Redaction: The Meltdown Part II

by Andrews, Linda

  He wedged his hand through his hair but fell quiet.

  “The spores were delivered in the plush toys promoting the new film Hatshepsut.”

  The world swirled around her. Audra blinked bringing the posters promoting for the movie of the Egyptian pharaoh, Hatshepsut, into focus. Oh, no! No. No. No! Anger boiled through her until she was sure her hair caught fire. White powder dusted the toy bins under the counter across from her. A growl rumbled up her throat. She wrapped her fingers around the warm barrel of the shotgun and yanked.

  Eddie jerked forward, ripping the weapon out of her hold. “Calm down, Princess.”

  What was wrong with him? He’d been willing to shoot the treacherous stranger earlier. Now, when he learned they were allowed to willy-nilly enter this place of death, he backed down. Fine, let him be that way. She reached over the counter. Hard metal pressed against her stomach. Shallow breaths minimized the discomfort while she searched. There had to be a weapon here, somewhere. “You let me bring children in here! They could catch this anthrax bug and die.”

  “It’s clean.” Stuart ran his hand over the prep counter then flashed his fingers at her. “See.”

  “Fire will not destroy them,” the doctor continued as if listening to the conversation.

  Oh God. Oh God. Fabric cut into her belly.

  “Easy, Princess.” Eddie hooked a finger through her waistband. “Let’s hear the rest of it before you release your inner psycho.”

  Her fingers skimmed cups as she was pulled backward. They clattered and bounced on the tile. She caught the edge of the counter. “You don’t understand. He’s killed us all.”

  “I understand.” Squeezing his hand between her stomach and the counter, he flattened his palm against her bare skin.

  His rough skin branded her. Sucking in her belly, she jerked upright. What right did he have to do that to her?

  “If we end up dying, I promise we will shoot him first.” His breath disturbed her hair.

  She pushed off his hand and jerked her shirt over her skin. Was he raised in a barn?

  He winked at her and backed up a pace.

  “As such,” the acting Surgeon General continued, “I have ordered the evacuation of all cities. Directions for your egress routes will follow.”

  And to think, she’d been about to invite them to join her? She could have killed everyone. So much for the Silvestre’s divine duty to lead, to know the right decision.

  “Anthrax is not contagious. While the sick cannot pass it to one another by coughing or sneezing, I ask that you continue to wear your face masks. The spores are in the air and the masks will protect you.”

  She nodded. They’ve all been wearing their masks. That was good. She checked her hair. Perhaps, her anger had been a touch hasty.

  “The trek ahead will be long and dangerous. While we have laid in food, water, shelter and medicine along the routes, you will need to depend on one another to survive.”

  Stuart looked toward the window. “That gang, they control the supplies on this side of town. When we refused to give them what they wanted, they killed…” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his exposed throat. “There were more of us an hour ago.”

  She nodded. Stuart and his group had their own Casa Grande. Not that it justified allowing her to walk through a potentially dangerous area. Lord a’ mercy! What if she hadn’t been wearing her mask?

  The doctor continued talking. “You will need to stand for what is right, although there may be no one to witness your transgressions. Discord cannot be allowed to gain even a toehold or we may all still perish.”

  Goosebumps blistered her skin. Her daddy used to say things like that. God, it was like a voice from beyond the grave. She couldn’t leave them now.

  “Please follow the routes. Please join us. Now, more than ever, every person counts. You count. And we need you. We can and we will overcome this tragedy. With your help and your hope, the human race shall remain.”

  A man’s voice replaced the woman’s. “For those in North Phoenix—”

  Stuart shut off the radio and began cranking the handle. “The East Valley is the last one mentioned.”

  Audra adjusted her mask. With that in place, she was safe inside. “How many people do you have?”

  His cranking slowed. “Twenty-four adults. Sixteen kids.”

  Forty people. They could replace those they’d lost. They were familiar with the city and its dangers. As long as Stuart didn’t place her or her children in jeopardy again, they would get along fine. “We have room on the buses but you’ll have to split up.”

