Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  David blinked. Half? Sixty? “Christ Almighty. I’d seen the sims but that’s awfully fast isn’t it?”

  “Faster than Mavis had predicted. Far faster. Practically every damn politician is down with it or hiding from those who have it.” Lister shoved open the door and jumped to the ground. “Not a fucking one of them wants to give orders. Not a one.”

  Mavis? David climbed out of the Humvee.”What about the President? Is he still going to make an announcement?”

  “Yeah. God only knows what he’ll say.” Lister adjusted his uniform. “The asswipe refuses to allow us to burn our garbage. Says the Ash Pneumonia is rising on the East Coast and they can’t afford to put anymore pollutants in the air.”

  David quickly joined him. “Doesn’t he know about the plague?”

  “He knows.”

  And he didn’t care. It was an election year, after all. Son of a bitch. “What does Mavis want us to do?”

  There. He could use Doc’s first name, too.

  Around him, his men unloaded the sick from the back of the trucks. Robertson marched them shivering and coughing to the barracks. The Army medic consulted the Corpsman.

  “We’re falling back and consolidating our positions. I’ll need you to tell us which parts of the valley are the least inhabited. No point in guarding empty property. The Plague can’t kill it.” Lister headed for the mess hall, stopped mid-step and bent over to cough. At the end of his fit, he spat. “We’ll be camping here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll tear down this camp and relocate to Mavis’s neighborhood.”

  David yanked open the door to the mess hall then stood back to let the superior officer pass. “Does she know what you’re doing?”

  “When I started getting the lists of sick, she came up with the idea.”

  She hadn’t mentioned it to him. “So we’ll rendezvous at Mavis’s after work?”

  The cook and his assistant looked up from the table as they entered. Both soldiers scrambled to their feet and saluted.

  The general snapped off a return salute and waved at them to relax, before continuing toward the deserted chow line. “Negative. What’s left of your base will relocate to Luke.”

  “The Air Force Base?” That was in the opposite direction of Mavis’s. Damn wily Marines. Mr. Goldstars was horning in on David’s territory.

  “You’ll be closer to the food deliveries and the information packets for Mavis coming out of Washington.” Lister plucked a cup off the stack by the coffee urns then filled his cup. He frowned at the black brew before taking a sip. “Damn pansy-ass coffee. What is this for—a bunch of girls?”

  David watched the stir stick stand up in the brew, before his eyes closed on him. Lister was just being a Marine. All new service branches felt insecure around the proud tradition of David’s beloved Army. He forced his lids apart.

  The general held the red stick to the side and drained the cup. Smacking his lips, he refilled his cup. “I’ve seen shit that looked more lively than you, Dawson. Get eight hours. That’s an order.”

  “What if another shipment for Mavis arrives?”

  “I’ve already got it.” He patted his breast pocket. “I’ll deliver it as soon as I fill up and empty out.”

  Holding his fists at his side, David swallowed a curse. Wily bastard. He’d probably been some Black Ops, special force’s hero. “And the deployment maps?”

  “They can wait until morning.” The general drained his second cup, before refilling it again.

  So he’d be back in the morning. David wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. His brain said it didn’t matter. Another part of him told him his brain didn’t know diddly.

  “Dismissed, Sergeant Major.”

  “Yes, Sir.” David snapped off a salute, pivoted about and marched across the tent.

  The vestibule door slammed open; the impact rippled around the tent.

  “Dawson!” A rough voice called. Watery coughing soon followed.

  David halted so fast his boot squeaked.

  Colonel Asshole shoved through both doors and staggered into the mess hall. “You!” He glared at David while raising his pistol. “You got us sick. You and that Doctor bitch infected me and my family.”

  Eying the Colonel’s trigger finger, David swung his M-4 up.

  “If I die, so do you!” The finger tightened.

  Shit! David’s heart seized in his chest, stopping his lungs. He wasn’t going to make it.

  A shot rang out. Then another. Fire lit his arm ablaze.

