“Me?” Falcon rocked back on his heels. “You’re their Papa.”
He shook his head. No, that wasn’t the way it was going to be. He had to stay here to make sure everything worked and they got three more radioactive free days. “Olivia and Jillie like you best.”
And he had too much to atone for.
“Yeah, they do, don’t they?”
He kissed the boy’s head. Maybe Toby would remember him fondly. Maybe in the end someone alive wouldn’t think he’d been such a fuck-up.
Falcon rubbed his jaw, the stubble making a rasping sound against his fingers. “But the munchkin only listens to you. You’ll have to come with us.”
He shook his head. Pain hollowed him out, left his heart banging like a drum. “No. You don’t understand…”
“Flight twenty-nine sixty-three.”
His lungs seized. Oh, God! Falcon knew! Falcon who’d lost his entire family to Influenza. Why hadn’t the former Green Beret slit his throat while he slept? “What!”
Toby mumbled something and turned his face in the other direction.
“Flight twenty-nine sixty-three. The airplane that brought the Redaction to Phoenix. You were on it.”
His jaw moved but no sound came out. No wonder the man agreed to the suicide pact. Falcon probably wanted to watch the man responsible for the death of everything he loved die horribly and painfully. Papa Rose swallowed despite his dry throat.
Falcon turned his face up to the black velvet sky. Stars twinkled, but the moon had deserted them. “I was three rows behind you, aisle seat.”
Muscle turned to unset gelatin. His knees buckled and his stomach fluttered in his throat.
Quick as lightning, Falcon swung Toby out out his arms.
“Papa!” Toby squealed.
Water sprinkled the mud as Papa Rose landed in the puddle. Cold saturated his jeans, creeping up his thighs and pebbles gouged his knees. He glanced up. “You were…”
Shadows carved up Falcon’s dark face, masked his expression. The ex-Green Beret set Toby on the ground, mud closed around the boy’s makeshift shoes. He swatted the preschooler’s behind, pushing him toward the latrines. “Why don’t you go potty?”
Toby about faced and squished through the mud to his side. “Papa ‘kay?”
His hands lay like dead wood on his lap and his tongue was spray foam in his mouth. The plane had been full that day, but he’d never thought…
“Papa Rose is just fine.” Falcon mussed up Toby’s curls. “He’s just a little tired. Someone ate his cookies at dinner.”
Toby shoved his face in his. Concern etched lines in the smooth baby cheeks. “I won’t eats your cookies again, Papa.”
Christ Jesus! He’d made a kid feel bad. Papa Rose wrapped his arms around the boy and held him close. The preschooler was as substantial as a hummingbird. “You can eat my cookies anytime, munchkin. Anytime.”
Small hands patted his shoulder. “Are you crying, Papa?”
He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Me? Nah. It’s just the rain, that’s all.”
Except even the preschooler knew that it was no longer raining. Hadn’t been for the last several hours.
He set the lad away from him and forced his lips into a smile. “You go and use the potty, okay?”
Toby’s bottom lip protruded for a moment. After a bit he sucked it back in. “‘Kay.”
With one last glance, the munchkin splashed through the puddles toward the bathroom.
“You gonna wallow in the mud all night?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” When Papa Rose shoved to his feet, water dribbled down his shins and crept into his socks.
“Thought you knew.” Falcon gestured to a five gallon bucket of drywall mud near the storage shed. “That will make a good toilet.”
No. He didn’t know. He hadn’t really paid much attention to anything after the Influenza had claimed his last child. “We’ll grab the seat off the potty for the girls to use.”
“And let’s not forget the toilet paper. Girls go through a lot of it.”
Jillie exited the john, nearly smacking Toby with the door. He giggled and she held out her hand. They entered the bathroom without exchanging a word.
Mud sucked at his boots as he followed Falcon across the field. Questions simmered inside his head. Some were dismissed as irrelevant, others needed answers. “Is that why you agreed to the pact?”
