Redaction: The Meltdown Part II (27 page)

Deputy Pecos rose from his seat by the outside door—one man-shaped shadow among the rectangular ones. “Evening, Eddie. Princess.”

She bit her tongue. Eddie deserved a boil on his posterior for giving her that stupid nickname. “Deputy. Any sign of trouble?”

Eddie flicked the light over the revolver in the other man’s hand.

“No, Ma’am.” The deputy hitched his pants a little higher. “But Prince Charming’s loyal subjects are constantly lining up near the toilets.”

She eyed the vestibule of the next tent over. The door banged open.

Eddie shone the light on the figure bursting through the door.

Slipping in the mud, Stuart raised his hand, shielding his eyes. “What the fuck, Pecos! You know it’s me.”

“It’s not Pecos.” Eddie lowered the beam to Stuart’s chest. “You don’t look so good, Prince Charming. Are you sick?”

Stuart clutched his stomach. “It’s those damn pills that Audra forced us to take. They’re making me sick.”

Oh, for pity’s sake. He was a grown man. It wasn’t like she’d sat on him and shoved them down his throat. “You’re the one that didn’t want to take them with food.”

“Audra?” He tossed his weight from foot to foot.

“Yes. Audra.” Was it easier to talk about her when she wasn’t here? “Now, I—”

Stuart clapped his hand over his mouth and darted toward the toilets, splashing through the water pooled in the quad.

Chuckling, Eddie tracked his progress until the door banged shut behind him. “Guess, he really had to go.”

Two more people stumbled out of Stuart’s tent. She recognized a teenager and the elderly man that had so rudely pointed his finger at her. Both had hid in Burgers in a Basket.

She set her hand over her belly. “Do either of you feel any stomach upset?”

Eddie shined the light between them, dividing his face into planes of light and darkness. “Nah, I’ve got a cast-iron stomach.”

“Deputy?”

Pecos shrugged. Water slithered down his brown poncho. “Nope. But I ate when I took my dose.”

She stuck her hands into her pockets. It made sense but… The idea inserted its hooks, refused to let go. “Anyone know the symptoms of anthrax?”

Another person sprinted from Stuart’s building.

Eddie shone the light in front of them as they ran for the toilets. “You think they’ve got it?”

Deputy Pecos scratched the stubble bristling from his chin. “Thought it was flu-like symptoms.”

“Stomach flu symptoms?” That might explain the frequent trips to the commode.

“Dunno.” The deputy shrugged.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Does it matter? It’s not supposed to be contagious.”

Anthrax wasn’t, but… Fear iced the marrow in her bones. “What if it’s something else?”

“Good ol’ Stuie will have to stay by himself.” Eddie smiled.

What made him so happy? She couldn’t leave them behind. And quarantining them would be a nightmare. They only had five buses. Plus, someone healthy would have to drive the sick. “I wish I knew what the symptoms were.”

But wishes were about as useful as a lamp with no light bulb or power.

She pulled out the folded up instruction paper left by the soldiers. Adjusting it so the light shown on it, she reread the list of recommended rations and medicines. “Let’s go see what supplies are left.”

Please, God, don’t let them have been raided
.

She headed away from the empty check-in tent. The supply tent had to be back here somewhere.

“You know if Stuie doesn’t accompany us, we’ll lose most of the adults that came with him.” Eddie cupped her elbow and guided her over the well-worn path toward the back of the camp. Rats rustled in the piles of garbage. Water plopped into pools gathered under the sloped canvas roof. Unsecured window flaps slapped the sides of the tents while the wind plucked at the guy wires.

She wasn’t planning on leaving him behind. But Stuart had made noises about staying here a day or two. That was madness. God only knew when those thugs would trace them here. And they would. She knew it. “I would hate to leave anyone behind.”

But she would, if she had to. She had to get her people to the soldiers. She’d promised.

“With all the new folks, we’ll need more hands.” Eddie flashed the light on a large tent. A wooden sign twirled in the breeze. He caught it and flipped it over to read the painted words: Mess Hall.

