by Paul Kirk
“No.”
“That leaves us, what, 200 horses?”
“201. Correct.”
“How’s feed?”
“We’re good, they've been grazing, so no problem.”
“Now that it’s almost daylight, should we run some of ‘em up ahead?”
“Yeah, probably, after everyone’s rested for at least…eight hours.”
“You make sense, uncle. Give the order for eight hours rest. Send three brigades dead on after the Rat Pack once they've rested. I agree with your assessment.”
“Thank you.”
“Set the rest of the men to follow an hour later. Feed the men full now and make sure to have ‘em all eat again upon rising. I want them stuffed to the gills. Send the log sups out on the road immediately at the eight-hour mark to clear a path. They'll stay an hour ahead of us clearing debris.”
“You got it.”
“When you’re done with that shit, come back and continue with the update. Bring Tippy Cup in for that.”
“Okay.” Larry turned to leave, but was stopped.
“Uncle?”
“Yeah?”
“My army’s the most supreme fighting force bar none in today’s new world order.”
“I know it.” Larry took a quick stroll toward the gas stations, waving several brigade leaders in his direction.
Phoenix was pleased to have eight hours of rest, though he still burned with an intense anger toward Renaldo and his sister Gabriella. Furious, he pressed hard against the gauze atop his left foot simply to feel the pulse of pain. “You're not gonna make it to where you’re going alive, little Renaldo…I'll see to that.”
CHAPTER 9.19-An Unplanned Discovery
“Ma’am, it’s 14:00 and we’re fifteen minutes out from our initial recon of the primary rendezvous at 18:00.”
“Thanks, major.”
The Superhawk banked sharply in elevation behind a large flock of crows.
“Coming up on the east side of Pittsburgh now,” said Shamus on the intercom.
“What’s this area? Nicole held the headset pressed to her ears, waiting for somebody to respond above the noise.
“Monroeville,” answered Shamus, “what’s left of it.”
Monroeville, in the eastern outskirts of the city proper was, essentially, a huge desolate wasteland, minimally covered in weeds and overgrowth. Nothing grew for miles around, and they all took the opportunity to scan the countryside from the side windows.
“It’s crap brown and dead as far as I can see,” said Nicole.
“Same on my side, “ said Amanda.
“There,” said GT.
“I see it,” said Scott.
“See what?” asked Nicole.
“The explosion and chemical burn that probably started this disaster and wasteland,” said GT.
Several huge silos, ten in all, were twisted, buckled, and scorched. A few were split wide-open at the bottom, as if dropped hard from 10,000 feet. Dried up orange streaks, large as two-lane blacktop, marked the path of the silo contents downhill.
“Spewed their contents right to that cluster of businesses there. Took out that massive warehouse probably in the first hour.”
“Wow.”
Beyond the businesses, scattered debris gave way a few miles later to a mile or so of rusted cars in numerous car lots on a path to an apparent explosion, likely started by the hundreds of large propane storage tanks at a particular storage facility. From there, more desolation became evident, especially flying over the rusting pipes and catwalks of an old refinery of some sort.
“Wow, what’d you think was in there?”
“I dunno, but whatever those chemicals were, they certainly stripped this area of any life,” said GT.
“It’s like a bomb went off, only yesterday,” said Amanda.
“No, many ‘bombs’ went off here quite awhile ago. Mostly chemical,” said Scott.
“Those poor people,” said Nicole.
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Nicole, those poor people you speak of were probably dead long before this hit,” said Colonel Starkes.
Monroeville faded past and they made their way across the city to the southern side.
“Give us a quick tour, Shamus.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Now more familiar with the area, Shamus flew the helicopter in a slow, arcing circle around Pittsburgh. Anticipating the colonel’s intent, he ended up near Mt. Washington to visually assess their most recent engagement with Phoenix.
“We got three pickups with that Hellfire launch, ma’am.”
“I see that, Scott.”
Three white trucks, what was left of them, lay broken near the top of the winding road Phoenix had used to pursue his prey.
“I hope we got the bastard—”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, major?”
“Ma’am?”
“If we missed ‘im, he’s all yours at some point. I took my first shot at ‘im.”
“Understood.”
“I’d like a shot first, if you don’t mind, major. Kinda owe the bastard, don’t ya think?”
Hearing the intensity in the female voice, Major O’Malley turned to study Amanda. Resting against the left side window with a firm set to her jaw, she had fierce determination in her eyes. Deciding she had some justification, he smiled.
“Amanda, I’ve got a serious score to settle. That prick nearly caught us with our pants down.”
“Yeah, well—”
“And, I’ll tell you what else.”
“What?”
“When the time comes, I’ll flip you for it, that fair?”
Amanda smiled.
“As long as you don’t cheat, yeah.”
“Good enough.”
Amanda returned to viewing the scene below. Cruising up and over the ridge, just above the tree line, they traversed Mt. Washington and into Allentown and Mt. Oliver. In minutes, they were flying over Carrick, following the path of Brownsville Road to the designated rendezvous.
“Ma’am?”
“Go, major.”
“There’s a recent explosion that blew up Brownsville Road right there. See?”
