Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  “That’s a lie. The virus was manufactured in some pharmaceutical lab. The company got rich, and the politicians forced us into a police state.”

  Even from a distance, she could see the bow quiver. Good gravy, the kid shook so much he might accidentally release the arrow. Mavis swallowed despite her dry mouth and looked down her trembling iron sight. He wasn’t the only one that needed to remain calm. “As much as I’d like to debate this issue Justin, we need to go home.”

  “You’re not coming into the neighborhood. You’re infected.”

  “I’m not infected. I got sick, yes, but I recovered. I’m immune now, just like practically everyone else.” Mavis paused. Using her toe, she righted her loafer then slipped her foot inside. The cold leather was stiff against her heel.

  Mavis continued her stroll along the front of the car. Once she got to driver’s side, she’d shoot the lock and drive away. Fortunately, her tires wouldn’t go flat with a couple of arrows in them. It was a good plan.

  Provided, Justin didn’t shoot her before she implemented it. “You’re part of the conspiracy.”

  Mavis swallowed a groan. One more time. She’d try one more time to get through to him. “You’re smarter than that, Justin. The government needs young, healthy workers. If it had created a disease, it would be to kill off the older population, the welfare sponges and the convicts.”

  “Maybe they did create it like you said.” Justin stepped forward until he practically hung over the hunter’s blind. “Maybe it just didn’t work out the way they planned.”

  Enough. There would be no reasoning with him now. His paranoia had become too entrenched. Mavis shifted her aim from the center of his chest to his right shoulder. Mr. Quartermain might forgive her for winging his grandson. “I am going home. Now. If you try to stop me, I will shoot you, Justin.”

  “I’ll shoot you back.” As if he’d just seen the gun in her hand, he stepped back.

  “Bullets are faster than arrows. And I am a crack shot.”

  “Justin.” The boy’s name dissolved in a raspy cough. “Lower the bow, Justin. She’s one of the good guys.”

  Mavis’s arms sagged and she lost her target. Mr. Quartermain had finally arrived.

  Justin glanced at the ground while relaxing the bow string. “But she could be infected.”

  “Mrs. Spanner is a doctor. She’d know if she’s been around any infected.” Mr. Quartermain’s black cowboy hat appeared above the branches. When the breadth of his shoulders appeared, he turned to face her. He opened his mouth and coughed. His cheeks flushed red as he pounded on his chest. Finally, he stopped coughing and spit. “Damned emphysema. You want me to come out there and unlock the gate, Ms. Spanner?”

  Mavis tucked the gun into the small of her back and retrieved the keys from her pocket. “No, I’ll do it.”

  She’d also give the old man a call and make sure he had all his medicines. God forbid Justin should be left in charge of minding the gate. Squatting in front of the lock, Mavis shifted through her keys, until she spied the small silver one. Grabbing hold of the head, she inserted the key into the lock and twisted.

  The key didn’t move.

  She slid it out again them back in and tried again. First right, then left. Still it didn’t turn. Did she have the right key? She sifted through the ones on her chain. That was the only one that would fit. “Mr. Quartermain, my key is not working.”

  “That’s cause I changed the lock after I saw you leave.” Justin smirked.

  The little twerp. Yanking out her key, Mavis tucked them into her back pocket and pulled out her gun. “I hope you have another lock.”

  Just as she drew a bead on the silver square, an engine rumbled. She glanced over her shoulder. No. No. No! Every organ inside her body collapsed into a black hole, leaving her hollowed out, incapable of movement or thought. All thoughts except one: Fear.

  A Humvee rolled around the corner. Red paint scrolled on the side held her attention: We shoot first and let God sort out the pieces.

  Chapter Seven

  “You see, Sergeant Major, the night might not be a total loss.” In the back seat of the Humvee, Colonel Ryan Lynch tore off another oversized bite from his triple-patty cheeseburger before using the sandwich to gesture outside the bullet-proof window. Funny how Burgers in a Basket had ran out of free food for the military, yet his CO had managed to snag three. Grease dropped from the lopsided bun, joining the mustard and sesame seeds on the pant leg of his uniform. “You can shoot a few civilians for being out past curfew.”

