by Paul Kirk
“But it’s his place?”
“Yes, ma’am. Worked hard at setting up a plan in case some shit hit the fan. It was a serious hobby with him. His family ended up following his plan when the Sickness hit, but he wasn’t here to participate.”
“What else can you tell us, major?”
“I guess Mac was active a lot in the military ‘cause we didn’t see him very often for the few years before bird shit hit. But, when he was here, people noticed.”
“What’s that mean?” asked the colonel.
“Colonel, I’ll give you a little back story on my end, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Yes, ma’am. You have to know about the people in the Laurel Highlands. In the mountains, it’s common practice to keep to yourself. It takes years—sometimes decades—for mountain people to warm up to outsiders. But, Mac was well liked from the start.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Keenan.”
“Yes, ma’am. In the mountains, you’re judged by how well you can stay outta people’s business. Nobody wants you sticking your nose in where it don’t belong. But Mac was trusted from the beginning. I don’t know how he did it, but there aren’t many in the mountains that wouldn’t stand up for him, I guess. Lemme give you an example. Here's one I recall. Let's say your well-house pump is broken. You got no water. The well-house pump supplies water to ten houses around you and of those ten houses, maybe you’re the one, like Mac, who gets up earliest.”
“Okay, I’m with you, so far,” said Starkes.
“Since you’re the early riser, you’re the first to discover there’s no water. So you go down the road to the little well house to check out the pump and you meet up with John Tittleman who lives a half mile away. He showed up ‘cause he doesn’t have any water either. You nod your hello and shake hands for the first time. Turns out you both know a little something about blown circuits and both realize after checking over the breaker box that a thirty-amp fuse needs replaced. So, you take the fuse assembly and drive the forty miles into Uniontown and you buy a new one for about fifty bucks. You come back two hours later and John’s still waiting there. You put the fuse in, the pump kicks on and starts to work, you shake hands with John, and go on your way. You go back to your business and John goes back to his. During all this, you haven’t spoken more than a half dozen words to John and he hasn’t spoken more than that to you. And that’s it. Unless there’s something else brings you into John’s company again, you leave him alone and he leaves you alone.”
“Major McLoy, I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” said the colonel.
“I understand it, ma’am,” said Major O’Malley. “He’s saying Colonel MacMillen is in good standing and has a reputation as a stand-up guy.”
“Yeah, O’Malley, that’s right. But there’s more to it. Mac’s got...I dunno...him and Mark—General Harmon—they’re people who everyone sorta looked up to, I guess. Sometimes we call them people ‘fixers’—when they’re outta earshot.”
“Fixers?”
“Yes, ma’am. Guys you can put your trust in—you know, guys who’ll make it happen. Like General Harmon. He stepped up in a big way when the Sickness hit. And, Mac would’ve organized the hell outta us if he were here...as it is, Terry, Andy, and Ryan are all a big part of rebuilding the entire area.”
“I see,” she said, looking down at the map at the intersection of Dinner Bell Road and Route 40. “Keenan? Let’s radio your commanding officer.”
“Yes, ma’am. Captain, please go get the radio.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 10.22-A Decoy
“They’re hemmed in pretty good, Phoenix. They’re about a half-mile out, sittin’ behind an overpass. Over.”
“I can see the overpass. I don’t see much else. Over.”
“I think we got the bastards. We’ll hand their heads to you on a silver platter. Over.”
“I admire your confidence, Luke, but they've been runnin’ since they left Cleveland. They have some stayin’ power—we can’t get ahead of those fucks. Over.”
“We’re on them now, Phoenix—I’m sure of it. Over.”
Phoenix didn’t bother responding. Instead, he surveyed the two-pronged approach of his army converging on the overpass. Phoenix was disappointed his search of the wheat fields hadn’t turned up the Rat Pack. They had continued on their way after firing numerous rounds at his men. He had considered the possibility, knowing they favored Route 51 for quick travel and had hoped to catch them aiding the invisible townies. To make matters worse, that sniper was still around. He heard the shots—one every minute or so. It was nearly paralyzing his men—the guy had yet to miss.