Squatting next to the bucket, Falcon grabbed the lid and twisted. The green lid twisted off. “I’ve been praying for a sign. Since your…offer came so close to the Doc’s request for volunteers, I figured that was it.”
“Yeah.” It had coincided beautifully. Once they’d taken Colonel Henry Dobbins to safety, his debt had been repaid. There’d been nothing left to live for and death by guilt was a little too slow for his taste.
Falcon’s nose wrinkled at the musty odor and pushed the bucket over. Black mold marbled the white drywall and clouded the water standing on the top. “Still, the Doc’s message hounded me.”
“It was broadcast everywhere. To help the survivors.” A breeze rippled the tarp over a pile of wood. His wet pants molded to his thighs.
“Every time we turned the corner, that one line played. Every one mattered. Now more than ever.”
Papa Rose’s skin tightened. He’d dismissed that as a product of his imagination but if the other man heard it too…
“Then we met the munchkins.”
“Right where we’d found the fuel.” And a portable generator that they would actually need to delay the inevitable meltdown.
“And no other survivors to take care of Toby, Jillie or Olivia.” Falcon turned the bucket upside down and thumped on the bottom. Chunks of drywall mud vomited to the ground. “I began to think I’d misread the signs.”
He scanned the ground for a stick. And the coward had hi-tailed it to the trailer to hide. “So you left me alone with them.”
Damn, he was slowing up in his old age.
“Thought it would be easier to stick to the plan that way.”
He crossed to the tarp and lifted one edge. Two by fours. He could use them. The plastic flaked off in places when he threw it aside. Webs netted the smaller cuts of wood in the center. Black spiders dotted the surface. He selected a two foot long piece and tapped it on the pile to dislodge the inhabitants. “Then came the last ten hours.”
Falcon accepted the wood then scooped out the remaining goo. “I was a goner the moment I picked up Olivia and tore her away from her mother.”
He smeared the cobwebs on his pants. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
The door to the potty banged shut.
“Yeah.” Falcon tossed the board away, grabbed the handle of the bucket and rose to his feet. “We’re gonna owe the Colonel a debt we’ll never repay if he helps us to deal with the guilt.”
“The old man is gonna love it.” Papa Rose’s boots barely touched the mud as he returned to the potties. “I’ll get the seat.”
“Don’t forget the toilet paper.”
“Hey!” Brainiac stuck his head out of the building. “We need to get a move on. A chiller to the cooling pools is malfunctioning. We now have four hours.”
Chapter Twenty
“Can’t sleep?” Eddie whispered from his chair next to the door.
Audra rolled on left side to face the vestibule he guarded. No matter how much she blinked, shadows didn’t emerge from the darkness. “How did you know I was awake?”
“Just did.”
On her right, Mrs. Rodriquez mumbled in her sleep. Further in the tent, Principal Dunn snored. Others slumbered quietly on the cots lined up in neat rows. She raised her wrist but couldn’t see the time. How long would she have to lay here? “When is dawn?”
A pale green light washed over Eddie’s face—there and gone just when she picked out his profile. “In a couple of hours.”
“You still have the flashlight?” She shoved aside the blankets. A chill washed over he
r, sowing goosebumps up her arms. Rubbing them away, she tugged on her boots. Cold leather felt stiff against her skin.
There was a soft click and a small ball of light raced across the floor and up her legs. “Going to do a little exploring?”
“I’m awake.” And thinking and thinking and thinking but not accomplishing anything. Pushing off the cot, she gathered the blanket in her hands. The coarse material slipped through her fingers. She matched the corners and folded it, over and over until it matched the size of her pillow.
Eddie chuckled.
She smoothed the sheet over the mattress, tucked in the sides. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re always so proper.” The light bounced around, growing bigger until the edges stretched across her narrow cot.
After a quick tweak to the pillow, she ran her fingers through her hair. Thank goodness no one could see the rat’s nest. “Things should always be returned in the same condition or better as when you borrowed them.”
