Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I)

by Andrews, Linda

  He piled the two four packs of toilet tissue on top and carried his treasures to the first floor. Kneeling by the wagon, he repacked the food, added the toiletries then the laundry soap. The wheel squeaked as he dragged the wagon to the garage.

  Manny stopped. Should he leave it behind? No way could he carry everything in one trip. And more trips meant more chance of discovery. He couldn’t risk getting them tossed out. Opening the door to the garage, he lifted the wheels over the threshold then down the one step to the exit. The squeak echoed in the empty space.

  Damn. No way would anyone think that was a rat. Leaving the wagon by the door, he returned to the kitchen and marched to the sink. Cockroaches scratched inside the steel sink. Grabbing the dish soap, he ran to the garage. The scent of lemon swelled in the chilled air as he squirted the soap on to the squeaky wheels.

  He moved the wagon back and forth. No squeak. Good enough. Manny wedged the dish soap between the packages of toilet paper, returned to the house door and locked it before leaving the garage.

  Following the block path across the yard, he opened the gate to the common area. Dawn cracked the night, revealing the pink underbelly of the gray sky. He’d better hurry if he wanted to be home before someone found him.

  Pausing, he waited. The wood and wrought iron gate hit his heel and bounced back. Only his second house and already he was a pro at being quiet. Slowly, he moved his foot forward until he heard the latch click shut. Gravel crunched as he tugged the wagon through the rocks. Muscles screamed as the wheels locked up.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have taken everything at once

  The gated community was a great place to shop. He could have done it a little at a time. Food first, then soap and hygiene products and the stove and lantern last. He shook his head. He’d need the stove to cook with if the house’s range ran on gas.

  Stop it! What’s done is done. He lifted the wagon onto the concrete path winding through the common area of the neighborhood. Not far now and he should be home. Lucia would love the soap. He ducked under the low branches of a mesquite tree. And maybe they could have enchiladas for dinner and—

  “You stupid slut!”

  Manny froze. A man. Here. Slowly, he scanned the area through the branches and caught the flash of bare skin. White skin up high, maybe on the second story. Had he seen him? Would he call the cops?

  “Why do you women have to fuck everything up?”

  Manny shivered, breaking his paralysis. The gringo’s voice was so full of hatred toward the woman. Yet, she hadn’t said a word. Crouching, he gently lowered the wagon’s handle to the path. This near the ground he had a clearer view of the speaker on a railed balcony.

  And the woman.

  Or what was left of her. Manny choked on the bile lighting a fire in his mouth. Good God, what had he done to her face?

  “You’re not going to ruin my life. Do you understand?” The man shook the woman so hard her head flopped up and down and her tight tank and skirt rode up, exposing her feminine parts.

  Manny stuffed his hand in his mouth to keep from screaming. Why were her parts so bloody? And what were those hanging bits?

  Without another word, the man chucked the woman over the balcony. The pop of bottles, squeal of rats, and crinkle of plastic marked her landing. The man dusted his hands. “Now you serve a useful purpose. As rat food.”

  Turning on his heel, the man re-entered the house.

  Manny retreated until his back hit the tree’s trunk. Should he leave? What if the guy came out again? Hell, what if he lived there and never left. Biting his lip, Manny stared down the path. The untrimmed trees covered most of the trail.

  But could he chance it?

  He’d have to.

  Eventually, Irina or Jose would come looking for him. Shrugging off his backpack, he yanked off his jacket and draped it over the side of the wagon. At least most of the red would be covered. His sweaty hands slipped on the metal grip. He took a deep breath to slow his racing heart.

  Now or never.

  Keeping his eye on the balcony, he dragged the wagon down the meandering path. One step. Two. Three. The man didn’t return. Five. The pink sky appeared overhead. Shit. Manny ran until the branches concealed him again.

  Step by step, he inched down the path. Sweat stung his eyes and he blotted at it with his bare arm. Finally, he couldn’t see the balcony anymore. Safe!

