Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  “Do?” The lump scratched his head, then his bulky arms then his massive chest.

  Trent rolled his eyes. Obviously, Lump was a loser and an idiot. “You get me safely where I want to go and you can have the lighter.”

  He dangled it from his fingertips, swinging it back and forth to gauge the man’s attention.

  Lump lunged for it.

  “No.” Careful to avoid the dead body, Trent stumbled out of the way. He flashed the lighter once more, before tucking it into his empty pocket. “I get what I want, before you get what you want.”

  Lump hunched deeper into the width of his shoulders. “What do you want?”

  What did he want? Jiggling the lighter in his pocket, Trent took a step to the left. Pain zig-zagged up his thigh to burst inside his brain. He wanted to turn back the clock. Instead of stopping his Jag, he wanted to floor the sports car, plow into the gangbangers who had done this to him, and leave them a bloody smear on his hood.

  That’s what he wanted.

  And he would get it. Eventually. Because he was smart. And patient. But in the meantime…

  Lump shifted before hacking again.

  Trent’s nails bit into his palm as he stepped over the body, moving away from the loser. He’d already gotten the Redaction once and the government said you couldn’t get it again. This would be fine, if Lump carried the illness. But the bums of the world carried plenty of other diseases.

  Bending at the waist, Lump spat again. The moonlight highlighted the tiny puddle. “You want me to take you to the soldiers?”

  He nodded before shaking his head. The motion sent aftershocks through his skull. Damn whores.

  “Don’t you worry about them shooting us.” Straightening, Lump adjusted his bulk before peeling off his outer layer and shaking out a wad of newspapers. The man shrunk at least two sizes. “They know Ol’ Thomas and they’ll make sure you get some help and get you back where you belong.”

  Where he belonged? The two-story house, the big screen TV, the Jag. Before the dream was half-formed, it fell apart. The Jag had his murder kit in it. Cold sweat slicked Trent’s skin. The soldiers would call the cops, the cops would use his GPS system to locate his car, and then they’d find his kit.

  He couldn’t go to the soldiers.

  He couldn’t go to the cops.

  So where did that leave him? In the middle of a dry river with a bum for company, pain in the thigh and a throbbing head. But only until he located the bitches. They wouldn’t have gone far. Their kind was too stupid.

  Lump turned away and stared shuffling toward the street, shining like a black ribbon in the moonlight.

  “Wait!” Trent swatted at a fly circling his head and accidentally brushed his temple. Firecrackers exploded inside his head. He doubled over and vomited. Sour chunks tumbled off his tongue, over and over again, until finally his stomach clenched nothing. Slowly, the cramps eased. Spit pooled in his mouth. He used it to wash out the bitterness.

  “You sick, too?” Lump shuffled closer. “Well, that rules out the soldiers then. They’re getting real jumpy lately. Heard tell, they’ve even shot some folks last night.”

  Trent wiped his mouth on his sleeve, tasted the dirt rubbed into the fabric. He’d pretend to be sick, if it bought him time. He’d even hang out with losers until he found out the gang’s hiding spot. “Where can we go then?”

  “I know a place.” Instead of turning around, Lump headed further into the dry river bed. “They’ll take us in and feed us.”

  His stomach cramped. Food wasn’t high on his priorities right now. But staying alive was. Besides the losers would know the gang’s turf, probably even recognize the bitch who’d stolen his Jag. And once he found her, he’d make her pay.

  And there would be no bum to help her.

  He’d make sure she was beyond help by the time he finished.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mavis opened one eye. The blurry, red numbers of the alarm clock bled into the darkness. Two-thirty-five AM. No good news ever came at half past two in the morning. Ever.

  It could only mean one thing: Patient Zero had finally turned up.

  Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She wasn’t ready. Nothing had been prepared. There was nowhere for the survivors to go. The phone kept ringing.

