Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  “I thought the government deep sixed them.” That’s what he’d been told. God help him if this was another Santa Claus story.

  “That plan was scrapped after they realized they had enough people to keep the plants operating.” Her grip tightened. “Depending on how fast the pandemic hits, there may not be enough time to power the plant down.”

  Well, hell. Should he just bend over now and kiss his ass goodbye? Nah. With his thumb, he stroked her skin. Soft. Female. If that was the worst of it, he’d make sure they survived. Unless… “Is there a cherry on top of such news?”

  She opened her mouth just as a bell tinkled. The computer screen blanked before a man’s face stared out at them. “Hello? Mavis?”

  Holy shit. The Surgeon General. David jerked his hand out of Mavis’s and stood at attention. His chair clattered to the floor.

  Mavis tugged on the bottom of his ACU jacket, before rolling her eyes and turning the screen away from him. “Hi Miles. I’ve integrated the new data and my sims are still grim.”

  David glanced down. The SG wasn’t exactly looking at him. Should he relax?

  Miles Arnez scratched the pink scalp visible under the flap of long white hair. “Any way you could be more conservative with the numbers? The President isn’t happy with the doom and gloom scenario.”

  “I was being conservative with the projections.” She drummed her fingers on the table top. “And I’m not changing my historically-based probabilities just because he doesn’t like the numbers.”

  David clasped his hands behind his back. Professional and respectful. He eyed Mavis. Unlike some people.

  Miles looked over his shoulder. His lips pursed and his bushy white eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose like two kissing caterpillars. “Apparently, he’s concerned because this is an election year and if he releases the information, he’ll be called a Chicken Little.”

  David’s knuckle popped. What the hell? Did the SG really say the President was worried about the coming elections? Didn’t the man have a couple of degrees from an Ivy League school? What part of Extinction Level Event didn’t he understand?

  Mavis chuckled.

  Chuckled? Had she not heard the same thing he did?

  “The President does realize if this thing comes to pass, re-election and name calling will be the least of his concerns.”

  Politicians. Who the hell elected the bastards? He’d certainly voted for the other guy. David walked the perimeter of the great room.

  “They’re betting it doesn’t come to pass.” Miles spat through the connection

  Mavis shook her head. “We’re all praying for the same thing, but that and a subway ticket will still only get you a one-way ride. I think we need to pick locations where our citizens will make their last stand.”

  David slowed as he passed the photos on the mantel. His reflection overlaid the square-jawed Marine standing next to the American flag.

  “Get crunching the numbers.” Fatigue shook the Surgeon General’s voice. “We’ll need them scattered across the country as well as supply stations along the way.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know how close we’ll be able to get to major population hubs.”

  “Our ancestors walked across this continent. Their descendants can damn well do the same to survive.”

  David eyed the other Marine on the mantle. Younger, with Mavis’s brown eyes. Her son. Dead like her husband. Not from the Redaction. They’d been neck deep in corpses a week into it. Too many for a military funeral. So they’d died before, but not much earlier. He recognized the fresh grief.

  Not that he’d ever lost a child.

  He resumed his walk.

  Or a spouse.

  Mavis raised her chin as he moved away from her altar. “I’ll have locations for the military to scout in a couple of days.”

  “Let’s hope Patient Zero doesn’t show up before our duckies are in a row. Until tomorrow.”

  The connection popped before falling silent.

  With his hands behind his back, he strolled past the wall of photos. “You didn’t mention the possible plague outbreak here.”

  “Miles has enough problems to deal with.” She smiled. “Besides, why ask for permission now when you can beg for forgiveness later? Keep mum about the exfiltrate sites when you report to your CO. Miles isn’t going to ask permission either.”

  David felt the grin spread across his lips. Keep something from Colonel Asshole? Hell yeah. Especially since Mavis, as the assistant to the Surgeon General, outranked the prick thanks to the President Executive order. “I’ll be sure to leave it out.”

