looking pair, probably brother and sister by the looks of ‘em. Maybe Hispanic of some type. They look healthy. Over.”
“Roger.” Mickey returned to the team, only to be interrupted, by Stretch’s voice on the radio.
“Hold on a sec, Top…over.”
“Copy. Go.”
“The boy keeps looking back behind him like they’re being chased or something. He’s reached behind his back to pull out something. Whoa, large handgun. I think he senses something’s wrong behind him. Over.”
“How? How far from you? Over.”
“We’re hidden well. Maybe forty yards ahead of ‘im, tucked nice in the yard of a gray house. Snipers up top. No way he knows we’re here. Over.”
“What’s he doing now, over?”
“Umm, he’s saying somethin’ to the little girl, pointing behind him and then right in our direction. Over.”
“Okay. Keep an eye on ‘em. Send a man behind them after they pass to see what’s up. Over.”
“Roger that. I’ll go out there myself once they pass. Out.”
CHAPTER 9.2-Handing Over a Gun
“Phoenix, you okay?” asked Luke. His team converged on the hobbling form of Phoenix Justice as he walked toward their position on Brownsville Road. Luke came to stand before him.
“Luke, the best I can say is…I’ll live…to find that little Renaldo motherfucker!” The raw fury emanating from Phoenix made the men around Luke instinctively check Phoenix’s hands for a weapon. They’d witnessed this level of fury before and, it never ended well for someone nearby. On the other hand, the cold charisma that still simmered from Phoenix was captivating. Luke smiled at the intensity. Seeing Phoenix stumble, he grabbed ahold of his left shoulder, assisting him in his frenzied walk back toward Arlington Road and his remaining army.
“What happened?” asked Luke.
“Larry neglect to fill you in?” Phoenix growled to hide his embarrassment.
“No,” said Luke, “but I want to hear it from you, so I can fuckin’ believe it.”
Phoenix stopped. He stared at Luke to assess his comment. Gratefully, he took the water canteen offered and drank deeply, trying his best not to scream in raw rage at his circumstances. “I need a gun. Now.”
Luke’s team glanced around at each other and then into the fury of Phoenix. Calmly, Luke handed him the Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm strapped in his thigh holster. Phoenix took the weapon and slipped out the magazine to confirm ammunition, before slamming it home. He checked the top of the gun, noting that the special indicator confirmed a nine-millimeter load was live in the chamber.
“I appreciate that quick gesture, Luke in giving up your firearm. I won’t forget it. I know this M&P’s your pride and joy.”
“No problem, sir.” Luke tracked the M&P, as the gun was slipped into Phoenix’s pants. Phoenix noticed.
“Don’t worry. I see you staring. I’ll return it when I get my Judge back.”
“You lost it?”
Phoenix trembled at the question, so much so, that he nearly fainted in fury. Luke held onto Phoenix’s left si
de, easing him to sit on the ground.
“No! I didn’t fuckin’ lose it—that punk-ass kid fucked my uncle over, but good—took his Berretta and bullied his way to escaping.”
“Heard that—hard to believe.”
Reenergized, Phoenix stood once again, ignoring the flash of incredible pain. He regarded the men around him. “Oh yeah, that little fuck’s something special. I’m gonna seriously enjoy teaching him a lesson.”
“And his name's Renaldo?”
Phoenix stared at Luke. “Yeah, his name's Renaldo...c’mon, we got shit to do. Let’s go.” Phoenix walked toward the trucks and quads barreling down Brownsville Road with the army of men behind them. He tried his best not to limp, though the pain was intense.
CHAPTER 9.3-A Judgment Call
“Someone’s run through here, may be here now…”
“Nully?” Gabriella tossed her apple core away and tried to see what her brother saw.
Absently, Renaldo handed her the remainder of his half-eaten apple, slipping the Taurus from the small of his back. He sniffed the air. “Smell it, Gabby? Meat cooking. And smoke. From cigarettes.”
“I don’t…oh, yeah.”
“Those houses there, see? The front weeds and grass are crushed. Not a lot, but not long ago.”
“Where?”
“That gray house next to the green one. With the black gate. See those little paths in the weeds to the gate. Hey, look! There’s a dust swipe across that car window. Huh. Someone looked inside. Fresh. Clean. New.”
“Today, Nully?”
“Probably. Probably—”
“Oh.”
Renaldo dropped into a crouch and Gabriella did the same. He critiqued the area ahead of him as trained, thinking. “Any binoculars in that bag?” He knew none were there, frustrated that the well-fortified backpack he’d hidden before being caught by those men was now so far away.
“No, Nully. I have some matches…I can—”
“Did I ask for matches?”