by Paul Kirk
“Damn. That delay is unacceptable.”
Kaiden stood stiff at attention, several patched shrapnel wounds on arms and legs starting to show signs of ongoing blood loss. Resigned at facing Phoenix after this abysmal failure, he was mentally prepared to die, wondering what a 9mm bullet from an M&P would feel like entering his brain. Idly, he wondered if it would feel any different than the .45 caliber bullet of the Judge that Phoenix had lost to Renaldo.
Staring into the distance, Phoenix gave him little attention and shifted to study the easing chaos of men and horses around him. Larry Reed and Tippy Cup stood beside him, gauging his mood. Phoenix turned to his uncle. “Assign shovel detail immediately, uncle. Help bury these men. They’re our men. Assign four teams to preserve and pack the horsemeat for travel. Too bad about the leather, but if they have time, tell ‘em to strip what they can. Get the Log-Sups to assess and assign surplus supplies to the trucks. Tell everyone they have three hours to do it.”
“Yes, sir.” Larry Reed and Tippy Cup left Kaiden to stand alone in the middle of the cracked blacktop, facing Phoenix.
Phoenix turned further away from Kaiden, staring at the impact crater produced by the Hellfire. During his scan of the surroundings, he noticed many men were surreptitiously watching the exchange between him and Kaiden. He knew Kaiden was one of the most respected leaders in the entire army and much-loved by the cavalry riders, in particular. What he also saw made him proud, since the men had recovered and were mostly “ride-ready” and at his command.
"Kaiden," said Phoenix, voice raised. Always a quick learner in controlling his men, he knew they were waiting to see what his next move would be with Kaiden. Smiling to himself, Phoenix admitted that he had learned quite a bit over the past few days. With a sharp spin, he faced Kaiden. Purposefully, he did not look happy. “This was my failure, Commander Kaiden. Not yours.”
“Sir?”
“Due to a brief lapse in field tactics and overall strategy...I won’t make excuses, I neglected to establish a sequential manned radio link with my advance team. I had the capability to do so yet I did not.” Phoenix studied Kaiden, recognizing the tentative return of hope in the face of a certain death.
The hope in Kaiden's eyes disappeared as quickly as it came. A sense of resignation returned. “I should’ve given that order, sir. It was basic tactics, but only crossed my mind about two miles before the Bitch hit us. No excuses, sir. It was my brigades to command and I lost nearly a third of my men.”
Phoenix moved up and into the face of Kaiden. “Commander, how soon you forget…these are my men,” The growl from Phoenix could’ve chilled ice to shatter.
“Yes, sir.”
“And when, in those rare instances, that I’m at fault, it’s my error that costs the lives of my men.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you!”
“Sir?”
“You’re one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen since the Cuckoo Flu knocked us back to medieval times. That much is true, commander. There are few things you can ever do to disappoint me, Kaiden.”
“Thank you, sir.” A flicker of hope returned to Kaiden’s eyes.
“That being said, I need you to reenergize these men to the point that they’ll drink the blood of that Bitch using a tiny red straw. You will also bring me that Rat Pack. And I mean now!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Am I clear?” The low, sharp edge sent a chill up Kaiden's spine and if possible, he stood straighter.
“Yes, sir!”
Phoenix let him remain braced at attention for five seconds before relenting. “At ease, commander.”
“Sir.”
“What other information can you give me about my pesky little Rat Pack?” Phoenix waited for an answer, casually sneaking glances at the men. Pleased, he noticed many had relaxed in the saddle or began tending to other business rather than watching their exchange.
“They’re moving fast on foot with five, maybe six horses.”
“The same bastards? Heading straight up Route 51? No attempt to break off the road?”
“No, sir.”
“Hmm, wonder why? It would be an obvious choice of mine getting off this road, at least for awhile.”
“Yes, sir. And, they’re not that careful about it, either. They were making good time, traveled all night based on their progress. Hard to tell how many, but I think we’re talking about twenty, maybe twenty-five men at most.”
“Are there…”
Kaiden sensed Phoenix's hesitation and immediately recognized the lust flashing across Phoenix’s face.
“Yes, sir. Wally’s sure three kids and a woman are traveling with them based on footprints.”
“Three kids and a woman in the mix?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How far ahead do you estimate they are?”
“No more than ten miles. They hafta be exhausted, sir.”
“Don’t sell ‘em short.”
“No, sir. You think that Bitch’ll come back for another shot?”
“I dunno, Kaiden. I’ve not yet figured out the full connection between her and the Rat Pack. There is one. Of that, I’m sure. But, things are kinda screwy, you know?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’re your thoughts on her coming back?”
Rather shocked at having his opinion asked, Kaiden recovered quickly. “I think she’s looking for them as much as we are.”
“Oh, Kaiden, I can assure you she is not looking for them with the same level of desire as you see standing before you.”
“No, sir. We’re trying harder for the same target.”