  “If he discovers my projections, he’ll probably horde supplies, including guns and ammo. Not to mention food, water, blankets and medicines.”

  “Undoubtedly.” The puke already tried. Hopefully, he wouldn’t discover the women’s shoes until David could neutralize him.

  “Tell Colonel Lynch my sims are inconclusive, and I’m waiting for more data.”

  “What about my men?” He stopped next to her.

  “Full PPE.”

  “Won’t that panic the civilians?”

  “Not when you explain why.” She leapt out of her chair and dashed to her red briefcase. “Do you have access to a copy machine?”

  “Yep, we even have paper since we’ve been on MREs.” God bless the soldier that put toilet paper in the meals ready to eat.

  She pulled out an iPad. Her fingers flew over the LCD. “I made a flyer about what to burn and not to burn and information on the symptoms of rat-borne diseases.”

  An ink jet printer started sputtering and paper emerged from the computer case.

  “It includes information on the Plague and Hanta virus.”

  David eyed the page as it slowly emerged. “Does it tell you how to tell them apart?”

  She frowned at her iPad. “Yes. Look for bug bites for the Plague. Usually by the time the glands swell, the antibiotics won’t be as effective. If you feel sick, but don’t have any bite marks, take the antivirals. But wait until symptoms appear first, there’s not enough drugs to waste.”

  “Antibiotics for bites; antivirals for everything else. What about supplies and equipment for bugging out?”

  “First, we need locations then we can decide on supplies.” She tucked her iPad back into the briefcase before rooting through the contents. “In the meantime, let me get you my cell phone number. Where are my cards?”

  Shaking his head, he pulled his cell from his pocket. Who needed cards when he had a contact list? “Why don’t you just put it directly into my phone?”

  “Oh!” She glanced up and blew the hair out of her face. “That makes sense.”

  Before he could hand it to her, it rang. David flipped it open and held it to his ear.

  “Sergeant Major Dawson.”

  “Dawson.” Colonel Asshole barked. “Get your ass back to base. I’ve got fresh kill to be collected.”

  The line went dead.

  Fresh kill. David’s mouth dried. He swallowed. Hard.

  “Bad news?”

  His fingers trembled as he closed his phone. “We’ve got fresh meat. Could be Patient Zero.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Manny’s heart battered his ribcage as he stopped. Caught between fight or flight, his muscles twitched. Run away! But the food. He couldn’t give it up. The wagon’s metal handle squeaked against his damp palm. Would the man kill him? Beat him to a pulp like he had done to the woman?

  “Well?” A woman’s voice cut through his fear.

  Manny exhaled the air that had congealed in his lungs. A woman, not a man. Not that it made him any safer. Loosening his grip on the wagon, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “You can speak, can’t you?” Gray hair streaked across one wrinkled cheek before a liver-spotted hand batted it away. Cloudy brown eyes shifted back and forth like marbles in an earthquake.

  His attention drifted from the loose flesh hanging along her neck to the white la
ce collar down to the red-tipped cane. Blind. She was blind. Maybe all was not lost. “Y-yes. I can speak.”

  “Good.” She thumped the cane on the cement path. “There are enough impaired folks in the neighborhood, without adding a deaf-mute to the mix.”

  Manny’s grip tightened on the handle. Should he leave? She seemed ignorant of the fact that he didn’t belong here. Neither did she seem to know that he’d been shopping at her neighbor’s house. But if he moved, she’d hear the wheels squeak. His stomach urged him to make a decision. He sucked on his bottom lip while leaning toward the home he picked out for him, the niños and Irina.

  “Not much for talking, are you?” She swept her cane from side to side. It hit the side of the wagon with a thunk.

  He winced.

  “Humph, thought I heard Stacy’s wagon. Know that squeak anywhere.” With a flick of her wrist, the cane skimmed the wagon’s stolen contents. “Liberated lots of goodies, have you?”

