H10N1

by M. R. Cornelius

  Judith sighed. “I guess one of us should go see if she’s passed out.”

  “Well, I can’t go,” Rick insisted.

  Devin said, “Neither can I.”

  “Yeah, swell.” Judith heaved up out of her chair. “I’ll get her back in here, but you two are hauling her ass upstairs.”

  Rick heard the van crank in the distance. The nerves in the back of his neck prickled.

  “What the hell?” he said. “There’s no way Sanchez can drive.”

  He stumbled to his feet. Would she really take off like that without even saying goodbye?

  Devin reeled backwards as he stood. “I don’t know how she made it as far as the van.”

  “Well, we gotta stop her before she wraps that beast around a tree,” Judith said.

  Aiming for the kitchen archway with an outstretched hand, Rick lurched forward. He slapped a hand on the back of a chair to keep from falling. “That is one stubborn woman.”

  After successfully maneuvering through the living room, Rick opened the front door. Bullets zip-zip-zipped into the wooden doorframe from somewhere outside. Splinters exploded, jabbing into Rick’s arms and neck. He got one in the face that came close to taking out an eye.

  Devin grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him back before slamming the door shut. Then he pushed him upstairs. At the top of the steps, Devin snapped up his rifle. Judith came thundering up behind Rick with her own rifle.

  “My gun’s in the van,” Rick hissed at Devin.

  “On the nightstand,” Devin whispered before he slipped into the spare bedroom. Judith was already at the window in their bedroom, scanning outside through her scope. Rick found the handgun and took his place at the side window facing the outhouse. He could see the taillights of the van, and heard the whine of tires as they tried to get traction in the wet leaves.

  He still wasn’t sober enough to think straight, but he managed to piece things together the best he could. One: someone was stealing the van. Two: someone else was outside the house taking potshots. And three: Sanchez was missing. Shit!

  Judith fired off a volley and whoever was outside fired back. Straining to see into the dark, Rick took a couple random shots at nothing. From the bedroom next door, he heard Devin shooting, and got the satisfaction of hearing a guy cry out like he’d been hit.

  “Take over,” Judith snapped before she scurried to a window at the back of the house.

  The minute Rick took her place, a half dozen bullets whizzed past and ticked into the back wall. He ducked, then fired at where he’d seen the flashes in the trees.

  Then the next thing he knew, a giant explosion rocked the house, and a one of the posts supporting the porch roof launched through the floor of the bedroom and crashed into the ceiling. Dust rained down, and smoke from the explosion roiled up through the gaping hole in the floor. Everything seemed to tilt, and Rick found himself sliding toward the hole. As he tumbled, he slapped a hand onto the windowsill and hung on.

  A steady barrage of gunfire from Devin peppered the ground outside, and in the pale light of the moon, Rick watched three figures sprint up the trail toward the van.

  Dear God in Heaven, Rick thought. Let Sanchez still be in the outhouse.

  The van’s engine revved and zoomed up the trail. Rick watched until the headlights disappeared around a bend before he crawled out of the sloping bedroom.

  Devin and Judith stood at the top of the stairs looking down. When Rick came up behind them, he saw the flicker of a small fire in the living room and noticed that the bottom few steps had been blown away.

  Grabbing a blanket off the bed, Devin gingerly made his way down the unstable staircase. Rick muscled his way past Dev, leaped off the missing steps, and ran out the back door. With his gun still drawn, he sprinted toward the outhouse at the edge of the woods.

  He banged on the door, but it swung open easily. Sanchez was not inside.

  “Goddammit!” he screamed as he slammed the door.

  Guilt pecked at his sodden brain, like somehow this was all his fault, but he couldn’t quite get a grip on why. Maybe because he’d let Sanchez go out alone while he stayed inside and played ‘Name That Riff.’

  He walked around the outside of the house, calling Sanchez’ name and getting no reply. When he got to the front, he stopped with a jolt. The porch was gone. And where the front window used to be, he now stared into the living room. Inside, Devin was beating out the last of the flames with a blanket. Random bits of wood and glass clinked to the floor.

