Redaction: The Meltdown Part II

by Andrews, Linda

  Helplessness welled up from the pads of her feet. She sought out Eddie. Two men jerked him to his feet then slammed him against the bus. His head bounced off the metal then lolled back.

  Loss fisted her heart. Oh Eddie. Please be alive.

  The men tossed him aside like garbage.

  “This is the way it works in my kingdom.” The leader released her hair. “We take what we want and we want these prime bits of cattle.” He ran a knuckle down her cheek.

  She jerked away.

  “The rest of you will board your bus and get the hell off my land.”

  Audra’s mother opened her mouth.

  “But if any of you says a word, we’ll shoot one of our prime breeding stock.” He smacked Audra across the face. “Cover ‘em up.”

  Tingles raced across her skin. Her breath locked in her throat as someone produced pillowcases. One by one, the women next to her had their faces covered. She heard them sob, felt an answering one in her chest. A blue and green striped one flapped open next to her.

  “No.” The leader pushed the pillow case away. “The bitch needs to see what happens to the disobedient.”

  Oh God.

  “Round up the rejects.”

  His men forced her people to their feet. Her mother glanced back over at her as the thugs pushed and shoved her people toward the working buses.

  “Don’t think about coming back because if you do, they’ll be the first to die.”

  Mrs. Rodriquez helped Eddie to his feet. He staggered a few paces to the left then the right.

  The constriction in her chest eased. Thank God he was still alive. He would get everyone to safety.

  Holding his messed up pants away from his bottom, Stuart tiptoed after them. “I’ll look after them Audra.”

  “Now see what you’ve done.” The leader jerked on her upper arm.

  She leapt to her feet.

  “Everyone stop!”

  His thugs cocked their weapons and aimed randomly at people’s head. None of her people moved.

  “He didn’t mean it. Please.”

  “Get used to begging.” He wrapped his arm around her neck, making her stoop. “Cole, which one of the bitches is yours?”

  A man in black jeans and leather jacket pointed to Tina.

  Audra shook her head. “Please. Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt her.”

  “You’ll do anything I say anyway.” He petted her like she was a dog. “Ralph. You know what to do.”

  A beefy man stood behind Tina. The small Asian girl straightened. He pulled a gun and aimed it at her chest.

  Audra willed her eyes to shut. They refused to obey. She needed to see this, needed to bear witness to the cost of her failure.

  Powder exploded from the barrel. Tina jerked forward then fell. Ralph raised his arms above his head and planted one foot on Tina’s chest.

  The teacher’s assistant wiggled. Her people gasped. A few of the older folks stepped forward. Guns pushed them back.

  “She’s still alive.” Audra tried to reach Tina, help her. The leader’s arm cut off her air.

  “Damn Ralph. Next time, take the head shot.” The leader chuckled. “Now, they’ll watch her die as they leave.”

  Audra began to sink to her knees. Poor Tina. She’d been so kind and gentle. “Please let me…”

  A cloth was yanked over her head.

  She recognized the green and blue stripes from the pillowcase. Light filtered in through the cotton; it tightened around her throat.

  “Now that I’ve made my position clear. Get the hell out of here!”

  She flinched as more shots rang out. Oh God, please don’t let them have killed anyone else. Before she heard the thud of any more bodies, engines started. The deep rumble of the buses. She heard the belch of brakes then the crunch of slow moving tires.

  Her heart ripped in half. Don’t leave me. Be safe. Don’t leave me. Be safe. Blackness crowded her vision as her lungs sawed for air.

  A cold wind shoved through her clothes as she stood there.

  First the tires fell silent, then she couldn’t hear the engines anymore.

  “Ralph, make sure they’re good and gone.” The leader loosened the noose around her neck. “Okay, men, let’s get the ladies to their new home.”

  A firm hand gripped her elbow and dragged her forward.

  She stumbled along, dragging her feet over the dirt. Her twisted knee throbbed. She swallowed the whimper clawing her insides.

  “Don’t worry, Audra, isn’t it?” His hot breath invaded her pillowcase, filled it with the scent of stale coffee. His fingers bit into her upper arm. “You’re Audra, aren’t you?”

