Extinction Level Event (Book 4): Rescue

by Jones, K. J.

  “She’s traumatized, huh?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  He shrugged.

  “See if Jayce is emotionally ready to assist.”

  “He looks restless.”

  “See if that’s a go. Don’t touch the whole Nia issue. Angela will freak out.”

  “I don’t want to deal with a mother freaking out.”

  “Especially a black mother.”

  He cocked a brow. “Is that a right thing to say?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Wasn’t that kind of racist?”

  “Go away, white boy. You have your orders.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  They heard his footfalls walking towards the stairs.

  “Goddamn snowflake generation,” Mazy said. “I refuse to have white people dictate to me what’s not right for me to say about black people. Shove a boot up his millennial ass.”

  “Found a passport.” Phebe held it up.

  “Well done. We got a name.”

  “Rupert Leon St. James. Uhm. Rupert?”

  Mazy chuckled. “Welcome to the South, where we love our colorful names.”

  “What do we do with ole Rupert now?”

  “You ever do anything for the dead you’ve worked with?”

  Phebe shrugged. “Try to find out what happened to them and if it was murder, help try to find who did it and bring them to justice.”

  “Well, that is certainly something. But nothing spiritual?”

  “No. Not really. I knew an ME who talked to the bodies. But, no, nothing, like, ritualistic.” She chuckled. “We’d be considered a little off-center if we lit candles and did some kind of ritual for skeletons.” She then shuttered. “That actually freaks me out a little. The visualization my mind just did. You’re not going to light candles, are you?”

  Mazy looked around. “We need whatever candles he didn’t burn down. Nightfall will come.”

  “It always seems to.”

  “We’ll have all kinds of fun times walking around in the dark carrying candles. Make us relate to the olden days.”

  “Except for the stupid big dresses they wore. I’d trip and burn me and the house down.”

  “You are too agile.”

  “No. Not when it comes to long skirts. I get a little challenged then. Or high heels. At my height, heels really don’t come into play much.”

  “Nonsense. Tall women are beautiful.”

  “Not when you’re taller than the average man. Awkward, ya know.”

  “I’d wear my heels no matter my height.”

  “You’re a high heels woman?”

  “Damn right. I love my shoes. And doing my hair and makeup. A cute outfit.”

  “Hmm. Can’t picture that.”

  “Huh?” Mazy looked hurt.

  “No, I mean, I never saw you in any of that.”

  “Hard to fight zoms in heels and a cute outfit.”

  Phebe stared at her, trying to picture her glamoured up.

  “I gotta do this.” Mazy stood in front of the dead man. She gulped and squatted down. “Mr. Rupert, sir.” Her face scrunched. “Are those his dried up eyeballs in those sockets?”

  Phebe came over and looked. “Yeah. The eyes are still in there.”

  “Mother of God.” She crossed herself.

  Phebe’s hand habitually moved to do the same. She stopped herself midway through, wondering what she was doing.

  “Mr. Rupert, sir, I’d like your permission for us to live in your beautiful house. We won’t mess it up. I promise.”

  3.

  Shit rolls downhill. The lowest rank had to dig the grave for Mr. Rupert. Mullen whined and took too many breaks.

  Ben grew annoyed, so he put Pell in charge of the lower ranks. He could hear the Marine laying into the undisciplined civilians every few minutes.

  He walked the back of the yard behind the building, searching for weak points. An ugly gray cement block wall marked the end of the property. It could be climbed by a determined healthy person and a monkey boy like Tyler. An alley lane ran between the back of the houses.

  “Why can’t Jayce help me?” Mullen’s complaining voice.

  “Cos you need to learn to do the hard things, geek boy.”

  “Shit, man. Pell, you suck.”

  Ben opened a back gate and walked the alley lane. He peered over fences at historic mansions. The elaborate wealth they displayed made him feel a bit sick. So much money concentrated into so few hands.

