Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (21 page)

Staring at his pinky, David rocked back in his chair. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He’d never heard it put that way before. Lobos. Damned dishonest bastards. “Well, I’m definitely a dog, guarding the flock. Same as you.”

Mavis’s lips thinned and the sparkle left her eyes. “Not the same as me. I’m a lobo. Dogs will sacrifice themselves to protect their flock. I’m only willing to risk so much for the stupid sheep.” She set her jaw and frowned at the darkness. “And if they turn against me or those I love, I’ll pick and choose the best of the flock and gut the rest.”

David blinked. He believed her. Every word. It was good to know where he stood with her. Kind of. Maybe not. What was he saying? She’d never turn on him, because he planned to protect her and her niece—just like his men. His gaze fell to the swell under her sweater. Okay, maybe not just like his men. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the screen. The numbers had climbed to twenty-five percent. “But this is all based on multiple infections, right? What if just one person got sick?”

She slid her index finger over the mouse pad then clicked to a new screen. “This is just one person or household. Chances are someone came back from a hot zone. Patient zero would have used a toilet somewhere, gotten gas, a drink, food, rolled down their window. Depending on the surface, the virus could remain alive and infectious for days after contact. How many people touched the door knob after he did?”

David rubbed his forehead, but the ache remained. He didn’t want to think about touching door knobs. “People will stay away from someone coughing.”

He hoped. Prayed. Bartered with God.

“Sure, but he’s a carrier for two days before symptoms begin and bugs hitchhike on words.” She gathered her hair behind her head. “People talk to each other out there, don’t they?

“Yeah.” And his men talked to them. Handed out food and supplies. Lots of people. All over the valley. Hell, they may already have met Patient Zero on their rounds today. “What about masks?”

“Most people don’t have any left. And again, since no one is presenting symptoms and the government hasn’t warned people of a possible outbreak... Just one uncovered sneeze and the virus is spread all over the food bags and packages, most people won’t wash their hands before touching their mucous membranes, um, eyes, nose, or mouth so the virus has an easy in.”

Had anyone sneezed or coughed? None of them had worn masks. None of them had known. He rubbed his stomach hoping to ease the cramping. “So day twelve and we’re still only at fifty percent.”

“Watch the numbers change as the infection reaches the total population. There’s no one around to make sure clean water gets through. Add in no electricity to cook, heat their homes, or boil water. Food and water-borne illnesses rise.” The numbers jumped in whole percentages. Quickly climbing into the sixties. Seventies. Eighties.

“The weak get weaker. Those who have recovered from the influenza now are attacked by other diseases. In China, India, Nepal and all the ‘stans around the country, entire cities are devoid of people.” Mavis shifted to pictures of the region. White studded parts of the red landscape. “Satellite IR images have no heat signatures other than fires. Nothing is left standing.”

“Damn.” One in a thousand is much better than none. His skin itched. There had to be something he could do to bump it up to two in a thousand. Three would be nice.

“Children under three with no care givers are gone.” Mavis hugged her torso and rocked in the chair. Her eyes lost focus as if she were staring in the distance, or the future. “Older kids have a chance if they can find a teen or adult to help. But without food, clean water, and shelter, they’re extremely vulnerable. The wolves that survive will be fighting each other for turf and resources. Anyone who gets in their way will be removed permanently or wish they had been.”

David scratched his scalp. A grim picture indeed. He set his hand over hers. They’d find a way to survive. There were things they could do. “Add in the Plague and Hanta Virus and only one in a thousand survive.”

“Actually I hadn’t figured that into my calculations.” Mavis flipped her hand over and wrapped her fingers around his palm. Her cold skin quickly warmed. “And because we live near a nuclear power plant, we get an added bonus.”

Shit. David rolled his shoulders; felt them pop as tension released its bite. For once, he didn’t want a bonus.

“With coal and fuel shipments being unreliable, Palo Verde has been the only thing supplying us with power.” Mavis set her free hand over his. “But seven to ten days after the end of power and water, those spent fuel rods will be exposed to the air. It’ll be just like setting off a nuclear bomb in our backyard. Only the affects will last longer and reach farther.”