  She loved to remain silent but not if it cost her another life. She’d already lost Tina. A hot tear trailed down her cheek. “Yes.”

  “You’ll need that fire to get you through what’s to come. It’s why I picked you.”

  Fuck you, she fumed inside her head. Despite his grip, she slipped down the incline. She felt every beat of her heart through her knee. Mud squelched beneath her boots. A wash, maybe. Why did she bother memorizing the route?

  Because she planned to escape.

  How? Oh for pity’s sake! The ying and yang inside her head needed to be quiet for a moment. Or a hundred. Eddie and her mother, Oscar and Faye, Mrs Rodriquez, the principal and deputy were safe. What happened to her no longer mattered. She’d done her duty.

  Around her, the men fell quiet.

  Even the wind seemed to still. She drowned in the rise and fall of her own breathing. Sweat trickled down her temple despite the chill creeping into her toes. Don’t think about what’s up ahead. Don’t think about the raping or… She truncated the thought.

  Trees stirred the air around her and the light seeping through her hood dimmed. They walked farther on pavement then her boots clomped on wood. Her thighs burned from the trek. Her knee nearly buckled each time she put weight on it.

  “Alright boys.” The leader pulled her to a stop.

  Hinges creaked. A puff of warm air brushed her shoulder. Callused fingers slid over her hands, tugging on her handcuffs.

  “We’ll let the ladies rest up before resuming their new duties.”

  The bracelets fell away from her wrists. She ignored the throbbing in her joints as she moved her hands in front and rubbed the abraded skin.

  His hand returned to her elbow then he steered her forward again. “Step up.”

  She automatically obeyed. The toe of her boot knocked something before she found the step.

  A hand swatted her bottom and thrust her forward. She stumbled then crashed into flesh and bone. Arms caught her as she fell and hands helped her stand on her own.

  “Five minutes, ladies. I suggest you prepare yourself for your new role.”

  She’d like to prepare him for a head chopping.

  A door slammed shut. A key turned in the lock.

  Audra whipped off her pillow case. If those thugs thought she’d submit, they were sadly mistaken. By the light of the single bulb overhead, she took in her surroundings. A scream bubbled up her throat.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rage boiled under Papa Rose’s skin as he sprinted over open ground. Mud sucked at his boots, water dropped on his bald head. His senses expanded and he raised his gun. Pulled the trigger. In a puff of leaves, a white spot on the hedge to the left of the mobile home exploded.

  Someone cried in pain.

  He rushed forward.

  Bullets whizzed passed his ear. Bark splintered off the tree to his right.

  He sited his gun, sweeping it right. A flash of red. He squeezed the trigger.

  Another yelp.

  The M-4 spat behind him.

  Fire burned across his upper arm. The fuckers had shot him! He roared, a primal sound that ripped from his throat and battered the house.

  Falcon’s battle cry echoed behind him.

  Two more shots rang out.

  His right ear melted in a puddle of warm wetness. He let l
oose another round on a spot of yellow.

  No shout of pain answered this time.

  Damn. He’d missed. Ignoring the tree trunk offering shelter, he charged across the semi-circular drive. Gravel rolled under his boots like marbles. His left and right legs tried to go separate ways. Pain roiled through his groin. Switching it off, he headed for the gate.

  Brainiac would be avenged.

  “Shit!” Falcon swore behind him.

  A bullet slammed into Papa Rose’s shoulder. Swinging his hand, he caught the gun in his left hand. Raising the weapon, he aimed at the yellow blob among the green. He fired. Once. Twice. Red burst from the yellow then it disappeared.

  “That’s for B!”

  The wooden gate loomed. Papa Rose didn’t slow. He twisted so his bad shoulder took the brunt of it then slammed into the gate. Wood screamed as the force shredded it. Metal rattled as the hinges gave up the fight. Blackness exploded inside his head.

  Fuck that hurt. He shook away the encroaching pain. No time to be a wuss over a flesh wound. Mission incomplete. He stumbled through the gate. Dead grass crunched underfoot.

