Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  “Based on the map, we could do an end-around down to Route 51 and up into Brentwood/Carrick. It’d take some time; they’d have to stick around some for that to happen.”

  “How passable is the road for movement up here on Brownsville?”

  “Jon says the mile or so past the church is fairly clear to the shopping center and the KFC. We’d have to go single file at a few points, but doable.”

  “Your thoughts on a night engagement, Luke?”

  “Be dark in about half hour. Don’t much matter to me when we go in.”

  “Uncle?”

  “The men are tired, but after—after what just happened, a night’s sleep might not go well. I say we press on and take these men now. Score a win to reestablish.”

  “Control? Are you suggesting I lost control?”

  “No, Phoenix! But like I said before, a win right now would be real nice to set matters straight—even an active engagement with the enemy would help set the tone.”

  With the entire army massing near the church on Brownsville Road and waiting for the green light to set camp, Phoenix considered the advice.

  “Luke? Can your men sneak up on them with the army behind you?”

  “Sure, if they’re still there.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be?”

  “These are most likely the same guys who took shots at us, back in the city. They know we’re tracking them, they know we're coming. They might not be sticking around. I sure wouldn't.”

  “Larry, instruct the men that we’re traveling through the night. Any grumbling, please shoot the first two men to prove the point. Got it?”

  “Right.”

  “The first two little bitches who complain.”

  “I know. I'll plan on it.”

  “And send the Ninth brigade down onto Route 51 to begin the pinch maneuver. Have ‘em use four trucks, but tell ‘em not to let the trucks slow them down if impeded. They’re the fastest. See to it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Luke, take the men you want and go after them bastards.”

  “Yes, sir. Right.”

  “You’ll have America’s best army at your back, so radio in when the time’s right and we’ll come running.”

  “I’m taking half a brigade, twenty men, trackers. All equipped with nightvision. I want two RPGs. Four radios, sir.”

  “They're yours. Go.”

  Though night was fast approaching, Phoenix knew there would be no stopping until the recent debacle was put down and the Rat Pack and young boy and girl were recaptured. Phoenix caught many men staring his way. He also noticed numerous smiles at the sudden change in the boring routine. Itching, many men were ready for bloody combat. Phoenix touched his leg above the ankle, feeling the pain run up from his foot in agony.

  “Fuck me.”

  CHAPTER 9.9-The Use of High Explosives

  “Sir? Team Green to Team Black, do you copy?”

  “Copy. Black Team here. Go Team Green,” said Captain Daubney.

  “We got well-trained men comin’ our way. I spot five. NVG use. One radio. Over.”

  “Say again? Over.”

  “A five-man unit of well-trained men is slipping around roadway obstructions. They’re equipped with night vision. One has a radio. He’s in communication with others. Over.”

  “Well-trained. Got it. Part of Phoenix’s army? Over.”

  “Likely. Coming from that direction. They move exceptionally well, they’re great trackers. We barely caught their movement. Over.”

  “Roger that. Fall back toward us and close to 200 yards. We’re making good time.”

  “Yes, sir. I copy.”

  Captain Daubney updated Connor, who’d been talking at length with Renaldo for the past five minutes.

  Connor simply nodded. “That’d be the plan. Plus, I’d assume Phoenix would try to send men down Nobles Lane and up around to Route 51 now that he thinks he’s got a bead on our last position. Instruct Green to fade back with us, keeping a nice cushion, captain.”

  “Yes, sir. Already gave that order.” Captain Daubney nodded.

  Connor grabbed his radio and spoke. “Teams Red and Blue, do you copy?”

  “Blue here. Five by five.”

  “Red here. Copy.”

  “You catch that update from Green Team, over?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Kitchen’s getting hot. Over.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Copy. You want me to hang back toward ‘em, Mac? Use my little friend? Over.”

  “Nah, hang tight, Surf Boy. Let’s see how this evolves. Over and out.”

  “Copy that.”

  Nearly a mile from the KFC and moving toward the junction of Route 51 and Brownsville Road, Connor continued his tactical and strategic assessment. Renaldo’s information was proving exceptional for their continued egress.

  “Captain?” said Connor.

  “Sir?”

  “My projections confirm the rendezvous point will be overrun before Colonel Starkes and her bird can pick us up.”

  “Based on?”

  “Phoenix’s army’s gonna push through the night right now with their best trackers and scouts up front and at least two or three squads trying to sneak up past us on Route 51. With an army that big we’ll not be able to wait it out. We’d be sittin’ ducks.”

  “Phoenix’s army is slow-moving, sir. I’ve seen it. I don’t think that scouting team’s much of a concern at this point. They’re scouting the area, trying to get a fix on us.”

  “Could be. Don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  “Let me ask your opinion.”

  “Please, go ahead, sir.”

  “You’ve seen Phoenix in action up in Cleveland and know a bit about him, right?”

  “I do. Okay.”

  “Would you say Phoenix is a crazy sonofabitch?”

  “Yeah, I most certainly would. He's certifiable bat-shit crazy.”