“Yep, it’s still smoldering. What happened, you think?”
Scott concentrated on the destruction as the helicopter slowed for a better view. As the crater became visible from the left side of the helicopter, GT grunted at the view.
“That’s a C-4 dispersal, don’t ya think Scotty?”
“Ah, yeah, that’s what I’m thinkin’. Pound, maybe a pound and a half.”
“A pound would do it.”
“You said C4?” asked the colonel.
“Yep. Yes, ma’am.”
“Our team? Daubney and Mickey?”
“Probably,” suggested Scott. GT nodded.
“To what end?” asked the major. He turned to face GT and Scott directly.
“To blow shit up, sir. Aside from that, we don’t know.”
“I like that: 'To blow up shit, sir.’ Funny. Shamus, where we at?”
“Comin’ up on five clicks out from the Route 51 and Brownsville Road intersection. Hold on! I see activity at the rendezvous.”
“They made it?” asked Nicole, hopeful.
Amanda stiffened, trying to peer upfront. She grabbed for her binoculars. Major O’Malley spun forward in the co-pilot seat, scanning the area. For a few seconds he was silent.
“Damn!”
“Major?”
“Ma’am, there’s at least 500 men and hundreds of horses there. Trucks all over. Some bikes and quads. Shamus, back us off for a moment.”
“Roger that.”
Shamus banked north, easing backwards toward the city and into a slow circle.
“That is definitely Phoenix’s army!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dammit!”
“Orders?”
“Let’s do some recon, Shamus, keep us about two miles out and run a circle around that camp. Maj
or, you track trucks. Scott, you got horses. GT, you count men. Ren, Stimpy check for our men in particular. Daniels, Tim and the rest of you gather up what visual assessments you can. I’ll search for Phoenix. We need to develop an overall lay of the camp and try to figure out where they’re heading.”
All agreed and Shamus flipped a switch to baffle the engine for optimum quiet mode, banking into a tighter turn. At about the two-mile mark, each to his duties, they all assessed the scene. There was a bustle of activity below and, after nearly one complete circuit of the camp at the junction of Route 51 and Brownsville Road, the Superhawk eased in a bit closer to assess the southern route of Brownsville Road.
“Well, that’s a good sign?”
“What do ya mean, ma’am? What’s a good sign?”
“Look it there, major. They’re men on horseback pushing south past the rendezvous.”
“So?”
“So that’s good news, because it means Phoenix and his army is still on the hunt.”
“Good point. I see,” said Major O’Malley, “There’s at least a hundred or so horsemen already five, maybe ten miles south.”
“Good. Means there’s probably some spacing between our men and Phoenix’s main force.”
“Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ll wager that explosion had something to do with slowing down that army.”
“Agreed.”
“What do you want to do now, ma’am? Send in another pretty lady?” asked Scott.
Colonel Starkes smiled at the reference to their last Hellfire launch. She noted how he gently stroked the laser controls for the remaining payload.
“Yeah,” growled Amanda, "Do it."
The fury in her voice gave Colonel Starkes some pause. “No, Scott, not yet. I think we’ll save the last two for later. Shamus, take us a bit closer, but be prepared to bug out.”
“Always, ma’am. Roger that.”
Cruising a bit closer, they saw a nexus of activity clustered around a McDonald's restaurant on the corner.
“Makes sense to coordinate from there…Shamus, take us on a path to take out that McDonald’s, Scott, ready the….”
“Shit! RPG!” yelled Shamus and Major O’Malley at once.
Shamus banked hard, dropping the helicopter nearly to the asphalt. Plummeting sideways behind a shopping center, spinning and guiding the bird precariously between numerous power lines and telephone poles, he feathered the stick with finesse. The passengers banged and bumped around inside, despite their harnesses; and the swift change in altitude and direction sent a few unsecured pieces of equipment sprawling. Almost immediately, an explosion took out the building they had slipped behind. Shamus pulled back up on the collector to regain altitude, fading away from the camp.
“Professor! Another RPG is launching at three o'clock, 900 meters,” said Scott, calmly. He had reverted to using Shamus' old military tag.
Scott stared out at a man in the distance, standing on a tailgate, lining up on the helicopter.
“Bug out, Professor," said GT, "Seven o'clock. An RPG in that pickup.” He remained decidedly calm and confident in Shamus' abilities.
The rest of the compartment regained their stomachs, tamping down their fear. Colonel Starkes stared out the window at the man in the truck bed, the helicopter slipping lower and away from the threat.
“We’re good, ma’am!” said Major O’Malley.
“I see that. Very nice evasive, Shamus.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
Colonel Starkes looked over at Scott and GT, each smiling.
“I take it you three have done shit like this before?”
“A time or two, yes, ma’am,” volunteered Scott.
GT quipped a small laugh.
“I’ll bet,” said the colonel.
“There’s no one better than the Professor in the air, isn't that right Shamus?”
“Oh, but I blush at the compliment, GT.”
Shamus laughed, a deep rumble across the intercom. Nervous laughter blossomed in the cabin as adrenaline-dosed systems recalibrated. Still shaking, Nicole was not laughing. She stared hard at GT after his last comment. Glancing her way, he noticed.