“I thought the government deep sixed them.” That’s what he’d been told. God help him if this was another Santa Claus story.

“That plan was scrapped after they realized they had enough people to keep the plants operating.” Her grip tightened. “Depending on how fast the pandemic hits, there may not be enough time to power the plant down.”

Well, hell. Should he just bend over now and kiss his ass goodbye? Nah. With his thumb, he stroked her skin. Soft. Female. If that was the worst of it, he’d make sure they survived. Unless... “Is there a cherry on top of such news?”

She opened her mouth just as a bell tinkled. The computer screen blanked before a man’s face stared out at them. “Hello? Mavis?”

Holy shit. The Surgeon General. David jerked his hand out of Mavis’s and stood at attention. His chair clattered to the floor.

Mavis tugged on the bottom of his ACU jacket, before rolling her eyes and turning the screen away from him. “Hi Miles. I’ve integrated the new data and my sims are still grim.”

David glanced down. The SG wasn’t exactly looking at him. Should he relax?

Miles Arnez scratched the pink scalp visible under the flap of long white hair. “Any way you could be more conservative with the numbers? The President isn’t happy with the doom and gloom scenario.”

“I was being conservative with the projections.” She drummed her fingers on the table top. “And I’m not changing my historically-based probabilities just because he doesn’t like the numbers.”

David clasped his hands behind his back. Professional and respectful. He eyed Mavis. Unlike some people.

Miles looked over his shoulder. His lips pursed and his bushy white eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose like two kissing caterpillars. “Apparently, he’s concerned because this is an election year and if he releases the information, he’ll be called a Chicken Little.”

David’s knuckle popped. What the hell? Did the SG really say the President was worried about the coming elections? Didn’t the man have a couple of degrees from an Ivy League school? What part of Extinction Level Event didn’t he understand?

Mavis chuckled.

Chuckled? Had she not heard the same thing he did?

“The President does realize if this thing comes to pass, re-election and name calling will be the least of his concerns.”

Politicians. Who the hell elected the bastards? He’d certainly voted for the other guy. David walked the perimeter of the great room.

“They’re betting it doesn’t come to pass.” Miles spat through the connection

Mavis shook her head. “We’re all praying for the same thing, but that and a subway ticket will still only get you a one-way ride. I think we need to pick locations where our citizens will make their last stand.”

David slowed as he passed the photos on the mantel. His reflection overlaid the square-jawed Marine standing next to the American flag.

“Get crunching the numbers.” Fatigue shook the Surgeon General’s voice. “We’ll need them scattered across the country as well as supply stations along the way.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know how close we’ll be able to get to major population hubs.”

“Our ancestors walked across this continent. Their descendants can damn well do the same to survive.”

David eyed the other Marine on the mantle. Younger, with Mavis’s brown eyes. Her son. Dead like her husband. Not from the Redaction. They’d been neck deep in corpses a week into it. Too many for a military funeral. So they’d died before, but not much earlier. He recognized the fresh grief.

Not that he’d ever lost a child.

He resumed his walk.

Or a spouse.

Mavis raised her chin as he moved away from her altar. “I’ll have locations for the military to scout in a couple of days.”

“Let’s hope Patient Zero doesn’t show up before our duckies are in a row. Until tomorrow.”

The connection popped before falling silent.

With his hands behind his back, he strolled past the wall of photos. “You didn’t mention the possible plague outbreak here.”

“Miles has enough problems to deal with.” She smiled. “Besides, why ask for permission now when you can beg for forgiveness later? Keep mum about the exfiltrate sites when you report to your CO. Miles isn’t going to ask permission either.”

David felt the grin spread across his lips. Keep something from Colonel Asshole? Hell yeah. Especially since Mavis, as the assistant to the Surgeon General, outranked the prick thanks to the President Executive order. “I’ll be sure to leave it out.”

“If he discovers my projections, he’ll probably horde supplies, including guns and ammo. Not to mention food, water, blankets and medicines.”

“Undoubtedly.” The puke already tried. Hopefully, he wouldn’t discover the women’s shoes until David could neutralize him.

“Tell Colonel Lynch my sims are inconclusive, and I’m waiting for more data.”

“What about my men?” He stopped next to her.

“Full PPE.”