  The reservation’s community center wasn’t half as nice.

  He pulled his attention away from that and focused on tactical. The end of the backyard would have to be reinforced, especially the gate. He looked upwards, scanning the higher positions. The idea of a sniper was probably ludicrous, but it was an old habit. He mentally noted positions that gave clear shots to the house they were to occupy.

  “There’s a pool,” a familiar voice yelled.

  He would have to return to learn the terrain. Securing and familiarizing himself with the house and property came first.

  And finding out what Mullen was yelling about.

  4.

  “Would you please not yell, idiot.” Ben entered an indoor pool area and stopped. “Holy shit.”

  “Check this out, man.” Mullen was overly excited. He was filthy. Dirt all over his clothes and skin. “It doesn’t even have dead people in it.”

  “Looks pretty clean,” said Jayce.

  “Good,” responded Ben. “We may have to use that to bathe.”

  The young ones wrinkled their noses in dislike.

  “Bathe,” said Jayce. “In a pool?”

  Ben shrugged. “Gotta do what ya gotta do, man.”

  The boys looked at the pool with displeasure.

  “I don’t wanna do that,” Jayce told Mullen.

  “Will it be everyone at once?”

  Ben took a good look around, then proceeded through another interior door.

  What had been presumed to be servants quarters – and maybe they were once upon a time – was now guest bedrooms and facilities usually found in hotels.

  Wandering around, he found a billiards room. At least there would be stuff to do.

  Then he wondered if the door could be locked, picturing the young ones in here too often since they didn’t like hard work.

  Life without amenities promised a lot of hard work to come.

  He followed hallways and went through doors until he found a connecting hall, illuminated by skylights, and entered the kitchen. No one there. He walked into the original main house. No one there. Noises on the stairs. He went to the base and looked up.

  It was hard to ignore the beauty of the architecture. A plaster medallion on the ceiling at the top of the elliptical staircase. He had never seen anything like it before.

  Emily struggled to carry something.

  “Want some help?”

  “Oh, God, please. Thank you.”

  He took the stairs up to her. She had the body wrapped in a rug.

  “I don’t know why they thought I could handle this alone.” She was sweating. Her blond hair in a ponytail disheveled.

  “Here. I got it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mazy and Phebe worked together on the chair.

  “A chair. Two of them.” Emily tisked her tongue.

  “It’s heavy, doll face,” Mazy said. “Mr. Rupert barely weighs anything.”

  Just as they brought the body and chair outside, Pell, Angela, and Nia came through the front, carrying cages of upset chickens.

  “They’ll need some water,” said Pell. “Nia, sort that out. You’re in charge of them.”

  “I know nothing of chickens, Brandon.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  “What do they eat?”

  “Bugs. For now. Until we find feed.”

  He released the chickens, then backed away from a pissed off rooster. It ran at him, flapping its wings.

  The others laughed.

 
; “Get him,” Mazy goaded.

  “He’s got a nail in the back,” said Brandon. “It can cut a person bad. Don’t know what it’s called. Just know it hurts.”

  Phebe stared off.

  Mazy snapped her fingers in front of her eyes. “No thinking, sister. Back to work.”

  Phebe sighed and pushed off from the pillar she leaned against. “Guess we bust up the chair for firewood.”

  Angela asked, “Are there a lot of fireplaces?” She looked tired. Wearing the same clothes she escaped the island in, they were dirty and smelled of fire. She had found a bandana to cover her hair.

  Phebe stared at the patterned blue cloth on her head. It was Julio’s.

  “There’s a wood-burning oven,” said Mazy.

  “That’ll be helpful,” responded Angela. “I never cooked in one, but I have camped a lot, being married to Jackson for so long. Hopefully, it’s not too different.”

  “First,” said Mazy. “For the inside crew, we need to get this place livable.”

  “Isn’t it?” asked Ben. “Some mattresses need to be set up, but other than that.”

  “You are such a guy.”

