Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (11 page)

The case’s locks popped like a shot. Hooking her ankle around a chair leg, she dragged it closer and collapsed onto it. “Seventy percent? Are you sure?”

There had to be a mistake. There had to be. Blocking out the soldiers, she lifted the lid.

“No, that’s where you come in.” She could almost see him chewing on the earpiece of his reading glasses. “Run the numbers with your modeling program.”

After removing the solar cells and satellite hook-up, she powered up the computer then drummed her fingers on the table. Why did the blasted thing have to take so long? “Is the most recent data on the hard drive?”

“No, but it’s on its way by military courier.” A chair creaked over the phone. “ETA is midnight, local time.”

Courier? She leaned forward and stared in the camera lens dead center of the laptop’s screen. She forced her eye to remain open as the green beam scanned her iris. The light snapped off and time ticked down as the computer calculated the patterns and compared them to her identification pattern. “Why use a courier? Why not just email me the updates?”

“The damned Chinese have hacked the Pentagon’s computers again. Most systems are off-line so they don’t know that our eyes in the sky are monitoring them and their burning fields.” Miles chuffed. “Everything will be couriered to you just like in Iran.”

Mavis fingered the ridge of scar tissue running under her jaw. She hoped this assignment turned out better than the Iranian one had. The Windows icon fluttered across the screen before disappearing. From the corner of her eye, she watched the officer. No way would she let the malevolent Kewpie doll get his grubby mitts on her data. “Who will deliver it? Colonel Lynch’s duties are too important for him to act as a courier every day.”

Miles grunted. “Colonel, who is your driver?”

The officer’s jaw worked as if he’d been chewing on a large beetle. “Sergeant Major David Dawson, sir.”

“Well, Sergeant Major David Dawson, you’ve just been drafted as Dr. Spanner’s personal courier.”

Mavis nodded at the soldier. David Dawson. It was a good name, strong and true.

“Now see here.” Colonel Lynch glared at the phone. “We’re still disposing of bodies and...”

“You’ll have the Sergeant Major’s new orders by the time you return to base, Colonel.” Miles bit off, his irritation snapped through the line. “Dawson, you and only you are to touch that package. Keeping that information flowing may be the most important duty you’ll ever have.”

Sergeant Major Dawson squared his shoulders. “It will be an honor, Sir.”

“Mavis, are you sure you don’t want to come here?” Papers shuffling came over the line. “It’ll save us a lot of time. Every minute will count if this thing crosses the ocean.”

“I’m claustrophobic.” She rubbed the goosebumps from her arm and opened her mortality modeling program. “No way are you packing me sixty feet underground with a hundred other people, quadruple bunked and breathing recycled air.”

Gamma Base was just another name for mass tomb.

“That’s filtered, recycled air,” Miles sighed. “And there’s lots of space in the labs.”

“I suck at bench work.” She cracked her knuckles while the program loaded. Soon a picture of the U.S. filled her screen. “Now leave me alone.”

“I’ll have my secretary send you the finishing school literature,” Miles chuckled. “Colonel Lynch make certain Dr. Spanner gets all the assistance she needs, and I’ll make certain the President himself places a commendation in your file.”

The officer straightened and smoothed his rumpled, stained uniform. “Yes, sir.”

“Mavis,” Miles voice downshifted into resignation. “Call me with the projection as soon as it’s finished. I need to know if humanity is facing an extinction level event.”

Chapter Ten

Manny braced one palm against the door as it swung slightly open. Eyes straining, he tried to decipher the shadows—people? Plants? Beyond the empty carport, the world was a study of silver and gray. Shifting and moving, but not rushing forward to swallow him in nothingness.

“Irina?” His hiss accompanied the rustle of leaves.

A scrape on the ground jerked his attention to the cement pad.

“Here.” Hiding into the darkness sucking at the edge of the house, a large mound unfurled into spindly limbs and a thin torso. “Help me get him inside.”

A limp arm fell in Manny’s direction. He caught the chilled flesh and bone, before crouching lower and moving his hand up to the damp armpit. “What happened?”

“The Aspero.” Irina sobbed and straightened in the moonlight—a sharp angled version of once lush curves.

Manny’s heart lurched and the shockwave rattled out his extremities. God, she had become so thin. Had the gangbangers done this to her?

