Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  Irina had his brother up on the fence like she’d done for Mary.

  A small weight lifted from Manny’s shoulders as he set his brother next to the girls. It was nice to have someone else to depend on, someone to help—to not be completely alone. He spun back to lift the last niño. Mikey leapt from the fence, hitting Manny squarely in the chest. Wrapping his arms around the small body, he staggered back. His foot punched through spongy refuse. Rats squealed. Dampness oozed against his ankle. With one hand, he caught himself on an overflowing dumpster. Mush trickled through his fingers.

  Irina jumped to the ground behind him. Glass crunched.

  “Did you hear that?” A woman’s voice cut the night; her accent sharpened the consonants at the beginning and end of words.

  Not Irina’s voice. Manny’s heart stopped before battering his ribs. Holy shit! Still carrying Mikey, he grabbed the hand of the nearest niño and lurched forward. His gaze bounced from one side of the alley to the other. Hiding spots. The darkness swallowed his markers.

  Stumbling sounded behind him.

  He turned to check on the others. Light shone over the block fence at the end of the alley. If she looked this way, she might spot them. Please, God, no. Manny spun around and that’s when he saw it. A milk jug sitting atop a large dumpster.

  One hiding space. Heat surged through his body. They might make it. He trudged forward. His feet found the familiar spots to step, keeping the noise to a minimum. Rats scattered in front of him.

  “You’re always hearing stuff, Candy.” Light arced over the sky before a loud thump rolled down the alley.

  A soft mewl sounded behind Manny. Irina must have recognized the voice or the name. All the more reason to not get caught. He didn’t slow, but shook himself free and used one hand to push open the lid of the can. Just as he designed, the garbage on top remained immoveable and silent. He managed to lift Mikey over the edge and set him inside the empty container.

  A loud oomph followed the scattering of debris. “Why couldn’t we use the streets?”

  A hand gripped Manny’s bicep, and then a foot placed itself on his thigh. He grabbed hold of the person and lifted him in. Fabric scratched his palms. Jose. The two boys sunk into the belly of the can.

  Damn. It wasn’t big enough to hold them all.

  “Because we don’t want to get caught with the guns.” Sitting on the brick fence, Candy held the flashlight up to her face, bleaching her tan skin. “You know the plan.”

  Irina puffed to a stop behind him and tried to shove Mary into his arm.

  Manny set Mary on his hip then reached down and grabbed Irina’s hand, jerking her forward. “In.”

  The niños stood a better chance of surviving if they split up.

  She tugged on her hand for a moment.

  He held firm.

  With a sigh, she braced her free hand on the rim and used his bent leg as a step. She paused on the lip and a soft grunt echoed in the can. Finally she slid inside.

  “The plan sucks.” The other gangbanger said. “Come on, I’ll catch you.”

  Manny lowered the lid, scooped up his sister and jogged down the alley. Where was the other hiding spot? The blobs all looked the same. He passed one house. Then two. The racket behind him told him the other girl had gotten off the fence.

  Shit. Had he passed his other hiding spot? He ran by yet another house. His thighs burned from jogging over the uneven ground. Still no sign of the coffee can.

  “Hurry up.” Candy snapped. “We can’t be late.”

  Warmth seeped through his shirts. Manny detected the odor of urine above the decomposition. Mary tightened her stranglehold around his neck. Aches laced across his shoulders from carrying the two girls. His foot came down on something and his knee popped.

  Pain bolted up his body, ricocheted inside his skull. The next step threatened to bring him to his knees. Hide. They needed to hide now. The night fractured ahead. Manny limped forward. It was a gate. And miracle, it was open.

  “You have something in your hair.” Candy laughed.

  A chill trickled down Manny’s spine. It wasn’t a nice laugh. The villains in those kiddie movies laughed like that.

  “Eww!” her companion spat. “Did I get it out?”

  Their stupid chatter didn’t fool him. Those girls would kill him if given the chance. He had to make sure they didn’t get the chance. Using his elbow, he pushed the gate open a bit further. The hinges screamed in his ear.