  Falcon steamed by firing at men as they scattered. Bam! One tumbled down by the swing set.

  Another shot. Another corpse by the above ground pool. Blood spattered the blue sides and an arc of green peed onto the ground.

  Nearing the end of the mobile home, Papa caught a third near a rusting bicycle.

  The man tangled with the bent wheel as he went down.

  From the corner of his eye, movement snared his attention. Papa Rose zeroed in on it.

  A little boy, just a hair older than Toby, screamed, “Daaa-Dee!”

  What the fuck! Papa Rose shifted his arm just as he tightened on the trigger. “There’s kids!”

  Jillie hadn’t said anything about kids.

  A woman in gray sweats and a blue jacket tackled the boy, curling her body around him.

  Or women!

  Slowing, Falcon cleared the house. He raised the M-4 so it pointed slightly skyward.

  A board connected with the former Green Beret’s head. His eyes rolled back in his skull and he went down.

  Papa Rose aimed at the head peeking round the corner. “Drop it.”

  The wood clattered to the ground.

  Six guns swung in his direction.

  He grabbed the woman by the hair and pulled her in front of him. With this back to the mobile home, he pressed the gun to her temple.

  Falcon lay still. Blood dripped from the gash on his chin and out his mouth. More poured from his shoulder and thigh.

  A man in slacks and a Polo shirt waved a pistol in his direction. “Drop your gun and we’ll kill you quick.”

  Papa Rose smiled. “If that gun was loaded, you would have already shot me and my friend. Now, I have one for her and…”

  The man in slacks glanced at the M-4.

  Papa Rose tightened his grip on the woman until she whimpered. “And whoever is stupid enough to go after the rifle. Then I’ll just pull my other gun and shoot the rest of you murderers.”

  “Murderers!” The woman on the ground uncurled. Tears streaked her cheeks, her fists pounded the ground. “We welcomed you into our camp and after eating our food, accepting our hospitality, you raped and beat and…”

  The boy clutched her shirt and cried.

  Thoughts clicked into place. The truck in the wall had been new. It must have belonged to Jillie and Toby’s attackers. Papa Rose inhaled through a rush of pain. Brainiac had been right. They’d been too scared to call out to them and he had more innocent blood on his hands. “Did the animals who attacked you last night drive a red pick-up with a light bar and lift kit?”

  The woman on the ground wiped her nose on her sleeve before scurrying to the fallen man’s side. He moaned when she rolled him over. The child stuck closer than a shadow.

  Papa Rose shifted his attention to the man in the polo shirt. “Did they?”

  His forehead wrinkled but anger still tightened his features. “Like you don’t know.”

  “Listen up asshole,” Papa Rose growled.

  The folks with the guns backed up a step.

  Okay, maybe cursing at them wasn’t the most diplomatic move. But dammit, they’d killed Brainiac. He took in a steadying breath and scanned the backyard. Six bodies lay unmoving. No telling how many more fell on the other side. His pulse throbbed at his temple. “Do either of us look like the fuckers who attacked you last night?”

  Polo Shirt frowned at him. “It was dark.”

  The woman looked up from cradling the man’s head in her lap. Blood bubbled through her fingers from where she pressed against the man’s chest. “And there were more of you than the six that came into our camp, acting like our friends.”

  It was a Mexican stand off and he knew it. Something had to give.

  Falcon twitched on the ground, just enough so Papa Rose knew he was conscious and willing to follow his lead.

  Papa Rose released the woman, pushing her toward one of the men. “Take care of your wounded.”

  The man caught her and shuffled her behind him.

  “Listen very carefully and think.” Papa Rose hit the consonants hard, emphasizing the word. His gun drifted from target to target. His bullet wound began to throb and he felt cold from the lack of adrenalin. “You watched us for a good half hour and what did we do?”

  Polo shirt shifted on his feet. “Turned on the well, directed the irrigation.”

  “Exactly. Do you know why?”

  The man licked his lips and glanced at his friends. Slight head shakes followed the semi-circle. “No.”