“I’ll get him, Rini.” Releasing the door, Manny locked his hands around the narrow chest and lifted. Wetness coated his forearms as he stepped backward, dragging the boy with him. “Just get inside.”

Irina crawled forward. Her shoulder brushed his calve as she passed. “No one’s called me Rini since...”

Since her brother died.

Manny hadn’t seen her in the hospital. And as soon as he’d been discharged, he’d been remanded into police custody. Only the fact that he hadn’t been driving the stolen car had prevented him from being tried for manslaughter. His foot caught on the waistband of a pair of jeans and he stumbled. Clothes sucked at him and his burden as he fell. Air left his lungs as the weight of the boy landed atop him. Manny stared at the dark ceiling while his body remembered how to breathe. “Close and lock the door behind us.”

“Okay.” Irina rose up on her knees to shuffle forward. With one arm wrapped around her waist, she leaned into the night, caught the door knob and pulled the door closed. She collapsed alongside Manny. “I think I locked it.”

Releasing his hands, Manny rolled the boy between himself and Irina. He used the edge of the washer to pull himself to his feet and reached for the dead bolt. His fingers brushed the key before he twisted it. It didn’t turn.

“Yeah, it’s locked.” Manny leaned his forehead against the cold wooden plank, before clawing up the door to stare out the peephole. A plastic garbage bag tumbled down the street. Nothing but garbage moved in the moonlight.

“Did they follow us?”

A hand brushed Manny’s pant leg.

He hitched up his loose jeans, before pulling away from the door. “Doesn’t look like it.”

But seeing nothing didn’t count for much these days. It was only a matter of time before the Aspero found him. His insides jumped and bitterness flooded his mouth.

Unless he moved.

Manny bent down and picked up the boy. His thighs burned as he straightened. “Are you hurt?”

“Not as bad as Stash.” In the dark laundry room, Irina hissed before her elbow brushed his side. “He rushed to Basia’s defense.”

Three people, yet only two people were at his door.

“What happened to your grandmother?” Balancing on one leg, Manny propped his knee against Stash’s back and juggled his weight.

After a whisper of fabric, light filtered into the small room. Still clutching her side, Irina stood in the doorway. Streaks glistened on her cheek. “Basia’s dead.”

Manny blinked the sting from his eyes. Irina’s plump grandmother had visited him every Saturday at Adobe Mountain. She’d told him bad jokes in her thick Polish accent and baked him cherry kolaches. Pain radiated from his chest. “Why did they have to kill her? Your grandmother always shared everything she had.”

Turning sideways, Manny squeezed through the doorway and into short hallway leading to the kitchen.

“Basia managed to get rice and beans from Mr. Taylor before the Aspero.” Behind him, Rini’s shoes squeaked on the Saltillo tile.

Rice and beans. Manny’s stomach growled as if he smelled them cooking. “I can’t believe Mr. Taylor shared.”

All Manny’s life, the old man had yelled at him for cutting through his yard on the way to school. Like the grass wouldn’t grow back if he stepped on it. To think the guy had actually shared food when his supplies must be low like everyone else’s.

“He didn’t have a choice. The soldiers gave him the job of distributing the food for the neighborhood.”

The soldiers had kept distributing food? Yet, he hadn’t gotten his share. The
niños
had been eating half the allotted amount for days. Why had no one told him? Manny jerked to a stop. “What?”

Irina bumped into his back. “Geez, Manny. At least warn me if you’re going to stop.”

Turning slightly, he swiped at the light switch on the wall. He squeezed his eyes closed against the brightness. “How long had this been going on?”

“Two weeks.” She set her hand on his back. “Didn’t you see the notice at the drop-off point?”

“No.” There had been nothing—no sign, no notice, nobody. He’d have noticed. He’d stood there three days straight waiting for the soldiers, praying for food.

“The Aspero did. They demanded half of it for their protection.”

Manny snorted. People needed protection from the gang.

“This week they came for it all. Said we would have to buy the food.”

Manny’s mouth watered. There’d been canned beef sometimes. The
niños
could have used the protein. “Buy the food? Who has money?”

“Not money. They wanted Basia to give me to them.” Irina’s voice hitched.

Red tinged Manny’s vision. They’d wanted Rini? She was just a girl!

