“Here.” Her niece waved a hand over the back of the couch, before it clamped down on the cushion. Soon after, the television was muted and a face appeared. “You sound sick.”
“Yeah, sore throat.” Among other things. As a chill washed over her, she clutched the edges of her robe together. She sniffed. Although her nose remained clear. Hopefully that meant her health was improving.
“Me, too.” Sunnie smiled back. “And neck and legs and arms and everything but my eyelashes. Although, when I breathe they protest a little. Tea with honey and lemon helps.” She coughed into a handkerchief. “At least, I don’t have a runny nose.”
“Small blessings.” Covering a yawn, Mavis slogged to the kitchen island and the regiment of bottles lined up in the middle. She reached for the bottle of antibiotics, Cipro, the one the government continued to stockpile. Not that it would cure the influenza, but the secondary symptoms would be eliminated.
If she had influenza.
She could very well have the plague. In which case, she hoped the drug would prove as effective as penicillin. Heck, if it could take out anthrax, plague should be a walk in the park. Provided the Chinese hadn’t cut it with something to increase their profits.
She shook the bottle, hearing the expected rattle, before unscrewing the cap and dumping a dose into her palm. “Have you had your meds this morning?”
Sunnie rested her chin on the back of the couch. “I’m feeling better. Why don’t we save them for someone who needs it?”
Mavis blinked. Unbelievable! Nine months of living with a microbiologist and the girl still didn’t get it. Antibiotics were supposed to be taken to the end, not stopped because the patient felt better. That’s the way antibiotic resistance spread. And killed people. “Plague requires a sixty day dose. The risks are too high for you to stop when you feel better.”
She shook two tablets onto the counter, capped the bottle then backed away. Minimizing contact was safest at the moment. For all they knew, Mavis could have Hanta Virus and her niece the Plague. Both started with flu-like symptoms. Hell, she’d be hard pressed to find one disease that didn’t.
“Risks?” Sunnie levered herself off the couch. The blanket trailed behind her as she shuffled over.
“Full blown Plague rarely responds to antibiotics. The disease has to be caught early if you expect to recover.” Mavis stuck the pills as far down her throat as she could without gagging, threw back her head and swallowed. The pills lodged in her throat for a moment, but a couple more swallows and they went down.
“Gah,” Sunnie fisted the pills and shook her hand like she planned to shoot dice. “How do you take these things without water?”
“Practice.” Mavis moved around the kitchen island when her niece headed for the sink. “What did you have for breakfast?”
“Toast and tea.” Sunnie patted her flat stomach neatly covered by her pajama bottoms. “I don’t think I could handle much more.”
Mavis’s stomach cramped at the thought of that much food. Still, she needed to eat something or she’d vomit the pills. Then they really would taste foul. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll make some chicken soup for lunch and dinner.”
“Could you put some noodles in it?” After removing a cup from the cabinet, Sunnie pushed open the tap. No water trickled out. Muttering, she bent down, opened the cabinet door under the sink and pulled out a bottle of water in a repurposed two-liter soda bottle. “I think my stomach would want something a little more… substantial than just broth.”
“Sure.” Mavis unwrapped a home baked loaf of bread and cut off two slices before popping them into the toaster. “I might even have a can of mixed vegetables around here somewhere.”
Sunnie coughed into her sleeve before wiping her eyes. “Don’t go overboard with the vegetables.”
“I won’t.” How could any relation of hers hate vegetables? Her sister, Sunnie’s mom, certainly hadn’t. Shaking her head, she opened the pantry and stepped inside, casting an evil eye toward the six cans of Spam. The impromptu barbecue hadn’t gotten rid of it all, more’s the pity. Maybe she could give it to the soldiers.
They ate everything.
By-passing the hated Spam, she collected two cans of mixed vegetables, half a pound of alphabet pasta, chicken-flavored textured soy protein, and chicken bouillon cubes. Cradling her bounty, she backed out of the shallow pantry then kicked the door shut. Her lungs heaved like she’d run a marathon. She opened her arms and the cans rolled on the counter.