  When Judith turned up the light on a lantern, a thick haze of dust and smoke hung in what was left of the living room. Her loom lay in pieces, the once-taught strings curled and frayed. Tufts of yarn hung from the rafters.

  Rick stepped through the rubble.

  “Any sign of Taeya?” Judith asked.

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Sanchez in that van with a bunch of barbarians. Why hadn’t he gone with her?

  Judith laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s get some more lights and have a look around. Maybe she got caught in the crossfire and she’s injured.”

  Nice of her not to suggest that one of them inside might have inadvertently shot and killed his new girlfriend.

  While Judith poured kerosene into a second lantern, Devin reloaded the weapons. Then they headed out into the night.

  Rick held his lantern up high, while Judith swept hers through the underbrush and weeds. After checking around the house once more, they started up the trail where the van had been parked. With each step, Rick’s heart squeezed tighter. He wasn’t sure what would be worse—finding Sanchez’ body, or not finding anything at all.

  A rustle ahead made everyone freeze. Devin aimed at the noise with his rifle while Judith raised her lantern. The brush covering Devin’s pit across the trail was gone. A head slowly appeared. It was Sanchez. Her mouth was gagged. Her arms were tight behind her back.

  Clunking down his lantern, Rick tore up the path and jumped into the pit. He landed on something that felt suspiciously like a body.

  Judith skidded to a halt at the edge of the pit, the light from her lantern illuminating the dirt grave. Rick saw some guy dressed in cammo, with a tree branch poking out of his neck.

  “Give me a knife,” he yelled as he untied the gag. When Devin tossed one down, Rick cut the zip tie, then lifted Sanchez up into Devin’s arms.

  The moment Rick crawled out of that pit, he pulled Sanchez to his chest and hugged her.

  “Jesus, Sanchez,” he said with a breathy sigh, “you scared the shit out of me.”

  Her body trembled and he hugged tighter. Closing his eyes, he gently brushed some dirt from her cheek. He felt her arms slip around his waist, and then she just collapsed.

  Lowering to his knees, Rick eased Sanchez onto the blanket Devin spread on the ground in front of the demolished house. Judith came running with the medical bag.

  Sanchez was still unconscious. She looked so vulnerable, her face smeared with dirt, her wrists raw from the zip tie. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Rick took a moment to re-snap her jeans.

  “We might as well tend to her wrists while she’s out,” Judith said. “Then we can get her cleaned up.”

  The first glug of antiseptic on that raw skin brought Sanchez around, but she didn’t fuss or fight. While Judith wrapped clean gauze around the wounds, Rick used a wet cloth to clean Taeya’s face and arms.

  Devin brought out a big glass of the miracle carrot juice and made Sanchez drink it all.

  When she finished, Rick leaned closer. “Better?”

  She gave a little nod, then her eyes got kind of watery as she looked from him to Judith to Devin. Rick didn’t think she was going to cry. She just seemed grateful for their presence. A thin smile started, but then quickly disappeared as she glanced over his shoulder.

  “Oh, no!” she cried.

  The sky had lightened enough for her to get the full effect of the demolished house.

  “Yeah,�
�� Devin said, clicking his tongue. “It looks pretty bad.”

  “Did you get a look at those guys?” Rick asked Devin. “How many were there?”

  “I guess eight to ten. They were wearing cammo. Probably some kind of militia group.” Devin shrugged. “They had a grenade.”

  Rick searched the yard. “I swear you hit at least one of them.”

  “Guess they took their casualties with them.”

  “Have they ever bothered you before?”

  “Nope.”

  Dev was being pretty tight-lipped. He’d already figured it out, but he was waiting for Rick to come to grips with the truth. The shitheads had spotted the van somewhere along the way, followed it in to Devin’s, and waited. Hell, they probably peeked in the kitchen window and watched them all get hammered.

  Sanchez wrangled to sit up straighter. “They wouldn’t have gotten the van if I hadn’t gone up there with the key.”

  Devin laid a hand on her shoulder. “That key, my friend, is the only reason why we’re still alive.”

