Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (30 page)

Trent’s stomach clenched. What the fuck! He tried to cover himself but his hands refused to obey.

“Sure thing, boss.” The man panted as he continued dragging Trent. The street gave way to weeds, sand and river rock.

“Not you,” the Goth bitch shouted. “Terry needs to earn her teardrop.”

“Me?” A woman screeched.

He hoped the bitch’s apprentice cried a damn river. Trent heard fabric rip. Damn they’d destroyed his slacks. One hand dragged uselessly on the ground, through jagged pieces of glass that ripped into his flesh. The fingers on his other hand twitched. Pushing back oblivion, he focused. Grab something. Anything.

“Yes.” The Goth bitch chuckled. “Shoot his balls off first, then the head.”

Footsteps sounded on the asphalt and then something beside him swished through the weeds.

“And hurry, before the fucking square jaws decide to leave their precious posts.”

Trent landed face down in the dirt. He coughed and stirred up a small cloud.

The fake construction worker rolled him on his back. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.” He slapped Trent’s jaw before standing. He grinned, flashing metal on his teeth before squatting by Trent’s feet. He felt a tug then cool air washed over his foot. “And I’ll take this since you won’t need them anymore.”

Trent closed his hand. Sand and small pebbles dribbled out the space between his fingers. Mustering up his energy, he threw it at the thief. The dirt and debris rained down on his belly.

The thug laughed and shrugged out of his vest. “Still have some fight in you, huh?” He kicked Trent in the ribs.

Air rushed out of his lungs. And the pain in his head built to a crescendo. A second kick joined the first. His good arm flopped across his stomach. He tried to curl into a ball.

The guy yanked his arms flat, weighted his hands with warm boulders

Trent stared at the top of his head. God damn it. The bitch and her friends were going to kill him and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Air flooded into his lungs in a painful gush. His legs were forcibly straightened.

“Remember.” The guy splayed Trent’s legs. “Shoot his dick off first.”

Through slitted eyes, Trent watched the girl lick her lips and nod. He memorized the curve of her jaw, the slant of her eyes. He’d come back from Hell and drag them back with him. He would. And then he’d be the one dealing out the pain.

She pulled the trigger.

Trent felt the heat along his inner thighs before surrendering to the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Pulling the wagon, Manny followed Irina, Henry and Connie to the community’s gated entrance. He stuck his hand in his hoodie’s pocket. Despite the afternoon sun, he hunched against the chill. They were going to meet the soldiers for their food rations. He fingered the paper booklet in his pocket. Would his ration card work in this neighborhood? And if it didn’t, what then?

For the first time in weeks, his belly was full and the
niños
were clean—even being tutored by Henry’s wife, Mildred. While he could liberate enough food from the empty houses to cover the cost of feeding them for a while, what happened when the food ran out? He was nothing but a Latino. Despite their words, he couldn’t trust that Connie would let him stay.

There was nothing in it for them.

As for Irina... He glanced at his best friend’s sister. With her blue eyes and blond hair, she could definitely pass for Connie’s granddaughter. At least once the swelling went down. Connie might even be able to get her a new ration card. Which was good, in a way. But he hated having to think about leaving her behind.

Propping her cane against her arm, Connie traced the edges of the code box before settling her fingers on the numeric buttons. “I’m the distributer for the neighborhood. Not that there are many of us left. Still, Belinda works days. She does some administrative duty at the hospitals. Then there’s Denise Powers. Poor lamb lost both of her children and has slipped into a bit of a blue funk.”

Gears ground as the gates parted. Henry put a hand on Connie’s arm until the opening was unimpeded. “Every one’s lost someone. That’s no reason to stay in bed all day.”

“And then there are the Wilsons and us.” Connie’s cane swished across the asphalt as she led the way. “That’s it. The neighborhood used to be filled with such noise.” She smiled as they passed the gate. “Just like it was today. I’m so glad we found enough bicycles for the little ones.”

Irina clutched Manny’s arm when the gate started to close. Increasing their pace, they cleared it before it reached the halfway mark. “They certainly enjoyed being out in the sunshine.”

Connie stepped onto the curb. “I can’t believe the nerve of those gangsters.”