“What?”
“We coulda just been killed.”
“True dat.”
“You think that was fun?”
“Sure beats an office job, Nicky.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“GT?” The major turned in his seat to face GT. His voice had deepened.
“Yes, sir?”
“You will not call her that, on both her and my behalf. She doesn’t like it. I don't like. Understood?”
“Understood, sir.”
"Thank you."
The major turned to the colonel. He caught a slight grin before it disappeared.
“Orders ma’am?” asked Major O’Malley.
“Let’s take a wide berth. See if we can slow down those horses heading south, keeping an eye out for our people.”
“Got it.”
“I’m hoping our men got a nice head start, if possible. Maybe we’ll be able to pick ‘em up on the way to the secondary.”
“Sounds good. Okay, Professor, please use your formidable piloting skills to lead us to our men.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Ren, Stimpy, Daniels?”
“Sir?”
“Ready the mounted weapons. GT, Scott and the rest of you save your ammo when we pass by unless fired upon.”
“Tim?”
“Ma’am?”
“Prep up in case we need a long shot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Colonel Starkes was deep in thought. Based on the new information, her mind was moving a mile a minute. She knew she had to slow those riders down. She turned to Amanda, who was smiling.
“Given the current assessment of circumstances, I’d like to think Colonel MacMillen’s still alive, Amanda. Tell me, is that why you’re smiling?”
“Ma’am, I’ll bet no one’s laid a glove on him or any of your men yet.”
“How can you be sure.”
“Because…”
“Because he’s Connor Mac, that’s why,” said Nicole, interrupting.
“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say.”
“Then, if you two ladies agree, let’s try to slow down those advancing riders.”
“Right.”
“Works for me.”
SECTION 10: A Vacation from Wedding Planning
CHAPTER 10.1-Fishing in Lower Turkeyfoot
“Andy?”
Terry MacMillen walked toward the septic system sand mound built seventy yards from the cottage. Andy was engaged in manual labor, slinging fresh sand and rock onto the top of the perforated piping system built below the sand mound. A priority for cottage upkeep before winter came, rain erosion had created rivulets that were growing too large and had the potential to compromise function. A winter freeze of those pipes could have profound consequences. Ryan and Kevin were chopping out the weeds and tiny trees attempting to grow in the sand mound, or better yet, the fertile effluent beneath.
“Yeah, T?”
“You guy’s been at it all morning. Lunch is ready.”
“Yep.”
“Can I talk to you a sec?”
“Sure.” Andy raised his voice, “Let’s call it a day guys. Wash up good for lunch. Might have some shit on them hands.”
“Yes, father,” said Ryan, “Hey, T.” He walked past with a gentle smile, grudgingly coming to accept that if Terry favored anyone else, it might as well be his brother. Besides, it was her making a choice that, thinking back, was probably a long time coming.
“Hi Ry.”
Kevin Kowalski strolled past, giving Ryan a glance. He was not yet fully sold on Ryan's willingness to accept Terry deciding to remarry.
“T.”
“Hey Kev.”
Everyone left, providing Andy and Terry an opportunity to stroll to a small pond up hill fifty yards north of the cottage. They each smiled, conte
nt to take in the cool September morning as it eased into afternoon. Coming to a rough-hewn bench resting beneath a red oak, Terry sat while Andy walked to the pond’s edge. Squatting, he dipped his hands in the cold water and washed the dirt and sweat from his arms. He stood and took off his shirt, dunking it into the water. Holding the shirt overhead, he squeezed the water to run in large trickles down his head, face and body. He turned and smiled at her, knowing she was watching. Terry enjoyed every movement with unspoken pleasure, drinking in the taut movements of his shoulders and arms and the pure pleasure he took from the cooling effect. Hungrily, she tracked the water running in small streams down his chest. She fixated on the water as it slipped over his washboard abs and into his waistband, soaking it.
“Whoa, you’re beautiful…you really are,” said Terry. She was unsure her voice carried the full conviction she felt.
“Thank you. But, sitting there all pretty wearing my favorite jeans and top, I could say the same about you.”
“Yeah, well…I only got three pair of jeans.”
“And you know those fit you the best.”
“Umm, I came here mostly for clan purposes.”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll need more dried fish for winter.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you guys might want to travel tomorrow down to Lower Turkeyfoot and see if you still got the knack to catch fish.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You need to be out with just the guys for two or three days, don’t you think?”
“The wedding is in nine days, T. We got all this planning to do.”
“Yeah, I know, and you've been real good helpin’ me out and all that—”
“I hear a but…”
“But, it's not your most comfortable mode of operation, you know, hanging around with all us women and making decisions that you don't really care about.”
“Now, hold on.”
“No, no, don’t get me wrong, you’ve been wonderful. You’ve been a complete peach through all this…but—”
“But, what?”
“You need your man time. You need to be out and about.”
“And, pray tell, why do you say this now?”
“Because it’s true.”
Andy stared at her and smiled. “And?”
“Because, I’ve drastically disrupted your routine and style.”