Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (23 page)

Mary hunched down and peered around his legs. “She looks nice.”

“She is nice.” He hoped so, for all their sakes. Of course, she was swinging at the air.

Irina hissed behind him. “You didn’t say she was blind, Manny.”

Manny waved his arm to shush her. Geez, where were Rini’s manners? You don’t say things like that in front of the handicapped. He led his group down the driveway, looked both ways, and then crossed the street.

“Bloody bees!” After one last sweep, she lowered her cane and turned in their direction. “Ahh, there you are. Decided I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West, have you?”

Luce and Mary giggled behind their hands.

Niños
. Manny resisted the urge to shush them too. “It had rats, like you said.”

“Unfortunate, but true.” She propped the cane against her chest. “Now, how many of you are there? Five. No.” She cocked her head to the left as they shuffled to a stop on the sidewalk. “Six, I think.”

How did she do that?

“Yes, six.” Manny rolled his shoulders despite the pack hanging on his back, before pointing to himself and the others. “I’m Manny. This is Luce, Mary, Jose, Mikey and Irina.”

Stupid! He resisted the urge to smack himself. The old woman couldn’t see.

“And I’m Constance, Connie for short.” The woman raised her liver-spotted hands and brushed Luce’s shorn hair. “I’m sorry for the familiarity, but this is how I see. And you’re...”

Luce wrinkled her nose as the fingertips swept down her face. “Luce, short for Lucia. I used to have really long hair, but then I got sick.”

“Well, Lucia, I think you have very soft hair, and it will grow back before you know it.”

Mary ducked under the old woman’s hands. “I’m Mary, and you smell like my nana.”

“Mary.” Manny dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. That’s all he needed was to insult the woman.

Connie chuckled. “That’s okay. All us old folks use the same brand of soap.”

“We don’t have any soap.” Mikey shoved his sister out of the way. “So Manny had us clean up with the dish stuff. I’m Mikey.”

“Hello, Mikey.” Connie cupped his full cheeks. “Dish stuff. Well, I just bet you sparkle in the light now.”

Mikey eyed his arm as he stepped out of the way. “Cool.”

Jose hunched his shoulders as he inched forward for his time. “Jose,” he mumbled.

“Such a nice name, Jose.” She smoothed his cowlick. “You must have had quite an adventure last night.”

“There were soldiers,” Jose whispered, scuttling backward. Mikey latched onto his arm.

“And tanks.” Stepping forward, Irina scooped up Connie’s hand and set it against her face. “I’m Irina.”

“Oh, dear!” The old woman jerked back her hand. “We’ll get you some ice and an aspirin.”

Rini winced and licked at the blood weeping from the cut on her lip. “Thanks.”

Shifting her cane to her hand, Connie offered the wagon handle to him. “I would like to hear all about your adventures over breakfast. And in exchange, I’ll even tell you about my encounters with tanks and soldiers.”

Manny slipped his fingers under hers and turned the wagon around.

“The soldiers come here?” Mikey eased behind Jose.

“Oh, no reason to fear.” Connie ruffled Jose’s hair before pivoting on her heel and marching forward, the cane probing the path as she walked. “The good soldiers come here, and they give us food.”

“Chocolate?” Luce glanced up from the wagon’s contents. Her brown eyes sparkled.

“Oh, yes.” Connie tossed a smile back at them while leading them deeper into the subdivision. Rats, cottontails and quail darted in and out of the overgrown brush. “Definitely chocolate. Do you like chocolate, too?”

A few houses had their windows boarded up. Others sported streamers of various colors tied to posts on their porches. Here and there, red biohazard stickers faded to orange on panes of glass.

Luce nodded and began ticking off her favorites on her fingers. “Yes, I like chocolate candy, and chocolate cake, and chocolate ice cream, and chocolate pudding.”

Manny’s stomach growled and saliva pooled in his mouth. He’d dreamed of a Hersey’s bar, had kept the wrapper of his last one until it no longer smelled of chocolate. And to think he might soon get to taste one again.

“Me, too.” Connie turned left at the three-way stop after the common area. “But my favorite is brownies with ice cream and chocolate syrup.”