  “How do you figure that?” she asked.

  “Well, if that key had been in Rick’s pocket, he’d be dead right now.”

  “Because they would have come busting in to get it,” Rick said.

  Devin nodded. “That’s what I would have done.”

  Rick shook his head. “I never should have come here.”

  “Come on buddy,” Devin said. “Shit happens. Get off your ass and let’s assess.”

  Rick wavered to his feet. The lighter the day got, the worse the house looked. “We’ve got a helluva lot of work to do here.”

  “Yeah.” Devin trudged up to the rubble and kicked at a board with his toe. “We’ll have to get the rest of the porch pulled off. I don’t think we can salvage any of this.”

  They discussed how much wood they’d need to close up the hole. Maybe go with a log front to save time and energy. They’d have to find new windows. Devin said there were plenty in the vacant houses in town.

  Judith stepped over the debris for another look inside. “Do you think the fireplace is still sound?”

  “Hang on a minute.” Sanchez shuffled up next to Judith. “You can’t stay here. This is major structural damage. There’s a huge hole in the ceiling. And look at those stairs. How do you know the explosion didn’t throw the whole house off its foundation?”

  “Jesus, Doc!” Rick said. “Could you paint a little brighter picture for us here?”

  She massaged her forehead with her fingers. “Sorry.” She shook her hair out of her face, stared at the house and then down at her feet. “I just think you ought to look at this realistically. What if you have to completely rebuild? How long will it take? Will you be able to find the supplies you need?”

  Why was she doing this? Rick’s friends were devastated at their loss, and Sanchez was just rubbing it in. Did she think they were idiots?

  Sanchez drifted toward Judith. “What I mean is, if you’d rather just make a fresh start, you could come with me to the Biosphere. In fact, after last night, I’m not sure I want to drive all that way alone. I’d sure feel a lot safer with you along.”

  Judith cocked her head to the right. Sanchez cocked her head to the left. There was eyebrow twitching. Girl talk. Then Judith propped her hands on her hips and looked at Devin. He shrugged and grinned.

  It looked like a powwow between deaf-mutes. Funny how none of them consulted Rick for a wink or a nod.

  * * *

  Holly Grove hadn’t been much of a town even on a good day. Now it looked pathetic, and stunk from rotting corpses. Rick counted three stiffs at different stages of decay. Who knew how many more were liquefying inside homes.

  A couple of houses had burned to the ground, and the grocery was nothing but a shell like Judith said. The window of a nail salon was smashed; the clothes at the dry cleaners were gone.

  “We’re going to need some wheels,” Judith said.

  If it was still around, Judith had her heart set on a Ram quad cab that belonged to some local jerk. He’d given her and Dev grief about their mixed race marriage whenever they came to town. They found the turkey rotting in a chair on his front porch, his rifle still in his lap. A new poster boy for the NRA. The quad cab sat in the yard, gleaming in the morning sun.

  “Shit,” Judith grumbled. “I hope the keys aren’t in his pocket.”

  “That’s what these are for.” Rick snapped the wrist of his glove.

  * * *

  Back at the house, Rick heaved a huge Army duffle bag into the back of the truck. Devin decided to make a quick side trip to his marijuana crop for some tops. When Rick volunteered to help, Judith stepped into his path.

  “Bullshit,” she snapped. “You two aren’t getting stoned out of your gourds again.” She poked him in the ribs. “You can help haul all the canned goods out of the cellar. Taeya and I are going to pick produce.”

  Rick wasn’t getting vibes that Judith was seething about this whole fiasco. In fact, if he had to pinpoint her mood, she seemed stoked about checking out this Biosphere. Last night, she and Sanchez had chattered about the place like Girl Scouts getting ready for camp.

  Judith insisted on bringing her huge iron pot and skillet, even though Sanchez was sure the folks at the Biosphere had plenty of cookware.

  “Got to have a contingency plan,” Judith said. “I appreciate you including us in your gig, but it sounds too easy. I can’t believe they’ll just let us come in and join the party.” Judith shoved the pot to one side. “So, once we get there, if they don’t have room…well …I guess we’ll push on.”

