Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) (37 page)

“The President will make an announcement tomorrow and let everyone know about the Plague.” Lister plopped down on the reversed chair and scooted closer to the table.

And to Mavis.

Damned officers. He was definitely getting his own coffee. While the machine gurgled, David measured out two spoonfuls of sugar into a mug. She had taken sugar, hadn’t she?

“Bodies are one thing, but the nuclear power plant is another threat altogether.” Mavis frowned at her laptop then tapped a few keys.

“Give the order and we’ll shut Palo Verde down.” Lister leaned in his chair until his head practically rested on her shoulder.

Lecherous, pretty boy. Acting like he was all that and a home-cooked meal. David kept his clenched fists hidden behind the counter. At least he knew something that lascivious Lister didn’t.

Mavis cleared her throat. “It’s not so simple. Without a reliable supply of gas or coal, there’s no way we can supply enough electricity to keep the hospitals operating.”

“And since Operation Deep Six was aborted during week two of the Redaction, there are spent fuel rods stored on site. They will evaporate off their water, ignite and send enough radiation to kill everything.” He made sure he kept the smug look off his face. Last thing he wanted was to be dressed down in front of his woman. “Staying is not an option.”

Mavis turned the computer screen so the general could see it without putting his head in her lap.

“Fair enough.” Lister retreated a few inches. “I might be able to help. I grew up in the area.”

Of course he did. Where was a plague-infested rat when he needed it? David grabbed the half-f pot from the machine and filled the mugs. The rich scent of coffee didn’t soothe him as it usually did.

“What do you know of Colorado?” She tapped her computer and a green glow highlighted her checks. “Specifically, this area.”

Probably a topographical map. Not that it would help him worm his way into the conversation. He’d spent most of his years in service either overseas or in the South. Picking up the mugs by the handles, he joined Mavis.

“I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s rough terrain.” Lister brushed her hand as he shifted the focus of the map to another area. “This location would be better. There’s water and it’s relatively flat for farming.”

Shaking her head, she reached up and took one of the mugs. “You don’t quite understand what I’ve said. We’re not going to be living on the Earth’s surface but under her skin. These mountains are loaded with metals to block the radiation, plus there are a warren of tunnels we can make use of right away.” Setting her mug down, she shifted back to her original target area, then zoomed in to the valley. “This has a power connection to Glen Canyon Dam and will provide us with enough electricity while we set up our new underground civilization.”

David blew steam off his mug. That was his girl, showing the general she was more than just a pretty face. Much more. And the face was damn wonderful.

Lister scratched his clean-shaven chin. “So we’ll need supply stations along the exfil route.”

“Yes.” Frowning, Mavis pulled the mug from his hand and set it next to hers.

What the hell? She already had a cup; she didn’t need his.

“Why don’t you catch up on some sleep before your shift?”

Tugging his mask down, Lister reached out and nabbed David’s stolen cup.

Thieving bastard. He crossed his arms. Damn Jar heads always got the good stuff. “I can help plan the exodus.”

She set her hand on his arm. “You can, but I’d rather you catch up on the sleep you’ve lost since you’ve been assigned to me. And don’t bother to deny it. I’m a trained observer and I know a fatigue case when I see one.”

After a squeeze and a smile, she released him and disappeared down the hall.

Lister sipped David’s coffee then smacked his lips.

Yeah, well, at least she cared enough about him to worry. That was better than a cup of coffee any day. Mavis’s permission allowed fatigue to flood his body, infusing his limbs with lassitude, which made it hard to keep his eyes open. He’d comply, because she was his superior and she’d worry. She had enough on her plate without his health. Besides, he really could use the sleep.

A door squeaked twice, before she returned with blanket and pillow in hand. “Will you be comfortable on the couch or do you want the spare bed?”

“The couch.” He took the items and trudged to the sofa. The sweet scent of roses wafted from the bundle. He’d sleep with both ears and one eye open. Marines were not to be trusted.

She followed him to the couch and helped him tuck a sheet around the cushions. “What time do you need to wake to report back to base before your shift?”