  Taking his attention from the rearview mirror, David lifted his foot off the gas. His hand dropped to weapon lying on the passenger seat. Yeah, cause that’s what he’d enlisted for—to shoot his fellow Americans.

  He gazed ahead, taking in the graffiti smeared brick walls, the burned out cars at ten, eleven and two o’clock. Overflowing dumpsters hunkered at two and three. What remained of the ground cover wouldn’t hide a squirrel. But…

  The eucalyptus at one had a partially concealed sniper’s nest. The current occupants were a boy with a bow and arrow and an old man. Were they protecting the neighborhood or looking at the people in the car as prey? He ducked under the strap of his M-4 and switched his attention to the woman.

  Well, well, the little missy had a gun. Even if she didn’t know how to use it, she could still do harm. A shadow shifted in the late model Civic. Another person, probably a woman. Maybe armed. Bows and arrows versus guns. That battle had been settled more than a hundred years ago. Still, the Redaction certainly had made life interesting.

  And the four in front of him might continue to live so long as they didn’t swing their weapons his way. A noise caused David to shift his attention once more to the backseat.

  Colonel Lynch sucked bits of food from his teeth before picking up one of the plastic wrapped toys from Burgers in a Basket. The bagged green, grinning crocodile swung from his glistening fingers. White powdered desiccant clung to the toy’s belly. “A little bloodshed always makes things more interesting.”

  David kept his expression neutral. The Redaction hadn’t brought out the best in everyone. The CO, in particular, had degenerated into a butt-ugly caricature.

  Diamonds glittered in the black and platinum Hublot watch hanging from the CO’s wrist and his footlocker had more sparkle and glitter than a dragon’s hoard. “You won’t get to shoot anyone in the DMZ. North Korea is just blustering. As usual.”

  Asshole. The prick had dangled the carrot of active duty in front of David for a full fifteen minutes before demanding he chauffeur him to his daily knob polishing appointment. What were privates for, if not to do the grunt work?

  David stopped the Humvee behind the Civic and shifted the truck into park. The woman gripped the Sig-Sauer by her thumb and index finger and held it away from her body. The boy and old man had disappeared from sight. He scanned the hunter’s blind. Bastards had no doubt left the women alone to be shot.

  Not the first incidence of cowardice he’d encountered.

  Not likely to be the last.

  David checked his body armor before resting his hand against his gun’s grip. “Shall I clear the road, sir?”

  Colonel Lynch’s left cheek bulged. “Call in the tanks.” Bits of masticated beef and bun dotted his lips. “There’s got to be one around the corner somewhere. The damn jarheads are probably gambling rather than doing their jobs.”

  David locked his jaw tight. The Marines had become Colonel Asshole’s favorite refrain. Missing MREs—the Marines’ appetites were notorious. Looted mansion—Marine laxity. Missing personal effects—the Marine’s had provided security for the transport of the valuables to the Medical Examiner’s office. Now he’d use the Corps to needlessly slaughter two women.

  Not on his fucking watch. Still, David reached obediently for his radio just as a head appeared between the branches of a eucalyptus tree. In the silence, metal scraped brick before an aluminum ladder was seesawed over the top of the fence then lowered to
the street side. The old man moved cautiously from the fence to the other ladder before climbing down. The boy quickly followed. Neither had a visible weapon.

  David swallowed his curse. The brave idiots. They’d be flesh shrapnel if his plan didn’t work. “I’ll patch you through, Colonel Lynch. You’ll have to use official channels to let the Corps know that the Army needs its help in dealing with two women, an elderly man, and a boy.”

  The words hung in the Humvee’s grease-scented interior. One second passed, then two. His chest tightened and the knuckles of his radio hand bleached to white. Shit. Had he underestimated the CO’s pride?

  Colonel Asshole swallowed his bit of burger before raising the drink and hooking the straw with his tongue to draw it in his mouth. Flat, silver eyes stared back at David from the rearview mirror.

