Redaction: The Meltdown Part II

by Andrews, Linda

  They could kill the bad guys in Colorado just as well as here.

  “There is that.”

  Once cleared of the neighborhood, the area opened into farmland. The sidewalk ended in a dirt trail next to the irrigation ditch. Pristine furrows cut through the rich loam. Towering trees swayed around a mobile home and an empty tire swing dangled from a white limb.

  “You know, I never knew what a well looked like until today.” Falcon’s arm brushed his as Brainiac steered their vehicle back onto a dirt road.

  “Completely ruined the image I had of a round thing with a roof and a bucket.”

  Falcon squinted at him.

  “What?” Papa Rose shifted. Knowing frou-frou things didn’t make him a pussy. “I had five daughters and each one loved a different fairy tale.”

  Falcon’s lips twitched. “Cinderella.”

  “Grimm’s or Disney?”

  “What, are you fucked in the head? Disney. Grimm’s is a little to dark for a five-year-old.”

  Or a twenty-year-old for that matter. Papa Rose jerked his head toward the evil metal wheels of the gates. “You’re up.”

  Brainiac pulled alongside the ditch and stopped.

  “Rocks, paper, scissors?” Falcon wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Hell no.” Papa picked up the two by four and shoved it at the former Green Beret. “You cheat.”

  Falcon traded the M-4 for the wood. “How do you cheat at rocks, paper, scissors?”

  “Easy.” Brainiac turned up the collar of his pea coat. “Papa Rose always chooses paper. As long as you pick scissors, you win.”

  Papa Rose blinked. Shit. He did always pick paper. What was wrong with him? And them… Some friends they were. They’d never told him. “Assholes.”

  “Nice going, B.” Falcon set the plank on his shoulder and strutted to the gate. “Now, I’m going to get stuck with latrine duty.”

  “Better than getting my boot stuck up your ass.” Papa Rose mentally smacked his forehead. How could he have been so stupid?

  Brainiac tugged a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and unfolded it. The wind snagged the map and tore through the worn creases. “Okay. You need to open this one here.” He pointed to the one leading to the housing development. “And close this one.” He indicated the open gate heading away from them.

  “Gee, thanks, B. I don’t think we could have figured it out on our own.” Falcon’s lip curled into a sneer as he pushed the two-by-four into the wheel of the closed gate.

  “He’s just remembering your special training.” Papa Rose picked the padlock on Falcon’s valve, jumped the ditch and did the same thing to the open gate. Thankfully, closing them was much easier than opening them.

  Brainiac carefully folded his map. “I’m gonna go to the well and get it hooked up.”

  Falcon jumped in the ditch. Water splashed up the sides. “I don’t think we should split up.”

  Setting the rifle on the ground, Papa Rose leaned over the wheel. “I agree with Falcon.”

  “Oh, come on!” Brainiac flapped his arms. His crew cut seemed to stand on end. “I’m just going to be a hundred yards away. You’ll see me the entire time.”

  Falcon glanced at the well, kicking at the plank. It moved half a turn. “Looks like our boy’s growing up.”

  “Fuck you!” Brainiac stomped to the truck and yanked open the door. “I don’t report to either of you.”

  Falcon’s eyes widened and he placed a hand to his chest. “Was it something I said?”

  “Keep an eye out, B.” The engine revved, drowning out Papa Rose’s words.

  The squid peeled out in a spray of mud.

  “I don’t like that neither of us remember seeing that truck.” He spun his wheel and the metal gate lowered into place.

  The truck did a donut in the field before Brainiac backed it toward the well. Chain link rattled when it hit.

  “Relax Papa Worrywart. We can see the squid.”

  As if hearing Falcon, Brainiac shoved open the door, flipped them off and stalked to the back of the truck.

  Once the metal panel was fully seated, Papa Rose snaked the chain through the gears and locked it. “I guess it was time for B to grow a pair.”

  “And then some.” Using the plank, Falcon opened the gate. He smiled as it rose silently. “Jealous?”

  “Nope.” The asshole would get the easy one. Picking up the rifle, Papa Rose leapt the ditch. His boot heels dug deep into the damp ground. Lucky him, he got to slog his way to the well. Damn Falcon and his sarcasm.