  Sanchez waved away Judith’s fears. “All I know is the last couple times I’ve talked to Mai, it sounded like they were short-handed. The place was built for probably ten to twelve at least. And it didn’t sound like she and her new boyfriend could handle all the work. Who better to step in and help than you and Devin?”

  “We’ll have that place humming like a finely tuned machine.” Rick threw that in, just to remind Sanchez he was part of the team, too.

  Judith pushed her wooden treasure chest of seeds into his hands and nudged him along. They had the truck packed when Devin came trotting around the back of the house with a bulging canvas bag slung over his shoulder. Surely their special cargo would buy them some favor with the residents at the Biosphere.

  After Devin threw the bag into the back seat, he draped his arms on Judith’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Got everything?”

  She nodded.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled him close for a kiss. “I got you. That’s all I need.”

  What Rick wouldn’t give for a woman who felt that way about him.

  Their tender moment didn’t last long though. Judith broke away and climbed into the back seat of the truck. She wanted to make tracks.

  Devin banged the tailgate shut, then turned for one last look at the house. Rick shuffled up next to him, slipped an arm onto his shoulder.

  “Look, man. About this mess—”

  “I’m fine,” Devin insisted.

  “You’re stoned.”

  “Yeah. But I’m still fine.” Devin looped an arm under Rick’s and patted him on the other shoulder. “We’ve been through worse. Every now and then Mother Nature gives us a good swift kick in the nuts to remind us none of this is really ours.”

  Rick scoffed. “Maybe I’ll start wearing a cup.”

  “That’s a thought.” Devin glanced down and saw his jug of moonshine next to the tire.

  He bent to pick it up, but Rick grabbed it first. “Here, let me find a good place for that.” He flung it as far as he could out into the woods.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Taeya climbed into the back seat with Judith. “This must be very hard for you.”

  “Why?” Judith never even turned to take a last look at their place. “You said you jumped around all the time. You know what it’s like to pack up and move on.”

 
“Yes, but that was tents and jeeps,” Taeya said. “I’ve never gotten attached to my own home.”

  Without the first hint of emotion, Judith said, “Neither have I.”

  Granted, Taeya had never become attached to a house. But as she’d watched Judith and Rick load belongings into the back of the truck, a revelation struck her. The jerks who stole the van also got her laptop bag, with Randall’s Baume and Mercier wristwatch, a gold locket her mother had given her, and the only pictures she had of her family.

  It was small consolation that her abuela’s conch shell that talked to angels was safe in her medical bag. Apart from that, Taeya had nothing to remind her of her loved ones.

  Rick poked his head in the front window. “All right, boys and girls, we’ve got at least an eighteen-hour drive ahead of us. I figure we’ll break it into four-hour shifts for now.” He seemed more chipper than he should be—considering. “There’s no way we’re pulling over except to take a piss and siphon gas. Anyone want to drive first?”

  When no one answered, Rick hopped into the driver’s seat.

  Instead of driving up to Little Rock to pick up Interstate 30, Devin suggested Rick head south on back roads. “We’ll catch the highway in Texarkana.”

  As the miles piled up, the guys talked about football, speculating on how many years before the first franchise was back on the field; and how soon colleges would be up and running so they could watch basketball again. Taeya found their optimism interesting, more probability than possibility. They just assumed life would get back on track.

  At one point, Rick glanced in the rearview. “Hey, Sanchez. How many shutouts did Donnie LaPeeto pitch the last year they played?”

  “Regular season?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seven,” she said nonchalantly.

  Rick nodded his head at Devin. Taeya bristled. Was he playing some juvenile game of one-upmanship? My girl’s better than yours?

  In the middle of nowhere, they drove up on an old farmhouse. A man was stooped over some crop in a field, perhaps chopping at weeds. When he heard the truck approaching, he dropped his hoe and sprinted to the edge of the field where he swept up a rifle. He looked scared as he ran for the house, urging his legs to go faster than they could, and stumbling in his haste.