She opened the door and waited for him to precede her. “We can manage. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eddie shook his head and stomped ahead. “You bossed, threatened and blackmailed people into taking care of others, and it nearly killed you.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. No one was supposed to have noticed. A Silvestre never showed weakness. It should have been bred out of the bloodlines. “I was fine.”

He yanked open the door and waved her inside. “That time you passed out three times in one day, lost five pounds you don’t have to spare, and slept for thirty-six hours scaring the hell out of all of us.”

Good heavens. She stopped across the threshold and waited for him to light up the black space. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

“You saved my life and my brother’s. I owe you.” He panned the light around the space landing on tables and folding chairs, silver coffee urns and chaffing dishes.

She ignored the twinge of disappointment. Feeling a debt to someone was far different than caring about them. Not that she wanted him to care for her. She brushed the thoughts aside. “Let’s see if they have any cooking oil.”

“We found two fifty gallon barrels of diesel by the motor pool.”

“That’s great!” But they had five hungry busses to feed and nearly four hundred miles to travel.

Eddie navigated through the rows of tables to the serving area in the back. “If Stuart and his people go with us, I think you’ll need to delegate some tasks.”

Ouch! That hurt. Suddenly Stuart’s MBA and his two years experience was a better leader than she was? She had a master’s degree too. So what if it was in elementary education? It had certainly come in handy when everyone had been sick and behaving like a bunch of juveniles. “I thought you didn’t care for Stuart’s style.”

“I don’t.” He led her around the serving row toward the cook stove and stainless steel sink.

She blinked. Had she missed part of the conversation? Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she eyed the drain. Dark, oval shadows skittered around the bottom. “Then are you applying for the job?”

He swept the light over the empty shelves. “I have a GED courtesy of my stay in the State Penn, I hardly think anyone would see me as management material.”

Holy mackerel! Pivoting, she stared at him. “You’re a convict.”

He shone the lamp toward the ceiling. Shadows twisted and dissolved his features, leaving only a grotesque mask behind. His eyes glittered. “Scared, Princess?”

“No.” She fisted her hands. Her ears strained to hear above her pounding heart. Thank God the darkness masked her trembling. “Of course not.”

He advanced, closing the distance. His knuckles brushed her belly and his other hand blocked her exit. The sink cut across her spine. “You should be.”

She raised her chin and swallowed hard. A Silvestre never retreated, no matter how much they wanted to. “Why?”

“I could rape you, kill you and dispose of your body.” His hot breath washed down her face.

She replayed his words, processed then denied them. Fear drained away and she swayed on her feet. The teacher had just been taught. “Alright, I’m delegating you my second in command.”

His black eyebrows met in a vee above his nose. “What the fuck!”

“That’s what this little lesson is about, isn’t it?” She set her hand on his chest but couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away. “Your unique experience gives you a better perception of the dangers. I agree.”

“My unique experience?” He stepped back. “I’m an ex-con, not some MBA, soft-handed cover boy with the right connections. Put Prince Charming as your second.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Stuart placed himself above the needs of the whole.” That was not the characteristics of a great leader.

“Just smile and flirt with him a little and he’ll do whatever you say.”

Smile? Flirt? She shoved him, pushing him backward. What century did he think this was? “I will do no such thing.”

“Then unbutton your shirt and flash—”

“Don’t say it.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Don’t even think it.”

“Stuie can be like the Vice-President. They don’t do much except hide during a crisis.”

That did fit Stuart’s personality, especially the hiding part. “That would satisfy his followers.”

And keep them on the buses. Yes, it was a very good plan.

“I’ll take security.”

“I hardly think—”

“You think people are basically decent.”

He said that like it was a bad thing. She folded her arms across her chest. “Most of them are.”

She’d never forget the lessons of Casa Grande or their stop at Burgers in a Basket.

“Maybe during the initial crisis, they’re too shocked to misbehave. But the crisis is over.”

“No, it isn’t.” Hello? They were leaving the cities, heading off to the wilds of Colorado to start again.

“The point is, there’s a vacuum in the authority department. Some people are going to give in to their baser instincts and others are going to let them.” He cupped her elbow and steered her out of the kitchen.