He pressed his hands against his belly as images of food paraded through his head. Morning, noon, and night that’s all he thought about. Eating food, cooking food, getting food. He collected recipes and ripped pictures out of magazines and shoved them under his pillow. And now here they were talking about it. Would the thoughts never go away?

Whimpering, Irina smacked her lips. “Whipping cream.”

“Definitely whipping cream.” Connie stepped into the gutter before leading them across the street. A yellow sign on the bare metal post proclaimed the street a dead end. “Whew, all this talk of food has made me quite hungry. How many of you have eaten breakfast?”

Breakfast. Manny inhaled, detecting a faint whiff of bacon and coffee. Imagination. Just his imagination.

“Good. Because if I know Mildred, and you’d be surprised how well you get to know someone when you live with them for six months, then I know she’s prepared quite the feast to celebrate your arrival.” Connie pushed up her sleeve. Purple and green mottled skin surrounded the gold watch on her wrist.

Maybe this neighborhood wasn’t as safe as he thought. Manny glanced back at Irina and jerked his head toward the injury. Frowning, Rini shrugged.

Lifting the tip of her cane, Connie pushed up the cover of her watch and skimmed her fingers over the face. “And, we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy every last bite of food before we begin our work day.”

Manny jogged to walk besides the woman as they entered the cul-de-sac. “Work?”

“Well, yes.” Connie marched down the center of the street. A faint scent of smoke hung on the air and gray ash drifted from the black clump in the middle of the road. “There’s lots to do. Enough to keep everyone busy.”

She’d said that before. He’d thought she was talking about breaking into the homes, but he didn’t need the
niños
to do that. Scanning the five houses along the street, he noted the overgrown scrubs, trees and weeds. A rat scuttled under a Bird of Paradise.

And there were rats here, too.

Mary pulled her wet thumb from her mouth. “What can I do? I’m only five.”

“That old?” Connie marched up the driveway of the center ranch style house. “Well, did you know that five-year-olds fingers are the perfect size for pulling peas off the vine and plucking carrots out of the soil?”

Mary shook her head.

Peas? On a vine. Manny stumbled. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! She had a garden. He set his hand over his chest; felt his heart pounding against his ribs.

The ten-foot front door banged open. “Dag-nab it, Mildred. Connie was right. There are six of them.”

Manny turned toward the entrance just as a man wheeled down the ramp. His shoulders were as wide as his chair and strained against the flannel shirt and his thinning hair was pulled back into a pony-tail that wiggled over his shoulder.

A woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a purple towel. A shock of red hair wiggled in all directions above her penciled in eyebrows. “Well, then I’m glad I listened to her and not you.” She snapped the towel at the man. “Mind your manners, Henry. Come along, everyone. Breakfast is served.”

Manny eyed the man as the
niños
filed passed. He didn’t look like a creeper, more like a vato. Bad ass, like Popi had been. “I’m Manny.”

“Henry.” The older man offered a calloused hand after Jose and Mikey hustled by.

The grip was strong without squeezing Manny’s bones. Popi had always said you could judge a man by his handshake.

Irina pulled up short before offering her own hand to the man. “Irina.”

“Welcome.” Instead of pumping her arm once, he straightened it out.

What the hell! Manny scooted forward. Muscles tense, ready to defend Irina.

“Flea bites, from the rats, no doubt.” Henry opened his grip before wheeling back. “We’ll have to ask the soldiers for antibiotics. Noticed them on the kids, too.” He dropped his voice as Jose and Mikey disappeared into the house. “Don’t mean to alarm you, but the smallest thing can get infected and that could prove fatal.”

Chapter Twenty

One in a thousand. David thumped the steering wheel, felt the impact rattle up his arm. Son of a bitch! He had more than one man in his unit, and there sure as hell wasn’t a thousand soldiers on base. Hell, there might not be that many Reservists in Phoenix. His men would damn well survive.

Leaning to the left, he cranked the wheel, turning into his temporary base. The paper Mavis had given him slid across the seat.

Plague.

Hanta.

Redaction.

And fucking nuclear meltdown.

Where were the swarms of locusts blotting out the sun and frogs raining from the sky? Tires squealed as he braked to a stop near the guard shack.

A rail thin private flew out of the two-by-four foot plywood building aiming his M-4 at David’s head.