Gangsters. Shaking his head, Manny lifted the wagon onto the sidewalk and leaned against the block fence. Like Al Capone was going to tear around the corner, Tommy guns blazing.

“Gangbangers kill people indiscriminately, steal their food, and terrorize youngsters.” Henry wheeled to the entrance and checked the street. “The old and infirm do all the heavy lifting, while the young laze about in bed and contemplate their navels.”

Manny felt the blood heat his face. He barely slept five hours. As for napping... Today after breakfast was more like passing out then a power nap. He stifled a yawn. Not that he couldn’t use more sleep.

“Now, Henry.” Using the fence as a guide, Connie followed it to the ground. She groaned before closing her eyes and resting against the block. “Manny and Irina aren’t loafers.”

Clutching her ribs, Rini lowered herself to the gravel next to Connie. Despite the aspirin and chunk of ice, swelling and bruising still distorted her face. The bandage around her chest snagged the loose tee shirt, causing it to bunch up.

“No. No, they’re not.” Henry pivoted in his wheelchair and rolled back and forth across the opening. The steel gray ponytail wiggled against the seat back as he moved. “You did a good job of evading those gangbangers.”

“Not really.” Leaving the wagon by the fence, Manny walked to the curb. At the corner, the Marines and their tanks still stood guard. The haze prevented him from seeing clearly, but he caught the flicker of light. Of course, they could see him with their binoculars. He resisted the urge to shrink back, out of range of their weapons. Ridiculous! He had a legitimate reason for waiting at the corner. “That’s why we had to leave our home. We were the next house on their list.”

Rini brushed at the tear on her cheek.

Nice going, Manny. Make your last friend in the world feel bad. “I had planned to leave and was going to scout out a new, safer place.” He half-lied. “The Aspero’s attack provided the perfect cover.”

“Animals!” Henry spat before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I hope the Marines gave them an ass full of lead.”

Connie thumped her cane against the fence. “Mind your language, Henry. There are children present.”

Henry hunkered low in his chair. “Manny’s a man, Connie. And Irina’s not too far from adulthood. Besides, the Redaction didn’t leave any children behind—just weary souls in young skin.”

“Don’t you listen to him.” Connie patted Irina’s knee. “We’ll have the little ones laughing in no time. With the whole neighborhood to shop in, we should find enough toys for it to seem like Christmas all over again.”

Christmas? Manny’s chest seemed to collapse. The
niños
hadn’t had a Christmas. Momi and Popi had died the day before and his oldest sister on New Year’s. He rubbed his eyes, and then pinched his arm. Pain zipped to his brain. Yeah, well that didn’t prove that he wouldn’t wake up in his old house with nothing to feed the
niños
and the Aspero pounding at the door.

“And school.” Henry bumped against the curb. “Mildred can teach them their numbers and letters. No point in them falling behind. That little squirt, Jose, is real bright.”

Irina smiled before wincing and setting her hand against her cheek. “He’s devious too. Just try to get him to eat something he doesn’t like, and you’ll see the creative ways he disposes of the offending food.”

Manny nodded. He’d forgotten how clever his little brother could be. Or that food hadn’t always been an obsession.

Henry laughed—a booming sound that came from his massive chest. “I know all the tricks. Growing up, my parents had this table with hollow metal tubes holding up the Formica top. I used to pop off the covering and shove my peas inside the legs. It took my mom months to figure out where that smell came from.” Shaking his head, he rolled into the street. “Boy, did I get a whooping.”

Connie chuckled before cocking her head to the side. She patted Irina’s knee before clutching her cane with both hands. Rocking back and forth, she tried to stand. “Ahh, here they come. Three trucks.” Her grin faded as she fell back to the ground. “One’s a Refer.”

Refer—as in dead body carrying refrigerated truck? Manny stepped off the curb. The Marine at the corner, waved his arm and three trucks turned onto their street. The middle one was indeed a Refer. Jesus Christ. He’d forgotten all about the body the man had tossed over the balcony. Had Connie or Henry found it? Did they think he’d killed her? Were they being so nice to him before turning him in to the soldiers? His feet angled to leave, over the fence, anywhere but here.

“Probably for the Aspero’s remains.” Scrambling to her feet, Irina cupped the other woman’s elbow and helped her stand. She caught sight of Manny and arched an eyebrow.