  Blood blossomed on the CO’s forehead. His face went slack as he collapsed onto the ground.

  David’s hand bounced off his weapon. Why the hell didn’t his fingers work?

  After holstering his pistol, General Lister grabbed David’s arm, angling the wound to the light. “A through and through. Don’t worry. Our respective medics will be fighting to see who can do the best job stitching you up.”

  Soldiers poured into the mess hall, arms at the ready.

  David staggered back until he hit the bench. His knees buckled. When his ass hit the seat, his teeth rattled. The general had shot the colonel. Lister had saved his life. The debt would have to be repaid. But not with Mavis. Never her.

  “Medic! Corpsman!” Lister set his hand on David’s arm, stanching the flow of blood from the wound. “Peterson and McDermid, take out that trash.”

  The two Marines lifted the CO’s body.

  “I was going to relieve the coward of command. This way saves me some paperwork.” He snapped his fingers and the cook rushed him with a cup of coffee.

  David nodded. Blackness pushed into his vision and his ears began to buzz. God, he hated being shot. “Fucking A!”

  He struggled to his feet, his good hand fumbling with his M-4.

  The general snorted and dragged him back onto the bench. “Give him something to make him sleep.”

  “I’m here, Sergeant Major.” Medic Johnson rushed over.

  David felt a prick on his good arm and then nothing.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “The little ones are settled in bed, then?” Mildred looked at him over the top of her reading glasses.

  “Almost.” Manny picked up the blue glass bowl of pea pods and took his seat on the couch in front of the muted TV. The power had come on a little over an hour ago. The Emergency Alert System had burped incessantly letting them know about an upcoming address, before he’d silenced it. “Connie’s reading them stories.”

  Connie was blind and there were words on those pages. Yet she’d read them as if she could see. He couldn’t figure it out. He picked up one firm green pod, grabbed the stringy end and unzipped it. Peas plopped into the bowl.

  “She’s had all those books memorized for years.” Mildred scooted the bucket she was using for the discarded pods closer. “Used to teach elementary school before she lost her sight.”

  Ah, that explained that. He added the flaccid pea pod to the trash pile and then picked up a full one. “Are we going to can these tomorrow?”

  “Oh, no. We’ll eat some fresh ones in soup then dry the rest for seeds.” Mildred’s attention darted from the shelled peas to the screen. “Well, it’s about time he showed up. We’ve been waiting over an hour. Henry! The President has finally dragged his butt on stage.”

  “‘Bout time.” Henry rolled up the ramp and across the dining room floor. “This is the last of the peas. I’ve pulled the vines out and added them to the composter.”

  On screen, the President approached the plain brown podium. His complexion echoed the concrete wall behind him—gray and dismal. Dark circles clung to the bags under his glassy eyes. He coughed into a white handkerchief, before tucking it into the pocket of his blue suit. The normally fluid movement seemed jerky.

  “He looks like he’s been sick.” Really sick. Like Redaction sick. But that couldn’t be. He and the rest of the government had been protected. Manny moved his hands out of the way

  Henry dumped half the peas into his bowl.

>   “Serves him right, the slimy so-and-so.” After adding the other half of the peas to Mildred’s bowl, he wheeled over to the door, set the bucket outside then closed and locked the French doors. “You do know that he and his rich cronies hid out in bunkers, while the rest of us had to fend for ourselves. They’re not a government of the people. They think they’re above us poor working class folk.”

  Mildred chucked an empty pod at his head. It hit his ear before falling onto his shoulder. “Enough rabble rousing, turn up the volume so we can hear what he’s saying.”

  Henry scraped the pod off his shoulder and pitched it into the bowl. “This announcement had better be about the sickness.”

  Manny’s gut clenched. Had the Redaction returned? Was the dying about to start all over again? Could he keep the niños healthy? Three Burgers in a Basket had been closed. Three. They hadn’t closed that many at the height of the Redaction, but they were closed now. And that’s just the ones he knew about. How many more were infected?