  “Are too.”

  “Are you done yet?”

  “Almost.” Falcon removed the wood and handed it to him. “Here’s something to remember me by.”

  Papa Rose dropped the two-by-four into the mud. Never would be too soon to remember this.

  After Falcon looped the chain through the wheel and secured it, he climbed out of the ditch. He turned toward the housing development a klick away and frowned. “I’ve got an itch.”

  Papa Rose handed him the assault rifle and tugged the gun from his waistband. He didn’t see anything, but he trusted the ex-Green Beret’s instincts. “It’s at times like this that I miss crickets and birds.”

  “They’re an under-appreciated alarm system.”

  With their asses in the open, they were easy targets. Worse, they wouldn’t know the direction the attack came from until the bullets started flying. “Run or walk?”

  “My ass says run, but I think we should walk it.” Falcon looped the strap around his neck as he sauntered toward the well. “They haven’t made a move so far, they might just be lookouts.”

  Papa Rose held the gun at his side as he walked. While he faced straight ahead, his eyes scanned the surroundings. Still nothing but his muscles twitched with the need to run for the cover of the truck. A couple of layers of metal was pretty good protection from bullets, provided one didn’t strike the gas tank. “Jillie wasn’t real clear on their numbers.”

  “I’d say we take her nine and add three.” Falcon stopped and crouched down, pretending to tie his shoe while he looked behind them. “I’m thinking the house or the neighborhood.”

  Papa Rose’s leg jumped as he waited patiently. He turned to the neighborhood but kept the house behind the well in his peripheral vision. “The house is boarded up with one plank over each window. Wouldn’t be easy to aim through it.”

  A shadow crept over the ground as a black cloud scuttled in front of the sun.

  “Could come charging around the sides.” Falcon adjusted his jeans leg over his shoe and stood.

  “Not exactly in keeping with the attack MO Jillie described.”

  Falcon shrugged as they continued on their path. “Not exactly any rooftops they can fire from and funneling people is a little hard in an open field.”

  Fifty yards separated them. Papa Rose’s finger twitched on the side of the gun. “You think B’s radar is pinging?”

  “Hard to tell with the squid. He’s damn smart but sometimes he lacks common sense.”

  “Like when he was dealing with Toby.”

  Falcon’s smile was strained. “Did you see him jump?”

  Papa Rose used his laugh to look over his shoulder. Still no movement in the neighborhood. What were they waiting for? “Having a kid shove his head in your crotch can startle a man.”

  The truck jiggled when Brainiac climbed in the back. A soft scraping noise drifted on the wind.

  Papa Rose identified it as the generator being dragged across the bed. Twenty yards to go. He shifted his attention to the house. Could they come charging from the back yard?

  Brainiac’s face turned red as he lugged the gennie into the caged area. “Hurry up you two. I’m not doing all the work.”

  “The squid’s definitely grown a pair.” Falcon shook his head, lingering just a tad when he faced the neighborhood.

  “Brass ones, too.” A piece of paper fluttered from the house’s backyard. Papa nearly tripped over his feet. “Eleven O’Clock.” />
  “A piece of paper.”

  “Yeah.” A fucking white banner carried aloft into the sky. “You see any trash piled along the curb in the neighborhood? The whole city has been damn clean.”

  Brainiac returned to the side of the truck and hefted two cinder blocks out of the back. “Since you two are being such lazy asses, you can unload the fuel.”

  “The squid is oblivious.” Falcon raised the M-4 so it no longer pointed at the ground.

  “Focused.” Papa Rose corrected. “All he can see is the job is almost done.”

  It was a killer attitude.

  Brianiac returned to the truck for the next load of blocks. With one hanging from his hand, he did a second take. “Maybe I should leave these for you two to carry.”

  Ahh, he’d finally noticed. Papa Rose shrugged. “We’ll get the drum.” He nodded toward the house, not the blue fifty-gallon barrel in the bed. “You can carry those.”

  The squid turned and ambled back to the well. His head tracked slowly from left to right before it tilted back. “I guess it’s a little too much to believe that the paper just missed the garbage.”