“I want that weapon!” he yelled into the radio.
“What’s that, Phoenix?” asked Larry Reed.
“I said I want that fucking sniper’s weapon!”
Reed ignored his nephew’s frustration. Instead, he raised his binoculars to study the convergence of the army near the overpass. “We’ll get it for you. All units are in place for the final assault.”
“Yeah, I see that. Tell me something I don’t know.” Phoenix thought tactically and recognized Luke and his team were keeping the sniper pinned down near the overpass with their aggressive pursuit. He raised the radio with a smile, ready to issue orders, but stopped when he heard Luke’s voice.
“Luke here. They’re jammed up behind the overpass. At least, their cover team is. I think the rest of the team’s runnin’ or ridin’ outta range. One of them’s hit, for sure. I don’t know about the others. Over.”
Phoenix knew he was close, very close. “I want ‘em alive, Luke. Especially the leader. And, the boy Renaldo. What else you have to report? Over.”
“I see you've sent teams coming up on both sides of the overpass. Over.”
“Yeah, Luke, that’s right. They’re closing in on ‘em to pin ‘em down. Over.”
“Phoenix, sir, they seem to have some idea of slippin’ around the overpass. Tell ‘em to hold back—things are lookin’ way too easy right now. Over.”
Phoenix studied the two-pronged attack, thinking his men were progressing to his satisfaction. He grew irritated and raised the radio. “Explain yourself, Luke. Over.”
Luke was in a supine position beside the front bumper of a Grand Am. He stared at the overpass fifty yards away and sensed in his gut that there were several men still hiding somewhere on the other side of the overpass, hiding in the dense weeds. He hadn’t seen anything, so he wasn't sure. “Where are you, you bastards?” Earlier, he had caught faint movements in the area, but between the smoke from the flairs they had launched and the fires brewing in the distance, he remained unsure of what he had seen. It was like they hadn’t been there. In his gut, he knew they were probably the same bunch of guys he'd come across on Brownsville Road. “I’m gonna find you,” he growled.
Two of his men nearby glanced at him. Luke recalled how he had lost good men to this foe—he vowed it wouldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t walk into another trap. He scanned the area right beneath the overpass again and considered it a perfect pinch-point to impede the progress of a significant force. He wondered if the enemy was planning to blow the overpass to create enough rubble to delay them indefinitely. “Dammit!”
“Sir?” asked Reggie Watson.
“Nothing, Reggie. I’m just figuring some shit out. Keep your eyes on each side of the overpass. Send a couple men to the east to see if they can catch anyone moving for new cover. Tell ‘em to stay low—that fuckin’ sniper’s still out there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Luke held the radio to his lips, but didn’t depress the talk button to explain himself to Phoenix yet. He studied the teams of men crossing the road—they were trying to sneak beyond the overpass to cut off any possible escape. Both were part of other units, not under his command, and while he recognized their ability as soldiers, he also recognized they couldn’t hold a candle to his own elite fighting men. These clo
wns were destined to get in his way.
“Luke to Phoenix. Over.”
“Yes,” came the immediate reply.
“Sir, I’d ask again that you have those other teams stay back in a position of support only. Over.” As he waited for a response, he saw another man from the intruding teams dropped from a sniper bullet. The commander of the team found cover and urged his men to do the same.
He studied the overpass again and considered the feasibility of the enemy hiding in the adjacent weeds. There hadn’t been any shots from the area of the overpass for some time, but Luke was uneasy about it. It was his team’s responsibility to investigate, but he wanted to do this without losing anyone else to sniper fire or to a possible trap.
“Sir. Phoenix, I think the overpass is set to blow. Over.”
Phoenix was resting in the cab of his pickup near the south gates of the town. When he heard Luke’s comment from the truck’s radio, he laughed and slapped Larry on the back. “I think Luke’s shittin’ his shorts, uncle. He’s too cautious.”