  He started to turn when he heard it. The soft thump on concrete.

  “I thought I heard someone out here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sitting in the glow of the laptop’s screen, Mavis rubbed her eyes. God, what a day. It had started out so full of promise and now this. Sighing, she stared at the computer. The map of North America was completely black.

  Humanity’s extinction.

  She stretched on the dining room chair, felt the pop travel up her spine—vertebrae by vertebrae. Should she have told Sunnie that they’d survive? Knowledge did not always insure survival. Sometimes it was just dumb luck. She fingered the ninety-nine-point-nine percent under Phoenix. And with odds like that, she’d have a better shot picking all six numbers in Wednesday’s Powerball.

  Of course, defeatists rarely survived a hangnail. Mavis closed the laptop.

  Night slipped through the windowpanes and congealed in the corners of her house. Crickets droned, the only noise now that the power was out.

  Pushing out of the seat, she padded across the tiles to the hallway and paused. Sunnie’s soft snores drifted down the hall. Mavis covered her yawn before leaning against the hallway wall. Fatigue had turned her blood to catsup slogging through her veins.

  Maybe she should go to bed, catch a few Z’s, before the sergeant major showed up with that data. The soldier’s blue eyes twinkled at her from her not so distant memory. Her heart hiccoughed. Yeah, he was good-looking in a rugged kind of way. But still. The end of the world as we know it was hardly the time to be looking for a lover.

  Except Mother Nature had designed humans to do exactly that—when face to face with mortality, people were hard wired to want sex—lots of sex to insure the species survived. And Jack had always been around to release the urges.

  But now he was dead.

  Unfortunately, the urges weren’t.

  Get a grip, girl. Lust she could control. Sort of. Mavis straightened away from the wall. But the other… The end of the world as she knew it.

  But not the end of life.

  Or humanity.

  Just a population bottleneck. The third since Homo sapiens first walked onto the African plain.

  So how could she survive it? Her brain chugged through the fatigue like a steam engine up a steep grade. The answer tangled with the edges of her consciousness. The answer—

  Her cell phone rang, sending a burst of light throughout the kitchen. Sweet Jesus! She set her hand on her chest to make certain her heart still remained snuggly inside. A midnight call.

  Had the new strain hit the West coast?

  Mavis trotted to the counter, snatched up the phone and silenced it. Her fingers fumbled to open the cell before she raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Spanner.” The man’s gravelly voice jangled through the airwaves.

  Mavis blinked. Not the CDC, US AMRIID or other alphabet soup agency. “Mr. Quartermain?”

  The old man coughed, the watery kind thick with phlegm. “Thought you’d want to know that the sergeant major came through the gate.” He wheezed. “Right handy with picking a lock, that young man. Might be nice to have that sort around.”

  Mavis set her hand against her warm cheeks. Was her attraction to the man so obvious? Good gravy, she’d need to control it better. She had to work with the soldier. “He’s my liaison with the military, Mr. Quartermain.”

  Yeah, that was convincing. She cleared the huskiness from her throat.

  The old man’s chuckle chuffed through the connection. “I’m not so old that I don’t about liaisons, Mrs. Spanner. Your husband died, not you
. Life goes on, ain’t no disrespect to the one to find comfort with another.”

  Like she needed love advice from a man who’d been a widower for the last twenty-one years. Mavis traced a coffee stain on the laminate countertop. Time to change the subject. “Mr. Quartermain, how are you set with your emphysema and COPD meds?”

  “I’ll get by, especially now that the stores are reopening.” He squeezed off the last word before spiraling into another coughing jag.

  Mavis winced. The stores would shut down as soon as the influenza hit again, leaving the older man without access to his medicines. “Give me a list of your meds, and I’ll see that you get at least a six month’s supply.”

  A click sounded in dead air. She’d wondered how long it would be until the government tapped her phone. Not that she had any intention of getting caught betraying governmental secrets for the public welfare.