Breathing deeply through her nose, she fought the tightness banding her chest. Getting sick sucked. Her toast popped up. She eyed the black edges. Good thing she liked it well-done.
“Who was on the phone?” Sunnie slid a paper plate across the kitchen island.
Mavis slapped it to a stop, before it plopped to the floor. With both of them being sick, water being unreliable and God knows what falling from the sky, they were back to minimizing the infection by burning their dishes. At least, while their paper plates, cup and plasticware lasted.
Fortunately, she’d stocked up for Jack’s wake.
Tears stung her eyes and pricked her nose. She wished he were here, helping her through this. Two always made things so much easier to bear. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. Instead of Jack’s face, Sergeant Major Dawson beamed at her. Her heart did another funny dance. Maybe she should get it checked. Cipro had some nasty side effects.
“Aunt Mavis?”
She shook off thoughts of the soldier. “Yeah, um.” Picking up her plate, she tossed the cooling toast onto the surface. “Did you want something?”
Sunnie tilted her head. Fever still flushed her cheeks. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Oh. Okay.” Had the doorbell rang? She burped and tasted the bitter medicine. Antibiotics and an empty stomach never agreed with her. “Do you think you could make me a glass of lemonade?”
Setting her plate on the counter, she snatched up a piece of dry toast and stuck a corner in her mouth. Black and dark brown flakes rained down on the cartoon dog on her tee shirt. Brushing them off, she adjusted the edges of her robe and shambled to the door.
Sunnie crept into the kitchen. “You’re not going to answer the door in your pjs, are you?”
This from a girl who shopped in them and had gone to university classes in them? Apparently, forty-two was much too old for it to be cute. Frankly, ten was much too old for it to be cute. But changing required energy she didn’t have or wish to expend. “Yes, I’m going to answer the door in my pajamas. Because the only other option is to strip down and answer it naked.”
Her niece gasped in outrage. Kids today. Mavis chuckled. Besides, the robe covered her pretty well. Tightening the belt, she allowed her mind to plot out the day’s strategy. So much to do today, even if they weren’t bugging out. She had to tell the soldiers of the governor’s lunacy. Go to work sick. Such rampant stupidity.
Taking another bite of toast, she opened the door and stared through the black mesh of the security door.
“Doctor Spanner.” General Lister ran his hand through his buzz cut. His toe tapped out his annoyance. “You’re not going to believe the idiocy coming down the horn.”
After retracting the deadbolt, she pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “Let me guess, you’ve been ordered to return to work or risk being shot.”
Lister shook his square head while thumping his hat against his palm. Pulling the screen all the way open, he marched into the foyer. “Got to you too?”
“Oh, I was accused of kidnapping you and your men.” Mavis stuffed the last corner of toast in her mouth and chewed. The dry bread absorbed what little moisture she had left.
“She wants my sick men out on the line, battling the fire.” He caught the security door before it slammed shut. “They’re having a hard enough time breathing already. They don’t need to inhale smoke.”
Mavis nodded and rushed toward her red cup of instant lemonade. God, who knew toast was so akin to cement.
Forcing her mouth open, she downed half the pink liquid. The sourness barely registered, but the water flooded her mouth and emulsified the pap, washing it safely down. “I’m just glad she didn’t rake me over the coals for ordering an evacuation of the city.”
Swirling her cup, she watched the chunks of drink mix roll along the bottom.
“I wish we had evacuated then I would have an excuse not to answer her calls.” Lister secured the security door then shut the house one.
Mavis glanced at him over the rim of her cup. In her peripheral vision, she watched Sunnie return to the couch. Once more, her moose slippers kept a plastic eye on her from their perch on the sofa arm.
“Of course it must be worse for you.” Lister clasped his hands behind his back. “I can only imagine the fallout from predicting the end of the world, then it not happening.”