  “There!” Cindy shouted. “Tell me you didn’t hear that.”

  He squeezed through the opening. Splinters grabbed at his jacket and burrowed into the fabric. Panting, he ducked behind the gate. His knee gave out and he dropped to the ground, releasing the girls. Their legs came free then they released him. Twisting as he fell, he landed on his backpack. He heard the plastic swoosh as the margarine containers popped open and milk gushed down his back.

  With a swish of weeds, the ninas landed on either side of him and curled up against him. Neither uttered a word.

  He pulled them close. Their hearts raced like pent-up hummingbirds’ under his hands. He raised his head to stare at the gate. The arc of the flashlight’s beam cut across the opening.

  “I know I heard something.” Cindy growled as the circle of light shining through the slats of the gate intensified.

  God! If they looked, they would see him and the girls. His knives were in his pack and he didn’t have a clue where he’d left the bat. They were defenseless.

  “Go check that backyard.” Candy directed.

  Manny froze. The light was squarely on the gate and fully round. The two gangbangers couldn’t be more than five feet away. Lucia stiffened and gulped air near his ear. A second later, small paws crawled across his belly.

  The rat’s red beady eyes stared at Manny. In the slivers of light cutting through the wooden slats, he saw its whiskers twitch.

  “You check.” The other woman countered. “You have the flashlight.”

  Manny pressed closer to the ground. In order for them to go away, they needed to find a source of the noise. Something other than him. And it had better work. Freeing his arm from around Lucia, he pinched the stiff tail and lifted. The rat squeaked as he threw it toward the gate. It landed with a thump outside the beam of light. Damn, why couldn’t it have worked?

  “There. You see,” Cindy gloated. “I told you I heard a noise.”

  The light dropped to the ground and the gate creaked open. Manny braced his foot against it. If they didn’t buy the rat, maybe he could slam it shut, giving least Mary and Lucia enough time to get into the street and find a better hiding space. They could find Irina and be safe, after he led the gangbangers away.

  He crooked his knee a little bit more to accommodate the opening gate. Muscles bunched. He’d shut it on the count of three. Two.

  The rat waddled across the beam of light.

  One of the gangbanger’s screamed, splitting the silence like a hatchet.

  “It’s a fucking rat.” One punched the gate. “Just like I said. Now let’s go, before they decide to eat us like they did to that old woman today.”

  Old woman. Today. Basia. Irina’s grandmother.

  “Did you see her twitch?” Candy chuckled. “I think she was alive when they started munching.”

  Fucking bitches! Manny sat up. Small hands grabbed hold of his arms and tugged at him.

  “You want to see what happens to it when I hit it with this tazer?” Candy giggled before a soft ticking disturbed the night and blue light pulsed in the darkness. The rat emitted a long screech and the scent of burning hair added to the stench. “Look, I can make it dance.”

  The blue light crackled again. Off then on. Off then on. The hands on his arms tightened until his fingers tingled.

  “Come on.” The companion muttered. “We’re going to be late.”

  The blue light flashed again. Smoke drifted through the yellow beam. “Like they can start without us. We have the guns.”

  T
hey had guns, too? Manny gouged the dirt.

  A popping like distant fireworks exploded in the night.

  “Not all of them,” the companion drawled.

  The light disappeared shortly before footsteps clattered on the garbage. “Hurry before we miss all the fun.”

  Fun? They thought gunfights were fun? Why hadn’t they died in the Redaction? After the footsteps died away, he counted to sixty, and then counted again. Was it safe to move? Would more gangbangers be coming?

  And just who were they terrorizing?

  Some hapless homeowner? Another gang encroaching on their territory? Maybe the bastards would kill each other and be done with it.

  One thing was for sure, they couldn’t stay here. He’d rather face the soldiers than the Aspero. Irina was damn lucky to have survived her encounter. Manny pushed himself to his feet. Twinges spiraled through him as he put weight on his knee. Bending over, he massaged the cap and the pain receded. Just a bad twist, not broken. God only knew what he’d do with a break. The only way to get into the hospitals was to call the ambulance.