“Basia took the rice and ran, but they caught her. Stash went to help. I... I hid, watching until...” She covered her face with her hands. “When they left, I went over to my cousin.”

“So you weren’t...” The word stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it.

“Raped?” She sniffed. “No, the puntas didn’t want me around. So instead of bringing me to the Aspero, they had a little fun, and then let me go.”

Why had the Redaction killed so many good people, yet left the animals like the Aspero alive? Blowing out his frustration, he strode through the living room. His arms and legs started to tingle. Stash was getting heavy. “Knock once on the ceiling, and count to two, and then rap three more times.”

“Who do you have up there?”

“Jose, Lucia, Mary and Michael.” The tingling in his back changed to bolts of pain. Gritting his teeth, he kept walking. Stash would need a bed and tending. The light would be better in his parents’ old room. He just had to make it to the end of the hall.

“Mary and Michael are here?” Rini whistled low. “Basia and Mr. Taylor wondered what had happened to them.”

Not enough to ask him. Or tell him about the food. Manny sidled through the door and scraped the switch with his shoulder. The overhead fan wobbled before settling down to a soft purr just as single CFL hummed to life. “Maybe they should have looked a little harder.”

He glanced down and almost dropped Stash. Blood foamed from the two holes in the boy’s thin chest and coated his pale skin in a veneer of red. As for what was left of his face...

Nausea roared at the back of Manny’s throat. They must have used something other than their fists and boots to turn the boy’s face into such a mess. Clamping his lips together, he swallowed the bile souring his mouth.

Manny lowered him to the comforter covering his parents’ queen-sized bed and reached for the landline on the nightstand.

Irina lunged, slamming down the telephone’s switch hook and silencing the dial tone. “What are you doing?”

Manny retreated. “Damn, Rini. Have you gone psycho? He’s hurt and I’m calling 9-1-1.”

She held out her bloodstained hand. “That’s what the Aspero wants you to do. That way they can find us.”

Manny scratched his fingers through his short hair. Damn. He’d been right. Rini was a kind of bait. And he’d taken it. He rolled his head. Well, he couldn’t undo it. And he didn’t want to. They’d just have to find a way to get through this. Together.

“So what do you want me to do?” He tightened his grip on the phone as he looked at her. Holy shit! Puntas had done that to her? Blood smeared Irina’s face and matted her light brown hair. The left side of her face was swollen such that he couldn’t see her hazel eye.

“Nothing?” He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear the weight of one more ghost. Shaking his head, he backed away from her. “Stash will die if we don’t get him help. Is that what you want?

Her bottom lip trembled for a moment. Tears leaked from her eyes. “I think he’s already dead, Manny.”

He looked down so fast the motion jerked on the base of his skull. Dead? He focused on Stash’s chest. One. Two.

Seven.

Come on. Rise and fall.

Ten.

Sixteen.

Twenty.

Nothing. Even the bubbling had stopped.

“When we were making our way to your carport, he made this funny gurgling noise then he collapsed. I dragged him the rest of the way.” Irina ran her fingers down Manny’s arm before easing the receiver from his grasp. “I checked for his pulse while I waited for you to open the door.”

Sixty-two. Sixty-three. Could a person go that long without breathing and still be alive? Swimmers could, couldn’t they? He could still be alive. But how to tell? A pulse. He nodded and inched closer to the bed. He’d take Stash’s pulse, but how? His hand hovered over Stash’s wrist before moving up to his neck. Manny’s hand shook. He could do this. He could... Rini’s words penetrated his pep talk. “When did you learn how to take a pulse?”

If she’d learned from watching TV then maybe Stash wasn’t dead.

“CPR class for my babysitting certificate.” She wiped her nose on her torn sleeve, smearing blood on the blue cloth.

His shoulders sagged. She would know; she’d always been smart. He pinched the corner of the comforter and flicked it over Stash. “I don’t know if I can dig a deep enough hole to bury him, Rini.”

She tucked the comforter around his bare feet and smoothed it over his legs. “I don’t expect you to bury him.”

“We can’t have his body in the house.” Manny glanced up at the ceiling. The
niños
didn’t need to see any more dead people.

“You don’t understand.” Holding her ribs, she gently lowered herself to the bed beside Stash’s body. “We can’t stay here.”