  “Is it back already?” Mr. Quartermain’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

  She crossed her fingers. “Not yet, but you know I’ve been predicting there’d be cases this spring.” That was true. Heck it had even been mentioned in the press release announcing the lifting of the public gathering ban. “And with the weather being crazy back East and the heating being unreliable, I don’t think we should take any chances.”

  The sound of scratching drifted through the line. “Hear tell, some jokers have been driving off with truckloads of meds.”

  “Yeah. Right off the factory lot.” At least that was common knowledge. No telling state secrets. She wiped her hand on her pants and walked toward the front. The sergeant major should be here soon. “Bring the list when you come by later this morning.”

  “Will do. Take care, Mrs. Spanner and tell the sergeant major that I saw him enter.” Mr. Quartermain hung up.

  Mavis pulled aside the picture window curtains and peered outside. He wasn’t here yet. Stuffing the phone into her pocket, she opened the front door. The stillness sank into her bones. The predawn hours used to be her favorite time of the day. Curled up next to Jack, listening to him breathe, while the neighborhood slowly awakened. The bark of dogs as someone took theirs for a walk.

  Dogs.

  Shutting the door behind her, Mavis stepped further onto the front porch and rubbed her arms through her sleeves. She missed the dogs the most. Their casualties had been twice humanities. Entire breeds had perished in those first few weeks.

  How long had it been since she’d seen one? Months? Maybe they were all gone. God only knew how many had been locked inside to starve next to their dead master’s body.

  Others had been eaten.

  Not exactly a fitting end to man’s best friend. She leaned against the post. In the distance, an engine rumbled. The sound grew louder until finally headlights cut into the cul-de-sac. She pushed away from the porch as the Humvee drew to a stop alongside the curb. Her pulse drummed in her veins and heat chased away the early morning chill.

  Seconds after killing the engine, the shadow behind the wheel exited the vehicle and a flashlight beam sliced through the darkness. It bounced over the street, up the driveway and across the porch before climbing her legs to her chest. “Been waiting long?”

  Mavis resisted the urge to cover herself. Such foolishness. He’d stopped the light on her torso to see her face without blinding her. “Not long. Mr. Quartermain called to let me know you were on your way.”

  David’s chuckles preceded him. “Didn’t think I’d sneak past the old man. How is he set for meds?”

  “I’m taking care of it.” Mavis clasped her hands behind her back. Of course, the soldier knew of the natural attrition of the sick and dependent. He’d probably picked up the bodies as the cancer patients, diabetics and others had run out of their medicines and nature had taken its course. That death tally hadn’t been included in the thirty-five percent mortality rate of the Rattling Death. She peered into the light. “Did you bring me the jump drive?”

  She mentally smacked her head. Duh! There was no other reason for him to come to her house.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Something rattled against cardboard. “My momma always told me never to show up at a woman’s house empty handed.”

  She dried her sweaty palms on her Dockers. “I think that only applies on dates.”

  “You and I have a date.” He stopped before her, his presence warm and solid in the darkness, and tilted the flashlight up. The glow created a golden bubble around them. Sparks danced in his blue eyes and dimples flirted with his cheeks.

  She licked her dry lips. “A date?”

  “With destiny.” He focused on her mouth.

  Mavis caught herself leaning toward him. Whoa. Who was in control here? Intellect or instinct? She had to rein in her hormones and muzzle her lizard brain. Mentally slapping herself, she pulled away and shook the heat out of her limbs. Cool. Calm. Professional. “Nice line, Soldier. Does that work often?”

  “First time I’ve tried it.” David shrugged.

  Mavis snatched the box from his grip and jogged into the house. She felt more than heard him behind her.

  “So, Doc.” The door snicked shut and the bolt shot home.

  “Mavis, not Doc.” When did the dark become so intimate? Setting the box on the counter, she ran her hand over the electric lantern and turned it on. The fluorescent bulb glowed to life and cast a web of light around the great room. “Doc implies GP or surgeon. I’m neither of those.”

