“Nicole, what’s your point?”
“Paper!” interrupted Major O’Malley excitedly.
“Paper?” asked the colonel.
“Yeah, colonel. We grab reams of it, all different colors, and write messages for Connor MacMillen on them. We can let him know where and when to meet us. We can drop thousands across a wide dispersal area in front of his travels. The more we drop, the likelier he is to find one.”
“I see,” said Colonel Starkes.
“We can put his name big and bold across both sides. Everyone here can help to write the message.”
“Leaflets,” mumbled the colonel. “Nicole, that’s a great idea.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. It’s simple and it might work. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Hannah. I’m glad to help.” She smiled with some pride.
After a few seconds, Colonel Starkes turned to Nicole. “What do you like, Nicole?”
“Sorry?”
“What is it that you miss most from the old days? Before the Sickness?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“I like to reward the people under my care when they have a brilliant idea.”
“No, Hannah, that’s not necessary. It’s just common sense.”
“Sometimes, and I’m sure the major would agree, common sense is awful hard to find.”
“That’s a fact, ma’am,” agreed Major O’Malley. He took the opportunity to study Nicole, obviously enjoying her presence.
“So, again, Nicole, I ask what is it that you miss from the old days? Chocolate? Wine? A certain food?”
Nicole shifted CJ in her arms and smiled, thinking warmly of her past. The major felt a glowing warmth of his own fed by her smile. Nicole felt quite fond of Hannah Starkes. It was refreshing to have another female around. She glanced quickly at Major O’Malley, grinning mischievously.
“Well, Nicole?” prompted the colonel.
“I guess what I miss the most is a sweet and gentle kiss from a strong and handsome man.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. One in uniform,” she said, staring brazenly at the major.
Colonel Starkes was surprised by Nicole’s bold approach. When it came to flirtation, the colonel was more old school than most, but she realized the social code of conduct now was entirely different than prior to the Sickness. Nobody danced around the issue anymore; time was too short.
“I think I understand, Nicole. Would you call the major ‘handsome’?”
Nicole studied the major, going so far as to circle the man twice and gazing with an appraising eye. “Yes, Hannah, I think the word ‘handsome’ easily applies to the major.”
“And you recognize, of course, that he is, in fact, in uniform?”
“I have noticed that, yes.” Major O’Malley straightened to his full height and expanded his chest, following Nicole with his eyes.
“Nicole, in your opinion, would the major meet the criteria you’ve established?”
“Yes, Hannah, I do believe that he meets that criteria.”
The colonel turned sharply to face the major. In his eyes was a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Major?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I order you to provide a sweet and gentle kiss to the young lady.”
“Ma’am?”
“Are my orders unclear, major?”
“Yes, ma’am… I mean, no, ma’am.”
“Then, proceed. I’ll leave you for now. I have some business to attend to with Shamus. Nicole, I’ll look after CJ for a while—I think you need a break. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, major. We’ll discuss how to put Nicole’s leaflet plan into effect.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
CHAPTER 2.17-Ground Rules
“Do you care to fill me in on the rest of the ground rules, sir?” It was evening and the three had settled around the small fire in the living room of a fairly spacious house. They had laid several blankets and pillows on the floor near the fire, creating a very comfortable area. It was slow talk time and Amanda leaned cozily against Connor’s shoulder, staring into the fire and absently twirling a strand of her hair. She occasionally cast a glance in Marty’s direction, finding the new stranger interesting.
Marty sat slightly apart from the couple with an excellent view of the rear door. Conversely, Connor and Amanda kept an eye on the long hallway leading to the front door. Pleasantly tired, they knew discussions concerning nighttime guard duty rotation were necessary, but for now, each rested, stomachs full from grilled venison and canned corn. It was a good time for easy discussion.
Connor crawled on his hands and knees the few feet to the fire, added another small log collected earlier, and returned to Amanda’s side. He glanced at Marty. “Were you still active when it hit?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Still recon?”
“Technically, yes. I guess I’d still be officially active if there was an operating military. Whatever that’s worth. I was on leave in my home state of Washington, near Seattle when it hit. It kicked ass all along the west coast.”
“Yeah, it was bad everywhere from what I’ve seen. What was your rank?”
“Captain. What about you, Connor Mac?”
“Colonel.”
“No shit, sir? Lieutenant Colonel?”
“Nope. Full bird.”
“Wow, sir. I’ve never seen a full bird so young.”
“Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’d like to know why you’re carrying an M40-A1 SWS? It’s a beautiful weapon and all, but it’s heavy and it has a limited usefulness in today’s close assaults. To further complicate matters, I figure ammo’s impossible to find for it.”
Marty reached over to caress the barrel of his weapon. “I guess you can blame the Corp for me keeping it. You’d probably understand that, Connor Mac. Like your M-4, this weapon is who I am.”
“I hear that.”
“Once the bird flu hit,” continued Marty, “I found out I was missing it, you know? I had to find one. Because, by then, I was in a seriously killing mood.”
“I see.”
“It was surprisingly easy enough to find one. I wasn’t too far from the Seattle Armory and when I arrived there, it was under siege by a half dozen men, trying to arm themselves for the end or the world. When they rushed the front door, I picked them off, one by one, from a hillside two hundred yards away with a scoped .22. After that, I simply walked down the hill and knocked on the door.”
“No kidding?”
“There were three soldiers inside, young guys, two privates and a corporal. After I slid my military ID under the door, they let me in. They were scared shitless and had no direction. I told them to disable all the weapons bigger than a rifle, choose something for themselves, and leave. They didn’t realize that there would be more people coming to take the guns from the armory and that those desperate people would breach the door and eventually overtake them.”
“I see.”
“And I’m not short on ammo, sir—at least, not yet. I still have 173 heavy rounds packed and twenty more in the pockets of my jacket.”
“Wow! That much ammo’s gotta weigh a ton. Show me,” demanded Connor.
“Sure,” answered Marty. He pulled his pack onto his lap and carefully removed a thick black nylon bag. He unzipped the side of the bag and handed it to Connor using both hands. It was obvious that the weight of the bag was substantial.
Connor took the bag from Marty. “I’ll be damned,” he said after he had pulled a round from the bag and held it up to the firelight. “That’s fucking awesome, Marty.”
“Yes, sir, I know. And all of ’em are matched loads made by Dale Perkins in Dallas. You ever hear of him?”