  “Some of us are sick.”

  “That Doc lady said it wasn’t contagious.” Eddie cradled his shotgun. “The government may lie but the Surgeon Generals kept getting fired for telling the people the truth about the Redaction. I say we trust her.”

  Audra rubbed her forehead. The throbbing increased as she processed Eddie’s statement. The Surgeon General was part of an untrustworthy government but they could trust it? “Okay…”

  Stuart shrugged. “The soldiers will be following her orders.”

  She expected reluctance from Eddie—the man took great pride in heckling her, but Stuart’s reluctance stuck in her craw. Perhaps he needed to lead to compensate for other shortfalls. Not that she cared. She’d only taken charge because it was her duty. A Silvestre always did her duty.

  And as soon as she reached the soldiers at the Polytech Campus that would end. In the meantime, she’d fall back on the old drill. “Everyone who’s sick needs to board bus two-eight. Those who aren’t sick, find any jugs of vegetable or cooking oil.”

  “Cooking oil?” Stuart leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

  She swallowed the bitterness in her mouth. Her buses, her rules. “We need some gas to tide us over until we reach the campus.”

  Behind him, people began to shift. A few coughing individuals shuffled around the counter. Her flashlight was passed forward.

  “What else?”

  “Gather every useable item you can and load them onto bus niner-niner.”

  “We’ve already collected all the canned goods. Unfortunately, it’s not much food.”

  She hadn’t expected there to be. “What about paper products?”

  Stuart frowned. “You can’t eat paper.”

  No, but it has other uses, not that men always needed it. And the whole world seemed to have been picked clean. She wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity. “Ask six of your strongest men to help unload the departed. Everyone who doesn’t have any oil, please take as much as you can carry. Food first, then paper products.”

  The people glanced at her then focused on Stuart. He nodded once; they began to move.

  Principal Dunn jogged in, waving his pistol. “Company’s coming from across the field. I think they have weapons.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Trent Powers set his hand on the pages of the Bible to keep the wind from turning them and bowed his head. Power surged through him as the crowd remained silent. He controlled them. Closing his eyes, he moved his lips, stretching out the moment. This was how it was meant to be. His whole life practically led up to this moment.

  Around him, leaves and seed pods rustled in the breeze. The advancing storm’s anvil pressed closer and weighted the air.

  Someone cleared her throat. His fingers spasmed on the pages, crinkling them. Who would dare interrupt? Trent opened his eyes to mere slits. A dowdy woman with gray streaked hair covered her mouth and cleared her throat again.

  Mavis Spanner.

  Doctor Mavis Spanner. The bitch in charge of everyone. It wasn’t enough that the military kissed her ass, she had to steal the attention away from him. Again! Her droning on and on about the need for the strong to care for the weak had chased people away. As if anyone really believed such bullshit. Still, it hadn’t all been bad. His faithful minion Dirk had found five more enforcers.

  Standing next to her, General Flunky shifted in his dulled black shoes
and coughed into a ladies handkerchief embroidered with the Marine Corps insignia. Of course, six enforcers weren’t enough to take out the military. Yet. But his time would come.

  Others stirred. A few even started murmuring.

  Fuck! The bitch would learn she’d made a mistake messing with him. A fatal mistake. Ask his late ex-wife. Warmth washed through him. He’d never felt so alive as at that moment. Even this… Closing the bible, he spread his hands wide. Even this adulation fell short.

  But it was close.

  So close.

  He allowed his lips to curve in a serene smile and opened his eyes. “Amen.”

  “Amen.” They chorused—sheep grateful for a leader.

  Grateful to him for leading them.

  Mavis nodded her head once. Seven rifles fired. Again. And again before falling silent. The civilians thrown in the mass grave with the soldiers were getting a military funeral. Either way, it was a waste of ammunition. He would have put those bullets to better use.