He shook his head. The less Rini knew the better. Shaking his hands, he returned to the wagon. He hadn’t done anything wrong. That had to count for something.

“Makes sense.” Henry rolled onto the curb before spinning about. “Of course, if it was up to me, I’d let the coyotes eat their remains. Then we’d know they’d been good for something.”

Brakes screeched as the trucks rolled to a stop before them. Sandwiched between the supply wagons, the Refer hummed. With their guns in their hands, the soldiers jumped from the truck. Their muzzles aimed everywhere and nowhere as they set up the perimeter.

Manny’s skin itched. He’d seen this before, every week for five and a half months. Yet today, today he knew about a dead body that hadn’t died from the Redaction. He tightened his grip on the wagon.

Henry rolled his chair over to where another soldier set up a table. “Good afternoon. You wearing those masks to protect you from the Ash Pneumonia I heard about on the news?”

The soldier nodded. “Yes, sir. Although it’s required for us, we’re recommending the young, old and immunocompromised wear one if they’re going to be outside.”

“What the infirm don’t matter anymore?” Henry smiled as he plunked a handful of ration books on the table.

The soldier behind the table sifted through the cards. “The infirm are too ornery to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“Damn right.” Henry waved Manny over.

He lurched forward before stumbling over his feet. The soldiers! They were the same ones that delivered the rations to his neighborhood. His tongue knotted, refusing to toss out a warning. After a few steps, he found his footing and glanced at Rini. Pleading with her to warn Connie and Henry not to go forward with their story.

Her eyes widened then traveled to the refrigerated truck and remained locked there.

The passenger door on the Refer opened and a soldier hopped to the ground. Arrows and bars marked his upper arm. Manny’s heart slammed to a stop. Not him.

“Ma’am. Sir.” His gaze skimmed Irina. His jaw clenched as his attention stuck to Manny. “Kids.”

“I—” The rest of the sentence strangled in Manny’s tight throat.

Angling his chair so the soldiers couldn’t see his face, Henry held his index finger to his lips.

Manny opened his mouth but Henry shook his head.

“Ahh, Sergeant Major Dawson.” Connie inched forward, her cane thumping the ground. Her ankle twisted on a rock and she dipped. “These are my grandchildren. They arrived just yesterday from California.”

Manny frowned as she stumbled. Dropping the wagon handle, he rushed to her aid but she was already on her feet and moving awkwardly forward again. An act. The certainty settled in his gut. But why was the old woman acting as if this was her first day with the cane?

The sergeant major rocked back on his heels. His eyes crinkled above his face mask. “Is that a fact?”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Connie thumped the curb with the cane. “Because I know for a fact, that Manny has my late husband’s nose and Irina his eyes.”

The soldier behind the table coughed into his sleeve.

The sergeant major shook his head. “Brother and sister are they?”

“Cousins, Sergeant Major.” Connie growled. “Cousins.”

Manny cleared his throat. Time to fess up. He wouldn’t get the others in trouble, not after they’d taken care of the
niños
and Irina. “Connie. Henry. The sergeant major knows us from the old neighborhood.”

“Oh.” Connie straightened then shook in cane in the soldiers’ direction. “Well. Shame on you Sergeant Major for allowing me to waste a perfectly good lie.”

“My apologies, ma’am.” The soldier tipped his hat. “Perhaps you’ll get a chance to use it another day.”

Connie grinned. “Maybe, I will at that.”

“Medic!” The sergeant major’s shout seemed to rattle the skeleton of the supply truck.

A soldier with a pack slung over his shoulder hustled from the other side of the truck. “Sergeant Major.”

“See to the girl’s injuries. You.” The sergeant major pointed at Manny. “Front and center.”

“Now see here, Sergeant Major.” Connie shook her finger in his direction. “Just because Manny isn’t kin, doesn’t mean you can take him from us.”

“Ma’am.” The sergeant major pushed his hat off and scratched his head. “I don’t have any intention of taking Manny anywhere. I just have some questions to ask.”

Connie crossed her arms over her flat chest. “Don’t try anything, laddie. We’re watching you.”

The lead soldier shook his head while another chuckled. The sergeant major silenced him with a look. “You have your ration card?”