  The bastard actually considered killing civilians a viable option. David pressed the talk switch and heard the crackle of the live line. “Omega Base this is—”

  “Belay that order, Sergeant Major.” The CO chucked a crescent of bun into his Burgers in a Basket bag and picked up his cup of French fries. “Deal with the situation.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Scooping his helmet off the passenger seat, David plopped it on his head and opened the door. Gravel and dead leaves crunched under his boots as he slowly approached. He kept his finger near the trigger.

  The boy eyed the weapon. His Adam’s apple was a knobby elevator in his scrawny neck. The old man raised his chin and locked eyes with David. That one wasn’t afraid to die. Long brown hair wiggled down the back of the other woman in the car as she climbed from the back seat to the front. The brief flash of her hands showed they were empty, but that didn’t count for much.

  “Stay still, Sunnie.” Steel trimmed the woman’s soft voice along with a measure of irritation.

  But not fear. Interesting. So she was used to giving orders and being obeyed. He focused on her. Hot damn. She was a hell of a silver lining to chauffeuring duties. Silver striped her auburn hair, the windswept strands across her oval face, and a few clung off her bottom lip. Lucky hair. His gaze slipped down to her full breasts, noted the tuck of her waist and the flare of her hips. Luckier clothes.

  And he’d bet his breakfast, she could shoot.

  The old man cleared his throat.

  David returned his gaze to the woman’s face.

  “Good evening Sergeant Major.” Pink tinged her cheeks, and a light sparked in her eyes. She offered her gun. “I apologize for being out past curfew, but we seem to have a little problem with the lock.”

  Interesting. He accepted the gun, noting the wear on the grip, the slight callous on her trigger finger and the tape residue. A woman who could read the stripes on his arm and shoot. He was definitely tooling through the Lust suburb of Crushville. “Were you planning to shoot the lock, Ma’am?”

  “Not at all.” She flattened her palms against her thighs. The spark in her eyes flared into a bright flame, and she smiled, showing him even white teeth. “That would have drawn the attention of the Marines.”

  Ah, hell. She was a jarhead groupie. Damn Marines got all the glory jobs. Still, they weren’t here now, and he had saved her life.

  “I have a pair of bolt cutters in my trunk.”

  Bolt cutters? David rubbed his chin to make certain his jaw hadn’t dropped open. They weren’t standard equipment for anyone’s trunk. So what was she doing with them? He smiled back. Only one way to find out, and score some points along the way. “Why don’t you pop the trunk? I’ll put away your pea shooter here, and retrieve the bolt cutters for you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She stepped forward.

  The two males mimicked her like two leashed bookends.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just have to get the keys from my front pocket.”

  David eyed the bulky shape high on her thigh. He’d offer to help but doubted the old guy would go for it. As for the kid… He’d probably require therapy. The younger generation had some peculiar notions about sex and people over thirty. “Use two fingers.”

  She nodded and slipped them in the pocket of her loose fitting Dockers.

  The dark-haired girl inside the Civic leaned across the bucket seat and rapped on the window. “Do you want me to pop the trunk?”

  A horn blared through the darkness.

  “Sergeant Major, clear the road or shoot them then clear the road.” Colonel Asshole’s voice sliced through the blaze of the Humvee’s bank of lights.

  “What an asshole,” the kid muttered.

  “Disrespectful.” The old man spat. “Like our lives aren’t worth anything cause he has to use the head.”

  David bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Or agreeing.

  The woman shook her head. “Pop the trunk for the sergeant major, Sunnie.”

  “Got it.” A soft thump signaled the trunk’s release.

  David backed away from the group. His shadow cut the Civic in half as he sidestepped in the front of the trunk. With one hand, he lifted the hatch. A whistle slipped past his lips. Pup tent. Sleeping bags. Backpacks. He unzipped one and peered inside—dehydrated rations and pouches of water. After closing the pack, he tucked the Sig-Sauer between a hand-cranked flashlight and radio.

  Hot damn!

  If he couldn’t love this woman, he should just eat his gun.

