Redaction: The Meltdown Part II (33 page)

The truck jiggled when Brainiac climbed in the back. A soft scraping noise drifted on the wind.

Papa Rose identified it as the generator being dragged across the bed. Twenty yards to go. He shifted his attention to the house. Could they come charging from the back yard?

Brainiac’s face turned red as he lugged the gennie into the caged area. “Hurry up you two. I’m not doing all the work.”

“The squid’s definitely grown a pair.” Falcon shook his head, lingering just a tad when he faced the neighborhood.

“Brass ones, too.” A piece of paper fluttered from the house’s backyard. Papa nearly tripped over his feet. “Eleven O’Clock.”

“A piece of paper.”

“Yeah.” A fucking white banner carried aloft into the sky. “You see any trash piled along the curb in the neighborhood? The whole city has been damn clean.”

Brainiac returned to the side of the truck and hefted two cinder blocks out of the back. “Since you two are being such lazy asses, you can unload the fuel.”

“The squid is oblivious.” Falcon raised the M-4 so it no longer pointed at the ground.

“Focused.” Papa Rose corrected. “All he can see is the job is almost done.”

It was a killer attitude.

Brianiac returned to the truck for the next load of blocks. With one hanging from his hand, he did a second take. “Maybe I should leave these for you two to carry.”

Ahh, he’d finally noticed. Papa Rose shrugged. “We’ll get the drum.” He nodded toward the house, not the blue fifty-gallon barrel in the bed. “You can carry those.”

The squid turned and ambled back to the well. His head tracked slowly from left to right before it tilted back. “I guess it’s a little too much to believe that the paper just missed the garbage.”

“If it had, it would be sopping wet and stuck to the ground.” Papa stopped next to the truck bed and pulled out the last block. At least his gun hand was still free.

“Now we get into a rather sticky situation.” Falcon leaned against the truck and crossed his ankle. “Do we continue to act like nothing is happening or do we go on the offensive?”

Brainiac arranged the blocks so the drum could sit on it and feed the generator to keep it running for the next twenty-four hours. “We need to get this well running. It’ll pump out fifty-four million gallons that the plant will need to give us three more days.”

Papa Rose dropped his block next to the pile and let the squid rearrange them. “Why isn’t the hundred million the other two are pumping out enough?”

“Because the chillers aren’t working.” After organizing the make-shift pedestal, Brainiac dusted his hands on his pants. “Glen has to move more water to keep the pool cool. Given the rate of evaporation and the time we need to reach Colorado, that’s one hundred and fifty million gallons to be safe.”

Papa Rose faced the house. No movement in the back yard but the hair on his neck stood at full attention. Damn, why didn’t they show themselves? He watched the paper landed safely in a Mesquite tree. “Have you checked in with Glen?”

“He’s not answering.”

Dead then. Papa Rose tightened his grip on his weapon. If anything happened to them, the munchkins would join them shortly. Not going to happen. “So how should we work this?”

“We need that water on for twenty-four.”

“Given that they could have attacked and didn’t, I say we finish up.” Falcon ducked his head under the strap and handed the M-4 to Brainiac. “Watch the house.”

Wrapping the strap around his forearm, the squid kept the muzzle pointed at the house, right where he was staring.

Nothing like a new recruit to tip off the bad guys. Tucking his gun in the small of his back, Papa Rose climbed onto the bed. His balls drew up tight. Damn. The only thing missing was a fat target on his bald head. “Without being obvious, B.”

Brainiac tracked back across the house then skipped to the neighborhood. “Sure thing.”

Papa Rose scooted across the bed on his knees. At least, the sides protected some of his assets. He sighed when he made it to the cab and scrunched down. With his back to the cab, he planted his boots on the fifty gallon drum and shoved. “You realize we may have no choice but to take care of our invisible friends.”

Falcon grunted as he worked the lip over the divot between the gate and bed. “There is only one way in and out of the plant.”

Brainiac stared at the house.

“B!” Papa Rose barked.

The squid stopped staring at the house. “What if they just let us leave?”

“This is our exit route. We’re going to be traveling along that road to get to the interstate.” Papa Rose shoved the drum onto the gate then slipped to the ground. “They’ll be waiting to ambush us when we come back.”

“What if they’re friendly?” Brainiac aimed at the dirt.