  His fingers bit into the leather covering. She was not as grateful as she should be. No doubt she hated men, because really what man would want her? An idea flooded his brain, blinding in its brilliance. He could seduce her. Yes, she’d probably be grateful. Hell, he might even fuck her. He could consult the pornographic rolodex inside his head and picture a beautiful babe when he plowed the ugly troll.

  “Thank you for the service, Reverend Franklin.” The head bitch offered her hand.

  Damn! His smile stiffened.

  “Trent, please.” He reminded her again. At least no one around them knew of that tiny name mistake. Tucking the bible under his arm, he slid his fingers across her palm and cupped the other over the back. Her calluses chaffed his soft hand. Couldn’t the woman at least attempt to make herself attractive? “I wish I could say it was my pleasure but…”

  He waited for her to beg him to finish what he started. They all wanted the reassurances only he could offer.

  Her nostrils flared and she gently tugged her hand free. “But these are trying times.”

  Behind her, the air sounded with the grunts as soldiers shoveled and threw the remains of houses on top of the empty pools they’d filled with corpses.

  “Reverend.” With steel cutting his voice, General Flunky thrust his hand out. “You might want to avoid Revelations in future graveside services. Folks have enough doom and gloom served up on their plate.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Trent gingerly eased his hand into the meat grinder. At the first pump, his bones ground against each other. On the second, they seemed to fuse in place.

  General Flunky released him after the third. “See that you do.”

  Blood screamed into his fingers. Currents of pain radiated up his arm. Son of a bitch. Once he was in charge, the asshole was going to have an accident. His heart quickened. He hadn’t killed a man. Ever. One, even as old as the general, should be worthy prey.

  A soldier appeared at his side. Sweat ringed the armpits of her form-fitting khaki shirt and dust dulled her blond hair. “Ma’am.”

  Not a bad rack. Thumbing through the Bible, he studied the new arrival. From the red in her eyes, she might have lost someone today.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Lucas.” Mavis set her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I am so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything you need me to do, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  General Flunky’s salt and pepper eyebrows nearly reached his crewcut. Was that dissent in the ranks. He held his breath until his heart rate settled. It was bound to happen with a woman in charge and this their first day out.

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” The Lieutenant sniffed and held up a bundled jacket. It jingled like a bag of coins. “I’ll be fine.”

  Were they robbing the dead? Trent licked his lips. How could that perk have slipped his mind? Some people would have carried money and valuables.

  Mavis accepted the bundle and cleared her throat. Cradling it in her arm, she adjusted the folds. “I appreciate the job you and the others are doing.”

  “What will you do with them?” Lieutenant bit her lip.

  Yes, what? Trent leaned forward a little. Maybe he could get a look, pick out the choice pieces. Only someone with his exquisite taste would know a cubic zirconium from a real diamond. Besides, he deserved some reward for his important services.

  “If any family survives, the effects will be returned to them. The dog tags will be displayed. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.” The doctor’s voice cracked on the last word. Clearing her throat, she hugged the bundle to her chest and left. General Flunky quickly followed.

  So, the head bitch had a heart. Good. He could exploit the weakness.

  With a jerk of her head, Lieutenant Lucas imitated their example.

  Oh no, you don’t. Trent jogged after her. Not too fast. He loved the swing of her ass. Would it be firm like a ripe peach when he grabbed it, slapped it? His palms itched. Soon he intended to find out. “Lieutenant.”

  She stopped in her tracks and faced him.

  He almost missed the view, but then those marvelous tits pointed at him. Damn, but he did like big jugs.

  “Something I can do for you, Reverend?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  The mass jiggled as if anxious for his attention. He forced himself to look at her face. The view wasn’t as nice but he could maintain it for a while. “Doctor Spanner can only offer so much comfort.”

  A muscle flexed in her jaw and her eyes narrowed.

  He shifted on his feet, glad his baggy pants hid his erection. Obviously her training set her apart from most women; she actually seemed to sense the predator inside him. The chase tasted sweet. “Perhaps when we stop for the night, you and some of your comrades might join me for…”

  He faked a cough. Damn, what was the word? There was a little more to this ministering gig than he thought.