  “Agreed. And based on Renaldo and Gabriella’s escape, that unfortunate shooting of his foot, and his profound humiliation in the doing, is he the type of man who’d simply sit back and wait until morning with a large army at his disposal?”

  “Ahh, I see. You’re thinking he’s coming balls to the wall.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “We’re maybe three miles from the rendezvous point.”

  “Yeah, I know cap'n. But, I’m thinking, we’re definitely gonna see some fireworks before we arrive.”

  They walked together, thinking. Connor grunted and the captain noticed.

  “What, sir?”

  “Tell me again what your guys got in the way of explosives. C4, right?”

  “Yeah. A bit over two pounds of it. I got a pound. Mickey’s got the rest.”

  “That’s perfect. Standard load for an elite team.”

  “Sir, no offense, but I’d prefer not to use the C4 unless circumstances are quite dire. It’s not like there’s a lot of this plastic explosive stuff laying around now.”

  “Quite dire, indeed."

  Captain Daubney smiled at Connor's emphasis of the word and they continued walking, each assessing the immediate tactical area for threats while thinking of the emerging situation.

  “Mickey’s carrying a bit over a pound, you say?”

  “He is, sir.”

  “You know that squeeze at the intersection we passed where those two apartments and that old library collapsed close to the road?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have Mickey blow a big-ass ditch across that road.”

  “Sir? That’s what you want to use it for? A ditch?”

  “Captain, do you think we have an army coming after us from behind? In the night? With purpose?”

  “Oh, I think they're coming after us, but at night with purpose? Unknown.”

  “But distinctly likely?”

  “Your point has merit.”

  “Indeed. They’re quite motorized,
are they not?”

  “Sure. They’ve maintained that effort since leaving Cleveland. Doing a pretty good job of it based on the number of trucks we counted at the Hall of Fame and how many made it to Pittsburgh, so yeah, I guess they’re motorized. Less a few after that Hellfire.”

  “Fifty-six trucks remain based on Renaldo's count. And the bikes and quads and all those horses,” interjected Connor, emphasizing his point.

  “Sure.”

  “Even with the road blowout, we’ll only slow ‘em down. But still not enough to wait for the primary rendezvous.”

  “So why do it? Why waste the resources?”

  “I saw a bumper sticker once.”

  “You’re kidding, right, sir?” Captain Daubney caught the smile in the moonlight. He was not yet fully attuned to his new commander, but sensed a level of seriousness beneath the playful comment.

  “No, and I hafta agree with the bumper sticker.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’d it say?”

  “It said: There is no problem that cannot be solved by the use of high explosives.”

  “Uh, huh. Right. So, we’re going to waste our C4 for a bumper sticker?”

  “Oh, there’s no waste involved. No waste at all. We need to keep that army off our assess, and be right quick about it.”

  “I dunno. No offense, sir, but you might be shootin’ at ghosts.”

  “Point taken. But, I’m sure I’ll prove otherwise when the time comes. Instruct Mickey to blow the road. Make sure Red and Blue Teams are on our side before he does. See to it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Connor walked toward Rhonda and Roger. Turning left, he saw Cody and Renaldo engaged in an intense conversation a few feet away. Hesitating, Gabriella picked up a glass bottle from the road between them, tucking it into her bag, before walking on.

  “Roger, Rhonda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not settling in for the night. There’ll be some fireworks in about a half hour that might light up the sky. That’ll be our doing. Trying to keep Phoenix’s army at bay.”

  “Okay, " said Roger for the both of them.

  “Fill in the youngsters we’ll keep walkin’.”

  “Need me to do anything?”

  “Nah, you’re good, Rog. Stay sharp.”

  “Appreciate it, sir.”

  “We got some runnin’ to do.”

  “It keeps our lives exciting, sir.”

  “It does that.”

  CHAPTER 9.10-A Return to Pittsburgh

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be there for the rendezvous at 18:00 today, ma’am.”

  “Understood, major.”

  The Superhawk droned on in the September afternoon, each passenger lost in his or her own thoughts.

  “We’ll be there at least two hours beforehand.”

  “I know.”

  “You seem, I dunno, overly anxious.” Major O’Malley studied the intense, yet fidgety movement of the colonel in her seat. He sensed her inner turmoil.

  “Yeah, you’re right. The more I gauge it, the more I see that the rendezvous we picked out was probably not the best choice. Could be too close to live-fire action if things go wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “Think about it, Mike. That spot’s not that far from Mt. Washington where we rained down that Hellfire. If this Connor MacMillen was even near that Brownsville Road designation on his handmade map, it’s not that far from Phoenix and his army.”

  “Far enough.”

  “Maybe not. And, if those two meet before the rendezvous point, I bet there’ll be a serious shitstorm.”

  “You think Phoenix caught them?”

  “Oh, no, I don’t think this Colonel MacMillen would let that happen, but I can see that there may be a surprise for the colonel when he discovers he’s got an entire army at his back.”

  “You think Phoenix’s men located him?”

  “Possible. Not likely, but there is the possibility. If the colonel was even there to begin with.”

  “Amanda’s map seemed for real.”

  “Yeah, true.”

  “So, you’re seeing—ah, I got it! The timing of Phoenix in Pittsburgh suggests he’s tracking the colonel!”

