Linda Andrews - The Meltdown

Jillie looked up from adjusting her new shoes.

“S’alright.” Falcon pointed to a black line near the x marking their current location. “This is the most efficient route to take. We should be able to find gas along there somewhere.”

He hoped, maybe even prayed a little. For the munchkins’ sakes, not his own.

“But that’s just it!” Brainiac bounced on the balls of his feet. “I don’t think we need to look any farther. I think we have gas right here.”

Obviously the elements had gotten to the squid. His brain had frozen. “We already checked the tanker. It was empty.”

“Yeah, but where did the fuel go?” Brainiac clunked the concrete slab with the heel of his boot. “The driver might have filled up the underground storage tanks when…” He jerked his head toward the convenience store and the bodies slaughtered within. “Think about it. Why else would the tanker still be here? And all these vehicles…”

Papa Rose looked at the intersection. “The squid has a point. They could have been waiting to fill up.”

“We were.” Jillie pointed to the gold Honda several cars down the line. “Daddy woke us so we could get our ten gallons and leave.”

Papa scoped out the car. Jillie’s family had been easy pickings for the murderers to run up to them with guns drawn, drag them out of their cars then shove them inside and shoot them.

Falcon scratched the stubbled sprayed across his narrow chin. “What happened?”

Jillie swallowed and hugged herself. “A lady in a big red truck with a light bar ran out of gas. She called out for help.”

Except there was no big red truck with a light bar in line. Papa Rose stared into the incoming storm. Since the power had been off for days, Palo Verde might already be on the verge of a meltdown. He checked his dose badge. Still showing the all clear. “Did your dad help her?”

Jillie dipped her head. “He got out of the car along with some others.” She pointed to a few of the cars around them. “They were going to push her up the curb, but…but men stood up in the back and aimed their guns at them. And then… And then…”

Her hands formed fists at her side.

Papa Rose glanced at the store. The bodies inside finished the story.

“You did good remembering, Jillie.” Falcon smoothed her wet hair. “Real good.”

And they knew what kind of vehicle to look for.

Brainiac cleared his throat. “So now we know we have gas.”

Falcon shook his head. “We know there was gas here, but we don’t know if any is still left.”

“The store has a back-up generator.” Brainiac rubbed his hands together. “I’ll take a gallon from the bikes and power it up, then we can pump the gas back into the tanker and be on our way.”

Falcon raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

Damn but why did the Spec Ops guy always get to play the strong, silent type? Even in civilian life the grunts did all the work. And now Papa Rose got to be the party pooper, too. “We need the gas to reach Palo Verde.”

“Yeah, but there’s bound to be thousands of gallons under our feet.” Brainiac stomped his foot.

For emphasis or a tantrum. It was hard to tell. The squid couldn’t be much older than Jillie. “If it was there, why did the bad guys not take it?”

“They took some.” Jillie bit her lip. “They took the cards out of the wallets and filled up the three trucks.”

Three? So there was more than a truck full. “How many men were there?”

“Lots.”

Papa Rose grunted. Despite how self-possessed she appeared, she was just a kid.

A tug on his shirt had Papa Rose looking down.

Toby held up his teddy bear. “Papa mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.” He ruffled the preschooler’s dark hair.

Brainiac snorted. “Papa’s just a stubborn, old goat.”

Toby covered his mouth. “Papa goat.”

“Papa Rose, Toby. Papa Rose.” He speared the squid with a glare.

Brainiac raised his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is, we know there was gas delivered. Just one measly gallon will turn on the generator enough for me to know if there’s any left in the underground tanks and how much. If it’s there, we won’t have to drive around the valley looking for it, plus I can repay what I’ve taken.”

“That’s a big if.” The squid was stubborn. Papa Rose would give him that. “A measly gallon can mean the difference between a trip to Palo Verde or one that’s a day’s walk away. And in case you hadn’t noticed, the tanks on those bikes aren’t exactly huge.”

“Half a gallon, then.”

Falcon shrugged.

Great. The decision to be wrong was all his. “Fine. Half a gallon. Not a drop more.”

“Yes.” Brainiac pumped the air. “Come on squirt you can help me roll the bike closer.”

Jillie shuffled after him. Her new shoes scuffing the ground as she walked.

Falcon shook his head. “When do you think he’s gonna figure out we got no hose?”

Yeah, that would be a problem. Papa Rose scanned the parking lot and his attention stuck to a red box with a black rope coiled at its side. Of course, an air station. “We got one.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. This just might work.”

“So we gonna pick our noses while B takes the credit for saving us old farts?”

“Who you calling old?”

“If the gray hair fits…” He glanced at the white hair at Falcon’s temples. Insults weren’t personal, they were a way to keep insanity at bay. At least a little while longer.

Toby leaned against the gas pump, his thin arms wrapped around the teddy bear and his eyes opening and shutting.

Papa Rose slid his arms around the preschooler and lifted him. Toby snuggled closer. The clean scent of soap wafted from his skin. For a moment, his grip tightened. He definitely needed to find a group of survivors and soon. Turning on his heel, he headed for the tanker.

Falcon shielded the kid’s face with the map. “Put the kid in the truck’s cab. He’ll be safe and dry and can see us if he wakes up.”

“You think I’m walking in the rain for shits and grins?”

“You’re regular Army. There’s no telling how you get your jollies.”

“Just open the fucking door.”

“Watch your language around the kiddies, Papa Baldy.” Falcon opened the door and climbed up the metal running board.

Juggling the sleeping kid, he slowly lifted him up. “Go soak your head.”

“Been there, done that, have the tee-shirt to prove it.” Falcon carefully twisted around and lowered Toby onto the bench seat. “You sleep now. We’ll be just outside if you need us.” He smoothed the long tee-shirt over the preschooler’s legs then carefully closed the door. “Snug as a bug.”

Papa Rose didn’t wait to hear if Toby answered. He had to find a car—a foreign compact that got great gas mileage. He would drive the children to the power plant in that, then B would drive away with them, leaving him and Falcon behind with their demons.

The radiation would silence them.

Forever.

Brainiac darted out of the small room on the side of the convenience store, glanced around the parking lot and rushed to the air station. Metal winked as he cut off a length of hose and ran back. He threaded one end in the open gas tank then disappeared inside again.

“Where you going, Papa?”

“Shopping.” Jogging down the driveway, he eyed the vehicles. There. In the center lane. A blue compact. Now, he just had to clear a path.

Falcon stopped next to him. “See one you like?”

“Yeah.” He pointed to the car. It was going to be a bitch getting out of the jam, but Toyotas were supposed to get great gas mileage. “That one.”

“Of course, the one facing the wrong direction and in the center lane.” Falcon shook his head. “Why didn’t you just pick one two blocks over parked in a tree?”