Let them? No, that couldn’t happen. Yet, normal looking women had flagged them down in Casa Grande. And the men with guns hadn’t worn a black hat or twirled handlebar mustaches. Neither had they looked like monsters. “Evil happens when good men do nothing.”

“Yeah, something like that. And once, you start sliding down that slope, it’s easy to keep going.”

Was that what happened to him? She’d bite her tongue off before asking. Besides, what did it really matter anymore? That world was over and he’d been nothing but honorable since. “Can you keep us on the straight and narrow?”

He shrugged and stalked past the table and chairs. “Straight and narrow doesn’t exist anymore, Princess. We’re talking about survival.”

Despite his words, she knew they were not mutually exclusive things. “I should tell Deputy Pecos about your new duties.”

“No need.” Eddie held open the door for her. “We decided after Casa Grande.”

They knew yesterday but were only just now telling her? She slapped open the outside door. “Thanks so much for telling me.”

“Don’t bend your tiara, Princess.” He caught up with her and turned her deeper into the camp. “He’ll be keeping an eye on things during the day, and I’ll take the night watch.”

She stopped at the next tent. No sign dangled from the canvas but biohazard tape curled on the ground. The wind whipped around the corner and she detected the odor of decaying bodies. Not this tent then. She faced Eddie. “Does Pecos know about you…”

She didn’t want to throw it in his face, but the lawmen of her acquaintance had black and white views that she doubted even the apocalypse could shake loose.

“He knows.” With the flashlight, Eddie gestured to a tent two rows down and on the other side. Bright red Biohazard tape sealed the edges of the door. “We found the supplies over there.”

An ache built behind her eyeballs. She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep it from spreading. He’d allowed her to wander all over camp when he’d known where the medicines and food were all along. “Why didn’t you just say so from the beginning?”

“You didn’t ask.”

She stomped through the puddles. “I shouldn’t have to ask. You had information, you should have shared it.”

“I just did.”

Ooh. She wanted to…to punch him. She shook her fists out. What was it about the man that brought her to the brink of violence? “If I had this information, I might have gotten more sleep.”

“Nah.” He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. Light winked from the blade as he cut the tape. “You would be up all night worrying about someone stealing it.”

Maybe, but she would have liked the option to worry about having too many supplies as opposed to not having enough.

“Princess? Eddie?” Deputy Pecos jogged up to them. “You better come quick. Stuie is waking his people. They’re lighting up the camp.”

Her heart stopped. On a night like this, the light would be a beacon for the bad guys.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Aunt Mavis?”

David blinked awake and reached for his rifle. Cold metal brushed his fingers; he wrapped his hands around the barrel. Underneath him the air mattress hissed. He sat up and aimed for the tent’s door. The wind bowed the fabric. “Who’s there?”

“Aunt Mavis?” The woman’s voice dissolved in a fit of coughs.

He twisted to the left, looking for the source. A black walkie-talkie tumbled onto the yellow floor.

“Are you sure we’re not already out of range?”

Mavis mumbled in her sleep and shimmied closer to him. Her arm tightened around his waist.

He tucked the sleeping bag around her shoulders, leaned across her and scooped up the walkie. “Hello?”

“You have to release the talk button if you want to hear their response.”

David grinned. Leave it to Medic Johnson to point out the obvious. Obvious was good this time of the morning especially with no coffee in sight.

“Oh. Okay, I—” Sunnie’s voice disappeared.

Pressing the talk button, he whispered into it. “Hello?”

“David?” Sunnie chirped. “Is Aunt Mavis with you?”

“Yeah.” Slipping his hand under the sleeping bag, he set it on her shoulder. “She’s sleeping at the moment.”

She had just gotten to bed a couple of hours ago, in fact. If the anthrax didn’t kill her, she would work herself to death. And everyone here would let her, because she had the plan. He had to protect her.

“Oh.”

He swallowed hard. Damn. Despite having her soft body curled against his, he was in a hard spot. Letting her sleep would prevent her from talking to her niece, but waking her might affect her health and everyone’s survival.

“I guess you should let her sleep.”