by Paul Kirk
“Now, how would you know that kinda shit?”
“I teach things. At least, I did before the Sickness. I’m a psychologist. My specialty was in the psychology of war.”
“No shit?”
“Yes, as you so aptly put it, no shit.”
“Okay, I admit that you’ve piqued my curiosity. I spent some time in the Marines. I finished a civil engineering degree when I got out.”
“When we're situated, we have some very important news to share, Commander Del Re.”
“Are you in a hurry, John? Running from someone?”
“You could say that.”
“Is that part of the information you’re planning on sharing?”
“Part of it, yes.”
“Bad guys?
“I’ll be glad to provide you with all the intelligence we have once we’ve agreed to the terms.”
“Alright, John. What do you have to trade? Any hard stuff—bullets, gold, silver, medicine...tobacco?”
“Sure, we got a lot of stuff to trade. But this information itself is invaluable. We can hammer out what we want in exchange for it while we move through your town.”
“How can I know if the info’s worth squat?”
“I think you’ll thank us for it.”
“So you say.”
“I’m reasonably certain you’ll want this news. I might also add that we’re on a mission as representatives of the President of the United States.”
“No shit?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“Wow...this day gets more and more interesting.”
“I’m not sure you know the half of it, Commander Del Re. In fact, I’m not sure you know a third of it.”
“Then we should finish this and you can bring me up to speed." Del Re studied the man, assessing his character. “Are you for real, McLeod?”
“We’re for real, commander. What about you?”
“Yeah, I’m for real...but I don’t take kindly to strangers trying to take our shit.”
“And you shouldn’t take kindly to that. Anyone who tries to take your shit should be shot first and asked questions later.”
“I hear ya.”
“You wanna hold some of those Special Forces men back in case I’m trying to pull the wool over your eyes?”
“Not thinkin’ so. But, I think if we come in with our weapons neutral and you line up as many men as you want, weapons neutral, we can make this work. My commander can make the call when we’ll tuck ‘em away.”
“You want a head count of my men?”
“I’m thinkin’ no. You and I’ll merely make some radical assumptions here and assume we’re each on solid ground.”
“Hmm, a bit careless on both our parts.”
“True.”
“Rather bold.”
“Again, true, commander.”
“I like it. You and I walk side-by-side. You got a weapon?”
“I do.”
“On you?”
“No, didn’t think it was appropriate for introductions into a tough town.”
“Care to go grab it?”
“I’ll take the risk that my men will take care of me.”
“Some faith, major.”
“No faith, commander. A proven track record through some hairy…shit as you might say.”
“Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 10.5-Recovering at McDonalds
“Well, I heard the events of the last few minutes were certainly exciting, uncle.”
“Uh, yeah…” Larry Reed studied the gleam in Phoenix’s eyes as he stood outside the McDonald’s watching the helicopter take a wide turn around their encampment. After the turn, the helicopter headed south.
"Rather impromptu as well, don't you think?" Phoenix clamped down tight on his unlit cigar, but relaxed his jaw. He was calm, cool and very calculating. Perhaps with a touch of his trademark fury.
"I agree," said Larry.
“At least the RPGs kept the Bitch from taking us out in our sleep.”
“Yeah, but we missed ‘em clean, Phoenix. A failure on my part. I shoulda prepped the men better. Stewart should’ve waited another minute for his shot. Billy never even got off his shot.”
“From what I’m told, that pilot did some serious juke and jive. Shamus was his name, right? Fucker ducked and rolled like he’d done this kinda dirt-devil dive before. In fact, it was probably a good thing not to let that bastard fly in close enough to fire off one of those Hellfires,” said Phoenix.
“Huh, yeah.”
“They’re going to probably cross paths with our cavalry running out there now. We getting anything from ‘em?”
“Been outta range for awhile.”
“Tactical error on my part.” Phoenix was furious at himself.
“Whatta ya mean? We’ll be catching up to them shortly.”
“Yeah, but I forgot to put in a relay string to maintain radio contact and cover range and progress.”
“Shit! I shoulda though of that, dammit! In fact, Kaiden should’ve thought of that before he hightailed it outta here!”
“Tippy, how ‘bout you?” Phoenix turned to stare directly at Tippy Cup who was standing a few feet behind them, listening with rapt attention.
Tippy Cup's face blanched when his name was called. “Never considered it, sir.”
“No problem, Tippy. Exhaustion creates mistakes. Such as ours. Uncle Larry here knows that. Smart man that he is, he recognized it and put us to bed with good reason. Now, we’ll make less mistakes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stay sharp, Tippy.”
“I will, sir.”
“We ready to move?” The calm, predatory look on Phoenix’s face made Larry Reed and Tippy Cup eager to leave.
“All set. Log-sups got us cleared at least four miles out.”
“Give the order to decamp.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s make haste on this small matter, uncle.”
“Understood. We’ll get them.”
“Oh, I know. I’d just like it to be sooner, rather than later.”
CHAPTER 10.6-Low on Fuel
“Anything, major? Professor? GT? Any radio contact?”