“Won’t that panic the civilians?”

“Not when you explain why.” She leapt out of her chair and dashed to her red briefcase. “Do you have access to a copy machine?”

“Yep, we even have paper since we’ve been on MREs.” God bless the soldier that put toilet paper in the meals ready to eat.

She pulled out an iPad. Her fingers flew over the LCD. “I made a flyer about what to burn and not to burn and information on the symptoms of rat-borne diseases.”

An ink jet printer started sputtering and paper emerged from the computer case.

“It includes information on the Plague and Hanta virus.”

David eyed the page as it slowly emerged. “Does it tell you how to tell them apart?”

She frowned at her iPad. “Yes. Look for bug bites for the Plague. Usually by the time the glands swell, the antibiotics won’t be as effective. If you feel sick, but don’t have any bite marks, take the antivirals. But wait until symptoms appear first, there’s not enough drugs to waste.”

“Antibiotics for bites; antivirals for everything else. What about supplies and equipment for bugging out?”

“First, we need locations then we can decide on supplies.” She tucked her iPad back into the briefcase before rooting through the contents. “In the meantime, let me get you my cell phone number. Where are my cards?”

Shaking his head, he pulled his cell from his pocket. Who needed cards when he had a contact list? “Why don’t you just put it directly into my phone?”

“Oh!” She glanced up and blew the hair out of her face. “That makes sense.”

Before he could hand it to her, it rang. David flipped it open and held it to his ear.

“Sergeant Major Dawson.”

“Dawson.” Colonel Asshole barked. “Get your ass back to base. I’ve got fresh kill to be collected.”

The line went dead.

Fresh kill. David’s mouth dried. He swallowed. Hard.

“Bad news?”

His fingers trembled as he closed his phone. “We’ve got fresh meat. Could be Patient Zero.”

Chapter Nineteen

Manny’s heart battered his ribcage as he stopped. Caught between fight or flight, his muscles twitched. Run away! But the food. He couldn’t give it up. The wagon’s metal handle squeaked against his damp palm. Would the man kill him? Beat him to a pulp like he had done to the woman?

“Well?” A woman’s voice cut through his fear.

Manny exhaled the air that had congealed in his lungs. A woman, not a man. Not that it made him any safer. Loosening his grip on the wagon, he glanced over his shoulder.

“You can speak, can’t you?” Gray hair streaked across one wrinkled cheek before a liver-spotted hand batted it away. Cloudy brown eyes shifted back and forth like marbles in an earthquake.

His attention drifted from the loose flesh hanging along her neck to the white lace collar down to the red-tipped cane. Blind. She was blind. Maybe all was not lost. “Y-yes. I can speak.”

“Good.” She thumped the cane on the cement path. “There are enough impaired folks in the neighborhood, without adding a deaf-mute to the mix.”

Manny’s grip tightened on the handle. Should he leave? She seemed ignorant of the fact that he didn’t belong here. Neither did she seem to know that he’d been shopping at her neighbor’s house. But if he moved, she’d hear the wheels squeak. His stomach urged him to make a decision. He sucked on his bottom lip while leaning toward the home he picked out for him, the
niños
and Irina.

“Not much for talking, are you?” She swept her cane from side to side. It hit the side of the wagon with a thunk.

He winced.

“Humph, thought I heard Stacy’s wagon. Know that squeak anywhere.” With a flick of her wrist, the cane skimmed the wagon’s stolen contents. “Liberated lots of goodies, have you?”

“I—” The words swelled in his mouth and stuck to his dry tongue. Would she call the police now? If they hauled him away what would happen to the
niños
? To Irina?

“Told the others we should have done that ages ago.” Leaving the wagon alone, she used the cane to walk forward. Each foot moved with assurance, purpose, despite the buckling sidewalk. “Better us than the rats. The rats can eat garbage and like it.”

Hope rioted in his chest. Could he really have heard right? Could this gringa be willing to let him go? “You’re not going to report me?”

She latched onto his forearm. Despite the knobby joints, her grip was strong. “Why should I? Besides, the bigger crime is all that food going to waste. That’s all you took, isn’t it? No tellies, mobiles, or other goodies. Just the necessities.”