Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (55 page)

Disguising his growl as clearing his throat, Trent looked at the man. “Yes?”

“You can go in now.”

Trent glanced up. Son of a bitch. The only thing between him and the double doors was a drift of smoke. He slammed the book shut and stomped toward the door. The asshole was probably laughing behind his mask. Trent grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. Maybe he could have the man shot.

Before the last door slammed shut, another soldier opened the next one and Trent stepped out of the vestibule into the tent. About two dozen people filled the area. Most sat behind a series of folding tables, their faces glowing in the bluish light of their computer screens. One or two people stood before each table dripping ash onto the canvas floor. Above the grind of a generator, an air conditioner kicked on. Drafts of cold air fluttered the ribbons tied to the vents and stirred the soot.

“Sir!” A lone woman in tan and green camouflage rose from her metal chair and snapped her fingers at him. “We can take you over here.”

Trent tucked his Bible under his arm. What the hell? Did she think he was a damn dog, coming when called? This whole fucking service lacked discipline and respect. He’d have to discover her name and add it to his shit list. Of course, if she was pretty, he could think of another way for her to make amends.

Adjusting her mask, she resumed her seat and then picked up the magnifying readers on the table to the right of her computer and set them on her nose. “I understand you’ve had a trying day, sir, but we need to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded and turned a rectangular device toward Trent. It looked like the delivery confirmation device carried by parcel companies.

Trent frowned. He wasn’t going to sign a damn thing. At the very least, he intended to sue the government for lost wages. Signing anything at this juncture would deprive him of that right. He grasped his hands in front of him. “I wish to return to my home. I understand that you won’t be able to spare a special driver, but I will join a transport to North Scottsdale.”

He dropped the hint of his wealth and status, knowing it would make an impression.

The woman eyed him over the rim of her glasses. Concern flared in her hazel eyes. “I understood you came in on the transport from central Phoenix.”

Good. She was aware that those in his neighborhood should be treated with respect. Well, it was too late to make a good impression and she was too old for him to consider any other mitigating actions. He wasn’t that desperate.

“I was on my way to an appointment with the CEO of Western Electronics.” Straightening his shoulders, he dropped the name of the man heading the largest computer manufacturer in the Valley.

Hash marks appeared between her eyes as she raked him from head to toe. Her fingers hovered over the keys of her laptop. “Was he with you when you were trapped by the fire?”

“No. I never made the meeting.” He twitched in his borrowed clothes. What the hell was she going on about now? He’d mentioned the CEO as a character reference not for her to gloss over him in favor of someone more important.

“Where were you going to meet him?”

Trent’s foot tapped the canvas floor. Obviously the woman needed more than readers if she couldn’t recognize power under worn flannel and jeans. “The Nineteenth Tee.”

She didn’t even blink at the mention of the exclusive restaurant. Perhaps, he should ask to speak with an officer, someone with class.

“Where is that located, sir?”

God, he was sick of dealing with such ignorant fools. Removing the Bible from under his arm, he slammed it on the table. “What does it matter where the restaurant is? I don’t want to go to the restaurant. I wish to be taken to my condo.”

Rising, the woman held up one hand. The other rested on her sidearm. “If you could just calm down, sir.”

“I don’t want to calm down.” He braced his hands on the table and held his face inches from hers. The Bible partially fanned out from his weight. “Who do I need to speak to in order to arrange a ride back to my house?”

“You need to speak with us.” The woman spoke softly but the flap covering her side arm stood straight up and her hand was on the pistol grip. “Please provide us with your name and address.”

Fucking bitch. Like he actually believed she would shoot him. His leg twanged as a reminder. Well, she wouldn’t dare shoot him in front of witnesses. Trent looked around the tent. Two male soldiers had their weapons drawn and aimed at him. Ash-colored people crowded near their tables as if to get away from the imminent gun play.

Fear broke over him in a wave of cold air. Maybe they would shoot him. It wouldn’t be the first time the government stomped on the citizen’s civil liberties. Inhaling a calming breath, he straightened. She may have won this round, but he’d get his revenge. His thoughts rolled back to his wife hanging from the loft railing of the house she’d stolen from him.