“No, ma’am,” said Major O’Malley.
“Nothin’, ma’am.”
“Nada,” said GT.
“Damn,” said the major.
“What’s the range to those radios?” asked Nicole, “Why can’t we communicate with your men?”
“Um, they're quite limited air-to-ground, Nicole.”
“For real? I thought the army had radios that could do all kinds of fancy stuff.”
“Yeah, well. Not so much. Especially when they're without a vehicle assist adapter.”
“Oh,” said Nicole. She tucked CJ further into the blanket and adjusted her headset at a better angle.
“We’re using the AN/PRC-148 Multiband Inter/Intra Team Radio or MBITR as it’s called," said the major, "It’s NATO specs. Range is limited to about three or four miles.”
“I see. So it’s a bit like a poke and a hope to find them on the radio?”
“In current circumstances, well, yeah.”
“I see.”
“We’re coming up on a small, well-fortified town, ma’am.”
“How small, major?”
“It covers a few mile stretch of Route 51. Gates defending both north and south across the highway. They look solid. Active guards aware of our presence, pointing.”
“Careful, Professor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thoughts, major?”
“We could drop in and ask ‘em about the team. The team could or should be close by based on our calculations.”
“You and your fishing expeditions, major…”
“Yes, ma’am, though in this case we’re in a much smaller pond.”
“True. But, if the team was there, major, don’t you think they’d let us know? We’d be in radio range from here.”
“Good p
oint.”
“What time is it?”
“16:25, ma’am.”
“They coulda made it here if they stayed tight on Route 51, ma’am.”
“Yeah, though we don’t know when the destruction back there involving Phoenix went down. They could’ve passed the town or avoided this town for that matter, got off the road.”
“We know that big hole on Brownsville Road was still smoldering so it wasn’t that long ago, Ma’am.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re around here somewhere even though we’ve got no radio contact.”
“Let’s hope. The current direction is on the way to the rendezvous at the hospital, anyway. What’s the name of the town there?”
“Map says Perryopolis.”
“Major, what do you—”
“Ma’am?” interrupted Shamus.
“Yeah, Professor?”
“I'd like to suggest we find a new fuel depot before we go much further. We’re coming up bingo fuel for our trip back to DC. We got about ten more minutes of fly time left besides that.”
“So no loitering, is that it, Professor?”
“No, ma’am, we can do what ever we need to. But, I’d like to see if we could locate some fuel for this bird. I like to keep my cushion.”
“He does like that cushion, ma’am,” quipped GT into the intercom, smiling.
“He’s a lover of cushion, aren’t you, Professor?” said Scott, laughing.
Shamus smiled at the reference. His lust for large-bottomed women during their times spent in faraway places was legendary. The men turned much more serious after glancing at the steely look in the colonel’s eyes. Quickly, they quieted down.
“Major? What do we have near here for fuel depots?"
“There’s a secondary airfield that used to be manned by the Air National Guard. That may be promising.”
“Excellent." Colonel Starkes pulled her mission brief from her pocket and studied the pink FedEx paper, flipping to the secondary rendezvous section. Three potential fuel depots were circled and listed with exacting coordinates.
“Major?”
“Ma’am?”
“I see here that you listed three possible depots in the mission brief."
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Take us to this smaller, Gallatin Fuel Heliport first before we try the bigger Air National. I’m hoping this smaller place, Masontown, had less people interested in bird fuel.”
“Yes, ma'am. Professor, set coordinates for the Gallatin Fuel heliport. And let’s hope there’s still something we can recover and stabilize for use.”
“Major, after we secure the area and refuel, we’ll come back here and check in on this Perryopolis.”
“Yes, ma’am. Professor, take a heading thirty-five degrees southwest. My calcs say we’re about twenty miles out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s hope it pans out.”
“Professor?”
“Ma’am?”
“How far back are those brigades?”
“Fifteen or so miles, ma’am, give or take.”
“Major, do you think that Perryopolis could hold off those men?”
“No, not likely."
"Ma'am?" asked Shamus, interrupting.
"Yeah, Professor?"
“We might make it back before the riders would make it here, ma’am. We might have some time before the extraction."
"Well, that's good news. Why do you say that?"
"Well, I think the riders are going to regroup around that crater we made for 'em. After that, they'll bring the entire Phoenix army with them, that's why,” suggested Shamus.
After further thought, the major nodded. So did the colonel. “Good point, Professor. Unfortunately, we cannot jeopardize our primary mission by running short on fuel."
"No, ma'am."
"Proceed to the Masontown heliport, Professor. Best speed. If time permits, let's hope we can return to warn them. ”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Superhawk roared past the small town of Perryopolis drifting a few degrees right and angling toward Masontown.
CHAPTER 10.7-Big Momma's Ale
“The town snipers and spotters are moving, Mac,” said Marty. “They’re on the street with weapons shouldered.”
“Copy that, Surf Boy. BB, Rabbit, and Top, I want you to stand and reveal your positions. Weapons neutral. Walk slowly toward the gate. Surf Boy, maintain your position.”