  “The bolt cutters should be under the Pup tent.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He lifted the tent from its place. The orange-handled bolt cutters lay on top of the soft-sided first aid kit. He lifted them out. Maybe if she was single, she wouldn’t mind camping around with him. Sure he’d crowd the pup tent, but he’d let her sleep on top of him. Lowering the trunk, he walked toward the threesome. They parted before him, leaving the square lock illuminated in the Humvee’s lights.

  “If you could cut just the lock, then we’ll get out of the way.” She pointed to the lock. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble with the CO.”

  “Never mind the CO, Ma’am.” David snugged the snips around the shackle and squeezed. His arms trembled as the blades slid through the metal. Too bad his Active Combat Uniform was so loose that his biceps couldn’t be seen. The lock dropped with a pop then the chain rattled to the asphalt. “I’ll make sure to exfiltrate this route.”

  He didn’t mention that it was illegal to block the roadway. People had a right to protect their property. God knew, the government was more concerned about keeping businesses safe than its citizens. He pivoted on his heel and faced her.

  “Much obliged.” She held out her hand.

  Instead of the bolt cutters, he slid his free palm against hers.

  Her eyes widened and he could have sworn her pupils dilated despite being in the headlights. It was an encouraging sign.

  “Not a problem.” He held her hand a heartbeat longer than necessary before releasing her and offering his hand to the old man.

  “Take care, Sergeant Major.” The old man’s grip tightened before he bent over to cough. His face turned a bright red before he stopped. After spitting a wad of phlegm, he straightened. “Emphysema.”

  David resisted the urge to retreat and cover his mouth. A heartbeat later, common sense reasserted itself. The man had smoker’s cough not the Redaction. He let out a shaky breath and offered his hand to the boy.

  “Dude,” the kid said, thumping his closed fist against David’s palm.

  When he’d finished the hand jive du jour, David raised the bolt cutters. “I’ll just put these back in the trunk and let you be on your way.”

  Pivoting about, he marched to the Civic’s trunk. He’d also read her plates to run them when he got back to base. Then all he’d need was an excuse to see her again.

  After tucking the tool under the pup tent, he shut the trunk and looked up. The boy and old man had reached the ladder. The Civic’s engine started and warm exhaust puffed near his leg. She checked the rearview mirror before easing forward. His focus dropped to her license plate whe
n she drifted forward. BugDr2.

  God had a special place in his heart for enlisted men. Whistling under his breath, David jogged back to the idling Humvee. Opening the door, David tossed his helmet and gun onto the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel.

  “That took too long, Sergeant Major.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Instead of giving Colonel Asshole a one-fingered salute, David shifted the Humvee into gear. He hoped whatever woman who’d drawn the short straw tonight would put a smile on the CO’s face. When he checked the rearview mirror, he noticed the facemask.

  Cold air snaked down David’s spine and the hairs on his arm scratched the inside of his jacket.

  “That old man coughed, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, Sir. Smoker’s cough, Sir.”

  The CO adjusted the mask’s ties. “That’s what they said before the Redaction hit.”

  Well, shit. He twisted his grip on the steering wheel. Weren’t the little guys always the last to know? David tapped the GPS on the dash until it faced him. Not that he needed to. He’d memorized the route and destination since his butt had been blackmailed into driving duty. Now, he might have been exposed to the fucking Redaction.

  They’d said you couldn’t get it again.

  Then again, they’d also said it was over.

  The area between David’s shoulder blades itched as he followed the Civic’s glowing headlights turn for turn. BugDr2. The pieces clicked into place like he’d finally solved a Rubik’s cube. The CO wasn’t here for a nob-polishing. He was here about the Redaction. Sure enough, she backed into the driveway right where his GPS marked his destination.

  A shadow moved in the depths of the garage. Must be the girl slinking off to safety. Smart given the CO’s appetites.

  “We’ve arrived, Sir.” David eased the Humvee to a stop next the curb, shoved it into park, donned his gear and jumped down. Two steps brought him to the rear door and he jerked it open.

  The CO glanced from David to the woman who now stood on the porch. The garage door rumbled closed.

  “Damn, she’s been out in public already.” Colonel Asshole looked at the briefcase, then David before lifting the satchel off the floor and sliding out. “Bring the SEEK.”