  “If it had, it would be sopping wet and stuck to the ground.” Papa stopped next to the truck bed and pulled out the last block. At least his gun hand was still free.

  “Now we get into a rather sticky situation.” Falcon leaned against the truck and crossed his ankle. “Do we continue to act like nothing is happening or do we go on the offensive?”

  Brainiac arranged the blocks so the drum could sit on it and feed the generator to keep it running for the next twenty-four hours. “We need to get this well running. It’ll pump out fifty-four million gallons that the plant will need to give us three more days.”

  Papa Rose dropped his block next to the pile and let the squid rearrange them. “Why isn’t the hundred million the other two are pumping out enough?”

  “Because the chillers aren’t working.” After organizing the makeshift pedestal, Brainiac dusted his hands on his pants. “Glen has to move more water to keep the pool cool. Given the rate of evaporation and the time we need to reach Colorado, that’s one hundred and fifty million gallons to be safe.”

  Papa Rose faced the house. No movement in the back yard but the hair on his neck stood at full attention. Damn, why didn’t they show themselves? He watched the paper landed safely in a Mesquite tree. “Have you checked in with Glen?”

  “He’s not answering.”

  Dead then. Papa Rose tightened his grip on his weapon. If anything happened to them, the munchkins would join them shortly. Not going to happen. “So how should we work this?”

  “We need that water on for twenty-four.”

  “Given that they could have attacked and didn’t, I say we finish up.” Falcon ducked his head under the strap and handed the M-4 to Brainiac. “Watch the house.”

  Wrapping the strap around his forearm, the squid kept the muzzle pointed at the house, right where he was staring.

  Nothing like a new recruit to tip off the bad guys. Tucking his gun in the small of his back, Papa Rose climbed onto the bed. His balls drew up tight. Damn. The only thing missing was a fat target on his bald head. “Without being obvious, B.”

  Brainiac tracked back across the house then skipped to the neighborhood. “Sure thing.”

  Papa Rose scooted across the bed on his knees. At least, the sides protected some of his assets. He sighed when he made it to the cab and scrunched down. With his back to the cab, he planted his boots on the fifty gallon drum and shoved. “You realize we may have no choice but to take care of our invisible friends.”

  Falcon grunted as he worked the lip over the divot between the gate and bed. “There is only one way in and out of the plant.”

  Brainiac stared at the house.

  “B!” Papa Rose barked.

  The squid stopped staring at the house. “What if they just let us leave?”

  “This is our exit route. We’re going to be traveling along that road to get to the interstate.” Papa Rose shoved the drum onto the gate then slipped to the ground. “They’ll be waiting to ambush us when we come back.”

  “What if they’re friendly?” Brainiac aimed at the dirt.

  Papa Rose shook his head. Had he ever been that gullible? He caught hold of the ropes secured to the barrel. Having unloaded drums twice today, he’d gotten the how-to down to a science.

  “Then they would have shown themselves by now.” Falcon established his grip and counted off to touch down. “Three. Two. One.”

  Muscles strained in Papa Rose’s back. Sweat beaded and slipped down his spine. His thighs trembled as they staggered toward the brick platform. Yeah, he was going to feel this for the next decade of Mondays. Getting old sucked. “Make sure the platform is ready.”

  Once they lowered the damn thing, they weren’t lifting it again.

  “Maybe they’re just scared.” Brainiac walked the short distance next to them and kicked the upright bricks.

  “Let’s focus on getting this thing running.” Papa Rose groaned as he lowered the drum onto the cinder blocks. Mud squelched around the support. After untangling his arms, he set his hands on either side of the gun and arched his back. Vertebra popped. He palmed the gun as he straightened.

  Falcon held his hand out for the M-4. “Get it done, B.”

  Brainiac handed the rifle over then tugged a hose from his pocket. After opening the cap, he threaded one end inside the drum. The heavy scent of gasoline hung on the air. “I’m just saying, we should try to approach them in a peaceful manner.”

  “You mean like Jillie and Toby’s parents did?” Falcon propped a hip against the side of the truck and rested the M-4 on the ledge, the weapon casually aimed at the front door.

