Devastation

by Paul Kirk

  “Yes, sir! It’s probably the same team that took those long shots down into the city, waiting until…well, waiting until we were sittin’ ducks on the bridges. Some fine shootin. And, it’s probably, likely anyhow, to be the same sniper guy and the same crew that fucked up our assault on the Hall of Fame. The same ones we tracked into the mill.”

  “I see. You think the sniper’s waiting up ahead?”

  “No sir, not yet. He’s probably running with the main force way behind the back cover team.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “This leader knows we have a large force comin’ their way. He saw it downtown. They took stock and made some nice shots at us and know we’re pissed. They probably figured out by now that we tracked them from Cleveland, or at least the mill now that they’ve seen us comin’.”

  “So?”

  “So, those shots on the bridge pretty much served the same purpose as the C4 did here.”

  “To slow us down…” said Larry.

  “Correct, sir.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Tippy. Why won’t the sniper be up ahead?”

  “Oh, sorry sir, I thought I did. What I meant was he’s traveling with the main team ‘cause he’s too valuable to be serving as the first line of defense near the rear guard.”

  “If what you say is true, when will we meet up with him?”

  “Umm, when the leader of this team wants us to, or we're lucky and overrun them.”

  “Your thoughts on that?”

  “We’ll not overrun them tonight and not tomorrow. Probably not the next day either.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they know where they’re going, probably know the terrain, have set up good rear defenses, are trying to string us out, are engaging the men up there now with their rear guard and will set up trap after trap unless we can gather our forces up ahead over the next few days and come at them full force.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Then, your men can take them at will. Patience will win the day.”

  “Larry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Give Tippy Cup a field promotion to brigade commander.”

  “Sir? Yes, sir.”

  “I want him by your side for the duration of this little excursion of ours.”

  “Um, yes, sir.”

  “I want you to listen to his advice and consider it at all times. Am I clear?”

  “Understood.”

  “Tippy?”

  “Sir!”

  “Keep talkin’ your nonsense. Maybe sometimes, I might even listen.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take care of this clusterfuck, Uncle.”

  “Got it.”

  Larry Reed and Tippy Cup left Phoenix, moving toward the smoking hole. Phoenix lit a cigar and studied the bright stars coming up in the sky.

  CHAPTER 9.15-Pinned Down

  “Team Black? Do you copy?”

  “Go Team Green, this is Black. Over.”

  “We’re taking fire. Spence took a hit to his vest. He says there’s a whole slew of men, but they’re not the problem. Over.”

  “What’s the problem, Green? Over.”

  “There’s fifteen men, sir, three sets of five, trying to hem us in and doing a pretty good job. Over.”

  “Fade back, Green. Over.”

  “They’re good, Black. There’s a team sitting out about seventy clicks and there’s a second team that nearly got us pinned. We can’t exit and fade. Can’t lock onto ‘em. We can trace their movements only, but can’t get a full bead. Over.”

  "Green, state your position for Team Blue. Team Blue, do you copy? Over.”

  "Team Blue here. Over.”

  “Blue, this is Team Green. We’re holed up on the southern edge of a convenience store on the corner of Brownsville and East Willock. Over.”

  “Yeah, Green, Team Blue knows where you are. We can be there in a few minutes. Over.”

  “Green and Blue, this is Black. Team Blue, go reinforce Team Green as best you can and call if you need additional reinforcements. I want constant radio contact. Is that clear? Over.”

  “Copy that, Black. Team Blue out.”

  “Team Green, notify Black of Team Blue’s arrival. Over.”

  “Copy that, Black. Team Green out.”

  Marty and BB made preparations quickly and left at a fast jog that would get them in position in a few minutes.

  “Like old times, Surf Boy,” said BB as he checked his pockets again to confirm a third magazine.

  “Yeah—like taking candy from a baby.”

  “Let’s knock ‘em outta their diapers.”

  “Copy that, BB.”