  He’d rather die than draw that kind of attention and risk his family.

  A rustle and grunt sounded behind him before he felt the familiar tug on his shirt. Should he leave them and go find Irina and the boys? His chest tightened at the thought. As dangerous as traveling with them was, splitting up was more so. He shuffled forward and stuck his head through the gate.

  Just them and the rats.

  But for how long?

  Yells punctuated the rat-a-tat-tat of semiautomatic gunfire.

  Please, God, let it draw the attention of the soldiers. Stepping over the twitching rat’s body, Manny slipped into the alley.

  A shadow grew from the mound of garbage. “Manny.” Irina’s arms wrapped around his chest. “I thought they’d killed you.”

  Smaller arms encircled his waist and thigh. He patted each head. Mikey’s ball cap. Jose’s rolled up ski mask. Irina’s long, dark curls. He forced his hands to his side, and then pulled out of their embrace. “Let’s go while they’re fighting each other.”

  After brushing Lucia’s pom-pom, he led them the hundred yards to the end of the alley. Pausing by the entrance onto the street, he glanced left. Blasts of white light shot from the muzzle of their weapons and illuminated a tank. Bullets pinged the reinforced metal while dozens of gangbangers whooped and cheered.

  Jesus.

  The Aspero were taking on the Marines.

  Lead settled in his gut and filled him with an unbearable weight. Why weren’t the soldiers firing back?

  As if in answer, the turret swung to the side and spat light and death. The rounds ripped through two men; they fell in pieces to the ground still clutching their weapons. The crowd darted as the turret span, cutting them down as they fled. A trio retreated behind a dumpster beside a burned-out convenience store.

  A loud boom rattled the block fence at his back. A blast of red shoved against the darkness and a loud whistle filled the air.

  Manny looked right. Holy shit! He pulled back as the tank rumbled by. A soldier popped up from the open hatch and fired. The ground shook as bloody light mushroomed in the darkness.

  “Soldiers,” Lucia whispered.

  “Good soldiers.” Manny peered around the corner. Nothing to his right. The fight continued to his left. Muzzle fire burped from the side of the tank, cutting down the gangbangers who ran as it joined its match at the intersection.

  The whop-whop of a helicopter sounded in the distance.

  Manny glanced across the seven-lane street. They’d have to make a run for it if they planned to make it. Scooping Mary into his arms, he grabbed Lucia’s cold hand and broke clear of the sanctuary of the alley.

  Footsteps pounded behind him. As soon as they reached the double yellow lines of the suicide lane, Lucia stumbled. He jerked his hand in the air, keeping her from falling.

  Faster. Faster! He fought the urge to sprint, knowing his sister couldn’t keep up. With his chest heaving, his breathing crashed in waves in his ears. He leapt over the gutter, landing on the sidewalk. Lucia panted at his side.

  Gravel flew under his shoes as he darted for the mesquite tree. Desiccated seed pods rattled and thorns scratched his scalp as he ducked under the low branches. Turning to protect Mary, he body-slammed the block fence surrounding the gated community.

  With oomph, Lucia collided with his belly.

  Irina and the boys rushed under the canopy as the spotlight swept the street. “Do you—” she gasp “—think they’ve … seen us?”

  Manny gulped in a lungful of air. The light did not come back, but the gunfire continued. “Let’s not stick around to find out.”

  Setting Mary down, he followed the wall away from the firefight. According to the map he’d memorized, the drainage ditch leading from the gated community was about two hundred yards away. Once they crawled under the opening in the fence, they’d be right next to their new home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trent Powers eased his arm out from under the slut, Belinda. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of vanilla and sex.

  Lots of sex.

  Her Sexts were shallow hints at the kink she’d begged for. He rolled her onto her back. Candlelight sparked off the nipple clamps. He tugged on the chain connecting the two and she moaned.

  Even in her sleep, she liked pain. Trent jerked off the cuffs.

  Her back arched and she groaned. Blood beaded in the scrapes on the side of her nipples. He slapped the oversized globe. “Like that, do you?”