He was good at revenge.

The Redaction was almost over and soon the military would return to their pathetic lives. One by one, he’d find each man and every woman who’d insulted him today and make them pay. He bared his teeth in a smile. Although concealed by his mask, he felt it. And its power and promise. So he’d let them think they’d won. This time.

The outer door banged open. A gust of wind swept fresh soot across the floor and brought with it the smell of food—tomatoes, spices and... His nose twitched. Beef. He sucked up the drool pooling in his mouth while his nose urged him to turn.

A man balancing a tray filled with Styrofoam cups stepped into the tent. Black spoons bristled from them. Ash freckled his sable cheeks above the drooping mask and stained the white cap on his head. He paused by the men with their weapons drawn. “Soups on. Should be enough for everyone.”

Everyone? Trent’s stomach jumped for joy on his intestines. Food. Real food.

Holstering their weapons, the soldiers took a cup from the tray.

Metal creaked behind him. “Now, if you would just tell me your name and address.”

He watched the tray bearer’s progress across the room. Cup after cup disappeared. Would there be any left by the time he got to him?

“Sir?” The woman’s voice began to grate. “Your name.”

“Trent.” Finally the man zagged toward him. Five cups remained on the tray. Trent grabbed the closest one as the man bent down to offer one to the woman. Latching onto the spoon, he scooped up bits of potato and carrot and shoveled it into this mouth. Maybe if he finished fast enough he could get another before the man moved on. After what he’d been through he deserved two helpings.

The tray bearer straightened. “Aren’t you the preacher fellow from last night?”

Trent groaned partly from the harmony of spices dancing across his taste buds and partly from the recognition. The lie had been a miscalculation on his part. None of this lot would respect a clergyman. Most probably couldn’t count to eleven with their shoes on. Turning his attention back to the table, he groped for a way out of the lie.

“You’re a reverend?” The woman unhooked her glasses and chewed on the earpiece.

Well, I’ll be damned
. She actually respects men of the cloth. He scooped another bite. If he had to be a preacher man to get home, then that’s who he’d be. “Yes.”

“Reverend Trent?” She blinked at him.

That sounded good. He nodded. “Yes. Benjamin Trent.” He borrowed from the money in the Bible. The good book was worth something after all.

Clearing her throat, she perched her reading glasses on her nose and set her fingers on the computer keys. “I apologize, sir. Now I understand why you were so determined to return home. I’m sure your flock is in need of comfort.” She typed in a few lines. “So many people think they should be given special privileges. The salesmen are the worst.”

He nodded and sipped the liquid. Garlic and salt infused the tomato juice. He smacked his lips.

The male soldier glanced at his tray. “I’ll be right back, Sally. Don’t let the preacher leave. There’re quite a few folks calling for Last Rites.” He edged the tray and its remaining food out of Trent’s reach. “You’re going to be one busy man.”

Not here, he wasn’t. Trent speared a cube of meat from his nearly empty cup. The morsel dissolved as soon as it hit his tongue. “About returning to my flock...”

“Where is it located?”

“Sixty-Eighth Street and Frank Lloyd Wright Boulevard.” He gave the crossroads nearest his condo. There was probably a church around there somewhere. If they dropped him off in the parking lot, they’d never know he’d lied to them.

The woman glanced up at him. “I’m sorry, sir. That area has been completely destroyed.”

Trent blinked. “Destroyed? I...I don’t understand.”

“The fires raged through your neighborhood last night. There isn’t anything left standing except a few brick walls and chimneys.”

Leaving his spoon in his cup, he wiped his palm down his face. All of his stuff. Gone. By fire. But the fires were downtown. “How can that be?”

“Folks panicked and lit the trash on fire.” She patted his hand before grasping it in hers and placing it on the rectangular signature reader. “Unfortunately, there was so much garbage, the flames got away from everyone. There isn’t much of the city left. And all the stick homes are just embers.”

Trent eyed the dregs of his soup. Thank God, he’d put all his policy papers in a safe deposit box. Of course, at this rate, he wouldn’t have to spend a dime of his wife’s insurance money. His homeowner’s policy would cover everything. He kept his face averted so she couldn’t see his grin. He was certainly among the lucky ones. “I see.”

“Don’t worry, Reverend, you’re safe here.” She patted his hand again before releasing it. “And your particulars and fingerprints are in the system, so if anyone needs to find you, they can. In the meantime, we’ll assign you to a house and get you settled.”

“That’s fine.” He finished his soup in one gulp. Of course, the house wouldn’t be up to his standards, but it would do for now. At least he didn’t have to live in a tent like the rest.

“If you’re ready, Reverend.” The soldier handed his tray of cups to another man and then gestured toward the doors at the rear of the tent. “Outside of the CO and the Doc, you’re the most important man on the base.”

Trent inclined his head. About time people recognized his true worth.

Chapter Forty-Six

“Excuse me, Sir.” Manny pulled the child’s wagon to a stop in front of a couple. The dozen cans he’d collected rolled along the plastic bottom.

Rini raised the lantern in her hand, highlighting the mottled green and purple bruises on her face. In the west, shades of the red and orange sunset bled through the black smoke.

While the older woman perched on a boulder, the man spread a coarse blanket on the rocky ground. He looked up at Manny. Ash caked his face like a mime’s make-up but didn’t disguise the dark circles clinging to his eyes. Two battered tapestry bags sat at his feet.

A twinge of guilt ate at Manny as he scanned their scant belongings. Only a few people had anything. And those who had started out with too much had left it behind as they’d taken blind turns only to be beaten back by fire, heat, rats and foul-scented smoke. With two bags, the couple had more than most. But he doubted their luggage contained food. So many didn’t.

Yet he had to ask them to donate something for their evening meal. Henry said it was the first step toward building a community. Manny couldn’t help feeling like a thief. After what they’d salvaged from the mission, they didn’t need to take people’s last food stuffs.

At least not yet.

But that time might come soon.

The fires had pushed them further west, away from the soldiers. And with so many sick, the delay might be fatal.

The man held out his hand to the woman and helped lower her, creaking and groaning onto the blanket. Her eyes closed when she lay down and her breathing deepened. Sighing, he sank like a deflated balloon on the ground next to her. “How can I help you, young man?”

Manny’s grip slipped on the wagon handle. “We’re hoping to make soup for dinner today.” Something easy to make and share among the hundreds of people camped along the river bed. “If you have any canned vegetables to donate, we’d appreciate it.”

He didn’t ask for meat. No one had meat. Most didn’t even know about the chickens clucking in the wire boxes at the front of the line.

“Soup?” The man raked his fingers through his hair. They got stuck in the thick ash halfway across his skull.

“Everyone’s tired and most of us haven’t cooked over an open fire.” If Cowboy and his group hadn’t brought grill grates, Manny didn’t know how they would have managed. The cook stove he had found would have ran out of gas before everyone ate. “Soup seemed the easiest to make.”

The man rested his hand on his carryon. “So only those who donate will get soup?”

“No, sir.” Manny sighed. He’d had this conversation too many times in the last hour. So many who had nothing feared they’d be left out. Others with food believed they would be cheated. “Everyone will get something to eat.”

Rini stepped closer to the couple. “Our family is donating water, bouillon cubes and flour to make dumplings. We’re just looking for vegetables to make it go further.”

“Dumplings, huh?” The man scratched his chin, revealing the brown skin underneath. “Been a while since I’ve had dumplings.” Wheezing slightly, he leaned over to the right and unzipped his carryon part way down. He removed a plastic baggie full of orange medicine bottles, revealing the clean labels of cans underneath. He selected one of peas and one of corn. “Here you go. When can we expect to eat?”

Manny stepped forward and took the cans. Most with a food stash hadn’t been so generous. He added them to the dozen in his wagon. “We’ll be back in about half an hour. If you have something to eat with, you might want to get it out.”

The man shook his head. “Forgot to bring the good china. Heck, I forgot the damn opener. This way I’ll get to eat what’s inside without having to chew through the can.”

Rini stepped around Manny and raised her arm, showing the small blanket dangling from her forearm. “We still have a few more blankets left if you need one.”