  “Because Palo Verde is on the verge of exposing her rods and melting down.” Papa Rose dipped the gun toward Falcon. “We promised the Surgeon General, Mavis Spanner that we’d keep the plant going for three more days to allow as many survivors to get to safety as possible.”

  His former hostage crept around the men standing guard. “You don’t work at the plant. We would know.”

  “No ma’am. I don’t. But we were sent to help Glen.” Thank you B, for learning the nuclear technician’s name. He’d personally see to it that the squid got a chest full of medals. Too damn bad it was posthumously.

  Polo Shirt scratched his chin, lowered his weapon slightly. “Glen Navarro or Hisslip?”

  Papa Rose shrugged. “Never learned his last name.”

  “But Glen will vouch for you?”

  He wished. “Glen died about an hour ago.”

  The gun raised again. “So you have no proof.”

  “My proof that I’m not those animals is that I haven’t killed you where you stand.” Papa Rose aimed at Polo Shirt. “I have two bullets and haven’t fired. I’m willing to bet my life that all your weapons are empty.”

  In one swift motion, Falcon swooped up the M-4. Still on his back, he aimed it at the man closest to him. “Hell, I just want to take out the rest of you for killing our brother.”

  The six men retreated a step. The one on his left dropped his shotgun and raised his hands. It clattered to the ground.

  Polo Shirt looked at his people. “But you came from the generating station.”

  Papa Rose’s gut clenched. Ah, hell no. He braced his feet apart, waiting for the shit that just kept rolling his way. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s where they were headed. They saw the lights on and figured they could set up base there.”

  Falcon jumped to his feet. “Fuckin’ A.”

  Papa Rose stumbled toward the gate. “The munchkins!”

  Those assholes had already nearly killed those kids once. He’d be damned if they’d get another chance.

  “What munchkins?” Polo Shirt chased them through the gate.

  Papa Rose thundered around Falcon, slipped his hand around the man’s waist and heaved him along faster. “We’ll get to them in time.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Footsteps pounded beside them. Polo Shirt pulled abreast of him. �
�Where are you going?”

  “We left our kids at the power plant.” Please God let them be safe. Don’t take them away just when I’ve found them.

  “Tiffany! Tracy!” Polo Shirt stopped. “Bring me the ammo.”

  Papa Rose’s chest heaved as he lugged Falcon to the truck. “You think they’re going to shoot us in the back?”

  Falcon glanced over his shoulder. “They try it and I’ll drop ‘em where they stand.”

  A red-headed kid, barely old enough to shave, shot passed them and opened the passenger door. “If you’re going after those assholes, we’re going with you.”

  Five men sprinted around them and threw themselves in the back of the truck. No sooner had they landed than they began to search their pockets for more ammunition.

  Ha! He knew they were out of bullets. Papa Rose folded Falcon in the passenger seat then slammed the door.

  The kid climbed into the rear seats and shut himself in. “We think there were twelve of them but can’t be sure.”

  Polo Shirt tossed boxes of ammunition to the men in the back.

  Limping, Papa Rose climbed behind the wheel. He gunned the engine and stomped on the accelerator just as Polo Shirt took a seat in the cab.

  “They all have guns but we’re not sure how much ammunition they have left since they wanted our weapons.”

  “Did they get any?” Papa Rose fishtailed across the rutted field. He focused on the strip of road that led to the pavement.

  “Two shotguns, no shells.” In the rearview mirror, the man paled. “And a few knives.”

  Papa Rose clamped his jaw shut. He had a feeling the blades had been tested.

  Falcon ripped the mud-splattered bandanna from his neck. With one hand, he wrapped it around his thigh. “What else can you tell us?”

  “They deserve to die.” The kid leaned over the front seat and picked up the edges of the bandanna. He knotted the points and pulled it tight.

  Falcon hissed and arched his back. “Tighter.”

  The kid complied. His bloody fingers left smears on the seat as he sat back. “If your munchkins are little kids, they’ll probably just kill them right away.”

  And that was supposed to be good news? Papa Rose laid rubber on the blacktop. Kicking aside the floor mat, he floored the accelerator. The needle climbed. One hundred. One ten. It wasn’t fast enough.