  It was ground they had already covered in the opposite direction. This time they were faster, slowing only when they approached Team Green’s position. “Green, this is Blue,” whispered Marty into his radio. “We’re in your neighborhood and setting up shop. Over.”

  “Copy that. Hurry up, Blue—the bad guys are about to ring the doorbell. Over.”

  “Twenty seconds, Green. Out.”

  Though they hadn’t talked about it, Marty and BB headed for the same spot, one that both had recognized as a perfect sniper’s nest on their first trip. It was a partially repaired retaining wall, half old and half new. Construction of the wall had ceased, presumably when the manpower had succumbed to the effects of the Cuckoo Flu. The old section of the wall was made from loose stone and though it continued to stand, it bulged as if expelling its last breath. The new wall, made from concrete block, was sturdy and would likely last a long time—its unfinished status creating a natural staircase to the top of the wall. Team Blue used it now, scrambling quickly to the top and laying prone behind a pallet of unused block.

  Marty used his sniper scope vision to scan the area while BB used spotting binoculars. Both were equipped with night vision. The front ranks of the main force were 700 yards away, but there were three men well ahead of the main force, running wildly up the center of the street. They were no more than 400 yards away.

  “Let’s take out the front runners first, BB.”

  “Agreed.” BB used the binoculars to gain a better vector on the approach of the three men. “Fucking amateurs,” he said without losing sight of the three. “They’re running right down the middle of the road. Surf Boy, there’s four cars bunched up about 200 yards out.”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “I think they'll run to the right side of those cars. Concentrate your field of fire right there. Take ‘em left to right after they clear the car on my signal.”

  “Copy that, BB. Ready for signal.” Marty settled his scope reticle ten yards to the right of the group of cars. He rested his finger lightly on the trigger and his breathing slowed.

  “In five, Surf Boy.” There was a few seconds pause. “Target one, go.”

  The bullet took the man in the chest and his momentum carried him an additional ten feet before he came to rest against the curb.

  “Target two, go.”

  The second man had barely noticed the stumble of the first when he crumpled to the ground.

  “Target three, go.”

  The third man had slowed in confusion and the sniper round pierced his chest, stopping and dropping him where he stood. The entire process had taken less than three seconds. The main force behind the three dead men appeared to catch their demise, or at least sensed a change. Many slowed to find better cover, diving into yards or behind vehicles.

  “500 clicks. Elevation ten degrees. Wind nominal. Cluster near the gas station. Select targets at will.”

  “Copy that.”

  Three more shots in three more seconds produced three more dead men, slowing the others into a much more cautious approach. That is, except for one very large man who refused to seek cover and continued to run down the gentle slope of Brownsville Road toward the convenience store where Team Green had found cover.

  “Got us a nut job, Surf Boy. 400 yards out, left of center. He’
s passing the bus now. Elevation five degrees.”

  “Copy that.”

  The man ran hard and though the man had no targets, he fired randomly, letting loose one blood curdling scream after another. Marty pulled the trigger and had the satisfaction of watching the man’s massive neck explode in blood. The man fell immediately.

  “Threat targets terminated and mass force has ceased progress,” said BB into his radio. “Team Green, do you copy?”

  “Copy, Blue. Over.”

  “Provide new coordinates for near target selection. Over.”

  “Roger that. There’s a UPS truck sideways in a yard about eighty clicks out. Over.”

  BB and Marty scanned the area until they spotted the UPS truck. There was plenty of trash and overgrowth to hide in but neither Marty nor BB saw any movement.

  “UPS truck just scanned, Green. Nothing’s moving. Over.”

  “They’re there, Blue. They’re the ones that got off a shot that nearly got Spence. Over.”

  “We can’t sit here and wait, Green. Over.”

  “Copy that, Blue. Suggestions? Over.”

  “Start your exit. We’ll fire at anything that moves. Over.”

  “Negative. These guys are good, Blue. They’re not moving. They're waiting. Fire at the truck for ten seconds while we exit. We’ll back out onto Willock Road and then move onto Brownsville. Over.”