  “I—” The words swelled in his mouth and stuck to his dry tongue. Would she call the police now? If they hauled him away what would happen to the niños? To Irina?

  “Told the others we should have done that ages ago.” Leaving the wagon alone, she used the cane to walk forward. Each foot moved with assurance, purpose, despite the buckling sidewalk. “Better us than the rats. The rats can eat garbage and like it.”

  Hope rioted in his chest. Could he really have heard right? Could this gringa be willing to let him go? “You’re not going to report me?”

  She latched onto his forearm. Despite the knobby joints, her grip was strong. “Why should I? Besides, the bigger crime is all that food going to waste. That’s all you took, isn’t it? No tellies, mobiles, or other goodies. Just the necessities.”

  Manny eyed the lanterns and stove. Definitely necessary. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well then, come along.” She tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the common area but south when the niños and Irina were north. “The others will be wondering what happened to me.”

  Others? One old woman he could handle, but more people… He scanned the direction she pulled him in. Aside from the rats scampering across the street, no one seemed about. But she could still be bait, with her age to con him into making a mistake. He pulled back, nearly jerking her off her feet. “I—”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Her nails dug into his arm as she teetered on her white granny shoes. Turning her lined face toward him, she blinked her cloudy eyes. “You came with companions, didn’t you?”

  His heart skipped a few beats. She knew about the others? But how? According to his map, the houses around the one he’d picked should be empty. As for their arrival, the battle between the Aspero and the Marines should have disguised any sound they’d made.

  She cocked her head to the side. Pink shown through the wispy curls swirling around her scalp. “Did you have anything to do with the noise last night?”

  He started. How did she know what he was thinking? Popi always said blind folks were special. Could they be mind readers?

  A smile smoothed the wrinkles from her lips. “Reminded me of my days in London during the war. That’s World War Two, not w-Wii.” She chuckled at the reference to the popular gaming system. “Although, my grandson tells me there’s lots of war games on it.”

  Grief hung from the corners of her features.

  So, she’d lost someone too. Who hadn’t? The government had said the Redaction had killed teens through to middle-aged adults, yet so many others seemed to be missing. Manny pulled himself from his thoughts. What had she been talking about? The fighting last night. He nodded. Dumb ass. She couldn’t see. “We weren’t involved in it, but we used the distraction to cross the street.”

  “Smart, lad.” She patted his arm.

  He straightened. For a moment, he felt like he had when he’d brought home straight A’s, before the car accident, before juvenile hall, before the Redaction.

  “Guess you’d have to be pretty smart to have survived this long without your folks.” She thumped her cane. “Well, lead on. We’ll need to gather everyone up. There’s a lot to do today.”

  Manny’s feet remained stuck on the sidewalk. Could he trust her? She didn’t seem to have an agenda. And besides she was old. He could easily overpower her and get away. Beating up old women… He shook his head. Why had he bothered to survive if he’d turned into a monster?

  A breeze rattled the dried seed pods against the curb. He closed his eyes and the rising sun painted his lids pink. What choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her alone; she was blind. Shifting his arm, he tugged her north along the rows of cream-colored houses with terra cotta roofs. Weeds laid siege to the once pristine desert landscaping. The wagon’s wheels squeaked behind them.

  “I do hope you didn’t choose one of the outer ring of houses.” Her cane scratched across the sidewalk and swished through the tufts of grass poking through the cracks. “Infested with rats, don’t you know?”

  “Rats.” Manny watched a black one, the size of a well-fed house cat; clean its whiskers as it watched them from atop its garbage heap. Glancing down, he searched her face for a dirty Mexican slur. “Every place has rats since the city stopped collecting the garbage.”

  She nodded and swept her hair out of her face again. “But the empty places have more than others.”