She shrugged and drained her cup, sucking in her jaws as the sweetness flooded her mouth. With everyone recovering, her career was over that was for sure. Unlike the religious zealots, folks that cried wolf only to find the flock relatively unperturbed didn’t last long in science. Still…
“I’d rather have my niece recovering and sleep in my nice warm bed then the my sims’ alternative—having to hightail it to Rim Country before the power plant melted down.”
“You’re a cool one, Doc.” Lister plucked one of the red cups off the stack on the counter. “Do you mind?”
“Be my guest.” Propping a hip against the counter, she pushed the container of instant lemonade at him, and then offered him her cup. “I could use a refill myself.”
He twisted the cap off the two-liter bottle and filled both cups. “Thing is, Doc. I can’t quite wrap my head around this being over.” He opened the instant lemonade and poured some into each container. “I mean seventy percent casualties are a lot different than everyone recovering.”
His brow furrowed as he glanced left then right. Leaning right, he grabbed the spoon off the counter.
Mavis opened her mouth to object. Sunnie had no doubt licked the spoon, spreading her germs on it before setting it on the counter.
He dunked it into the cups and stirred.
Her teeth clicked together. Too late now. Not that she would get sick again, but the general seemed healthy. What would it take for people to learn not to presume anything left out was clean?
“So what do you think, Doc?” He licked the plastic spoon then set it in the sink.
She thought that if he didn’t get sick then the man had an immune system worth studying. Clearing her throat, she stared down at the sludge on the bottom of her cup. That much sugar was going to make her teeth hurt. “I think… I think that we’re very lucky if everyone is recovering.”
“Exactly.” Lister threw back his head and chugged his drink. Not a drop leaked out the corner of his mouth. Smacking his lips, he placed his cup on the kitchen island. “Even the most effective of the antivirals didn’t work in two days. Four, yes, but not two. And my men didn’t even have antivirals, so what gives?”
Mavis glanced at her niece’s feet twitching in time to a Depeche Mode music video playing on a retro station. Sunnie had been on antibiotics for a suspected plague infection. Yet, she too had gotten better in two days. “We’re missing something.”
“Yeah.” Lister added more water to his cup. Raising his eyebrows, he pointed the nearly empty bottle at her. “My balls are drawn up real tight, which means the shit hasn’t yet hit the fan.”
Holding her cup close, she shuffled to the dining room table and plunked down. Information nagged at the fringes of her thought. What could it be? After clearing her fingerprints on the biometrics, she opened her laptop. The black map of the United States stared back at her.
“So do we pull up stakes and redeploy?” Lister pulled out the chair opposite her and straddled it.
“No. No, don’t do that.” Mavis switched to the CDC database. Everyone had been so trapped in the Redaction paradigm; they may have missed something important—a clue to the real nature of the beast.
“Good.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ll keep this as our base. At least, most of the neighborhoods around here haven’t caught fire yet.”
She brought up the list of diseases and stared at the row of letters at the top of the page. Great. An alphabetical list.
“What about our bug-out plan?” Lister drummed on the table.
“When is the next ration distribution day?”
“Monday.” He shrugged, and then scratched his arm. “Maybe later if the fires continue.”
“Delay distribution.” Mavis looked over the top of her laptop at him. “I want that food kept in reserve.”
“Will do.” Sighing he rose to his feet and stretched. “Take care of yourself, Doc. I’ll check in when I get off duty.”
“Be careful.” Mavis clicked on the ‘a’.
Before the screen could switch over, Miles Arnez appeared. “Hello.” He scratched his pink scalp. “The military and government officials all seem to be recovering.I think I should warn you, we’re both going to be on the unemployment lines soon. As well as public enemy numbers one and two. Somehow I’m sure we’ll take the blame for the economy and global warming as well.”
“Miles,” Mavis rubbed her aching chest. “I don’t think this is over. In fact, I think the worst is yet to come.”
