Linda Andrews - The Meltdown

Eddie nodded. “We know.”

“Batteries are dead.” She set it on the counter. Not that it changed anything. They would still head for the university’s east campus. The news had showed images of the soldier’s temporary base there.

“It’s a wind-up. No batteries.”

The side door banged against the wall. A gust of wind blew half charred leaves across the tile. Eddie swung around aiming for the new intruder.

Jacqueline Silvestre marched through the side entrance. A small pout tugged at the corners of her eyes when she spied the weapon pointed in her direction.

Eddie pointed his weapon at the ground.

“Really Audra, how long can…” Her mother trailed off as she spied the stranger.

“Mother.” Hitching her behind on the counter, she swung her legs over and spun around then dropped to the other side. “You were supposed to wait for me to signal the all clear.”

“You didn’t answer the walkie-talkie, dear.”

“It was on the entire time.” She reached for it on her belt to show her mother she wasn’t completely stupid but her fingers encountered empty air.

“You lost the walkie, Princess?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the pounding from blowing off the top of her head. “It might have fallen off when you pushed me through the window.”

“The children couldn’t wait, dear.” Her mother snapped her fingers and two lines paraded toward the restroom.

“You have children.” The man jerked his chin toward the back. “We do, too.”

“How nice.” Mom smoothed her hair. “Since that is settled, Audra, I really must insist that the children be permitted to make use of the facilities.”

Audra threw up her hands. Obviously the wrong Silvestre was in charge. Turning back to the stranger, she scanned the ground. Her walkie-talkie squatted like a black bug near the staging area’s kick plate. “Do you have anyone using the facilities?”

“No. We’re all in the back.”

“Go ahead, Mother.” She watched two lines of children march by.

At the restroom doors, Mom parted them, sending half into the boys room and half into the girls. Their murmurs and whispers blended with the swell of voices coming from the back room. Now for the hard part.

To take them or leave them?

“I can get that going for you, Audra, isn’t it?” The stranger held out his hand for the radio.

Since he called her by her name and not that odious Princess like some people did, she picked it off the counter and placed it into his palm. “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr….”

A muscle ticked in Eddie’s jaw. Strangling the shotgun’s stock with one hand, he stomped around the counter and snatched up the walkie. “What is this an apocalyptic tea party?”

“Manners are important. Now more than ever.”

“Yeah.” Eddie snorted, shaking the walkie. “Right.”

Faces emerged in the gloom behind the stranger. Men. Women. Young. Old. Burning with hope; tempered by fear.

“Actually, I’ve found most people to be polite and helpful.” She smiled at the newcomers.

“Even the ones shooting at you?” He smacked the walkie against the counter then used his thumb to work the switch. “It’s dead.”

“As the woman, this Doctor person in charge said, we’re all in this together.” A soft whirring sound filled the air and the stranger’s torso shook as he spun the crank. “I’m Stuart. Stuart Graham.”

He didn’t offer his hand, but then they were full with the radio. So that was all right then. “I’m Audra Silvestre.”

Eddie snorted. “And I’m Eddie, Eddie Buchanan. Now can we listen to the stupid message and get going, Stuey?”

“Stuart.” The stranger turned the radio on and leaned it against the cash register. “Stu and Stuey sound a little too much like dinner.”

Static crackled through the radio’s speakers before a woman began to speak.

“This is Doctor Mavis Spanner, Surgeon General and acting Commander-in-Chief of the United States Armed Forces. On March fifth, our country was attacked by a foreign government. Instead of bombs, the enemy used biological or germ warfare, specifically anthrax.”

Ripples of fear traveled out her fingers and toes. Anthrax, not influenza. That explained the odd symptoms. And… She swallowed hard. And meant, she wasn’t immune. Although, the attack had happened on the fifth and here it was the twelfth and still she hadn’t gotten sick.

Eddie reared back. “What the fuck! I thought we were fighting the Redaction.”

“Shh!” She held her finger to her mask. “We need to listen to what she says.”

He wedged his hand through his hair but fell quiet.

“The spores were delivered in the plush toys promoting the new film Hatshepsut.”

The world swirled around her. Audra blinked bringing the posters promoting for the movie of the Egyptian pharaoh, Hatshepsut, into focus. Oh, no! No. No. No ! Anger boiled through her until she was sure her hair caught fire. White powder dusted the toy bins under the counter across from her. A growl rumbled up her throat. She wrapped her fingers around the warm barrel of the shotgun and yanked.

Eddie jerked forward, ripping the weapon out of her hold. “Calm down, Princess.”

What was wrong with him? He’d been willing to shoot the treacherous stranger earlier. Now, when he learned they were allowed to willy-nilly enter this place of death, he backed down. Fine, let him be that way. She reached over the counter. Hard metal pressed against her stomach. Shallow breaths minimized the discomfort while she searched. There had to be a weapon here, somewhere. “You let me bring children in here! They could catch this anthrax bug and die.”

“It’s clean.” Stuart ran his hand over the prep counter then flashed his fingers at her. “See.”

“Fire will not destroy them,” the doctor continued as if listening to the conversation.

Oh God. Oh God. Fabric cut into her belly.

“Easy, Princess.” Eddie hooked a finger through her waistband. “Let’s hear the rest of it before you release your inner psycho.”

Her fingers skimmed cups as she was pulled backward. They clattered and bounced on the tile. She caught the edge of the counter. “You don’t understand. He’s killed us all.”

“I understand.” Squeezing his hand between her stomach and the counter, he flattened his palm against her bare skin.

His rough skin branded her. Sucking in her belly, she jerked upright. What right did he have to do that to her?

“If we end up dying, I promise we will shoot him first.” His breath disturbed her hair.

She pushed off his hand and jerked her shirt over her skin. Was he raised in a barn?

He winked at her and backed up a pace.

“As such,” the acting Surgeon General continued, “I have ordered the evacuation of all cities. Directions for your egress routes will follow.”

And to think, she’d been about to invite them to join her? She could have killed everyone. So much for the Silvestre’s divine duty to lead, to know the right decision.

“Anthrax is not contagious. While the sick cannot pass it to one another by coughing or sneezing, I ask that you continue to wear your face masks. The spores are in the air and the masks will protect you.”

She nodded. They’ve all been wearing their masks. That was good. She checked her hair. Perhaps, her anger had been a touch hasty.

“The trek ahead will be long and dangerous. While we have laid in food, water, shelter and medicine along the routes, you will need to depend on one another to survive.”

Stuart looked toward the window. “That gang, they control the supplies on this side of town. When we refused to give them what they wanted, they killed…” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his exposed throat. “There were more of us an hour ago.”