  Maybe if she didn’t answer it the dying wouldn’t begin. Maybe she would have longer to prepare, to find a plan that would save Sunnie. And David. And…

  The peppy refrain started again, louder this time, chiding her cowardice. Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she rolled closer to the cell phone on her dresser. The mystery novel she’d attempted to read over the last six months plopped to the floor. Her fingers closed around the plastic while her thumb worked between the two pieces to flip it open.

  The ringtone died, leaving only the wind to mourn its loss. The cell chilled her ear. “Hello?”

  “Dammit, Mavis!” Surgeon General Miles Arnez snapped into the phone. “I thought I told you to keep news of the Redaction’s return to yourself.”

  Mavis blinked. Her brain slogged through the fog of sleep, trying to figure out the conversation. “Patient Zero…”

  “Yes, Patient Zero!” Miles sputtered. “You of all people should know that the government follows you and your niece’s every move, especially in so public a forum as the Redaction in Action website.”

  Mavis sat up in bed. But that had been days ago. Why was he having a snit-fit about it now? And the Chinese government had denied everything. Of course, that hadn’t stopped reporter Catherine Sinclair. “Miles, I—”

  “And to use your own niece. Honestly, Mavis!” Miles sighed. She could practically hear him running his fingers through his hair.

  She latched onto the one thing that mattered most. “Sunnie?”

  “You do know that the government will check on her. And then, well, I don’t think I will be able to protect you from the President’s, no, all of Washington’s wrath.”

  Mavis licked her lips. She’d missed something. “Slow down, Miles. It’s two-thirty in the morning here, and I’m having trouble keeping up.”

  “What?” Miles chuffed and then he did something she dreaded hearing again. He coughed.

  A watery, wheezing kind of sound that momentarily stopped her heart.

  “Are you alright?”

  “No, dammit.” He coughed again. “Some idiot left the vents open, and we pulled in days’ worth of ash before anyone noticed.”

  She pushed off the covers. Her cold toes sank into the area rug. “You have the Ash Pneumonia.”

  What would she do now? Without Miles’s help, no one stood a chance of survival.

  “Don’t worry.” He cleared his throat. In the background she heard the tinkle of ice cubes. “Everyone here is on a strict regime of antivirals. We’ll recover.”

  Tucking her phone between her ear and her shoulder, she slipped her arms through her sleeves and tied the sash of her robe. God knew if she’d be able to sleep anymore today. There was so much to do, so much to accomplish. Fortunately, the inevitable had been delayed one more day. “I’m glad you’ll be well, Miles. But I don’t understand. If everyone is infected why doesn’t the President make an announcement?”

  “He might have if you hadn’t made that stupid post.” Miles sighed. “Now, he has people heading to your house and—”

  Mavis recoiled to stare at the phone. “My house? What does he plan to do here?”

  “Check on your niece.” Miles swore under his breath. “And so help you, if she doesn’t have a case of the sniffles, you will be arrested and possibly shot.”

  “Give me a minute.” Biting the inside of her lip, Mavis tore down the hall. Soft white light eked out around the door frame. Sunnie was up. Yet, her niece wouldn’t have done anything stupid, would she? They’d been together when Mavis had used the commandeered computer to make the leak. The reporter had followed up. Of course, China had denied everything.

  Sunnie had slept through that part.
>
  She also didn’t know there were other things they would do to get the word out. Mavis shoved the brass handle down and the door swung open. Out crept the smell of moist air and peppermint.

  Turning to look at her, Sunnie held her blanket over her mouth. Fever painted dots of color in her pale cheeks and she coughed. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

  Mavis’s heart stilled in her chest. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. The cell phone slipped through her numb fingers and clattered to the floor. “Oh, God, Sunnie. You’re sick.”

  Chapter Thirty

  David pulled the Humvee to a stop next to the curb and shook off a yawn. He needed sleep. At least another six hours. Not that he was going to get it. He picked up his cup and drained the last of the cold coffee. The caffeine wasn’t helping anymore. Killing the engine, he grabbed the box off the passenger seat and exited the vehicle.