“Six should be plenty of time.” David dropped the pillow onto the sheet then ripped open the Velcro of his jacket before lowering the zipper.

Lister scooted his chair closer to hers. “We’ll be sure to wake you.”

Mavis rolled her eyes.

Double-dog bastard. Turning his back on the general, David sat down and worked off his boots. Maybe he could sleep with both eyes on the Marine.

Chapter Thirty-One

Manny blinked at the light shining on his eyelids before burying his face in his pillow. The soft scent of flowers invaded his senses. Flowers? Rearing back, he looked around. The twin-sized bed butted against a tan wall. A thin strip of seashell wallpaper hung midway down. Next to a glass jar of sand dollars and starfish, a white pitcher and bowl sat on a nightstand. Across from that was another twin bed. His brother, Jose’s favorite superhero-action figure sat among the rumpled sky blue covers.

Fear fisted his heart and squeezed.

This was not his home. While his brain struggled against the cotton batting wrapping his thoughts, he sprang from the bed. His bare feet sank into the plush carpeting, before he spun around. The
niños
! Where were the
niños
?

The sound of laughter trickled inside the strange bedroom.

Stumbling out of the blanket bunched around his ankles, Manny staggered to the window. Shaking hands pushed aside the tan drapes. Beyond the neatly trimmed desert landscaping, Jose sat atop a blue bicycle, laughing.

“Don’t laugh, Jose Saldana.” Irina shook her finger at him while lifting a red bicycle off Mikey. “You fell off the bike many times after your Pop removed the training wheels.”

Thrusting out his trembling bottom lip, the five-year-old pushed off the asphalt and remounted the bike. “I’m not gonna fall this time.”

“That’s the spirit.” White-haired Connie sat on the sidewalk handing Lucia and Mary pieces of chalk from the bucket in her lap. Neither girl seemed to mind that a blind woman chose the colors for their art.

Manny’s shoulders relaxed. Safe. They were safe. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he pushed the sleepiness away. His heart resumed a normal rhythm as happiness invaded his limbs. Neither was he alone.

Memories flooded his skull—Connie, Henry, Mildred. Adults to protect them, to help him take care of the
niños
. His belly rumbled due to emptiness. Food wasn’t a problem either. The soldiers had caught him up on his family’s weekly rations.

And the murder.

He licked his dry lips. Had the murderer seen him standing in the common area of the development? Surely, if Manny could see him, the reverse must also be true.

But would the killer return?

The soldier seemed to think so.

Henry had identified one of the murderer’s victims as the man’s ex-wife and said that he’d lived in the neighborhood prior to their divorce.

Fortunately, the soldier had promised to relocate them within a week. Did he have a week? Manny let the curtain fall. Yes, he did. He had to believe that.

If the murderer came back before then, Henry had pledged to hide him.

So had Mildred and Connie.

Tears stung his eyes and pricked his nose. Stupid to cry now. He was finally safe. The
niños
didn’t have to fear the gangs or starvation. They could relax and play outside. He shuffled to the dresser shoved against the wall opposite the beds and window. Underneath a framed print of white sand and a turquoise ocean, toys were carefully lined-up on the dresser.

Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a change of clothes. Holding the folded tee shirt and jeans against his nose, he inhaled the scent of laundry soap. God, he missed smelling clean. Padding into the bathroom, he did his business then pressed the toilet lever. No water. Pushing aside the shower curtain, he filled the mop bucket with water from the tub and poured it down the bowl. The crude flushing system worked and he lowered the lid.

Gathering up the
niños
’ dirty clothes, he made his way past the four bedrooms. Voices bounced off the cream walls before being absorbed into the beige carpeting. Someone else was here. Manny paused at the entry to the family room/dining area and peered around the corner. Henry rolled his wheelchair up to the kitchen table, a pad of paper in his hand and a radio on his right.

“You’re going to have to wind that radio soon, Henry.” In the open kitchen behind him, Mildred pounded blobs of white dough on the granite countertop. Flour dusted the bright red curls escaping the handkerchief tied around her head.

