Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

The strategy was brilliant and effective.

It was also the end of the world as everyone knew it.

“Please stay in line, sir.” The soldier pointed his weapon at the ground but kept both hands on the M-16.

Trent thumped the Bible against his palm. Do this. Don’t do that . One uniform or another had been bossing him around since he’d had the misfortune to encounter them. Bastards. Even a blind person should be able to see he didn’t belong with this riff raff. “If you couldn’t just get your commander, I’m sure he’ll tell you I could be of use elsewhere.”

And that he shouldn’t be forced to give his name like a side a beef at the butcher’s.

“Everyone is of use, sir.” The soldier shook his head and glanced at his comrade, who rolled his eyes above his mask.

Trent gripped the book so hard his hands shook. Insolent bastards. They deserved to be whacked upside the head. Or better yet, demoted to cleaning toilets with their toothbrushes. Who did he know who could accomplish such a thing? Surely someone among his contacts could arrange it?

He just had to get home. His phone may have been stolen by that bitch, but fortunately he’d kept a separate file on his home computer—one that listed the uses people could be to him. He just had to access it.

And that required a ride out of this fucking place.

Leaning to the right, he glanced down the crooked line of people leading up to the tent. Six more losers between him and the entrance. Ash fluttered like gray snowflakes, dusting everyone and everything in the street. Black smoke roiled across the sky, reducing the afternoon sun to a low wattage light bulb. At intermittent intervals, truck headlamps cut through the slurry of soot and unwashed bodies. Soldiers hurried back and forth across the street, stirring small clouds in their wake.

Ahead and behind him, people coughed—emitting a strange high-pitched whistle with every hack. The hair on his neck stood up and he adjusted his mask. The stiff new fabric scratched his cheeks. Two people up, a man collapsed onto the asphalt, curled into a fetal position and shivered. Soldiers lifted him up and carried him into the tent.

Son of a bitch! He’d never get inside at this rate. Maybe he should collapse too. Jump the line like the rest of the losers. It was stupid to tend the ill first. When, if they just handled the able-bodied, there’d be more hands to work. They needed an efficient manager to tell them how to do things. He would offer his services when he reached the front of the line.

If he ever did.

The tang of tomato teased his senses. His mouth watered and his stomach cramped. Food. Somewhere there was food. How long had it been since he’d eaten? More than a day. The truck ride had taken all night and most of the day to get here. Where ever here was. He opened the Bible, eyed the one hundred dollar bill before turning to a fifty. That should be enough even in this nightmare to get him something to eat.

The line stumbled forward and he shambled after it. His leg throbbed where the bullet had grazed his inner thigh. He reached up and brushed the scab at his temple. He was obviously injured yet no one had checked on him . Glancing to the right, he eyed the soldier.

The man stared back at him. Irritation registered in his black eyes and his finger stroked the trigger.

Trent shuffled forward another two steps. The soldier kept pace with him. Opening the Bible, he pretended to read the pages. Now what was the fucker up to? He definitely needed to be taught a lesson in respect. What was the lowest rank he could have the man busted down to? There had to be something worse than private.

“Sir.” From the corner of his eye he watched the soldier jerk his chin in Trent’s direction.

Disguising his growl as clearing his throat, Trent looked at the man. “Yes?”

“You can go in now.”

Trent glanced up. Son of a bitch. The only thing between him and the double doors was a drift of smoke. He slammed the book shut and stomped toward the door. The asshole was probably laughing behind his mask. Trent grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. Maybe he could have the man shot.

Before the last door slammed shut, another soldier opened the next one and Trent stepped out of the vestibule into the tent. About two dozen people filled the area. Most sat behind a series of folding tables, their faces glowing in the bluish light of their computer screens. One or two people stood before each table dripping ash onto the canvas floor. Above the grind of a generator, an air conditioner kicked on. Drafts of cold air fluttered the ribbons tied to the vents and stirred the soot.

“Sir!” A lone woman in tan and green camouflage rose from her metal chair and snapped her fingers at him. “We can take you over here.”

Trent tucked his Bible under his arm. What the hell? Did she think he was a damn dog, coming when called? This whole fucking service lacked discipline and respect. He’d have to discover her name and add it to his shit list. Of course, if she was pretty, he could think of another way for her to make amends.

Adjusting her mask, she resumed her seat and then picked up the magnifying readers on the table to the right of her computer and set them on her nose. “I understand you’ve had a trying day, sir, but we need to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded and turned a rectangular device toward Trent. It looked like the delivery confirmation device carried by parcel companies.

Trent frowned. He wasn’t going to sign a damn thing. At the very least, he intended to sue the government for lost wages. Signing anything at this juncture would deprive him of that right. He grasped his hands in front of him. “I wish to return to my home. I understand that you won’t be able to spare a special driver, but I will join a transport to North Scottsdale.”

He dropped the hint of his wealth and status, knowing it would make an impression.

The woman eyed him over the rim of her glasses. Concern flared in her hazel eyes. “I understood you came in on the transport from central Phoenix.”

Good. She was aware that those in his neighborhood should be treated with respect. Well, it was too late to make a good impression and she was too old for him to consider any other mitigating actions. He wasn’t that desperate.

“I was on my way to an appointment with the CEO of Western Electronics.” Straightening his shoulders, he dropped the name of the man heading the largest computer manufacturer in the Valley.

Hash marks appeared between her eyes as she raked him from head to toe. Her fingers hovered over the keys of her laptop. “Was he with you when you were trapped by the fire?”

“No. I never made the meeting.” He twitched in his borrowed clothes. What the hell was she going on about now? He’d mentioned the CEO as a character reference not for her to gloss over him in favor of someone more important.

“Where were you going to meet him?”

Trent’s foot tapped the canvas floor. Obviously the woman needed more than readers if she couldn’t recognize power under worn flannel and jeans. “The Nineteenth Tee.”

She didn’t even blink at the mention of the exclusive restaurant. Perhaps, he should ask to speak with an officer, someone with class.

“Where is that located, sir?”

God, he was sick of dealing with such ignorant fools. Removing the Bible from under his arm, he slammed it on the table. “What does it matter where the restaurant is? I don’t want to go to the restaurant. I wish to be taken to my condo.”

Rising, the woman held up one hand. The other rested on her sidearm. “If you could just calm down, sir.”

“I don’t want to calm down.” He braced his hands on the table and held his face inches from hers. The Bible partially fanned out from his weight. “Who do I need to speak to in order to arrange a ride back to my house?”