“No kidding.”
“What’s her name? She tell you?”
“Amanda Abbington.”
“Amanda Abbington. Okay then. Let’s go. All of us, c’mon.”
Hustling, they reached Amanda’s room only to see Cassie trying desperately to keep the young woman calm. Amanda was trying hard to sit up, despite her weakened state and was being met with fierce resistance and consoling words.
“Amanda!” yelled Colonel Starkes, entering the room.
“Who’re you? Huh? This can’t wait. Get me the damn president!”
“I am the damn president!”
Amanda ceased thrashing and stared. Taking stock, she relaxed under Cassie’s firm pressure, slipping deep into the pillow with a heavy sigh.
“Okay… alright. We’re making some progress… I guess.”
Nearing the bedside, Colonel Starkes slowed, calming herself. Scott, O’Malley and Daubney took position around her; each glanced at the other and then Amanda, evaluating.
“You’ve been out for awhile, Amanda. And, in case you’re wondering, because you probably are, your baby’s doing just fine.”
“Oh.” Amanda’s eyes took on a brief faraway stare.
“You’re President Starkes?”
“In the flesh.”
“We… we got your letter.”
“Obviously.”
“And Connor Mac?” asked Amanda, hopeful.
“Umm… we’ve yet to meet the man.”
“Shit! What… what happened… after I got shot?”
“Well, let’s see—”
“Tell me!”
“Hold on! Here’s how it was. Mickey and his crew gathered you up from the first floor of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame like a sack of potatoes.”
“Uh, huh.”
“They carried you to the command center while a huge firefight took off. And, from there, we high-tailed it outta the Hall of Fame like it was on fire, bringing you with us.”
“Oh.”
“In fact, we jumped onto our bird right when Phoenix’s men laid on a full frontal assault to take the building.”
“Phoenix?”
“The sniveling, evil rat prick bastard who thinks he runs Cleveland.” The growl beneath the colonel’s voice came through easily. She sought a modicum of calm, slightly embarrassed.
“Oh,” said Amanda.
“After we cut loose, we slipped away as they swarmed the building. But, I’m happy to say that your warning helped me keep all my men safe and sound. Barely a few scratches.”
“A huh.”
“So I owe you a debt of gratitude, Amanda Abbington.”
“But… Connor Mac?”
“He never made it. We never saw him. Was he nearby?”
“Crap!” said Amanda. She flopped onto the pillow, frustrated. After a few seconds, she squinted in pain and reached up to touch the bandage on her head. Momentarily shocked at the lack of hair on her left side, her eyes flew open. Breathing deeply, she released the tension in her shoulders and slid deeper into the pillow. Nearly spent, she made a final effort to compose herself.
“I need to find him, Madam President. And Marty, too.”
“Please call me Hannah. I’m Hannah Starkes.”
“I need to find them, Hannah.”
“Yep. You and me both.”
CHAPTER 7.10-Thinking Big
“They were here, Phoenix. At least a party of ten, maybe fifteen.” Having already assessed the area along with his junior trackers, Luke Killington confirmed that many men had stayed at least a week in residence at the Youngtown steel mill. And, he noted a pretty decent and conscientious effort directed toward concealing this fact.
“You sure?”
Luke was growing pretty tired of such questions from both Phoenix and Larry Reed. Reflectively, he took in the view of the mill once more from his spot atop the huge pile of rusting steel. At his side, Phoenix kept his eyes roving the area, creating a mental map; Larry just looked tired.
“They were here. Left not too long ago, maybe a day. Maybe two, but spent some time, waiting.” The stale presence of the men who’d recently vacated the area along with the slight tang of many old cooking fires filled Luke’s nostrils well above the wash of unclean men and horses quickly converging into the mill. He was surprised the two men beside him had to ask, since the stale smells of the strangers were still so strong in the air.
“Waiting for what or who?” asked Reed.
“Don’t know. Just that they were waiting… before they left,” said Luke.
“Uh, huh.”
“Give me another hour and I’ll tell you where they headed.”
“Take your time, Luke. We still have about an hour daylight left. Uncle?”
“Yeah?” said Larry.
“Set up camp and have the men settle in for the day.”
“I’ll let the Brigade Commanders know.”
“Post extra guards and tell ’em to keep a sharp eye out for the Bitch and her bird.”
“Yep.”
“Don’t forget she and her team can run at night.”
“Nope, I won’t.” Larry left to attend to the orders, leaving Luke and Phoenix atop the rusting steel billet.
Pleased at mission progress, but recognizing the furious pace he had put on his men, Phoenix sat atop the steel stacks, sweeping his binoculars slightly northwest. Close by, a faded street sign declared they had entered on Martin Luther King Boulevard leading into the main front yard of the old, crumbling mill. Farther down the weed-infested road, his 620 men began assembling onto the mill grounds. With satisfaction, he tracked all five well-trained Pride Brigades, each in loose, but separate forty-man formations. Granted, many men had had to merge with new units after the firefight back in Cleveland, but they did so almost seamlessly. Searching the front and outer edges of the approaching men, he spotted several of his nineteen man trackers, not counting Luke, making their way into the mill yard.
“Look at that shit, huh?” Phoenix whispered to himself.
The trackers decided camp was on and that the expedition would settle in for the night. Phoenix inspected his men more in depth. Interspersed throughout, his forty-man logistic/supply managing team was easily located, since each wore the requisite Cleveland Brown bandanna. Already, the “log-sups” as they were called, were passing out MREs and water. And, several were busting up old pallets and scrap lumber and dragging them to a central area for a large community fire. A fire that would be used for the twenty-five geese, six doe, and pack of plump, wild dogs they’d managed to scrape together today while in transit to supplement their food supply. Staring farther into the mix, Phoenix caught the intense energy of his Brigade commanders screaming out orders and assigning night patrol. Luke cleared his throat and Phoenix turned. For a moment, he’d forgotten about the man, he was so quiet, like a wolf eyeing up his next meal and waiting to strike.
“How’re you handling third in command for this mission?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“It’s good, sir.”
“Make sure the men do what they need to do.”
“That won’t be a problem, sir.”
“See that it’s not.”
Phoenix had promoted Luke passed several Pride Brigade commanders. By doing so, Phoenix wanted to ruffle a few feathers, and stress to his men that he rewarded for results and results only. Luke and his team had nearly taken the escalators of the Hall of Fame under heavy return fire and at great risk during the surprise assault. Besides, Luke had risen quickly in the ranks to top tracker since his arrival in Cleveland. And, based on his reported ability to handle the shipping docks as a lead foreman back in Long Beach before the Sickness, he’d developed a knack for keeping hard-minded men in tow. Which, his men certainly were.
“How far have we come today, Luke?”