Great! A fucking nervous private. A sure fire way to get his ass shot. Wouldn’t that be the cherry on his day? Eying the M-4’s quivering muzzle, David kept his hands in view as the young soldier approached.

Halfway toward the driver’s side, the private switched on the flashlight attachment.

Light burned the back of David’s eyes, and he squeezed them shut. What had spooked the kid? The sun had already cleared the Superstition Mountains. A moment later, the pale pink on his lids deepened to red. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he peered in the soldier’s direction.

The boy aimed his weapon at the ground and striped his finger along the trigger, before rapping on the bullet-proof glass.

David buzzed down the window. “Private.”

“Sergeant Major. You just missed the colonel.” The private turned on his heel and strode to the gate.

Missed the colonel? Pigs would strap on rocket packs before that asshole touched a dead body. David drummed on his thigh as the Humvee idled. So what was the CO doing out and about at this ungodly hour?

After dropping the keys once, the soldier managed to unlock the gate. Chain link rattled as he slid it over the uneven asphalt. The guard waved him through.

David inched forward, stopping the vehicle next to the private. “Where is Colonel Lynch?”

“On three days emergency leave.” The boy spun the lock’s hasp around his pointer finger.

David bit back a curse. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that the CO bled yellow. He cracked his knuckles. Besides, he could use Asshole’s departure to squirrel away supplies for his men and spread the word about the Redaction’s possible return on the down low.

One problem solved.

But that didn’t explain what had the kid jumping more than water on a hot skillet. “Did he leave you in charge? Is that why your finger is caressing the trigger like a favorite lover?”

Color deepened the hollows of his cheeks. “No, Sergeant Major! You’re in charge until he returns.”

Shaking his head, David leaned back in his seat. Did the drill instructors run the funny right out of the new recruits? “Why are you on edge, Private?”

“PFC Folgers. I am guarding the entrance as ordered, Sergeant Major.”

Like he’d done every night for the last two months. He’d always been annoyingly upbeat and outgoing when they’d returned from MA duty. Was security detail for a bunch of body collectors making him snap? David tapped his boot against the floorboards.

In the early morning light, he read the kid’s name on his ACU jacket. Either he’d fallen asleep on duty and the CO had reamed him a new asshole, or learning of the Redaction’s imminent return had set him off.

But despite David’s prayers, pleas and begging, guns couldn’t fight a virus. “At ease, PFC Folgers. I wish to know why you’re pointing a gun at my head, when I’m clearly driving a government-issued vehicle.”

Hell, there were few vehicles on the road that weren’t government-issue.

“Sorry, Sergeant Major.” Private Folgers cleared his throat, looked right then left before bracing an elbow against the door. “We were attacked last night.”

Attacked! Here? His body shook with outrage and relief. At least it wasn’t the beginning of the end, but... David straightened and surveyed the base. Same TEMPer barracks, mess hall, and storage/supply tent. Same two portables with their heat pumps humming. Same trucks in the motor pool. And absolutely no sign of a firefight. “Who attacked us?”

“Non-Coms.” The private scratched at a red welt on the back of his hand. “They just went crazy and rushed forward, guns blazing. Molotov cocktails exploding.”

Non-coms. Non-combatants. Civilians. Mavis had said they’d turn on the military, murdering anyone who stood between them and what they wanted. But all of that was to come later.

After the Redaction’s return.

After their loved ones started dying.

Again.

David ran his fingers through his short hair and scratched his head. Something didn’t add up. Where were the casings? The bodies? He couldn’t see his men giving up an eyelash without a fight. “Doesn’t seem to be much damage to the infrastructure.”

Maybe they’d only taken the rations and antivirals. Ah, shit. That was worse, so much worse than just shooting them dead.

PFC Folger’s pale forehead wrinkled before he smoothed it flat. Slowly, he turned to look at the base before facing David again. “Why would anyone want body bags, bunny suits and gloves?”

David inhaled cold air, heard the soft whistle as it slid between his teeth. Easy. Obviously, the kid was a little shaken up. Probably the first time he’d had to fire his weapon since basic. “You said the base was attacked.”

With a high-pitched laugh, the private shook his head and glanced up at the sky. “Not us.”

He strangled the steering wheel. Whatever the kid saw, David seriously hoped he’d get around to sharing it with him. And soon. Some where, out there, Patient Zero waited to be collected.