  “Not a coincidence, I can assure you.”

  “You think he’s got a bead on the colonel?”

  “Certainly explains his aggressive yet accurate route since the mill.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “I guess we’ll see when we get there, major.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Cruising west past Johnstown, Pennsylvania, seventy miles east from Pittsburgh, there was little in established civilization, though one spot near the river showed some evidence of cultivation and structured planting. They continued flying past.

  “Make sure Shamus takes a quick scan of the rendezvous before settling in. If we see any evidence of battle, we’ll know we were too late and will need to make amends.”

  “And then?”

  “Well, then we make our way to the secondary rendezvous keeping an eye out for our lost travelers.”

  “We’ll get them back, ma’am. With Connor MacMillen and our team.”

  “Let’s hope so, major. Though an amateur, Phoenix is nothing to play around with.”

  “I’ll personally off that sneaky bastard.” Chest heaving, the major refused to be embarrassed by his violent outburst.

  The colonel smiled grimly. “See to it, you get a chance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 9.11-Assessing the Enemy

  “Larry, do you copy?”

  Larry Reed dropped his deer jerky onto the truck seat, snatching up the radio.

  “Copy. Go Luke.”

  “They’re buggin’ out for somewhere. They’ve already left the KFC.”

  “Shit.”

  “New orders, over?”

  “How close behind them are you? Over.”

  “Um, not sure. We’re ‘bout a quarter mile past the KFC, I figure maybe a mile or so behind them.”

  “Go after ‘em. Take your men and go—lose all stealth. Just try to catch up, you got it?”

  “Yeah. They got a tactical team covering their exit, over.”

  “How big a team?”

  “Small. Probably a squad.”

  “How are they doing, over?”

  “Competent—haven’t seen ‘em, but they’re there. Over.”

  “Luke, you’re the best hunter tracker we got, take that cover team out of the way. We’ll be bumping up hard to catch up.”

  “Will do. Out.” Luke radioed his men to converge for a full on assault. He planned to catch the handful of men that were invisibly fading in front of him. For the past quarter mile, he and his trackers caught whiff of their spoor, though he had to admit the team traveled well. He was certain that they were running obvious rear cover, though he felt he and his men gained on them. Giving them credit, he thought them well trained, having yet to catch a full visual. With his new orders and a shift in tactics to move full force, he knew this visual deficiency would change. “Narco, get that RPG ready."

  "Yes, sir!" Narco moved toward two men behind them and took the container. Quickly, he sat it on the ground and opened it. Within seconds, he had loaded the RPG. He was ready.

  Luke turned to Jacob Johnson, his second in command for this excursion. "JJ, I want you to take your men out front fast; try to keep some cover on your assault, but let’s not be shy anymore.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Phoenix wants action more than stealth.”

  “Finally finding his balls, is that it, sir?” JJ swallowed deeply at his own outburst, but did not hide from the risk involved in saying it.

  Luke glanced around, realizing they were out of earshot of most of the men. He turned to face JJ. “You keep those comments to yourself, JJ. Especially in front of anyone else."

  "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

  "I don’t want to have to kill you in front of that bastard you keep saying that
kinda shit.”

  “I hear that. I'll do better,” said JJ. He awaited further orders.

  Luke refrained from any further reprimand, especially since he agreed with JJ's assessment. He also found JJ to be one of the most competent men in the entire unit and was not likely to risk losing him simply because he was known to speak his mind. “Where’s Tippy Cup?”

  “Sittin’ pretty, sir. He's ‘bout fifty yards from where we think they’ve positioned at least some men from their last location.”

  “How they movin’ on us now?”

  “They’re pros, sir. No doubt. You know that.”

  “Yeah, we barely caught their trail ‘cept that they’re keeping this Brownsville Road as their main focus.”

  “Yes, sir. They’re definitely running cover for their team.”

  “Of course. But why haven’t they engaged us yet? Huh? Tried to slow us down?”

  “I dunno.” JJ decided to wait for the green light to leave and address the earlier orders. He knew he was risking being called out for not moving fast enough, but sensed Luke had more to say.

  Luke thought of their progress to the KFC. It had been too easy. He reviewed their efforts in traveling Brownsville Road passed the KFC and the fact that the men ahead of them were clearly using the street for an escape route. It was his sense that at least ten men were lagging behind as a backcover team, hiding around the houses and weeds near the street. He had a revelation. “Ahh. I see. Makes sense. Of course.”

  JJ took a moment to study the lupine features of Luke Wellington in the moonlight. The intelligence behind those eyes, shining in the near darkness, gave him pause.

  “Sir?”

  “What?”

  “What do you see, sir?”

  “The enemy gains more from us by simply fading away as long as they can from any engagement.”

  “I don’t follow, sir.”

  “JJ, they gain nothing by engaging us right now. They gain everything by just trying to slip away. Smart man, guy running that team.”

  “So what do you wanna do?”

  “Well, we do like Phoenix wants, we force them to engage.”

  “Good. I’m getting tired of playin’ hide-n-seek.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, JJ. These guys are good.”

  “We’re better.”