Fabric rustled, then warmth enveloped her shoulders. “You’ll need your jacket.”
Her fingers brushed his; he pulled away. “Thank you.”
“Can’t have our Princess getting sick on my watch.”
She stiffened. Why did he always have to be so odious and call her princess? She stuffed her arms into her sleeves and zipped up her fleece jacket.
“What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?” Eddie spotlighted her hand, clasped it and tugged her toward the door.
“I just need to know what I have to work with.” She dragged her boots over the wooden floor, hoping not to trip. God knew, Eddie probably wouldn’t let her live it down if she did a face plant at his feet.
The beam shone along the creased green floor covering. Hinges whined when he pushed open the first door. Cold air twined around her ankles and caressed her cheeks. “Always prepared, huh?”
Using her free hand, she turned up her collar against the chill. Gracious. It must be fifty degrees out. She caught the door before it banged shut and eased it into the jamb.
“Were you a Boy Scout?” Eddie held open the outside door and stepped to the side, allowing her to precede him.
She tugged her hand free and stepped across the threshold. Her boot squished into the mud. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a girl.”
“I know exactly what you are, Princess.”
She didn’t ask him to elaborate. It would no doubt be unflattering to actually hear what he thought of her. Especially since what he did say was nasty enough.
Deputy Pecos rose from his seat by the outside door—one man-shaped shadow among the rectangular ones. “Evening, Eddie. Princess.”
She bit her tongue. Eddie deserved a boil on his posterior for giving her that stupid nickname. “Deputy. Any sign of trouble?”
Eddie flicked the light over the revolver in the other man’s hand.
“No, Ma’am.” The deputy hitched his pants a little higher. “But Prince Charming’s loyal subjects are constantly lining up near the toilets.”
She eyed the vestibule of the next tent over. The door banged open.
Eddie shone the light on the figure bursting through the door.
Slipping in the mud, Stuart raised his hand, shielding his eyes. “What the fuck, Pecos! You know it’s me.”
“It’s not Pecos.” Eddie lowered the beam to Stuart’s chest. “You don’t look so good, Prince Charming. Are you sick?”
Stuart clutched his stomach. “It’s those damn pills that Audra forced us to take. They’re making me sick.”
Oh, for pity’s sake. He was a grown man. It wasn’t like she’d sat on him and shoved them down his throat. “You’re the one that didn’t want to take them with food.”
“Audra?” He tossed his weight from foot to foot.
“Yes. Audra.” Was it easier to talk about her when she wasn’t here? “Now, I—”
Stuart clapped his hand over his mouth and darted toward the toilets, splashing through the water pooled in the quad.
Chuckling, Eddie tracked his progress until the door banged shut behind him. “Guess, he really had to go.”
Two more people stumbled out of Stuart’s tent. She recognized a teenager and the elderly man that had so rudely pointed his finger at her. Both had hid in Burgers in a Basket.
She set her hand over her belly. “Do either of you feel any stomach upset?”
Eddie shined the light between them, dividing his face into planes of light and darkness. “Nah, I’ve got a cast-iron stomach.”
“Deputy?”
Pecos shrugged. Water slithered down his brown poncho. “Nope. But I ate when I took my dose.”
She stuck her hands into her pockets. It made sense but… The idea inserted its hooks, refused to let go. “Anyone know the symptoms of anthrax?”
Another person sprinted from Stuart’s building.
Eddie shone the light in front of them as they ran for the toilets. “You think they’ve got it?”
Deputy Pecos scratched the stubble bristling from his chin. “Thought it was flu-like symptoms.”
“Stomach flu symptoms?” That might explain the frequent trips to the commode.
“Dunno.” The deputy shrugged.
Eddie cleared his throat. “Does it matter? It’s not supposed to be contagious.”
Anthrax wasn’t, but… Fear iced the marrow in her bones. “What if it’s something else?”
“Good ol’ Stuie will have to stay by himself.” Eddie smiled.