“I dunno, Phoenix. He has a point. Blowing the overpass would slow us down.”
“It won’t slow down the cavalry or anyone on foot. Only our trucks. It’ll be an end around—a ten minute delay at the most.”
“Sure. You’re right, but those ten minutes might be the difference between our success and failure.”
“Send everyone. Load ‘em up and send ‘em. Plain and simple. Keep the teams split to each side of the road. Have them converge a hundred yards beyond the overpass. Once they're formed up, we’ll be in a position for full pursuit. There’s a cluster of eighteen-wheelers beyond the overpass—tell the men that’s our mustering point.”
“Yes, sir.” Larry Reed issued the orders to the commanders and the army began moving. The two units on each side of the overpass began to move in a direction beyond it.
Luke clipped the radio to his belt and studied the overpass. At the edge of his vision, he saw a group of the enemy breaking cover from a small ditch beyond the overpass. They were running at top speed towards the wooded area further south. He counted six men running. They were using abandoned vehicles and other debris as evacuation cover and had easily slipped behind the men advancing around the overpass. They were quickly beyond the eighteen-wheelers and lost from sight.
Luke settled comfortably into his firing position, preparing to shoot at the retreating men if they came into view again. He scoped the area slowly, focused intently on where he had last seen the fleeing men. There they were. There must be a swale in the field beyond the overpass and that’s why they had disappeared into thin air. Luke slowed his breathing. His position didn’t feel quite right—he slid forward six inches and reacquired his target. He aligned the crosshairs of his scope on the broad back of one of the enemy and laid his index finger on the trigger. A severe pain in his shoulder made him roll quickly behind the Grand Am. He knew he'd been shot before hearing the repercussion of the sniper’s rifle.
“Oww!” he yelled in pain. The round had struck his shoulder, passing through the meat of the left trapezius muscle. With his right hand, he inspected his wound, gauging the extent of the damage. A warm flow of blood seeped onto his back and into his armpit.
“Luke!” called Reggie softly from behind the car. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay! I’m hit in the shoulder. Scope the field between the overpass and the woods and see if you can spot anyone. Watch out for that sniper, but shoot those runnin' bastards if you see ‘em.”
Luke lifted the radio with his good arm. “Phoenix, they’re breaking cover beyond the overpass. Slipped right passed the men doing the end-around. We need to watch out for a timed explosion—maybe something on a fuse. Now would be the time. Over.”
“Understood, Luke. I’ve sent the two teams to converge a hundred yards beyond the overpass to avoid any explosion. That’s based on your recommendations. Over.”
Luke considered the recent departure of the men. His uneasiness continued. This particular foe was too devious. “Reggie, I’m gonna go search that overpass area. I’m gonna find out if it’s booby trapped.”
“You’ll be blown to pieces,” whispered Reggie.
“Maybe. But something don’t feel right, you know?”
“No.”
“Something’s not right and I’m gonna find out what it is. Wish me luck.”
“Well, okay, Luke...good luck.”
Without another word, Luke made a mad dash toward the overpass, expecting to be shot at any moment. After running in the open for ten seconds, he was sure the sniper was in the process of retreating. When he was beneath the overpass, he assessed the area for an immediate threat. He was sure he was alone and he began to study the underside of the span for structural integrity. He heard the army passing on either side of the overpass, following their orders to converge a hundred yards further south.
He discovered nothing under the bridge and climbed the hillside on the south side of the span. When he gained the roadway, he discovered a thin wire placed across the width of the road. He dropped back down under and swiftly inspected the abutment where he discovered five grenades, their pins connected cleverly to the thin wire across the roadway.
“Luke here,” he said into his radio. “The overpass is set to blow. There’s a trip wire rigged with five grenades. Repeat. The overpass is rigged with a trip wire connected to five grenades. Over.”
“I read you, Luke,” answered Phoenix. “Nice job. Can you disarm it? Over.” The vehicles had begun moving slowly toward the overpass. He was anxious to secure his prey, but he didn’t want to overplay his hand.