  At the grocery store, there’d been people coughing and sneezing. Some even shivered with fever. The advertised well-stocked shelves had been nearly empty when they’d visited to buy ground beef for the promised burgers. Saliva pooled on his tongue at the memory of the beef. His stomach promised to return it to his mouth. Soon he’d have it again.

  Please God, not again.

  The President’s dark eyes darted from the camera to the right.

  “He’s reading off a teleprompter.” Henry folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Might as well just hold up a big sign saying, warning well-edited bullshit is about to be flung at you.’“

  A pea pod sailed in front of Manny.

  “Language, Henry.”

  “Woman, you’re gonna poke an eye out with those things!” Henry picked it off his lap and tossed it into the bowl.

  Manny bit his lip to keep from laughing. The couple always acted ridiculous when the topic turned serious. It certainly helped. Most of the time.

  A knock sounded on the door—two short raps followed by three.

  “Sounds like Irina is back from the Wilsons.” Henry wheeled around the coffee table toward the door. Despite using the appropriate signal, the old man dipped his hand next to his leg as he reached for the door handle.

  He must have a weapon. But what, Manny didn’t know, he hoped never to find out.

  “She’s brought company.” Connie spoke from the hallway entrance. She pushed her white hair off her forehead before walking into the room.

  “Company?” Henry raised his hand showing the black barrel of a handgun.

  Without pausing, Connie strode to her wing-backed chair and sat down. “I think the Wilsons are about to join our little family.”

  Family. Manny grinned as he continued to shell the peas. He liked the sound of that.

  “‘Bout time.” The old man smiled and threw open the door. It banged against the wall.

  Irina beamed at them. “Guess who I’ve brought.” The soft yellow porch light turned her bruised face an odd green color. “Since the other ladies have… left, Maggie and Liz decided it would be safer to stay with us.”

  The two pale sisters peered around Irina, tentative smiles on their young faces.

  Henry rolled back and spread his arms wide. “Welcome. We were just about to sit down and listen to the President lie to us.”

  Mildred hurled a pea pod at her husband. “Don’t pay him any mind.” She set her half empty bowl in Connie’s lap, before pushing off the couch.

  The white-haired lady dipped her fingers in the bucket, before shifting out one pod and unzipping it. Instead of using the bowl, she popped them into her mouth. She added the empty pod to the bucket, winked then held up a finger to her mouth while reaching for another.

  Manny cleared his throat. She had to be able to see at least a little to know where he was.

  “Constance, you stop eating them.” Mildred flapped her apron at the other woman before turning her attention to the girls. “Let’s make up an extra bed for you in the formal living room. Do you two mind sharing a bed?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Finished shelling his peas, Manny set his bowl on the coffee table. He hoped they started talking soon. He’d run out of yes and no questions before he’d finished his burger.

  “No? Good. I’ve got a great blow-up mattress.” Mildred reached for the black garbage bag the oldest girl held. Liz shrank back, hugging it to her chest.

  “It’s okay.” Irina rubbed Liz’s back. “They’re dirty clothes, Mildred will wash them tonight and you’ll have clean clothes for tomorrow.”

  Liz’s blue eyes widened, but when Irina nodded, she reluctantly handed over the bag.

  Mildred set it on the ground by the door. “I’m just going to set this right here until we get you settled. Irina, do you think you could get me the blue queen-sized sheets from the closet?”

  “Sure.” Rini rocked back on her heels, before turning to the younger girls. “I’m just going to the hall closet. It’s in the same place as your house. I’ll meet you in the formal living room. Okay?”

  Liz shifted closer to Maggie. The two sisters clasped hands.

  What had happened to make the girls so distrustful? Something pinged against Manny’s leg. He glanced at the green strip as another one sailed through the air and bounced off his thigh. He shifted the bucket to catch the next one.

  “Knew I’d hit the bucket eventually.” Connie winked at him.