  “Understood. What’s your plan? Over.”

  “Light ‘em up on my mark, Blue. Over.”

  “Understood. We’re in position and holding for mark. Over.” BB continued to scan the UPS truck while Marty scoped the yard and house around the truck. They detected nothing and both wondered if Mickey was in a better position to see or if the men who had hidden there advanced unseen toward Team Green. There was only one clear way to find out.

  “BB, check in front of the truck maybe twenty or thirty clicks. See if there’s any movement. Maybe that mound of trash.”

  “Copy that.”

  The radio came to life. “Team Blue, we’re bugging out when you start firing. Fire at will.”

  Marty began to unload rounds into and around the truck, picking the areas most likely protecting a hidden man. BB unleashed his M4 in three-second bursts around the cars and debris twenty yards ahead of the truck.

  “Damn!” said BB. One man rolled out onto the road from behind a car Marty had targeted.

  “We’re on the move, Blue and clear. We’re on Brownsville. Want us to cover your exit? Over.”

  “Both Green and Blue, move out,” said Captain Daubney. “Now!”

  “We’re making tracks, Black.” BB helped Marty pack his ammunition and rice bag platform and they quickly made their way down the steps of the retaining wall.

  “Team Green has got Blue in sight. We’re coming in, Black. Over.”

  “We’re at the designated rendezvous waiting for your sorry asses. Over,” said Captain Daubney.

  “Be there in fifteen, sir. Over.”

  “The new commander suggests you make it in ten. Over.”

  “Say again. Over.”

  “Make it in ten. You mighta slowed ‘em down, but you didn’t stop ‘em. Over.”

  “Be there in ten, captain. Blue and Green, out.”

  CHAPTER 9.16-Burning with Fury

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me an update. You got those guys hidin’ out in that store yet?”

  Luke stared at his remaining thirteen men with a burning fury. Clustered around him, they waited for orders, but he was still bursting with anger, mostly at himself. He’d lost six men to this rear guard, and just when he had them pinned down, advancing to kill, another enemy team showed up. A sniper to boot and a good one. He knew he’d missed that second teams’ approach. Tunnel vision had set in and he’d made the mistake of waiting too long to take the back cover team cowering in the convenience store.

  “No, we don’t got ‘em. Not yet. Got my ass handed to me...over.”

  “Say again?”

  “We do not got ‘em. They high-tailed it outta here under cover fire on a full out run.”

  “Okay, you on ‘em?”

  “They had another team come back to assist.”

  “Really, how big? They comin’ our way?”

  “Small team. A sniper and spotter, probably. Only heard two guns. We’re gonna move more slowly now.”

  “THE sniper?”

  “Unless they got two of ‘em kinda weapons, yeah.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “We’re gonna hafta move real slow, in full tracking mode at this point.”

  “We got men comin’ up the road to you, over.”

  “So I heard…minus a few.”

  “Send ‘em on past you to catch up to those assholes in full burst. That rear guard can’t stop all our men. Over.”

  “Ahh, our men and leads are moving more slowly now. Not as eager to run into a bullet in the night based on what they saw happen.”

  “So I heard. Reports from Seventeenth and Eighth say that they took a few casualties.”

  “I imagine that sniper didn’t miss.”

  “What do you recommend, Luke? Keep the men after him like ordered?”

  “It’s your army, sir…over.”

  “Meaning, over?”

  “A waste of resources in the dark. We got none, or practically no NVG on those guys running up front. They’ll be picked apart. That fact was just demonstrated. There’s two teams, or at least a rear guard and a sniper backup team running clean in the dark ahead of us. Over.”

  “Suggestions?”

  “Let me and my men do our job, sir. We’ll get them. Over.”

  Staring into the crater near the library building on Brownsville Road, Phoenix snatched the radio from Larry’s hand. Bristling with anger, he launched.