  “Mavis.” David smacked his lips as if savoring her name.

  She held the box up to the light. The seal had been neatly slit. Someone had been poking their nose in her business and she didn’t need a Mensa IQ to figure out whom. Colonel Bastard. Should she report it to Miles?

  David shuffled up behind her. “Sorry about that. I’ll try to make sure the package goes directly to me next time.”

  “Not your fault.” Mavis felt his body heat along her back. Did he have to stand so close? Do not give into your baser instincts. You’re smarter than that.

  “Did you say something?”

  Mavis clamped her lips closed. Did she say that aloud? Good gravy, that’s all she needed. If she gave the soldier just a little encouragement, he’d be all over her like a bird dog on point. With shaking hands, she plucked out the wadded up packing paper. “Just talking to myself.”

  He moved away to lean against the counter. “You may want to do that louder, so I can hear you.”

  God, no! She swallowed the lump in her throat and dug the round jump drive out. “I—I was just telling myself that it doesn’t matter if your CO opens the box. The drive will only fit in a certain port.”

  “It matters.” A muscle ticked in David’s jaw. “Colonel As—er, Lynch notified me at zero-two-thirty of its arrival. That’s two and a half hours after its original ETA.”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling at his slip. Colonel Ass or some variation of the theme. The name suited him better than puke or bastard. She rested her empty hand on David’s arm and felt the taut muscle underneath his ACUs. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Here now, don’t say that.” He covered her hand with his. His palm was warm and rough, calloused and strong. “You can’t give up. You have to save humanity from extinction.”

  How easy it would be to depend on him. With a sigh, Mavis slipped her hand out from under his and walked to the table. “Miles kind of overstated the extinction bit.”

  “Oh thank God.” David clasped his head between his hands and chuckled. “You don’t know how worried I’ve been.”

  “It’s more likely to be a genetic bottleneck.” Which was still bad. Very, very bad. Collapsing onto her seat, she stuffed the jump-drive into the right port before lifting the top of her laptop. Black pixels filled the map of United States.

  Lifting the lantern off the counter, David pulled out the chair next to hers and dropped onto the seat. “Bottleneck doesn’t sound too bad, especially if it’s a beer bottle.” His knee brushed hers before he shifted his legs. After setting the light betw
een them, he dialed down the brightness. “Far better than extinction, anyway.”

  “It is and it isn’t.” Mavis minimized the map and opened the raw data file. “Bottlenecks mean a majority of the population either dies off or are unable to reproduce. Either way the numbers tank dramatically within a very short time.”

  “Yeah, but we’re still alive.”

  She merged the new data on the jump drive with the current data. “Some of us are.”

  He set his hand on hers and squeezed. “You will be.”

  “Like that would do a lot of good. I’m forty years old, near the end of my reproductive cycle.” Her cheeks heated. Geez, she was an adult, a mother, she’d had sex. Liked sex. Stop! This is about biology, not sex. Mostly.

  His grip tightened for a moment and his gaze dropped to her breasts then lower. “Near the end, is not the same as being at the end.”

  Mavis sucked in her stomach. What was she doing? “The point is I’d only be able to have one or two healthy children before emptying my egg basket.”

  Egg basket? What was she, the Easter bunny? Sweet Jesus, why didn’t the floor just open up and swallow her?

  “Two is enough for you and…” He cleared his throat then shifted in his seat. “And your mate.”

  She shook her head before scrubbing her hands down her face. Why was this so hard? “It isn’t for the species. The reason humans have s—sex is for genetic diversity.”

  “And here I thought it was for the fun.”

  That too. Especially with a strong partner who could— Snapping off the thought, she resisted the urge to fan herself.

  “The greater the genetic diversity, the better chance the species has for survival. Think of it this way: humanity is going from a gene pool the size of the ocean to spit in a cup.” She ran the simulation program and watched the screen bleed red across the map of the country. “And the cup is sitting in the hot, hot sun.”