“Copy that, Mac.”
John McLeod and Commander Del Re heard the entire conversation through McLeod’s radio. The massive gates behind them were opening slowly and the two men briefly glanced in that direction. When they turned to face north, three men were walking toward their position.
“Damn, John, where the hell were they?” asked the commander, impressed by the men’s expertise in concealment.
“They’ve been extensively trained to blend in, commander. You have me at a distinct disadvantage—I don’t know your first name.”
“It’s Italo. Italo Del Re, but most everyone calls me Del.”
“Can I call you Del?”
“Sure. My apologies for omitting my first name, but I find it’s more advantageous. Calling myself Commander Del Re is my way of putting someone off guard. Every little advantage helps. I assume more men are out there?”
“Correct.”
“Where?”
“Hold on, Del.” McLeod lifted the radio. “Mac, I’m making a judgment call that we’re probably good. I’m gonna take Commander Del Re at his word that we’re safe. He’s the reigning authority. I repeat, we’re clear for safe entry. Over.”
Del Re nodded in affirmation and McLeod briefly relayed the ground rules for their entry into the city.
“It works for me, John.”
“Stay put for a second, Mac. Do you mind if I reveal your position to the commander? Over.”
“Explain yourself, John.”
“Sorry, but I’m showing off a bit, Mac. The commander's impressed with our ability to approach so close to his town without being seen. Over.”
“You’re the negotiator, John. However you want to play it is okay with me. Over.”
John McLeod pointed to a small culvert with a large branch lying across the ditch. “See the left side of the road at the edge of your kill zone?”
“I'm looking—”
“See that tiny dip with that branch sticking up?”
“Yeah.”
“Two men are there.”
“No shit?”
“Is that your favorite phrase, Del?”
“Hold on a sec.” The commander turned toward the guard tower. “Josh, Russ, I want you to focus your binoculars on that branch on the left side of the road at the end of the cleared area. And one of you guys bring Seth and Bernie out to the gate tower.”
“Sure, commander.” Josh spoke a few words to a young man next to him. The young man nodded his head and disappeared.
“I don’t see anything, commander,” said Josh.
“Neither do I, sir,” agreed Russ.
McLeod lifted his radio again. “Mac, please reveal yourself. Over.”
Connor MacMillen and Captain Daubney slowly stood, brushing weeds and grass from their clothes. They climbed from the culvert and shouldered their weapons, beginning the short walk to the gates.
“Okay, John. I admit I'm impressed. Let’s bring your guys in here and fill them with food and ale.”
“I do like the sound of that, Del, but I’m afraid we can’t stay.”
“I guess that has something to do with your important information.”
“Yes. Ahh...did you say ‘ale’?”
“I did.”
“Enough for all our men?”
“Enough for your men, my men, and many more men.”
“Wow, how much ale do you have?”
“That’s a trade secret.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Tell me something, John. When’s the last time you
had fresh baked rolls and spicy pork sausage smothered in tomato sauce and onions?”
“Pork sausage?” asked McLeod, feeling his mouth water. “As in fresh pork sausage? Fresh bread?”
“Yep. That’s today’s menu. We have 180 people here and there’s plenty of food for everyone.”
“I truly appreciate your frank disclosure, Del. I'll be frank, as well. We have nineteen men, one woman, and three children.” Connor, Daubney, BB, Rabbit, and Mickey gathered around McLeod and Commander Del Re. John McLeod wiped his mouth, still thinking about the offer of sausage and ale. “Commander Italo Del Re, I’d you to meet my commanding officer, Colonel Connor MacMillen, 82nd Airborne.”
Connor held out his hand and the two men shook. “Commander, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, colonel. Please call me Del.”
“Okay, Del. My friends call me Connor Mac, or just Mac. Please do the same."
“Thank you. I will. Connor Mac, I was telling John here about our sausage and fresh ale. I’d like your group to join us for a meal. He seems to think you don’t have enough time.”
“That may be true, Del. We’ll see if we have the time. Here are some of my other guys—this is Captain Bobby Butkowski, Sergeant Roger McIntyre, First Sergeant Mickey McGuire, and Captain Marcus Daubney.”
The group shook hands with the commander.
“I’ve been talking with your man here, Mac. You got quite a negotiator in John McLeod. I have a tough time believing he wasn’t ever part of the military.”
“Del...I’ll tell ya, he’s impressed me, too—more than any civilian has in a long time.” They held this discussion in front of John, and his face reddened with each compliment. “In fact,” continued Connor, “I’ve given him the rank of major within my unit for all he’s done.”
“Excellent. I can see why.”
“Del, let me tell you how I'd like this to go down,” said Connor, matter-of-factly. “I'd like to sit down right away with you and whomever you want present so I can fill you in on what’s coming down on your head. In the meantime, the rest of my team can come in and start to pass through your town.”
“Whatta ya mean, ‘what’s coming down on my head’?”
“Not from us, Del, believe me. But there are pertinent factors you don’t know about the large group that’s following us.”