“Yes, commander, both of them are here and they’re listening to our conversation. Over.”
“Sir, those two need to come over to the garrison ASAP. Over.”
“Why’s that, commander? Over.” The entire table stared at Mark Harmon waiting for the answer to his question.
A joyful laughter surfaced. Ryan MacMillen stood and walked around the table, continuing his laughter. Andy studied his brother, thinking hard and trying to figure out what Ryan had already concluded.
Mark didn’t know why Ryan was laughing either, but was determined to find out. “Commander,” he said into the radio, “I asked why the MacMillens need to go to the garrison. Over.”
“Yes, sir,” came the response. “General, they’re looking for Connor MacMillen. Over.”
“Did you say they’re looking for Mac? Our Connor Mac? Over.” He stared at the men around the table, conveying his disbelief. Despite his shock, he felt a hopeful surge of emotion. His friend was still alive after all these years. He listened intently to the radio.
“Yes, sir, that’s correct. They think Connor Mac might be around here somewhere, heading home. They’re trying to track him down since he passed through Cleveland. Over.”
“Cleveland?” interrupted Harmon. “What the hell was he doing in Cleveland? Over.”
“I don’t know yet, sir, but they’ve known of his general whereabouts for awhile and they know he’s come across the country from San Francisco. Over.”
“Wow,” said Mark, “ He was in Australia five damn years ago. Over.”
“I know, sir. Over.”
JR and Cam stood. “We’re so going with you, Andy,” said JR—he wasn’t asking permission, he was stating a fact. The rest of the men also stood, nodding their heads in agreement.
“Yep,” said Toby, “we’re coming along.”
Andy stared at nothing, shocked. Ryan walked up to him and grabbed his arm. “How about that, brother? Mac’s here!” he said. He turned to face Mark Harmon. “Mark, tell the commander we’ll be there ASAP.”
Mark relayed the information. “Commander, we should be there in less than ten minutes. Over.” He set the radio on the table and waited for a response.
The men at the table were in the process of checking their weapons when the radio crackled. “Understood, sir,” said the commander. “You’ll be here in ten. Sir, Major McLoy confirms there’s a huge army on the way. They’re not friendly, sir. Repeat, not friendly. Credible reports of around two hundred well-armed men—some on horses, some in pickup trucks—coming our way. Over.”
Mark knew his life and lives of the people at Nemacolin were shifting to a new plane, a new reality. The shift was happening quickly and the prospect excited him as he visualized potential battle plans. “Copy, commander. I’ll issue a full alert to all our people. Alert your people, commander—we are under full battle conditions. Over.”
“Copy, sir. I have some details, sir, if you’d like to hear them. Over.”
“Go on, commander. Over.”
“There are at least a 500 men, sir. At least 200 are mounted on warhorses. The others are in about fifty-six pickup trucks, four-wheelers, dirt bikes or foot soldiers. Two or three pickup trucks are mounted with fifty caliber guns mounted in the beds. Over.”
“Is there any idea of their intentions? Any idea why they’re coming here? Over.”
“Sir, it appears they’re coming after Connor Mac and the team he’s with. The major says he pissed ’em off in Cleveland. I guess Connor Mac prevented the leader of this group—his name’s Phoenix Justice—from kidnapping the president and stealing Marine One. Over.”
Mark stared at the radio, dumbfounded. His entire world was shifting quickly. An army that size was formidable—infinitely formidable in today’s world. He began to visualize this invading army, well equipped and coming their way. He began to compare what he visualized to his own existing army and weapons. “Commander, what’s the time frame here? How long before they’re at your gates? Over.”
“The major and the president speculate we have four hours, sir. Over.”
Mark shivered at the thought. He extrapolated the potential carnage such an army would bring to the mountain and became angry. He knew this army had the easy potential to destroy what he had painstakingly built over the last five years. His community was a post-Sickness society, one that was successful. Admittedly, there was still much work to be completed on the mountain, but they were headed in the right direction—everyone was aware of the benefits of working as a community and their attitudes showed it. Mark became furious at the prospect of watching his burgeoning community being destroyed.
“This is my mountain. Who the fuck does Phoenix Justice think he is? C’mon up the hill, Phoenix—I’ll be waiting!”
“Sir?” Jake was concerned about his boss.
Mark’s eyes cleared of intense anger and he silently thanked his friend, Connor MacMillen for teaching him the technique of regaining control of his emotions. Mark was a planner. He would adapt and scheme for his successes. He raised the radio to his lips, ignoring Jake. “Fill me in with any other details when we arrive, Commander. I’ll issue orders once we’ve had a chance to discuss the situation. Over and out.”
Mark stared at the men around the table. Jake stood near, waiting for orders. “Jake?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab all the stuff in the secure room. Take some of these guys to help you. The pass code’s nineteen sixty-nine Cougar. That’s nineteen, sixty-nine, three, fifteen, twenty-one, seven, one, and eighteen. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Go!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Jake,” said Harmon. “I want you to initiate the full defensive prep plan for the entire community. I need Brad here now!”
“He’s on his way, sir. We called him earlier.”
“Good. Let’s get moving, gentlemen,” said Mark. He studied the men as they checked their weapons and headed for the door. They were moving with purpose and excitement—all except for Andy. “Andy?” asked Mark. “Everything alright?”
Andy MacMillen stood like a statue, the bustling activity around him in deep contrast to his lack of motion. His face was pale and his eyes spoke of deep thought. At the news of Connor’s possible survival, he had paced for a few minutes before stopping abruptly, as if realizing something important. He turned to Mark Harmon.
“Leave it to Connor Mac to piss off an army and bring it into our back yard.”
“Andy,” reasoned Mark, “Mac wouldn’t do that intentionally.”
“Oh, I know, Mark. It’s probably pissing him off though—knowing he’s brought this enemy into a place where he’s spent most of his life thinking of ways to defend. He might try to lead that army somewhere else—have you thought of that?”
“We don’t know what’s going on yet, Andy,” he said, gently touching Andy’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”
“You might not know what’s going on, Mark, but I do,” said Andy, walking reluctantly with Mark.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means Mac’s alive. It means he’s coming home, Mark,” said Andy. He could contain his emotions no longer. “Damn!” he said. “What the fuck!”
Mark was taken aback by the aggression behind Andy’s words. He considered Andy’s perspective and understood his venomous attitude. Here was a man prepared to marry his brother’s wife in a few days. “Oh….” Mark’s face paled. “I see, Andy. Your situation….” Mark’s words faded.
“Right,” said Andy, chuckling at the irony. “I’m a dead man walking.”
“Not necessarily, Andy. Ten years ago, Mac and I spent a lotta of time talking about apocalyptic scenarios. Yeah, sure, it was mostly over too big a fire, too many beers, and too late at night, but we did it enough that it was nearly second nature. We reached the point where we knew how the other thought.” Harmon paused, thinking about what he wanted to say.