  He smiled. “I’m missing something, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  “You are outside crew, mister. How’s the perimeter?”

  “Bad in the back. That front gate needs work.”

  “Got a lot of work then. I was thinking of an SUV with a flat back end to go flush with the gate.”

  “Okay. You go do your girly stuff and I’ll do the manly stuff.” He winked at her.

  She turned to Phebe, “What is it you say? Oh, yeah. I’ll punch you later, Ben.”

  “There’s an indoor pool.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “And a game room with a pool table.”

  “Wow. The Ritz.”

  Phebe said, “I gotta get to work.” Emotions threatened to break through

  Angela clapped her hands. “That’s right. Everyone, get to work. There’s a lot to do and working is the best remedy right now. Let’s get to it, y’all.”

  The chickens found bugs.

  5.

  No one wanted the bedroom in which the homeowner died. For all the claims of not being superstitious, they all feared he’d haunt the room. Phebe scrubbed the mess on the floor where he had sat. And bleached until the wood boards were lighter there than anywhere else. Bleaching hardwood was probably not the best thing for the wood. It was disinfected, though.

  She received the bedroom beneath it, large enough for double occupancy. An attached bathroom. Queen sized, four-poster bed. The sheets smelled clean. Good thing, since the available sheets in the linen closet were going fast and the idea of handwashing bedlinens was beyond her skill set.

  She sat on the bed, feeling small and lost. There was only one bag to bring in from the trawler – that which she packed during bug-out from the eco-mansion. It was mostly her and Peter’s ZBDUs and their pills from the side-tables. The amount of clothes she had left on the trawler could fill a shopping bag.

  A clothing loot would be necessary soon.

  The same old same old.

  But now everything had changed.

  A sob burst out of her mouth. Pain in her chest beneath the sternum. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She keeled over onto the bedspread, hugged a pillow, and wept.

  The sobs came so fast and hard, she raced to the toilet.

  But there was no water to wash the vomit away. Whatever was in the pipes was gone now.

  And no water to brush her teeth. Not that she had a toothbrush or toothpaste. A total start over.

  But now everything was different.

  Standing in the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Scant lighting came in from the open bedroom windows. Just enough to see her reflection. The sink was surrounded by decorative items and a fancy soap dispenser with a matching toothbrush holder.

  She screamed. Her arm swept the counter. Breakables shattered as they hit the tile floor. She punched the mirror.

  “Smart.” Ben leaned against the doorframe. Arms crossed over his chest. “Break your hand. That’ll be so helpful.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you’re practicing for a play then.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I know how you’re feeling.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’ve lost buddies.”

  “Yeah? Did you lose your spouse too?”

  “Give him time. We don’t know he didn’t make it. And … I did lose a spouse. Just not to war.”

  She turned to him. “You were married?”

  “She died. Illness.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. Takes a while to get … not over it, but … something. Used to it, I guess. Same with lost buddies. But the first waves of it are the hardest. Unless shock sets in. Shock … the numbness, feels so much better. The mourning catches up, though. Eventually.”

  “Which are you in now?”

  “Shock. I did anger and vengeance for Julio, so check that off the list.”

  “Wish I had killed a bunch of those assholes, too.”

  “If I had known how it would play out, I’d have had you come with me. Ty, too. We could’ve opened up on a whole shit load of ‘em. I saw them. The ones that set themselves on fire. By a pool. If I had only known.”

  “How are we going to do this, Ben?”

  “Which part? Survival? The possibility of continued losses? The guys not showing up yet? There’s probably more on the list. Oh. The US Armed Forces trying to kill us again?”

  “That last one should be the easiest. We just die. Finally get some genuine sleep.”

  He chuckled. “That’s true. Hey, do you believe in an afterlife?”

  “I’m starting too.”

  “Good. Cos Maze wants us to attend this guy’s funeral.”

  “Really?”