Papa Rose shook his head. Had he ever been that gullible? He caught hold of the ropes secured to the barrel. Having unloaded drums twice today, he’d gotten the how-to down to a science.

“Then they would have shown themselves by now.” Falcon established his grip and counted off to touch down. “Three. Two. One.”

Muscles strained in Papa Rose’s back. Sweat beaded and slipped down his spine. His thighs trembled as they staggered toward the brick platform. Yeah, he was going to feel this for the next decade of Mondays. Getting old sucked. “Make sure the platform is ready.”

Once they lowered the damn thing, they weren’t lifting it again.

“Maybe they’re just scared.” Brainiac walked the short distance next to them and kicked the upright bricks.

“Let’s focus on getting this thing running.” Papa Rose groaned as he lowered the drum onto the cinder blocks. Mud squelched around the support. After untangling his arms, he set his hands on either side of the gun and arched his back. Vertebra popped. He palmed the gun as he straightened.

Falcon held his hand out for the M-4. “Get it done, B.”

Brainiac handed the rifle over then tugged a hose from his pocket. After opening the cap, he threaded one end inside the drum. The heavy scent of gasoline hung on the air. “I’m just saying, we should try to approach them in a peaceful manner.”

“You mean like Jillie and Toby’s parents did?” Falcon propped a hip against the side of the truck and rested the M-4 on the ledge, the weapon casually aimed at the front door.

“No.” Feeding the other end into the generator, Brainiac rolled his eyes. He adjusted the hoses and the cow-pie contraption he’d rigged to keep the fuel flowing then turned on the generator. It vibrated to life, belching smoke.

“Then how?” Papa Rose glanced toward the house. Still no movement.

“Let’s just leave ‘em alone.” Brainiac trailed his fingers over the well’s pump, switching it on.

Papa Rose shook his head. “We’re going to have children when we pass this way again.”

He would not knowingly put Toby, Jillie or Olivia in danger.

Falcon mimicked his actions.

After a couple seconds, water gurgled and sloshed out the six inch pipe. It gushed into the irrigation ditch, stopped then vomited in one continuous stream. White foamed on the surface. The air bubbles burst and the water reflected the black clouds overhead.

Brainiac held up his hand. “We did it! They’ll give us a medal for this, don’t you think?”

“Sure, B. A bright shiny medal.” Papa Rose high-fived him. Using his free hand, he pulled one side of the chain link gate closed. “Now let’s get on the road.”

Brainiac closed the other one but the bent metal didn’t quite line up. He looped the chain through it and pinched the lock closed. “We’re going to leave them be?”

Guess the squid really had been angry at his and Falcon’s hazing.

Falcon backed slowly toward the driver’s side door. “We’ll circle round the neighborhood and come at them from the field.”

“I’m sure we can find a horse trail or something that will take us right by it.” Papa Rose kept the house in his peripheral vision as he walked to the passenger side.

Brainiac rounded the edge of the fence. But instead of turning toward the truck, he faced the house.

“B!” Papa Rose yanked over the side door. “What the fuck!”

The first bullet smashed into the ground near the squid’s right shoe.

“Shit!” Ducking behind the open door, Papa Rose raised his weapon. No head popped above the hedges. “Where is the shooter?”

The second bullet ripped through Brainiac’s shoulder, twisting his upper torso. Light glinted around the left corner of the house.

“Got you!” Papa fired off two rounds.

The M-4 spat bullets. Bits of foliage exploded. A cry rang out.

Another bullet hit Brainiac in the chest and exploded out the back of his peacoat. The squid collapsed in slow motion—heels rose up, knees bent, and his hands dropped to his sides.

Falcon opened up the M-4, strafing first one side of the double wide then the other. “Get B!”

Firing his weapon at any twinkle of light, Papa Rose rushed forward. He grabbed the squid’s collar and he hit the dirt, dragging him behind the well’s pot-bellied pump, generator and drum of gasoline. He collapsed on the ground next to the squid.

Blood trickled from Brainiac’s mouth and foamed with bubbles when he coughed. The trail was dark against the brown mud. “We’re heroes, aren’t we, Papa Rose?”

“Sure, B.” Papa Rose applied pressure to the hole over the squid’s chest. Warm blood seeped through is fingers, more oozed in a growing puddle around his. Please, no. Not the squid. Please.