  Her arms loosened enough to hang below her breasts.

  With his hair hanging over his eyes, he looked his fill. After a second or three, he thumped on his chest like he’d seen others do, then straightened. “Pardon me. What was I saying?”

  “You were about to invite me to a Bible Study group.”

  Bible study. Yes, that must be it. It definitely sounded serious and boring like most church stuff. “Exactly. There are many who are suffering and only one of me to attend them.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m a Marine.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear then left.

  Good. She flirted with him. He watched her walk toward the other soldiers. Definitely lots of promise there. As he knew she would, she glanced back at him when she picked up her shovel.

  Her mouth moved but the wind whisked away her words.

  Not that what women said was important. His cock twitched. But their mouths could serve a higher purpose. He chuckled at his own joke and stroked the Bible. His good luck charm.

  “Reverend?” Another woman called out.

  He stilled. God damn it, would he never get rid of that dog-faced whore. He’d already screwed her. He didn’t owe her anything else. Why couldn’t she have been one of the dead? Shoring up his lips, he turned to face her—mouse brown hair, flat chest, a pouchy belly and cellulite ass. He must have been desperate.

  “My dear, what can I do for you?” He didn’t use her name, although he knew it. Sally was as interesting as day old flan, and twice as unappetizing. She also didn’t seem to serve much purpose now that they’d left Phoenix. She’d misled him, taken advantage of his shock. He should have known better than to trust a woman.

  Laughter drifted on the breeze.

  He slanted a glance at Lieutenant Lucas. Of course, big tits compensated for the lies and deception.

  “The first trucks are beginning to move out. They house the sick and dying.” Stopping in front of him, Sally smiled, but it didn’t reach her faded blue eyes.

  Perhaps his disinterest was beginning to penetrate the cow’s thick skull. God, he hoped she wasn’t
the clingy sort. His heart skipped a beat. Then again, there were a rumors of rapes going around. One was bound to end in death, sooner or later. He stroked his Bible. He wasn’t opposed to setting the timetable. “Are the poor souls calling for me?”

  She shrugged and stared at a spot over his shoulder. “The Good Book offers them comfort.”

  He nodded. Yes, and as the only one who possessed it, he was the only one who could give comfort. If only they weren’t so sick. He hated their coughing, whining for water, and begging to see their loved ones. The military said anthrax wasn’t contagious, but what did they know? Besides hadn’t the government claimed the same thing when the Redaction hit and cleaned so many useless people off the face of humanity?

  Thankfully, he was well rewarded for his service.

  “Of course. Of course.” He thumbed through the pages. The familiar green and white edge of a fifty dollar bill caught his attention before it disappeared. Shit! I thought I had gotten them all. “I’ll be right there.”

  She arched an eyebrow and tapped her foot.

  Did she think he did her bidding? She was nothing. No one even noticed her, wouldn’t know when she’d disappeared. “I have something to do.”

  He hitched up his trousers as he’d seen some of the uncouth servicemen do.

  She blushed and looked at the ground. “Of course. I’ll hold a truck for you.”

  Bitch! “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  He waited for her to leave.

  She coughed, pointing to a clump of trees in the wash. A stream of white toilet paper waved from thin green branches. “They’ve set up the head down there.”

  What was he, an animal? He could hold it until they reached someplace civilized. Then again, anything was better than being with her and he had to get that money—after all he’d called himself Benjamin in honor of it. And with the way people kept touching his Bible, someone was bound to steal it. He took a step toward the wash. “See you in a bit.”

  Finally the bitch left.

  Sand and gravel slipped inside his boots. His thigh burned as he slipped down the incline. Finally, Trent reached the bottom and stopped for a battered Ford truck to pass. A horse whinnied from the full trailer it pulled. Coughing, he waved away the dust and crossed the packed dirt road and stomped on the crushed shrubs. Using the Bible, he pushed aside the branches then gagged. The place stunk of shit.