  “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

  “How so? Are we gonna sacrifice one of the chickens?”

  “Nia would get upset with us.”

  She followed him out.

  “Is that good for her to get attached to them? Aren’t we going to eat them?”

  “I think,” he said, “we’re going to eat their grown babies, is the plan.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll feel different after you’ve gone without meat for a while.”

  “Another wonderful thing to look forward to.”

  “We’ll get through this. People have gotten through worse.”

  He put his arm over her shoulders.

  “Worse is a bottomless pit, Ben.”

  6.

  Rupert’s funeral was primarily focused on him resting in peace and not haunting them. They couldn’t go any deeper, or their emotions would surface. It was not a memorial for all those lost. Only putting Rupert into the ground.

  The guys patted their shovels over the dirt mound. Tree branches functioned as a cross. Somebody carved Rupert into one. It was nice. More than what the rest of the former residents of Historic Charleston received.

  Back to work.

  Rupert certainly had supply hoarded. Every first-floor closet was filled floor-to-ceiling. Cases of bottled water. Loads of canned foods, including Chef Boyardee and off brands of the same contents. Boxed milk that wouldn’t need refrigeration until opened. Boxes of soup stock: beef broth, chicken, and vegetable. But nothing that indicated he had been a prepper before R140. Or maybe COVID-19. Nothing freeze-dried that was ordered online. A dead survivalist prepper’s house would be highly desirable.

  Upstairs, they found the paper goods horde. Enough TP to last the whole group a while. Boxes of facial tissue. And even wipes for a clean, refreshing feeling.

  “We gotta figure out a potty place,” said Mazy. “Outside.”

  Emily whispered to her, “I’m not finding tampons.�
�

  “If there was no woman here, why would Mr. Rupert have tampons?”

  “Nonetheless, we’ll have to locate them.”

  “Is it imminent?”

  “No. But in a week or so.”

  “Mine’s the same. We have time then.”

  Mazy had promised Rupert they’d not mess up his house. The first thing the guys did was mess up his house. They moved anything superfluous out of the way on the bottom floor. She heard glass shattering sounds from downstairs.

  “Y’all!” She rocketed down the elliptical staircase. “Don’t wreck the house.”

  Too late. A broken mess in the dining room.

  She sighed. “Hope he haunts y’all and not me. I didn’t do it.”

  Ben walked into the room, fiddling with his ZBDUs. He didn’t seem to notice the broken things. “I need a team to walk the neighborhood. Pell, you’re on it. You gotta get used to the sights.”

  “Affirm, gunny.”

  Mazy wanted to laugh at the random Marine responses to a superior. It felt out of place, standing in the middle of a mess in a grand dining room in a two-hundred-year-old house.

  Ben received no volunteers, so he conscripted. “Mullen, Ty, you’re with me. Jayce, you got door guard duty, so grab an M4. We operate by experience.”

  Mazy nodded, approving his idea.

  Tyler asked, “Shouldn’t Pheebs come with us then?”

  Mazy said, “I want her here with me. Y’all go. Be careful. Watch each other’s backs.” Her gaze went to Tyler and Mullen. “No fucking around.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said in sync and saluted her.

  Outside, Angela broke up the soiled antique chair. Nia carried in the firewood it produced. Rupert had bundles of kindling and logs on the hearths of fireplaces around the house. Some were still in the wraps, showing they had been bought at the supermarket. All of it needed to be collected for the kitchen. Food came before warmth. The nights could be chilly, but hardly near freezing.

  Mazy figured Angela would be in charge of preparing food since she actually had cooked meals for more than a handful of people at a dinner party. Mazy had cooked, and she thought herself quite good at it. But she had only ever done her cooking with electricity. How to do it on an open fire? She hoped Angela could figure that out.

  The starving boys had already dug into cans of ravioli and SpaghettiOs. Everyone drank their fill of bottled water. The males had no issue urinating right off the piazza. The females were more complicated.