  She moaned again. After a raspy breath, her nubile body sank into the pillowtop mattress.

  Leaning over her, Trent sucked the raspberry bud into his mouth and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh. Nothing. The metallic tinge of her blood mingled with the sweet residue of whipping cream. She had better be as clean as she claimed. Locking his gaze on her face, he bit harder.

  Not even a flicker of an eyelash.

  Good old GHB. The handy date rape drug had gotten him laid more times than the most expensive dinners. Not that he’d needed it with her. Unlike his other dates, this whore actually liked taking it up the ass. He spat out her tit and threw off the black satin comforter. Dildos, butt plugs, beads and tubes of flavored lube rolled onto the floor.

  Trent adjusted his flaccid cock before cleaning the sticky residue on the bed spread. A flutter of pink caught his attention. Picking up the feather, he rubbed the silkiness between his thumb and forefinger. Should he?

  Bending over, he plucked the padded handcuffs off the floor. Thanks to the wine she’d drunk during dinner, she should be out for a couple of hours.

  Long enough for him to do what he’d came for.

  He spun the closed loop around his finger. Still… Bending forward, he grabbed her hand, snapped the cuff around her wrist and secured it to the headboard. He kicked the whip aside and picked up another set of handcuffs. For a moment, he caressed the leather.

  Maybe he should consider seeing her beyond the morning. She’d be good for a few more screws before she got demanding, whiny. After securing her other hand, he yanked out the ankle restraints from between the footboard and the mattress. He made short work of the buckles then surveyed his handiwork. A naked woman, bound and spread-eagle on a bed, was a beautiful sight.

  He could do what he wanted, when he wanted.

  His dick stirred to life. He absently stroked it while eying the red bite, slap, and pinch marks. He’d already fucked her on the Beemer, on the stairs and on the dining room table. He’d stuck toys in every orifice she possessed in each of the upstairs bedrooms. She’d been dominated and liberated.

  And still they weren’t through her entire list.

  Trent’s thumb circled the bulbous head of his stiffening penis. His gaze traveled up the red patches covering her inner thighs to her shaved mound. He could fuck her now, while she slept. His erection throbbed in agreement and he smeared the precum on his shaft.

  Nah. S
he was much tighter when her body tensed waiting for the next dose of pain. Much tighter. He’d remember that on the next bitch he screwed. Of course, it might take time to work out how much GHB allowed the sluts to be out but alert enough to feel pain.

  He’d try it on a couple of fat chicks first. They were always grateful for a screw. Trent’s balls drew up tight against his body. Women should always shut their trap and do as they were told.

  Just like in his personal photograph collection.

  He quickly squeezed the base of his cock before he ejaculated. Turning away from the bed, he forced his lungs to work in measured increments. The array of mirrors reflected her open body. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  There’d be time later.

  Right now, he had a bitch to kill.

  Opening his eyes, he grabbed the whore’s empty wine glass off the dresser and faced the bedroom door.

  With his stiff cock bobbing like a dowsing rod, he strode out of the bedroom.

  First, he had to get his murder kit.

  Whistling, Trent strolled past the spare bedrooms and descended the carpeted stairs two at a time. Detouring into the kitchen, he grabbed the doctored wine bottle and his still full glass off the granite bar. He kicked aside her rolled up tank top on his way to the stainless steel sink under the window. Smacking the tap, he cranked it to hot. As soon as steam misted the closed vertical blinds, he emptied the bottle and glasses.

  Red wine swirled in the water before it plunged into the drain. He rinsed each item three times then set the glasses on the rack and chucked the bottle into the recycle bin. His fingers sunk into the plush maroon hand towel as his distorted reflection stared back at him from the stainless steel refrigerator freezer.

  After draping the towel over the handle of the matching double ovens, Trent crossed to the laundry room and opened the door to the garage. Cold seeped through the pads of his feet as he stepped onto the painted cement. He picked up a bottle of peppermint lube off the Beemer’s hood and returned it to its place in the empty cabinet on the side wall.