  Crickets chirped in the early morning light, and bare tree branches shattered the full moon. Nothing moved in the stillness. At least, not that he could see.

  But what he couldn’t see had killed over a third of the population.

  Tears sprang to his eyes as he yawned again. Maybe, Mavis wouldn’t mind if he caught a few z’s on her couch, before he returned to base and today’s food distribution duty. Slinging the strap of his M-4 over his shoulder, he slammed the door shut and walked toward the back of the truck.

  The buzz of his phone punctuated the night.

  Unsnapping it from his belt, he eyed the LCD readout. The number was unfamiliar but that was nothing new today. With Colonel Asshole on leave, he’d become the ‘it’ boy for all the shit flying around. Opening the cell, he held it to his ear. “Sergeant Major Dawson.”

  “Listen up, Dawson. This is General Lister of the USMC.” Lister bit off each letter. “I’m on my way over to Doctor Mavis Spanner’s house and if there’s not a sick body inside, I have orders to put a bullet through her brain.”

  David stopped short by the bumper. Jamming the butt of his weapon against his shoulder, he tucked his finger against the trigger. He might not be as accurate firing with one hand, but he’d get his message across. “I won’t let you do that, Sir.”

  “Not asking for your permission, soldier. I’m telling you what my orders are.” Lister cleared his throat and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Now get a sick body into that house ASAP. We need the Doc alive and in the loop if any of us are to survive the coming clusterfuck.”

  David stared at the cell when the display blinked, signaling the end of the call. What the hell good was whispering when the government could pick up their conversation on the satellite network? He jerked as the general’s words sunk in. Holy shit! Someone was coming to kill Mavis!

  Gravel crunched under foot as he sprinted across the landscaping. Moths buzzed around the porch light. A few danced their death throes on the cement entry. With his fingers curled into a fist, he pounded on the security door. The rattling metal echoed inside. “Open the door, dammit.”

  He kept knocking until he heard a key turn in the deadbolt.

  Mavis peeked through the opening. A mask covered her face, and fear dilated her pupils. “David?”

  Sick. There was someone sick inside the house. He wouldn’t have to hide her, nor would he have to find a sick stranger to move in so Lister wouldn’t kill the woman. Relief and anger flipped through him like a coin toss in a football game. Shit!

  Someone was sick in the house.

  With his free hand, he gripped the security door’s handle and twisted. It opened easily and he pushed his way inside. “Are you sick? When did this happen? Is it the Redaction?”

  Mavis swayed on her feet before cupping her hands over her mouth. “I’m fine. It’s Sunnie. She’s…” Her words ended on a hiccough, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?” She latched onto his jacket and tugged him forward. “I can’t lose her too.”

  Dumping the box on the entry table, David pulled her into his arms and ran his fingers through her tangled brown hair. “Shhh. She’ll be all right. You’ll see. She’s strong like her aunt.”

  She sniffed against his shirt before lifting her face so her nose burrowed against his neck. “But what if she’s not?”

  “You can’t think like that.” He held her away from him and stooped so he could look her in the eyes. Platitudes stuck to his tongue. There was only so much loss a body could take before the heart broke and the soul bled out through the cracks. He’d seen it before. He’d see it again when the Redaction returned. But not to Mavis.

  Never to Mavis.

  “We must plan as if Sunnie will get better.” Pulling her close, he tucked her head under his chin. The light floral scent of shampoo and soap wafted off her. Heat washed through him as his body recognized something his brain had yet to mention. Mavis was dressed in pajamas. Silky ones. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. He shifted, easing his body’s response away from her. All he needed was for her to think he was a horn-dog. “And she will.”

  “You don’t know that. Only one in a thousand will live.” Her hold tightened.

  Wincing, he felt some of the hair on his chest get plucked out. Unfortunately, territory lower seemed to think it was foreplay. Get a grip, man. Now was not the time. Yet as a soldier, he knew anytime was a good time as long as both people were willing and breathing. “A simulation is just an educated guess.”