  As the Wilson sisters followed Mildred from the room, Henry shut the door, secured the security door and the two deadbolts. “Damn, the President has already started talking.”

  Leaning forward, Manny hit the volume button on the remote.

  “…is cause for concern, but know this…” The President raised his hands and opened them about shoulder’s width. “…we are with you. I know that many of you think we are hiding, safe in our bunkers. But we are just as sick as many of you.”

  Manny glanced at Henry.

  Henry’s eyes narrowed. “I’d search for bugs, but they can eavesdrop on our conversations from satellites these days.”

  “My own wife and children are sick.” The President cleared his throat, twisted the cap off his bottle of water and took a sip. “I’m sick. But we’ll recover. We’ll get through this. Together.”

  “Yeah, we’re together only because they got sick, too.” Henry dashed in front of the coffee table, before spinning his chair about and locking the brakes.

  Manny sucked on his bottom lip. The President would get medical care. Irina had to get hers from the soldiers. God only knew how long that would last since everyone now seemed to be getting sick.

  The President coughed into his handkerchief. “The Surgeon General has recommended everyone resume wearing their face masks to prevent contracting the Ash Pneumonia.”

  Henry snorted and pounded on his skinny thighs. “Ash Pneumonia, my hairy tuckus. Something else is going on.” He pointed at the screen. “I bet him and his cronies haven’t set foot outside since October.”

  If not before that, Manny agreed. The government had to have known about the Redaction before it hit full force. Heck, he’d even heard the thing might have escaped from some government lab.

  The President took another sip of water. When he looked up, the camera zoomed in on his face. Red crowded the whites of his eyes, before the image pulled back.

  “Holy shit!” Henry gripped his wheels. “He’s got the Redaction.”

  “As for the Southwest, the governors are making plans to collect the trash. Once the garbage has been disposed of properly, the rat population should diminish as well as the chances of catching the Plague.”

  “Plague!” Manny leapt to his feet. The bucket of pea pods rained down on to his bare feet. He’d read about that in the history books, about entire towns being wiped out. “That’s even worse than the Redaction!”

  The President backed away from the podium and coughed. And coug
hed. And coughed, until he vomited. The image disappeared for a moment only to be replaced with a boxy rainbow and the emergency alert system honking.

  Henry stabbed the power button and the TV blinked out.

  Connie stopped shelling peas.

  Manny scrubbed his hands over his face. The President was sick, dying if the vomiting and the red eyes were anything to go by. He glanced toward the bedroom where the niños slept. “What’s going to happen now?”

  Connie ripped the string from the pod and shook the peas into her bowl. “Nothing much has changed for us. We’ll plant more vegetables for the coming spring. Mildred and I will begin teaching the little ones their lessons. You and Henry will continue to gather as many supplies as you can.”

  Henry closed his eyes for a minute. His lips moved silently before he opened his eyes. “No, Connie. We’re not going to be able to stay here. We need more people, more adults in our tribe, if we’re going to make it, if we’re going to protect the little ones.”

  “More?” Manny stooped down and began gathering the pods. Sure the extra food the soldiers had given them might seem like a lot, but he knew how quickly it would go.

  “Yes.” Henry righted the refuse bucket and set it on the coffee table. “I know it may seem counter-intuitive, but we’re going to need round the clock guards to protect our garden as well as ourselves.”

  “So we’re staying put.” Connie swept her hand back and forth in front of her knees, before she encountered the coffee table. She slid the bowl of shelled peas down her arm then made sure it rested firmly on the surface, before leaning back in her seat.

  “We can’t stay put. Those gangsters tried to take on the Marines in their tanks. They won’t think twice about coming after a cripple, two old women and a bunch of kids.”

  The empty pods bent in Manny’s fists and softened against his palms. Henry was right. “Can we wait until the soldiers return with next week’s rations?”

  It was just a week. But much could change in a week. His parents went from healthy to dead in four days. The Aspero might let them live a bit longer, but that was worse than the Redaction.