Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

“And this is the best part. The fire was coming in the front as we were heading out the back, our bags of dog and cat food safe.” Papa Rose thumped Manny on the chest as he walked to the back of the ATV. The bungee cords snapped open and pinged against the metal side. “Hey, kid, are you listening?”

Kid. Swaying slightly on his feet, Manny closed his eyes. The image of the dead—the stiff, black hands, the small bundles with faces covered by their shirts because they couldn’t spare blankets or jackets, and the cold rubbery flesh with lifeless open eyes They’d been the worst. The ones he’d hesitated slinging dirt on.

What if they’d been in some kind of freak coma?

“Kid!” Papa Rose snapped his fingers.

Manny opened his eyes.

Dirt crescents trimmed the man’s fingernails. “That’s it. Focus on me, kid.”

He shoved his fingers through his stiff hair, felt the burn across his skull as he pulled some strands loose. “I’m not a kid.”

Papa Rose’s brown eyes crinkled above his blue mask. “That’s it, get angry. Anger helps to deal with senseless loss.”

“Leave me alone.” Manny shoved at the bald man.

The guy didn’t budge. “Not yet, Manny. You need to talk about it.”

If the man wanted to be an ass, he didn’t have to stick around. There were other ways to reach the group. Manny clenched his fists and pivoted about. “No. I don’t.”

Falcon adjusted the dusty covering over his black hair and stepped into Manny’s path, boxing him between the ATVs. “What was the worst thing about graveyard duty? A shirt slid back on one woman’s face. Reminded me of my momma and I had to sling dirt right on her face.”

Manny plugged his ears with his fingers. He didn’t have to listen to this. He didn’t.

“Not that.” Papa Rose edged closer. “It was the hollow thud the dirt made as it hit those swollen bellies. Sounded just like a drum. Except sometimes they exploded.”

“Shut up!” He rocked back and forth. Hot tears ran down his cheeks and his nose pricked before it ran. Neither washed away the images the two men’s words conjured. Nor the thousand or so others stuffing his head.

Falcon grasped Manny’s wrists and uncovered his ears. “Is it how black the bodies become from the pooled blood? Or the bugs devouring your friends right before your eyes?”

Anger roiled through him like a rampaging beast, heating him from the inside out. He had to get away. Manny twisted and turned his arms, but couldn’t break the man’s grip. “Leave me alone!”

Papa Rose snapped his fingers. “It was the children.”

Manny stiffened. The rage vanished, leaving him hollowed out and brittle. A hot wind scoured his exposed skin, whittling away his soul, nothing remained behind.

“The little bodies were wrapped up tight, but you could see their faces, couldn’t you?” Papa Rose grabbed his shoulders. “They were your brothers and sisters. They were…”

To Manny’s surprise, his bones didn’t shatter into dust. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded.

“They were the niños .”

“Oh, God.” Manny’s legs buckled and fat tears rolled one after the other. Every tiny corpse had been Lucia, Mikey, Mary and Jose. He’d seen Rini in a thin body and Henry in the white hair sticking out of a shirt. But they were alive and safe. All of them. They had to be.

Papa Rose wrapped his arms around Manny and helped him to sit on the ATV. “Sorry to push you so hard but we couldn’t have you breaking down in front of the others.”

Manny clung to him, pulling on his strength.

“Too many of them are sick.” Falcon released his wrists. “We need to make their last days as pleasant as possible.”

“I know.” Wiping his nose on his sleeve, Manny hiccoughed. God, he was such a baby, blubbering like this.

Falcon crouched in front of Manny and offered him a dusty handkerchief. “You’re a soldier, Manny, drafted in this war. A war we’re losing. Good people are dying for no reason.”

Manny blew his nose while swiping at the tears.

Squeezing Manny’s shoulder, Papa Rose pushed to his feet. “If you don’t let out that grief, it’ll fuck you up.”

“Stay here. Kick some tires, punch some chrome. Cry yourself dry.” Falcon adjusted his face mask. “Deal with the anger and frustration, and when you’re ready to talk about it, you can see either us or the Colonel.”

“Thanks.” Maybe. Crying seemed like a girly thing to do. Manny blew his nose again. Tears still leaked from his eyes.

The blurry figures of the two men were halfway up the row of parked ATVs when the German shepherd appeared. With his hackles raised, the dog faced east, bared his fangs and growled. Farther down the camp, dogs barked and a cat yowled.

“What the fuck!” Papa Rose eyed the dog before leaping on the seat of the Gator.

Manny heaved himself up. His sneakers sank into the padded seat and he balanced on the balls of his feet so as not to fall off. About a mile away, flames devoured buildings and belched plumes of black smoke. Surrounded by fire on three sides, an empty field stretched between the fires and their camp. Instead of the expected green weeds, a black and brown tide swept down the growth. He blinked. “What’s wrong with the field?”

The German shepherd barked as a furry rat dashed out of the vegetation.

Why would one small rat cause the dog to bark? Hadn’t he ever seen them before? Manny had practically lived side-by-side with them for months. Except… His bones felt like ice under his skin. Except the brown and black field was thick with writhing, leaping bodies.

“Rats!” Falcon jumped to the ground in a puff of dust before grabbing the gasoline can from the rack in the back of the ATV. “We’ve got incoming!”

“Come on!” Papa Rose grabbed a second can. “We’ve got to protect the camp. Those damn rats will claw and bite anything in their path.”

Grabbing the last can, Manny chased after him. The barking dog ran beside him. Rini and Beth met them halfway

They reached the main camp just as two women and a golden retriever sprinted down the embankment. “Rats. Lots of them. Headed this way.”

“We’ve brought gasoline.” Liquid sloshed when Falcon raised the can. “We’ll build a fire around our ground, force them to go around.”

“It won’t work.” Henry adjusted his useless legs on the wagon while Mildred collapsed his wheelchair and heaved it onto the sacks of feed in the back. “They’re in too much of a panic. They’ll just race right through it.”

“So what do we do?

Henry tugged the walkie-talkie from his shirt pocket. “Take the ramp out of the wash and give the horses their head.”

“But the smoke?” came the crackling reply.

“We’ve got incoming.”

“Incoming?”

Dust mingled with the thick smoke marking the progress of what remained of their group. Half a mile left from one that had straggled four miles yesterday. So many people lost… Shaking off his thoughts, Manny watched the lead wagon rattle up the dirt ramp onto the access road running parallel to the wash.

“Rats,” Henry said.

“About two miles wide and more than that deep,” Papa Rose panted.

“Did you copy that?” Henry again.

“Copy that. We’re heading for the firewall. I pray we’ll make it through before we dip down into the river bottom again.” The lead wagon picked up speed then another lurched out of the wash. One by one the four wagons exited. Then came the people riding double and triple on horseback. And the cyclists.

“Where do you want us, Colonel?” Falcon asked.

“Make torches and place the ATVs between the people on foot and the rats.”

Mildred climbed into the back holding the small dogs, the cats and kittens, the niños and a few sick. With a crack of the whip, the wagon lurched forward.