“You may be right,” said Phoenix, “But why? That’s the question—I believe that this man, this Connor MacMillen is who we’re huntin’ here. He’s the bastard that's leading that Rat Pack, I'm sure of it. Which, if my numbers are right, keeps increasing in size. Hmm, and, he must be something special for that Bitch to keep coming after him like this. I mean, what? She’s waited weeks for him back home and, only now, in the past day, does she start firing off Hellfires like they're fuckin’ candy. Right when we’re nipping at the bastard’s heels. ”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, think about it—why now? Why all of a sudden, when we get to Pittsburgh, when we’re tracking this Rat Pack? What, she just magically shows up, following this team, the same men we’ve tracked for so long?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“I think there was a disconnect and reconnect somewhere in this equation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Phoenix broke from his thoughts, realizing he was strategizing out loud. He stared at Kaiden, blinking several times, changing mental focus. “We’ll travel as one entire army at this point. I know that Bitch only got one of those Hellfires left from our intel back home. I’d like to think it unlikely she picked up anymore lying around, but you never know. Right now, we’ll set up an aerial defense that’ll be sure to shoot that bird outta the sky next time she comes around. Am I clear, commander?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Make it happen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send Larry over here. Talk to the brigade commanders under my orders. Get this army ready to move. Dismissed.”
“Sir!”
CHAPTER 10.10-Harmon's Invitation
“Hey, T?” Andy sauntered into the large kitchen, excited about spending the next three or four days away from the bustle of the wedding preparations that were now such a common sight for the clan.
“Yeah?” said Terry. She glanced up from her work at the table. Many of the clan women smiled or nodded at his entrance and he said hello.
In eight days, they were set to be married in a joint ceremony along with Kevin and his bride. Andy relished the thought. But, the twenty-four hours, seven days per week daily prep and the continuous attention to wedding details that seemed unnecessary had taken its toll on the men in the clan. He had learned that weddings took an incredible amount of time, creativity
and coordination. Things had to be "just so" on this and "just right" on that. Scrap one set of viable plans for another based on a glance, a frown or a furrowed brow. All the investment of time wasted. Try as he might, he was glad to have a brief respite.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" asked Andy.
"Sure," said Terry.
“Me and the guys, we’re going to skip the offer of Lower Turkeyfoot and the fishin’ for now.”
“Skip fishin'? Am I hearing you right?” Terry stopped twisting a frilly table decoration of some kind and stood, gently rising from her chair. She made an effort not to bump the hands or arms of those next her. She waded her way through the crowded kitchen and women actively engaged in various conversations, each touching, stroking, or twisting the vast array of colorful items on the table.
Terry came near and Andy wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking her into the huge living room where there was more room to talk. “Yeah. We’re going to do something a bit different.”
“Hmm, that white envelope Jeff gave you from Mark Harmon this morning have anything to do with your change of plans?”
“What do you mean? Mark who?” said Andy, placing a hand to his shirt pocket, shielding the letter from view.
“I know Harmon’s had something up his sleeve the past few weeks. What is it? A sleazy Nemacolin bachelor party of some kind?”
“No. Not his style.”
“No? What do you have there?”
“Where?”
“In your pocket.”
“Nothin’, why?”
“Show me. Is it an invite to a bachelor party?”
“No, it’s an invite to a huntin’ party.
“A hunting party?”
“Mark asked if I wanted to have a bachelor party the night before the wedding, you know, in the more traditional sense, but I talked him outta that.”
“A hunting party?”
“Yep, you know how he’s got those fenced game lands on the back property of Nemacolin, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“His game keepers say the pheasants hanging around on those 1000 acres are a damn nuisance. They're pushing out the grouse and dove. Mark asked if we’d help drop a few birds during the day and drink a few whiskeys with him in the night.”
“Mark said this?”
“He did. Here.” Andy handed over the top-quality stationary and waited for Terry to finish reading.
“Oh, that’s brilliant of him,” said Terry, laughing.
“What?”
“Hah! He’s getting you guys to hunt dinner for our own wedding.”
“Works for me, whiskey and shootin’. Sounds good.”
“How many pheasant does Mark want you guys to take?”
“As many as we can. He said he hopes me, Kev, Ryan, and the ushers could bring in at least thirty to forty birds total, taking as many days as we need.”
“Huh.”
“I told him three or four days outta do it.”
“Hmm…”
“We’re pretty excited, T. He’s offered to supply the ammo as a bonus.”
“And he’s supplying the whiskey?”
“I’m assuming.”
“You guys gonna eat?”
“I’m assuming.”
Terry laughed. “You don’t care if you eat, do you?”
Andy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His desire was evident and he nuzzled his chin and lips into her hair. Terry shivered when his hot breath dropped to a whisper. “You, huntin’, and whiskey. Who needs food?”
“I...I gotta help with the wedding table centerpieces.”
“Yeah, you do. But not right now.”
“But I do.”
“No, you look…tense…I need to help relax you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, I need to say a proper goodbye to my future wife before we head out in the early morning to Nemacolin.”
“I see. So…you’re doing this 'relaxation' for me?”
“I am…now quit talking and make your way upstairs. I’ll work my way up in five minutes.”
“Oh, like no one will know, Andy.”
“Keeps up appearances.”
“Yeah, me disappearing from helping out on my own wedding table settings right when you show up.”
