Linda Andrews - The Meltdown

“It’s pink!” Toby’s high pitched voice drifted from the backseat. “I yike pink.”

He smiled. There wasn’t much the preschooler didn’t like. Pins and needles pricked his chest. No, he wouldn’t let the boy in. He strangled the steering wheel. As soon as Brainiac staved off the meltdown for four days, they’d leave to join the soldiers while he and Falcon waited their turn to die.

That was the deal.

He glared at the red tail lights creeping through the intersection ahead. Not that the squid knew of the plans, but Falcon did. So why had the former Green Beret left him alone in the car with the kidlets instead of Sailor B? The Spec Ops soldier had best not be going soft on him.

Just because they hadn’t found any survivors to take the children off their hands, didn’t mean he was going to be stuck with them.

“Why?” Jillie slurped her drink.

Clearing the intersection, Papa Rose glanced in the rearview mirror. “Why what?”

“Why should she care about a stupid sunset?” Wisps of blond hair drifted around Jillie’s oval face. A bruise dotted her left cheek and temple. The red slash running through it marked where the bullet had grazed her temple.

A chill snaked down his spine and he shifted on the cushion. The girl was damn lucky to be alive. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t crossed paths with any survivors—not if they were like the animals that slaughtered those people in the convenience store.

Her gaze skittered away from his but she kicked the back of his seat. “It’s just a stupid sunset.”

Everything was stupid since they’d left the gas station. Four hours of pessimism crammed the compact interior. “People came from all over the world to see an Arizona sunset. We’re famous for it.”

“That’s dumb.” She fiddled with the straw, sliding it in and out of her tan drink pouch.

He sighed. Favorite adjective number two: dumb. Why did he keep trying to engage the girls in conversation? Because of Henry Dobbins. The old coot had harassed him into dealing with his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from his tours in Afghanistan. Too bad he hadn’t been able to make any inroads into the guilt. He was certain the psychologist would have loved to treat the man who’d brought the Redaction to Phoenix.

The man who was responsible for killing over two million Arizonans.

Hell, the wily ol’ devil might even have convinced him to forgive himself.

Not going to happen now.

His course was set. Looking after these three body, mind and soul was just a temporary setback not a course change. Not that they particularly liked his efforts. Fortunately for them, he was just as stubborn as Wheelchair Henry.

“You don’t like pink, Jillie?”

She shrugged.

“You were wearing a pink shirt… earlier.” He focused on the black ribbon stretching out beyond his headlights. He didn’t know if she’d been wearing the clothes when her family had been massacred. Given the amount of blood staining it, he thought it most likely. “I kinda thought it was your favorite color.”

It had been his daughter’s favorite. Don’t go there . It’s not the same. This is about the kid’s mental health. Nothing else. He couldn’t let it be about anything else.

She sucked on her trembling bottom lip for a moment and blinked rapidly. “Not anymore.”

“Don’t let those b—” he swallowed the swear word, “buttheads take that away from you. You like pink, you go on liking it. Then you win, not them.”

“Whatever.” She puffed on the glass, fogging it. With a tapered finger, she drew a gun.

Frustration shredded his insides. Dammit, he had to break through her shock. Get her back to the teasing girl who’d been showering in the rain using Brainiac’s precious soap.

Maybe the grief was too new.

Maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

He probably shouldn’t have taken over caring for Toby. Little Jillie may have needed to be needed. Once they stopped, he’d put that burden back on her. And then he’d coerce Olivia into taking care of Jillie. Given how close the two were in age that should prove interesting. “I think it’s important to find three beautiful things everyday.”

“Why?” Toby slipped down in his seat until the belt cut across his chest.

Damn. He should have looked for a booster seat. At least, it would have made it difficult for the little eel to escape. “Jillie.” When she looked up at him, he jerked his head in Toby’s direction.

She leaned over the little boy and tugged on his arm until he sat up properly. “Silly head.” She mussed his curly hair. “The belt is supposed to go across your tummy not boobies.”

“Boobies.” He giggled and buried his face in his teddy bear. “I don’t gots boobies. I’s a boy.”

“Everyone has boobies. Boy’s boobies are just flat, that’s all.” Jillie rolled her eyes, ten going on thirty.

Papa Rose held his breath. His wife did that. So did their daughters. He exhaled slowly. But it didn’t mean anything. It was just something in the X chromosomes.

“Boys don’t have boobies.” Olivia set one hand on the seat and peered into the back. “They have nibbles that are bad so they don’t grow into boobies.”

He coughed out a laugh. Olivia would talk about boobies and nibbles but nothing else? Perhaps they should have skipped the sunset and talked about lighting his farts on fire as a private in the Army.

“Ohh.” Toby nodded, as if that weirdness was the answer to world peace. “When are we gonna be there?”

Clearing his throat, Papa Rose touched his earpiece making sure the line was open. No point of him hoarding all the fun of an old fashioned family road trip. He quickly locked down the warmth infusing him. Not that this was his family, but hazing passed the time, especially when someone else was the hazee. “What’s our ETA, B?”

“Jesus Christ, Papa.” Brainiac hissed. “You asked…” fabric rustled, “four and a half minutes ago.”

“So that makes it how long again?” He winked at Jillie in the mirror.

“I gots ta pee, Papa.” Toby’s chubby face scrunched up and his hand cupped his private parts.

“Four and a half minutes less than last time.” Brainiac bit off the ends of his words.

Looks like someone was losing their temper. B would have to work on that. The kids couldn’t have him yelling at them when he drove them to safety. “Toby has to pee.”

Falcon’s deep throated chuckle filled his ear. “Of course, he does.”

“Can’t he hold it?” Brainiac chuffed. “We’re not too far away. Ten minutes tops.”

Papa Rose buzzed down the window and stuck his head out. The cool air smelled of wet earth. Lightning and thunder rumbled in the east valley and dissolved the Superstition Mountains. Outside the cone of his headlamps, dusk turned the buildings into rectangles. If they were that close, shouldn’t he see the power plant? Then again, he’d been starting at the tanker’s mud flaps for the last four hours. It almost made him homesick for the three hours they’d spent pumping the fuel into the tanker.

“Can you hold it, Toby?”

“I gots to go real bad, Papa.” His voice rose and his shoulders hunched.

His bladder gave a sympathy twinge and he almost crossed his legs. Poor tyke. “He can’t hold it.”

For a moment, the brake lights blazed lighter on the truck. The moment passed and they quickly returned to normal demon glow.

“We’re not stopping, Papa. No telling what’s out here.” Falcon’s order came through clearly. “And we’re sitting on a fucking bomb.”

“He’s just a kid,” Brainiac shot back. “It won’t take but a minute for him to whip it out and piss.”