  “Luke, give half your team’s night equipment to the next batch of men that arrive. Send them all down the road. Tell them to stop only when they reach Route 51. Am I clear? Do you copy?”

  “Yes, sir. I copy.”

  “In the meantime, I want you and your men to wait there. You’ve done enough damage for one night. Over.”

  Luke studied the men around him. Each stared furious at the radio, but waited for Luke’s response. Looking around, he sensed the men, good trackers all, needed to regroup after the events of the past hour. Fatigue and their supreme efforts at tracking such an elusive prey at night had wore them down to the point that they were, in fact, not up to the caliber of the tangos slipping away ahead of them. Swallowing hard, Luke admitted he was not up to his A-game. Painful to acknowledge, he’d lost this round with an enemy who’d easily decimated his team and slipped away unharmed, despite his best efforts.

  “Understood. We’ll wait and regroup, Over.”

  “You do that, Luke. Try to at least stay alive so I might kill you myself.”

  Luke tossed the radio to the man nearest him and walked toward a dark house with a ripped open front door. On his way, he motioned for all men to follow.

  “We’ll rest here. Put some food into you and rest. I’ll hang out here waiting to deal with that asshole when he gets here.”

  Without a word, each man eased past and sought a spot within the house, settling in for as long as would be accorded them. They were both surprised and emboldened by the audacity of Luke Killington. Many knew he would make a fine new leader if he was able to survive Phoenix Justice.

  CHAPTER 9.17-Bug Out

  The Green and Blue Teams arrived at the McDonald’s expending most of their energy in their long sprint. They had moved as fast as possible, covering nearly two miles in under eleven minutes, a monumental task considering the weight of their gear, the uneven terrain, and the fact that their footwear was built for durability and not speed. They were panting hard and unable to speak, but they wiggled out of their packs and found a place to lie down inside the McDonald's, noisily trying to catch their breath.

  “I hate to tell you guys this,
” said Captain Daubney, “but we gotta bug outta here in a few minutes.”

  None of the men were surprised by this update—on the contrary, they expected it. They had slowed down Phoenix’s advancing army, but they hadn’t come close to stopping it. The inconvenience of a few dead men would only add to Phoenix’s determination to overtake Connor’s unit and wipe it from existence. Every man there knew that Phoenix would stop at nothing to exact his revenge. This was doubly true for the men that spent time in Cleveland. Each man knew that the primary goal was to safely outrun Phoenix and make the secondary rendezvous at the Uniontown Hospital. Preferably, with enough of a safe cushion to avoid directly engaging the massive force that was in pursuit.

  Connor had some of his own ideas on the matter he was also considering. “Okay, guys, what you just did was impressive,” said Connor. “Captain Daubney, go outside and make sure everything’s set to go. We’ll leave in three minutes.”

  “Mac, give me five,” said Marty between breaths.

  "Pussy," said BB, belching the word between heavy breaths.

  "Fuck you, BB," said Marty.

  “You’ll go in three, Surf Boy, if I give you the order to go. Don’t waste your breath arguing. The horses will carry your packs for the time being—I know you won’t give up your weapons, but we’re gonna set a pace that will put us twenty-five miles away from here in five hours or less.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Mickey. He forced himself to stand on wobbly legs. “I’m ready to go, colonel.”

  “That’s great, Top. Let’s get outside and start loading the horses with your packs.”

  When they went outside, Jason and Jude took their packs and loaded them on the horses. The men noted the exact location of their packs. The packs contained additional ammunition for their weapons and they didn’t intend to be very far from the horses.

  “Listen up!” yelled Connor. “That pissed off maniac on our asses is probably gonna be a bit more cautious about his pursuit from now on. But that doesn’t mean he’s giving up his pursuit. We have to put some miles between him and us.” Connor made eye contact with each member of his unit to make sure that they all understood the import of his words. “Captain Daubney, I want two men as front guard and four men as rear guard—each two-man team should have a radio. Switch these teams out every hour.”