“It’ll give ‘em something to talk about.”
“Oh, it will that.”
“Go.”
“I’m going…you better plan on some solid relaxation, buddy.”
“Bank on it.”
Terry forced her walk through the living room into a casual stride; at least she seemed to think so. She restrained herself from dashing up the stairs. Smiling, she felt like a schoolgirl playing hooky for the first time. Glancing back, she saw Andy walking out onto the deck. She began counting the minutes until his arrival. She was waiting in the master bedroom. The sheets were cool on her naked skin.
CHAPTER 10.11-Georgie Sees Something
“That’s a real helicopter, Georgie!”
“I see it, Jacob.”
“Where’s it going?”
“I dunno. Near Masontown, I think.”
“What for? Who is it?”
“Gimme them.” Georgie snatched the binoculars from his little brother’s hands. Bored, they had made a game out of naming cloud formations, clinging onto the wall of the plated steel platform built above the huge metal gates of the Harmon Toll Exchange. Holding the binoculars tight to his eyes, Georgie peered down the mountain road into the long valley below, seeing a wide panorama of Uniontown, Hopwood, and Masontown, visible in the crisp fall afternoon.
“Go! Tell dad! Now, Jacob! Go!”
Jacob, ten years old last month, burst toward the stairs at end of the platform. Georgie tried to locate the helicopter, but found it difficult based on the distance. Eventually, he glimpsed a side view before the helicopter disappeared below a rolling ridge.
“Sergeant Evan! C'mere!” yelled Georgie, waving at the closest gate guard.
Evan acknowledged the persistent wave, jumping aside as Jacob nearly ran into him. Sensing an urgency, Evan quickened his pace, covering the final twenty yards.
“What you guys doing, Georgie?”
“A helicopter! There! Landing down in Masontown somewhere!”
“What? No kidding?” Evan lifted his binoculars to study the towns and sky far below the mountain pass. An actual helicopter would be an incredible discovery since activity near the mountain crest of Route 40 the past four years was mostly small groups of travellers or those looking to trade at Nemacolin. Nothing motorized had traveled the road for at least three years and nothing at all in the skies for four, maybe closer to five. The Harmon Toll Exchange and the Summit Military Garrison behind it had been well manned since only a few days after the Sickness. Upon Mark Harmon’s orders, the garrison was built fast, but sturdy after taking over the Historic Summit Hotel. Money and supplies at the time poured in for construction of the gate and garrison and, once done, stood formidable on the eastern mountain pass, ready since that first month. Though, truth be told, the tollgate saw little action over the past five years. Fewer and fewer newcomers sought the mountaintop. “Tell me about this ‘copter, Georgie.”
"Okay."
Evan waited. Hearing Jacob yelling loud for his father, Georgie glanced toward the garrison. Jacob had wasted no time covering the fifty yards to the main garrison quarters. His home for the past four years, he knew every nook and cranny since his father, Grant Bastin commanded the twenty-four men assigned there. Strategically, the mountain pass was a key pinch point for gaining access into the rural mountain towns that eventually led to the Nemacolin Resort about eight miles further down Route 40 heading toward Maryland. A similar tollgate and garrison was placed twenty miles east to manage any newcomers seeking entrance that way from Maryland.
“Um, the helicopter took a dive over that hill. See it? Those three big pines lined up next to that road, see it?”
“I see where you�
�re talking, Georgie, but there’s no helicopter.”
“We saw it, honest! We saw it, right there!”
“Okay. Okay, settle down. Let’s keep an eye on it.” Evan reached for his radio, holding it to his lips. Before speaking, he stared down at Georgie, assessing sincerity. Usually a very trustworthy child and not one to come off unhinged, Evan took stock.
“Evan here, over. Base do you copy?.”
“Base here. We copy. Over.”
“Georgie reports seeing a helicopter around Masontown. Over.”
“A helicopter? Can you confirm? Over.”
“Not yet, base. Working on it. Over.”
“Mitchell or Stanford catch anything? Over.”
“Standby. Over.”
“Roger. Base standing by.”
Evan switched to gate channel, seeking feedback from Mitchell and Stanford. Neither had seen the helicopter and, from this distance, it was highly unlikely they’d heard any of the telltale rotor sounds.
“Base, Sergeant Evan here. Confirm no sighting by gate. Georgie saw it only...you copy?”
“And Jacob! He saw it first!” said Georgie, insistent at the discovery.
“And I’m told Jacob saw it, base. Over.”
“Copy. Base has received a…report from Jacob confirming sighting. Stay sharp. Commander and three men are coming down to assist in visual reacquisition of target helicopter. Over.”
“Roger that.” Evan turned to Georgie, who was steadfastly studying the Masontown area. “Georgie, you make anything out before it disappeared?”
“It was big, green, shiny.”
“Not a little two-seater?”
“No.”
“Not like the thing those reporters used to fly when you were little, remember them?”
“No, bigger. Much bigger, but I only caught a glimpse of it.” Georgie was excited and disappointed at the same time.
“You did good, Georgie. Nice.”
Georgie brightened, turning to assess the valley below with renewed energy.
“Base, Evan. Do you copy?”