“Yeah, I can disarm it—it’ll take me a few minutes. Over.”
“Let me know when you’re clear. Over and out.” Phoenix turned to Larry who was driving. “Stop about fifty yards short of the overpass until we have the go ahead from Luke.” Larry nodded and eased slowly south on Route 51.
Beyond the overpass, Phoenix’s two teams had nearly hit their convergence mark.
“Phoenix, we’ve spotted a group of men ahead and they’re running hard for the woods,” said Kaiden over the radio. “Over.”
“Give me more info! Over.”
“There’s ten or twelve men about 200 yards ahead. Over.”
Luke heard this information over the radio and did a quick count. He knew there were at least six more men running much closer to them. He wondered how they had disappeared. “Kaiden? This is Luke. Where’s the team that just ran from the overpass? Over.”
“We didn’t see ‘em, Luke. Over.”
“Shit,” said Luke, thinking furiously. He calculated the explosive power of the five grenades and realized they would’ve only done minimal damage. His anxiety increased. “Phoenix, do you copy? Over.”
“Go ahead, Luke. Are we clear? Over.”
“I think the grenades here were only a diversion. I think they’re settin’ us up for something else. Over.”
Phoenix tossed the flaming match out the window and drew deeply on his freshly lit cigar. He grinned at Larry Reed. “Whatta ya think, Larry?”
“I think I’d listen to the man, Phoenix.”
“Yeah, I guess you would,” said Phoenix, offering his uncle a derogatory sneer. The blood scent of the enemy filled his nostrils and he grabbed his radio. “Disarm the grenades, Luke, and let me know the minute you're done. The trucks will be passing through there in a few minutes. Over.”
“Understood, sir, I’ll disarm them. But we need to be careful tracking these guys. I have a funny feeling about this. If this overpass is a decoy, there’s a bigger problem ahead we’ll need to deal with. Over.”
“Just disarm the fucking grenades and let me worry about the strategy, Luke! Over.”
“Yes, sir, working on it. I saw a half dozen guys running away in the wheat field beyond the overpass. They’ve disappeared. The sniper’s unaccounted for. Over.”
“Luke, they got nothin’ left—they’re buggin’ out ‘cause they can
’t stop my army. Thanks for the advice, but just let me know when you’re done disarming those grenades. Over and out.”
Phoenix tossed the radio on the seat of the pickup and confidently waved the remainder of his army forward. He used his binoculars to study the convergence of his men beyond the overpass and spotted Kaiden arguing with several other officers about fifty yards before the bunch of eighteen-wheelers. Their discussion was heated and he saw Kaiden raise his radio and heard the squelch of his own.
“Phoenix, this is Kaiden. Over.”
“Go ahead Kaiden,” he said into the radio without losing sight of him through his binoculars.
“I recommend we send twenty-five men on point from here on. We’re too congested right now—we need to fan out and cover a larger area. Over.”
“Don’t worry, Kaiden. We’re keeping a close eye on the skies—we don’t want to get caught in the bitch’s fire again. Over.”
“Yes, sir, I understand. But I’m more concerned with the team we’re chasing. Something don’t feel right—I agree with Luke. I don’t think we should bunch everyone up. It’s too big a target. Over.”
“Kaiden, those bastards are running scared—they’re running as fast as they can to get the hell away from here. They don’t have anything that can hurt us now. All we have to do is mop up. Over.”
“I understand, sir, but can we at least break off a brigade to run ahead of the main force? Over.”
“Oh, we’re gonna get them,” grumbled Phoenix. “We’re gonna get them soon, you can count on it.” He had neglected to speak into the radio. His anger rose and he lifted the radio to berate Kaiden, but caught the furrowed brow of his uncle. “What?” he asked defensively.
“I dunno, Phoenix.” Reed drove and studied the road, feeling connected to Kaiden and Luke, sensing somehow that Phoenix wasn’t seeing everything. He nursed a sense of unease.