Linda Andrews - The Meltdown

It would be nice, but they both knew it was a fairy dream.

Those small towns along the way posed a hazard, especially if folks were unwilling to move or barricaded the road. Mentioning the impending meltdown might have pried a few people loose. Then again, it hadn’t kept settlers from claiming radioactive homesteads around Chernobyl. And would surely have led to panic when it was coupled with the anthrax attack.

At least there was tangible proof of the disease.

Too many people would dismiss the nuclear threat because it couldn’t be seen, touched or felt.

With a bump, the Humvee lurched from the river, the swoosh of draining water barely discernible above the crackle of thunder. Gravel pelted the undercarriage as they steamed along the muddy road and the interior quickly flooded with the crimson glow of the tail lights in front of them.

Mavis grabbed her computer and lifted it from the floor. Might as well get a few more hours of work in. “Did Sunnie’s truck make it to camp?”

“They’re behind us.” Instead of following the carrier in front of him, David veered into virgin desert. The vehicle rocked wildly and branches scratched at the doors. Tires slipped, dug in, then pushed them higher. “Have been since we stopped for lunch.”

Right. She knew that. Her cat nap had dulled her wits but at least the fire in her throat had settled into a low simmer. She glanced out the window. From their vantage on a hill above the river, she counted ten large trucks serpentining down the dirt road plunging into Fossil Creek. “Which one is she, do you know?”

“Fourth from the rear.” Headlamps spotlighted Lister as another truck left the river.

Nine trucks remained.

David jockeyed the car back and forth until she could see the convoy through the thump and squeak of the wipers. “Robertson, flash your headlights.”

The fourth truck from the back fell dark then blazed on.

Lister chuckled.

Lucky guess or was the general really that good? Mavis opened her laptop. Probably a combination of both, gold stars were hard to earn in the Corps. She ripped her attention from the crossing and focused on the screen. Worrying wouldn’t help Sunnie. Besides, only they seemed to struggle across the creek bed. “I’ve been thinking about adding a civilian consultant or two to our group.”

Funny. Technically, she was a civilian, yet neither she nor many of the other survivors seemed to think of her that way.

Lister chewed on the earpiece of his readers. “The snake who thinks he’s a preacher and doesn’t know his name?”

She rubbed the goosebumps from her arms and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Definitely him.”

“Keep him close, limit his influence.”

Because a bullet through the brain was off the table, at least for the moment. Perhaps, she’d find a side benefit in the hazardous road ahead. With the human race facing extinction, one death would make a huge impact on future generations. Especially if certain undesirable traits were chlorinated from the gene pool.

“Exactly. But I was thinking more in terms of this fine upstanding gentleman.” She brought up a picture of an obese man in a dirty flannel shirt. Deep-set beady eyes glared at her from extra rolls of flesh.

Lister’s salt and pepper eyebrows soared toward his crewcut. “I’m too tired for sarcasm, Doc. Why him?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in league with Reverend Trent.” She resisted the urge to wipe her tongue on her sleeve just associating a man of God with that scumbag. But until she had proof, she had no choice.

God help her if Trent P. Franklin really was a man of the cloth.

She called up everything Sally had managed to compile on the fat man before handing her laptop to the general.

“Dirk Benedict.” Lister prodded his glasses higher up his nose. “He’s got a record of drunk and disorderly and resisting arrest. Could be an authority issue.”

“It was ten years ago and that’s not why I picked him.”

“I know that name.” David turned in the driver’s seat. “Can I see a picture of him?”

Lister angled the screen so David could see it.

“Yeah, he has authority issues and is a lying asshole.” His lips twisted in a sneer. “He tried to claim to support dead people so he could get more rations. When that didn’t work, a couple of folks in his neighborhood reported that he’d stolen their supplies. God knows how many he bullied, but I’d bet it was more than a handful.”

“A perfect ally for the Reverend, then.” Good to know her instincts had been on the mark.

Lister handed the tablet back to her. “What makes you think he and the Reverend are working together?”

“They exchanged too many meaningful glances while I was talking and since neither of them are gay…” Five too many to be exact. Given his six and a half foot height and bulk, Ol’ Dirk was easy to pick out. He worked the crowd in a predictable pattern—stop every four feet, chatted up the males in his vicinity. If they turned red in the face, Benedict moved on.

If they didn’t…

A chill washed down her spine. She stuffed her hands into David’s jacket and sunk into his spicy scent. If any male seemed receptive to Benedict’s message, he would face front, then point at the man and give the thumbs up.

The Reverend Trent had nodded each time and had almost smiled when Benedict had give one man two thumbs up. She detected a coup forming in the storm. Her fingernails bent against the metal laptop. That would not happen on her watch.

“They’re up to something.” David drummed his fingers on the dash as the third truck plunged into the creek. Water eddied halfway up the tire and lapped at the step.

She eyed the fourth truck from the end then panned east. Lightning flashed over the watershed, illuminating unbroken lines of rain. Her skin tightened over her bones. “Tell them to hurry.”

Lister opened his mouth but David spoke first. “They’re going as fast as they can.”

The next truck plunged in. Muddy water obscured nearly three-quarters of the tire. Branches appeared like shark fins in the river. Three more to go. How high could the water get before the trucks couldn’t make it across?

The general cleared his throat then scrubbed his hand over his face. “We’ve just gotten rid of one bad regime, I’m not happy to be starting over again with a new crop of self-serving bastards.”

“I want another two civilians.” She dragged her attention away from the creek. They would make it. They had to make it. “Four civilian representatives, one from every branch of the service and me. That’ll give us nine people, so there shouldn’t be any ties.”

“Henry Dobbins should be one of them. He’s former military and a head shrinker. He might be able to profile the preacher and his minions.” Lister ripped his glasses off and tapped them against his laptop. “The last should be a woman, but make no mistake, you’re still in charge, Doc.”

“Yes, I’m still in charge. I’ll still make most of the decisions. I still have the plan,” she tapped her temple, “up here. I want to use this committee to head off whatever Reverend Trent, Benedict and the others are planning.”

Another truck dipped in the creek. She released a shaky breath. The water hadn’t risen too much.

“There are more?” David raised his voice to be heard over the spitting rain.

“Four more.” She brought up the pictures she’d taken during her speech and laid them side by side, severing limbs and body parts of the people around them.

“You’re a sneaky woman, Doc.” Lister leaned closer and shouted to be heard above the rain and the squeaking wipers. “I thought you were adjusting the tablet to reduce glare and all the while you were taking snapshots.”