“I’ll get to it, woman.” Henry’s gray ponytail slipped over his shoulder to tease the walnut table top. “Just gotta finish taking all this information down.”

Manny released the breath he’d been holding. The voices had come from the radio. It wasn’t the Child Protective Services coming to take the
niños
away from him.

“You just remember the last time you let it run all the way down.” Mildred plopped a round into a glass loaf pan. “All that cranking made
you
cranky.”

Shaking his head, he entered the large room. Their bickering reminded him of his parents. For the first time, the reminder wasn’t a punch to his gut, but a warmth infusing his limbs. These
gringos
were good people.

While taking another hunk from the silver mixing bowl on her left, Mildred looked up. “Well, you look like a brand new man.” She slapped the dough into countertop. Flour puffed up and coated her ‘Kiss me cuz I could be Irish’ apron. “Put the dirties in the laundry room then come and sit. I’ll get your breakfast as soon I get these on to rise.”

Henry flicked off the radio before swiping it off the table and working the hand crank on the side. The soft whirring filled the silence.

“I can help with the bread if you’d like.” Manny adjusted the load in his hands. Had there been an announcement on the radio that the older man hadn’t wanted him to hear? He wracked his brain. Nah, they’d just talked about burning trash and the rat problem.

“Pshaw.” Mildred waved a white-crusted hand. “I’m almost done here. Besides, it gives me an opportunity to take out my frustrations. Pounding dough is much better than pounding sense into that man’s head.” She jerked her chin toward her husband. “Easier, too.”

Henry snorted. “Since when do you make sense?”

Manny skirted the brown sectional sofa on his way to the laundry room.

Mildred pinched off a piece of dough and flung it at her husband. He jumped as it splatted against his ear.

“Dog gone it, woman!” He scraped up the piece, stared at the mass creating cobwebs between his fingers, before sniffing it. “That’s my favorite herb bread you’re depriving me of.”

“Well, that’s my favorite herb bread you’re depriving me of.” She dusted the lump with more flour from the split bag on the counter. “Any more smart mouthing from you and you won’t get pasta tonight.”

Setting the radio on the table, Henry wheeled over to his wife’s side. “Any more smart mouthing from you and I’ll be eating your pasta tonight.”

Manny ducked into the laundry room when Mildred squeaked. There were some things he preferred not to see—old people making out was one of them. He quickly sorted the laundry into the piles already on the marble floor then leaned against the front-loading stainless steel washer.

“You can come out now, Manny.” Henry chuckled. “We’re finished necking. For the moment.”

His cheeks burned. His parents had also found his embarrassment funny. Must be something in the age bracket.

“Henry, stop teasing the boy.”

Wiping his damp hands on his jeans, Manny shuffled into the family room. Both Henry and Mildred’s lips twitched. Best to change the subject before the older man hazed him some more. “What can I do to help?”

“First, you need to eat your breakfast.” With one thrust, Henry closed the gap between the kitchen counter and the French doors leading outside. “Then we need to do a little neighborhood shopping.”

Effortlessly, the older man eased open the door, and then slid down the ramp onto the patio.

Manny pulled out the heavy antique chair and sank onto the cushioned seat. Offering to help was useless. The old man always brushed him off. He understood. Really, he did. But he was used to doing things. Here, these three had everything down. Not that he felt like an intruder exactly...

But keeping busy had helped him not think about the Redaction too much.

And all that he’d lost.

The darkness sucked at him. The k-chunk of wheels hitting wood broke its spell.

Henry glided up the ramp and coasted into the room with a silver-covered plate balanced on his lap. “I’ve made a list of things we could use, plus a few...luxuries we might want to liberate.”

Mildred appeared at his elbow with silverware and a cloth napkin. “Here you go. And I expect you to eat everything on your plate.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Manny’s stomach grumbled as Henry set a plate on the table. He’d dreamt about food last night, just like he had most nights before it. Even going to bed with a full belly hadn’t silenced the cravings.

Using the end of her apron as a pot holder, Mildred slid it in front of him before removing the cover. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to use the solar cooker, and you can treat us to some of those beans young Lucia was bragging about.”