What made him so happy? She couldn’t leave them behind. And quarantining them would be a nightmare. They only had five buses. Plus, someone healthy would have to drive the sick. “I wish I knew what the symptoms were.”
But wishes were about as useful as a lamp with no light bulb or power.
She pulled out the folded up instruction paper left by the soldiers. Adjusting it so the light shown on it, she reread the list of recommended rations and medicines. “Let’s go see what supplies are left.”
Please, God, don’t let them have been raided.
She headed away from the empty checkin tent. The supply tent had to be back here somewhere.
“You know if Stuie doesn’t accompany us, we’ll lose most of the adults that came with him.” Eddie cupped her elbow and guided her over the well-worn path toward the back of the camp. Rats rustled in the piles of garbage. Water plopped into pools gathered under the sloped canvas roof. Unsecured window flaps slapped the sides of the tents while the wind plucked at the guy wires.
She wasn’t planning on leaving him behind. But Stuart had made noises about staying here a day or two. That was madness. God only knew when those thugs would trace them here. And they would. She knew it. “I would hate to leave anyone behind.”
But she would, if she had to. She had to get her people to the soldiers. She’d promised.
“With all the new folks, we’ll need more hands.” Eddie flashed the light on a large tent. A wooden sign twirled in the breeze. He caught it and flipped it over to read the painted words: Mess Hall.
She opened the door and waited for him to precede her. “We can manage. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Eddie shook his head and stomped ahead. “You bossed, threatened and blackmailed people into taking care of others, and it nearly killed you.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. No one was supposed to have noticed. A Silvestre never showed weakness. It should have been bred out of the bloodlines. “I was fine.”
He yanked open the door and waved her inside. “That time you passed out three times in one day, lost five pounds you don’t have to spare, and slept for thirty-six hours scaring the hell out of all of us.”
Good heavens. She stopped across the threshold and waited for him to light up the black space. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”
“You saved my life and my brother’s. I owe you.” He panned the light around the space landing on tables and folding chairs, silver coffee urns and chaffing dishes.
She ignored the twinge of disappointment. Feeling a debt to someone was far different than caring about them. Not that she wanted him to care for her. She brushed the thoughts aside. “Let’s see if they have any cooking oil.”
“We found two fifty gallon barrels of diesel by the motor pool.”
“That’s great!” But they had five hungry busses to feed and nearly four hundred miles to travel.
Eddie navigated through the rows of tables to the serving area in the back. “If Stuart and his people go with us, I think you’ll need to delegate some tasks.”
Ouch! That hurt. Suddenly Stuart’s MBA and his two years experience was a better leader than she was? She had a master’s degree too. So what if it was in elementary education? It had certainly come in handy when everyone had been sick and behaving like a bunch of juveniles. “I thought you didn’t care for Stuart’s style.”
“I don’t.” He led her around the serving row toward the cook stove and stainless steel sink.
She blinked. Had she missed part of the conversation? Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she eyed the drain. Dark, oval shadows skittered around the bottom. “Then are you applying for the job?”
He swept the light over the empty shelves. “I have a GED courtesy of my stay in the State Penn, I hardly think anyone would see me as management material.”
Holy mackerel! Pivoting, she stared at him. “You’re a convict.”
He shone the lamp toward the ceiling. Shadows twisted and dissolved his features, leaving only a grotesque mask behind. His eyes glittered. “Scared, Princess?”
“No.” She fisted her hands. Her ears strained to hear above her pounding heart. Thank God the darkness masked her trembling. “Of course not.”
He advanced, closing the distance. His knuckles brushed her belly and his other hand blocked her exit. The sink cut across her spine. “You should be.”
She raised her chin and swallowed hard. A Silvestre never retreated, no matter how much they wanted to. “Why?”
“I could rape you, kill you and dispose of your body.” His hot breath washed down her face.
She replayed his words, processed then denied them. Fear drained away and she swayed on her feet. The teacher had just been taught. “Alright, I’m delegating you my second in command.”
Redaction: The Meltdown Part II Page 21