Chapter Forty
Walking down the clogged road, Manny peered into the veil of smoke clinging like a bad odor to the clogged road. Moisture distorted his vision. He blinked but instead of washing away the grit under his lids, the motion allowed the soot to scratch his eyes.
Through the mesh of gray, towers of black smoke choked the Phoenix skyline like evil pillars of destruction. Red and orange tongues of fire laved two of the tall buildings. On the rise seven miles away, he saw the white specs leap from the upper stories, accompanied by colorful bed sheets that never quite opened like a parachute.
At least, he was too far away to hear the watery splat landing. Glancing over his shoulder, he stared down the lines of people. The haze prevented him from seeing the niños, but they were back there watched over by Rini, Connie, the Wilson sisters and Mildred.
And lots of coughing strangers.
Even now, the hacking drowned out the drone of the ATV and motorcycle engines at the back of the line. Cloths of many colors covered the gray faces in their funeral procession.
“We picked up more people.” Again. There must be a hundred extra folks marching with them now. Did they even know where they were headed or were they just desperate to leave?
Anywhere was safer than here.
Henry maneuvered his wheelchair around a pothole. “We’ll pick up a lot more before we reach the soldiers’ camp.”
Yeah, but how many of those with them would make it that far? So many seemed sick. Shuffling forward, Manny coughed and his hot breath washed back across his face. Despite his mask, he tasted the ash of the fires and smelled the burning plastic. He slammed the battered door of a white Toyota shut. Around him, two more doors echoed his actions.
Threading a path through the line of abandoned cars, he forced his jaw to relax. Bad enough the people just walked away from their vehicles blocking the road and the sidewalk, but why did they have to leave the doors open? He stumbled over an abandoned blue flip-flop before catching himself on a hatchback. Pain rocketed up his elbow were it collided with the wiper.
“We need to take a break.”
Pushing off the car, Manny glanced down at Henry. “A break? We’ve been traveling for three hours and have only gone that many miles.”
Henry jerked his head back. His ponytail lashed the back of his wheelchair. “The ATVs are having trouble keeping up.”
And the ATVs hauled the food, and the supplies, and the sick, and some of the little ones. They also herded the stragglers so no one was left behind. Breaks appeared in the lines of people weaving through the cars. At least they could turn and squeeze through the tight spots.
The vehicles had to keep to the edges because of the mishmash of cars blocking the way.
A woman with a toddler in her arms stumbled against a van. She turned her head, coughing away from the baby. A man shambled into the cough before lifting the toddler up and away. The woman closed her eyes for a moment, pushed away from the van and stumbled after the man and child.
Manny raked his fingers through his short black hair before adjusting his face mask. “Everyone’s having trouble.”
Twenty-two miles would take them a week at this pace. With his luck, they might get to the soldiers’ camp to be told the pandemic was over.
Henry pulled hard on his wheels before yanking his hands into his lap. The sides of his chair scraped the fender of a Honda. “I did not expect so many abandoned vehicles.”
Manny slammed another door then kicked crumpled paper under the engine. “You’d have thought people would have siphoned the gas and pooled it to get further.”
That would have been the smart thing to do. He eyed the box of Ramen noodles visible through the passenger window. But this abandonment seemed more the result of panic than thought.
“Lots of folks think they can survive alone.” More paper crunched under Henry’s wheels. “Stupid.”
Manny nodded. Been there, done that. It sucked. Not that he was happy about all the people they collected. Especially since most of them appeared to be sick. Sighing, he booted a pile of clothes out of the way, clearing the path for Henry.
Setting his brake, Henry braced his hands on the arms of his chair and levered himself up. “We might have a bit of trouble.”
“Where?” Manny whipped his head up.
About a hundred yards down the road, a man on horseback rose above the slope of abandoned cars. Smoke wrapped him in a gray mist but didn’t disguise the rifle in his arms.
The hair on Manny’s neck rose. One man. One. But there were many of them. He counted six walking abreast. All able to walk without coughing. Sure, cars separated them, but if they stood together and faced him down… “We could probably take him.”
Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) Page 38