  That was true. Certainly, the two houses he’d visited had been infested. Would the one he’d chosen be the same? Or worse? Instead of leaving Irina with the niños, he should have gone inside to check. Surely, breakfast could have waited a little longer. Manny followed the curve of the street and the two-story house came into view. Nothing stirred into the front windows. Good. Irina and the niños were hiding.

  Too bad they’d already been discovered.

  “Mildred and Henry had to move in with me because they were quite overrun.” Her cane thumped the fire hydrant. “Not that I mind the company, but they do move things about. And I’m used to having things just so. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Not really. Slowing, he frowned at the house. Surely, someone should be looking out the windows to see if he was coming home. He stumbled over a rise in the sidewalk. Had something happened to them?

  She patted his arm again. “I don’t like using the cane at home. And I don’t need to, as long as things don’t get moved about.”

  “Uh-huh.” Manny stopped across the street. Should he leave her here while he went for the others?

  “Oh, we’re here already?” She straightened the green jacket of her tracksuit. “Did you pick the Paiks’?” She point to the house on her right before aiming her cane at the two-story house across the street. His house. “Or the Schultzs’?”

  How did she do that? He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot. And should he lie? What was the point? “The Schultzs’.”

  “Oh, dear.” She held her hand over her mouth. “That house has been empty the longest. You children can’t stay there. It’s bound to be infested with vermin. Lots of vermin. Especially, since it backs up to the vacant lot. You’ll have to come home with me.”

  She thumped her cane on the ground as if that ended any argument.

  Manny licked his lips. Why should he argue? If he stayed with her, he’d have a legitimate reason to be here. No one would be able to force him to go. But what would she want from him in return? No one did something for nothing. Ever. He learned that in Juvie. “Why?”

  “Why?” Her brow furrowed. “Why don’t I want you living with vermin? Because it’s unhealthy for one. And—”

  “No, I mean why are you being so nice?” He braced the handle against the wagon’s body. “If its food you want, I’m willing to share. You just need to tell me which houses are empty so I can get supplies. I’ll even pick up your share from the soldiers.”

  He snapped his mouth shut. Nice going, Manny. Next, you’ll be willing to trade her your food stuff just to stay in the neighborhood. He glanced at the brick wall leading to the field beyon
d. Maybe giving up a little of his rations wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Oh, you dear boy.” She released his arm to cup his cheek. “Is it really so bad out there that people are… are…” She pursed her lips for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it is. People being people.” She dropped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed. “Well, that is why we need to band together. Separate, they can pick us off, but together, we can stand up to the thugs and other unpleasantness, pool our rations, share the chores, and keep each other company. Many hands make even the heaviest load, much lighter.”

  Manny swayed. He’d said something similar in his own neighborhood, but they hadn’t listened. Perhaps… “How many of there are you?”

  “In my house, there’s just the three of us. Mildred, Henry and I.” She gestured back the way they’d traveled. “But we have four others in the association. Although we’re scattered around the neighborhood, we look out for each other.”

  Seven people plus the six of them. It was a practically a crowd.

  A crowd had carried the Redaction.

  He shook his head. The Redaction was over. Still, it was more than just him at stake. While the niños might not care, Irina could. Removing the woman’s hand from his shoulder, he placed it on the wagon’s handle. “I’ll need to check with the others.”

  “Of course, I’ll stay here and guard the wagon.” With her free hand, she gripped her cane in the middle as if to use it as a club. “Hurry up. We have lots to do.”

  Lots to do. No doubt, breaking into the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. Well, that’s fine with him. If he needed to earn his keep, so be it. At least, he had some experience at it. Looking both ways, he hustled across the street before glancing over his shoulder. She still hadn’t moved. He’d been right to trust her.

  He hoped.

  Ignoring the front door, Manny marched over the flagstone walk leading to the backyard. The wrought iron and wood gate swung open on silent hinges as he approached.

  Shielded behind the fence, Irina clutched the edge of the gate. Her blue eyes were wide, her skin pale, and her knuckles, white tipped. “Who is that woman? Do we have to leave?”