  She stiffened in his arms and tried to wiggle out of his embrace.

  He tightened his hold, keeping her against him. Stupid! The friction only encouraged his swelling erection. Time for some diversionary tactics, one that engaged his mind and body. And probably little or no touching. This was a reassurance mission, not R-and-R. “What I mean is someone will survive. Sunnie’s just as much a someone as anyone else. Why can’t it be her?”

  He replayed his words over in his head. That could have been said so much better. But then what could he expect with so little blood reaching his brain?

  Mavis must have understood because she rested against him again. Her warm breath puffed against his open collar. A moment passed. Then another. His body rebelled against the strictures of his head. She certainly seemed willing.

  Finally, she leaned back to look at him. “You need to work a few less negatives into your pep talk.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” He offered her a smile, making sure to flash both dimples. An engine rumbled in the distance. He swept her bangs off her forehead. “Go splash water on your face. We’re about to have company.”

  “Company?” She sniffled before pulling away from him. Crossing the great room, she jerked a tissue out of the box and blotted at her red nose.

  “General Lister is on his way.” Color fled from her cheeks, deepening the red rimming her eyes. Yeah, she knew why. She was one smart lady. He twisted the deadbolt on the security door, before closing the front one. For threatening to kill Mavis, Lister could wait on the porch until the cows came home. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She folded the tissue before blowing her nose. “I won’t let you do anything foolish. Besides, if Sunnie does have the Redaction, I really don’t care what happens to me.”

  “Well, I care.” David folded his arms across his chest. Christ, it was worse than he thought if the Doc was already thinking of red-lining herself out of existence. “Besides, we don’t know if she has the Redaction. All sorts of fun things are floating around these days.”

  Sniffing, she cocked an eyebrow and frowned at him. “I think we both know it is just a matter of time before Patient Zero is discovered. God help us if he dies and no one discovers his body for days.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t a pretty picture. Bodies did not age well, especially in Arizona. With warmer weather on its way, Patient Zero might very well swell and explode before he or she was discovered.

  A horn beeped outside.

  Mavis jumped before her attention stuck to the door. “Do you know th
is General Lister?”

  “Never met him.” David shrugged before backing toward the door. He returned his finger to the trigger but kept the safety on and pointed the muzzle at the ground. “Marines, especially career ones, tend to be good guys.”

  If they weren’t total rules-and-regs pricks. Still, she’d been married to one, so it wouldn’t do to bad mouth the Corps. Too much.

  Her gaze flicked to the mantle and the pictures of her husband and son. “Yeah.”

  David’s ears perked as gravel crunched outside. The jarheads must be in a hurry to be making so much noise. With his free hand, he scooped up the box from the hall table. “Why don’t you get working on the newest batch of data?”

  She sighed and sank onto the couch. “I don’t see that it will change anything.”

  “It might change everything.” David shook the box at her and heard the jump drive scratch at the cardboard. “Don’t you want to find out?”

  “Not really.” She smoothed the purple fabric over her knees.

  His strides ate up the distance between the hall table and the sofa. Looming over her, he dropped the box into her lap. “Yes, you do. Because Patient Zero is out there and we’re going to need someplace safe to take Sunnie to so she can recover.”

  Mavis scrubbed her hands down her face before wrapping them around the box. “I didn’t think you were an optimist.”

  “I’m a glass three-quarters full kind of guy.” He held out his free hand. Operation Comfort is still in effect, he warned his body.

  She slid her fingers against his palm then rose from the sofa.

  The doorbell echoed around the great room.

  Her grip tightened. Hugging the box to her chest, she looked down the hallway, toward the bedrooms, toward her niece’s room.

  “Why don’t you get to work while I deal with the jarhead?”

  One corner of her mouth tilted up. “I’m not your problem, you know?”

  “You are.” David squeezed her chilled fingers. “I have orders from my temporary Commander-in-Chief to make certain nothing happens to you. I even have permission to save you from yourself if necessary.”