  “No.” Feeding the other end into the generator, Brainiac rolled his eyes. He adjusted the hoses and the cow-pie contraption he’d rigged to keep the fuel flowing then turned on the generator. It vibrated to life, belching smoke.

  “Then how?” Papa Rose glanced toward the house. Still no movement.

  “Let’s just leave ‘em alone.” Brainiac trailed his fingers over the well’s pump, switching it on.

  Papa Rose shook his head. “We’re going to have children when we pass this way again.”

  He would not knowingly put Toby, Jillie or Olivia in danger.

  Falcon mimicked his actions.

  After a couple seconds, water gurgled and sloshed out the six inch pipe. It gushed into the irrigation ditch, stopped then vomited in one continuous stream. White foamed on the surface. The air bubbles burst and the water reflected the black clouds overhead.

  Brainiac held up his hand. “We did it! They’ll give us a medal for this, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, B. A bright shiny medal.” Papa Rose high-fived him. Using his free hand, he pulled one side of the chain link gate closed. “Now let’s get on the road.”

  Brainiac closed the other one but the bent metal didn’t quite line up. He looped the chain through it and pinched the lock closed. “We’re going to leave them be?”

  Guess the squid really had been angry at his and Falcon’s hazing.

  Falcon backed slowly toward the driver’s side door. “We’ll circle round the neighborhood and come at them from the field.”

  “I’m sure we can find a horse trail or something that will take us right by it.” Papa Rose kept the house in his peripheral vision as he walked to the passenger side.

  Brainiac rounded the edge of the fence. But instead of turning toward the truck, he faced the house.

  “B!” Papa Rose yanked over the side door. “What the fuck!”

  The first bullet smashed into the ground near the squid’s right shoe.

  “Shit!” Ducking behind the open door, Papa Rose raised his weapon. No head popped above the hedges. “Where is the shooter?”

  The second bullet ripped through Brainiac’s shoulder, twisting his upper torso. Light glinted around the left corner of the house.

  “Got
you!” Papa fired off two rounds.

  The M-4 spat bullets. Bits of foliage exploded. A cry rang out.

  Another bullet hit Brainiac in the chest and exploded out the back of his peacoat. The squid collapsed in slow motion—heels rose up, knees bent, and his hands dropped to his sides.

  Falcon opened up the M-4, strafing first one side of the double wide then the other. “Get B!”

  Firing his weapon at any twinkle of light, Papa Rose rushed forward. He grabbed the squid’s collar and he hit the dirt, dragging him behind the well’s pot-bellied pump, generator and drum of gasoline. He collapsed on the ground next to the squid.

  Blood trickled from Brainiac’s mouth and foamed with bubbles when he coughed. The trail was dark against the brown mud. “We’re heroes, aren’t we, Papa Rose?”

  “Sure, B.” Papa Rose applied pressure to the hole over the squid’s chest. Warm blood seeped through is fingers, more oozed in a growing puddle around his. Please, no. Not the squid. Please.

  “I always wanted to be a hero.” Brainiac coughed. His brown eyes clouded. “I…”

  The squid’s head lolled to the side and life slipped silently out of him.

  Papa Rose pounded on Brainiac’s chest. “No you don’t.” His corpse convulsed with each hit. “You have to live to get that stupid medal.”

  The generator cut out then continued with determination. Water rushed into the ditch.

  “Dammit, B!” Papa Rose hit him again. Brainiac’s lifeless hand brushed his thigh. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t.”

  Firing nonstop at the house, Falcon sprinted toward them. When the clip emptied, he slid the rest of the way on his knees. “How bad is it?”

  Papa Rose scraped the blood from his hand and tried to pour it back into Brainiac. It didn’t work. Nothing would. He tugged the dog tags off and dropped them in his pocket. This ended now. He ejected the clip from his Sig. The new one nearly slipped out of his grip before he rammed it home. Rage hammered through him and he raised his gaze. “No mercy.”

  Falcon swiped at his eyes and inserted a fresh clip. “No prisoners.”

  He counted down on three fingers then charged the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven