Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (34 page)

“I’m going to survive this. I am.” And the first step involved fluids, lots of fluids. Thankfully, the power was still on and she could make tea. Tea would soothe her throat and honey would provide the antioxidants that the microscopic bugs hated. At least, she thought that’s how it worked. Muscles protested when she used the edge of the desk to pull herself upright. Swaying on her feet, she latched onto the pillow and coughed into it again. The dryness didn’t go away.

Ugh, she hated being sick. Hated, hated, HATED it.

Hated feeling like someone had beaten her nearly to death with beanbags. This time she wouldn’t pray to die, to join her parents, brother and sister. This time she was going to kick the Redaction’s ass so it never bothered her again.

Ever.

Shivering, she dragged her knitted throw blanket over her shoulders. At least, her nose hadn’t started running. The world hadn’t made enough tissue to absorb the gallons of snot she’d oozed the first time.

Stuffing her feet into her moose slippers, she shuffled across the wood floor. Tea with honey for her throat and an aspirin or four for her aching bones. That should get her through the night. With one hand on the wall guiding her, she crept down the hall.

Approaching her aunt’s room, she yawned into her blanket. Moonlight shone on the lump in the middle of the king-sized bed. She paused. Still no thrashing, wheezing, or moaning. Good. Her aunt hadn’t contracted it. Sunnie ignored the spurt of jealousy.
Don’t be stupid
. It’s a good thing Aunt Mavis was healthy. Everyone depended on her.

Including Sunnie.

Her nails scratched the drywall as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Maybe she should wake her aunt and let her know. She shook off the thought and trudged onward. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

The Redaction wasn’t going anywhere.

Reaching the kitchen, Sunnie cleaned her hands with sanitizer and inhaled the peach scent. Her stomach cramped. Good thing she wasn’t hungry. Opening the freezer, she fished around the bin for a loose ice cube. One slipped through her fingers twice before she caught it, tucked it under the mask and sucked it into her mouth. Cold water trickled down her throat and she shut the door moaning. Thank God, the power had been on long enough to make ice.

Side stepping, she took a deep breath and lowered herself to the ground. Her trembling legs sent bundles of pain to her brain. Just a little further. Her eyes dropped below the countertop. A little more. Her knees connected with the tile. Touchdown. She exhaled, felt her muscles puddle on the floor and braced herself with a hand against the cabinet.

God, please, let going up be easier than coming down
. Easing the cabinet open, she reached inside. Her fingers brushed cool plastic before they closed around a curved handle. Thank God Aunt Mavis hadn’t moved the electric kettle.

Sunnie glanced up. Dang. She hadn’t realized her aunt had extra high counters. Stiff joints throbbed as Sunnie raised her hands. The kettle slid across the laminate. One thing down. Now she just needed to get to her feet.

Yeah, easier said than done.

Biting the blanket to keep it in place, she gripped the bull-nose edge. On the count of three. One. She tucked her legs under her body. Two. Sinew stretched along her calves as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Her legs shook. Three. Grunting and grinding her teeth against the yarn, she pulled and pushed. Please. Please. Please.

Inch by inch, she rose higher. Her lungs sawed for air. Her chin cleared the countertop. No stopping. Must keep going. Sweat greased her fingers and she felt her grip slip.

“No,” she growled between her clenched teeth.
I will make it. I will
.

Finally, she stood upright. Her belly bumped the counter then stuck. With her arms as strong as
al dente
pasta, she leaned against the cabinetry. God, she was beyond tired. Beyond exhausted. And she still had to make it back to her room.

Best get started if she expected to reach her bed before noon. Freeing the blanket from between her teeth, she tied it sarong-like around her body. Two steps brought her to the peppermint tea and plastic bear half-f of honey. At least, her legs hadn’t collapsed. Cradling them in her arm, she trudged to the sink and shoved open the tap.

Her right knee buckled as she set the open kettle under the running water. Maybe she’d spoken too soon. She locked her legs and threw a yawn into her shoulder. If her throat didn’t hurt so much, she’d skip the tea and just go for the aspirin.

Sunnie bowed her head. Aspirin. She’d almost forgotten the aspirin. While the water continued to fill the pot, she trudged to the corner cabinet and opened it. At last, she found a benefit to her aunt’s weird habit of keeping medicine in the kitchen. When Sunnie pulled out the bottle, moonlight bathed the yellow and brown label. She shook the container and listened to the rattle of the tablets.

Nearly full.

Tugging her mask down, she aligned the arrows on the child-proof cap and worked it off with her teeth. Turning off the water, she left the kettle in the sink while dumping a dose into her hand. The red-coated pills sparkled like rubies in the light shining through the window over the sink. Her thumb held her medicine, while she poured the extras back into the bottle. Capping it, she popped the pills into her mouth then filled her Maxine mug.

Sunnie gulped half the water then tossed her head back. For a moment, the pills stuck in her throat. She gulped the rest and a rivulet escaped through the corners of her mouth to plop on her pajama top. She swallowed and swallowed until, finally, the pills made their way to her stomach.

“Gah.” Shuddering, she ran her tongue against her teeth to scrap off the bitterness, dropped the aspirin bottle into her empty mug and gathered up the kettle. The plug knocked against the cabinet when she lifted it out of the sink.

Sunnie froze. Her eyes strained in the darkness. Had Aunt Mavis heard that? No one called her name. No light turned on. Safe. She was safe. Watching the swinging plug, she schlepped down the hallway.

By the time she reached her room, her heart hammered inside her chest and her lungs heaved for oxygen but a giggle bubbled against her lips. If she didn’t feel like crap, sneaking about would be kind of fun. It had certainly done wonders for her exhaustion. She cracked another yawn. Kind of. Kicking the door shut, she opened her laptop. The screen blinked to life, complete with the dancing skeletons of the Redaction in Action website.

After dumping her booty onto the desk, she plugged in the kettle. Water gurgled and the heating element ticked. Pinching the aspirin bottle out of her mug, she tossed it by her pillow. She popped open the box of tea bags and inhaled the rich scent of peppermint. Yum. Flipping open the top of the honey bear, she glanced down at her desk. Dang. She’d forgotten a spoon.

“Oh, well.” Inverting the bottle, she squeezed until the amber liquid oozed across the bottom of her mug. Just about enough. She swirled the string of honey until the bear was upright then searched her can of pencils until she found one without an eraser to use as a stir stick. Closing her eyes, she kicked off her slippers and collapsed onto her desk chair. Metal creaked as the seat back adjusted to her weight.

Tired. So tired. Lethargy infused her limbs. She could almost feel them melt into the plastic armrests. Questions exploded like fireworks in her mind. What had China said about their continuing Redaction cases? Had anyone made the connection between the Ash Pneumonia and the influenza? Was anyone else sick?

Had anyone died?

The kettle whistled. Her eyes flew open and her heart raced. Scared by a kettle—real mature. Laughing under her breath, she curled her bare toes around the cord and pulled. The plug thudded onto her area rug as the whistling died. Removing the lid, she tossed in two tea bags to steep. Peppermint-scented steam wafted above the kettle before she closed the lid.

Yawning, she stared at the computer screen. Skeletons waved to fleshed-out relatives. What was she going to do? Her mind blanked as more dead left the houses to join their relatives outside. Redaction. China. She caught the thought and nailed it down. Should she see if she could find a clip of the announcement on Youtube?

Nah. That was too much work. Surely, someone here had mentioned it. Sunnie scrolled through the lists of topics before her finger froze.

Catsin99: Redaction back, or has it ever left?

Her heart stumbled over a beat. Aunt Mavis’s plan had worked! That reporter Catherine Sinclair had made the connection. Sunnie scanned the responses. Seventy thousand and climbing. Good Lord, could that many people be sick already? She opened the topic.

chesshire8: I think UR panicking for no reason.

“That’s because you’re a government douche bag sent to keep the truth from the people.” Sunnie snorted and poured tea into her mug.

nymetsfan1K: BTW China denied any continuing illness.

“Another mouthpiece from the government peanut gallery.” She hissed through her teeth. Her hand hovered over the mouse. Her stepdad used to say things like that. She never did learn exactly what a peanut gallery was. And now it was too late.

She shook her head. As for China denying everything... Had she really expected any government to do the right thing?

MLKWIT: I dont believe anything our govt says, why would I believe the Chinese

catsin99: exactly. no1 is on their streets

nymetsfan1K: have u seen the pollution. Id demand a mask or oxygen tank. China needs Al Gore

“Great, obscure the issue by introducing politics.” Actually, now that she’d thought about it, they’d done that a lot. Sunnie blew the steam off her mug before taking a sip of the cooler top layer. Doofus! Setting the cup down, she stirred the honey into the tea with the pencil.

MLKWIT: They can have him!!!!!

chesshire8: B serious. Has any1 U no become sick?”

catsin99: Outside of GIs?”

Sunnie leaned forward. White tipped her knuckles.

nymetsfan1K: yes

catsin99: no.

Damn. Sunnie licked the tea off the tip of her pencil before dropping it onto her desk. She couldn’t be the first. She just couldn’t. Ignoring the other messages, she scrolled through the responses. Ha! Someone has a sore throat and the douche bags tell him he’s overreacting. Figures.

Wrapping both hands around her mug, she inhaled the steam. Warmth nudged aside the chill in her hands and the peppermint tamed the tickle in her throat. She took another sip and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. Hopefully, the aspirin would kick in soon.

She continued scanning the responses. Sure enough. More people reported sore throats. A few had fevers and coughs. Chesshire8 and catsin99 had both responded in the negative; nymetsfan1K wanted to know where they lived.

“Like that makes a difference.” The stupid flu was floating down from the heavens. After one more sip, she set her mug down.
Please let Aunt Mavis understand
. Wiggling the mouse, she clicked on the dialogue box.

sunEBrIt: my name is Sunnie Wilson i am 19 years old. i caught the RedXn in Nov recovered in Dec. i no what it feels like

She entered the comment then continued typing.

sunEBrIt: 33 minutes ago i woke up with fever and cough the RedXn is back!!!!

Her finger hovered over the enter key for a second before hitting it. If the government came and took her away from Aunt Mavis, so be it. Maybe her aunt would be spared the disease. As for everyone else... People had a right to know.

If she had known, maybe she wouldn’t be sick right now.

Maybe she wouldn’t be dying.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Trent swam through the waves of pain, rising on the surges and struggling to avoid being sucked under by the ebbs. The rustle of fabric nearby brought him fully conscious. Had the gangbangers returned to finish him off? For a moment, his blood heated and the throbbing faded.

The moment quickly faded and the aches in his body swelled into his skull, until it felt like it would explode like a microwaved potato.

Rocks clattered together and something squeaked. A rat most likely. He felt the furry bastard scamper across his leg and his foot twitched. Fire consumed his privates like a bad outbreak of herpes. The one bitch was supposed to shoot off his dick.

Had she succeeded?

His muscles twitched with the need to check, but something held him back.

Someone was with him.

If the bastards returned to make sure he was dead, they’d find he wouldn’t be so cooperative this time. Trent opened his eyes to slits. Moonlight painted the highest leaves, branches and rocks with silver, but left the cracks and crevices an abyss of possibilities.

A den of threats.

His fingers dug into the chilly sand. He needed a rock, a stick, any weapon would do. Debris sifted through his hands—none of it useful.

None of it could kill.

A hard knot formed in his gut. Well, if he couldn’t find a weapon, he’d use his fingers, his fists, and his teeth. He’d rip the gangbanger’s limb from limb, crack their skulls open to splatter their brains across the river bottom, and stomp on their bones, until they resembled jelly.

Now he had to wait until they came close enough to strike.

And they were close.

He heard their footfalls and the swish of brush as they crept along. Two yards, maybe less. He’d wait until they bent down to check his pulse before attacking. They’d be off guard then. He’d grab their head and yank them down. They’d pitch forward and he’d pile drive them into the ground. The action played inside his skull like a favorite movie trailer.

Sometimes, they’d break their neck, leaving them aware while he took his revenge.

Other times, they were stunned. By the time they awoke, he had their hands and feet pinned down by boulders. The bones would break as he dropped more stones on their limbs. Sometimes, he’d cut open their bellies leaving their insides exposed for a rat feast. Other times, he’d finish them off quickly. Always, always, always, he cut off their genitals and shoved them into their mouths while they were awake to suffer through it.