“I always wanted to be a hero.” Brainiac coughed. His brown eyes clouded. “I…”

The squid’s head lolled to the side and life slipped silently out of him.

Papa Rose pounded on Brainiac’s chest. “No you don’t.” His corpse convulsed with each hit. “You have to live to get that stupid medal.”

The generator cut out then continued with determination. Water rushed into the ditch.

“Dammit, B!” Papa Rose hit him again. Brainiac’s lifeless hand brushed his thigh. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t.”

Firing nonstop at the house, Falcon sprinted toward them. When the clip emptied, he slid the rest of the way on his knees. “How bad is it?”

Papa Rose scraped the blood from his hand and tried to pour it back into Brainiac. It didn’t work. Nothing would. He tugged the dog tags off and dropped them in his pocket. This ended now. He ejected the clip from his Sig. The new one nearly slipped out of his grip before he rammed it home. Rage hammered through him and he raised his gaze. “No mercy.”

Falcon swiped at his eyes and inserted a fresh clip. “No prisoners.”

He counted down on three fingers then charged the house.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Good Lord. Even the Redaction hadn’t smelled like this cesspit. Audra leaned over in the driver’s seat. Fresh air from the open window combed through her hair and filled her lungs. Maybe she should have let Stuart and his sick people stay like he’d demanded in his predawn meeting. She yawned and rubbed the grit from her eyes. As soon as she reached the soldiers, she’d get a good night’s sleep.

“You should have your mask on if you’re gonna breathe the outside air.” Eddie scooted over to the edge of his seat. “Anthrax is everywhere.”

His voice was muffled behind his gas mask.

Lucky duck. Those filters on the side probably made the air smell like petunias. Sighing, she adjusted her handkerchief over her nose and mouth. The malingering odor of fecal matter quickly seeped inside. She tried breathing through her mouth but practically tasted the emissions. There was only one cure for it. She turned her face in the breeze. “Happy now?”

Eddie winked at her. “Nope.”

Tough. She was driving the toilet on wheels and the windows stayed down. Anthrax be damned.

“Princess A.” Using the tops of the bus seats as handholds, Mrs. Rodriquez worked her way down the aisle. Chunks of brown smeared the Hibiscus print of her mumu. They rained to the floor when she stopped next to Eddie. “I’m out of saline.”

“There should be another supply station outside of Payson.” Audra tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Water puddled along the sides of the ribbon of blacktop winding through the hills. Dark clouds huddled on the northern horizon. They were heading straight for the storm with a busload of sick people. “Can we wait until then?”

Mrs. Rodriquez scratched her scalp. Steel-gray curls swirled around her fingers. “I was a school nurse. Until the Redaction hit, the worst I had to deal with was sniffles, lice and boo-boos.”

Audra steered the bus half onto the shoulder to get around an abandoned SUV. “You did great.”

“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Rodriquez glanced over her shoulder. “The truth is, I don’t know if the IVs are doing any good.”

“It would help if we knew what made them sick.” And if they’d found the soldiers who had people to deal with this. Soon, Audra promised herself. By tonight they should reach the military convoy and Stuart and his sick followers would be someone else’s problem.

“I think I know.” Grabbing hold of the silver bar by the door, the nurse lowered herself onto the front seat opposite Audra. “It was the bread.”

“B-bread?” No. Not the stuff, she’d picked up at Burgers in a Basket. Audra braked as a coyote ran across the Beeline Highway. The animal’s eyes glowed yellow in the weak morning sunshine as it disappeared into the desert. A cactus wren poked its head out of a hole in a towering saguaro.

“Yep. They all ate it.”

“Ha!” Eddie set the laptop he’d pilfered from the Army base on his knees.

“Did you get that thing to work?” Audra took her eyes off the road for a moment. There was no doubt about it; her new head of security was very talented at acquiring things. Had that led to his incarceration? She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. The past didn’t matter.

“Uh-huh.” He tapped on the keys. “It just needed the battery recharged.”

“And that’s where these things come in, right?” She flicked the cellophane-like paper stuck to the dashboard. A brown cord ran down to the step and attached to a box with wires and D-batteries inside.

“Yep. It’s a solar charger.”

“We’ll have light tonight.” Not that they would need the flashlights. Unless something untoward happened, they should reach the soldiers in four hours. No, they
would
reach the soldiers in four hours.