Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

Coughing came out the speaker before Miles cleared his throat. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Mavis. When will you learn to play nicely with others?”

She finished cleaning the case, crumpled up the wipe and chucked it into the basket. “I’ll put it on my bucket list.”

“Christ, Mavis.” Miles growled. “If what we’re seeing is any indication, you might have to enroll in finishing school tomorrow.”

Her heart mule-kicked in her chest and her mouth went dry. She pressed her thumbs to the LCD readers before spinning the lock to her numbered code. “That bad?”

“Seventy percent mortality. Seventy.” Miles hissed. “But we’re not sure if it’s just the disease or a culmination of unsanitary conditions, tainted water, lack of food and no medicine.”

The case’s locks popped like a shot. Hooking her ankle around a chair leg, she dragged it closer and collapsed onto it. “Seventy percent? Are you sure?”

There had to be a mistake. There had to be. Blocking out the soldiers, she lifted the lid.

“No, that’s where you come in.” She could almost see him chewing on the earpiece of his reading glasses. “Run the numbers with your modeling program.”

After removing the solar cells and satellite hook-up, she powered up the computer then drummed her fingers on the table. Why did the blasted thing have to take so long? “Is the most recent data on the hard drive?”

“No, but it’s on its way by military courier.” A chair creaked over the phone. “ETA is midnight, local time.”

Courier? She leaned forward and stared in the camera lens dead center of the laptop’s screen. She forced her eye to remain open as the green beam scanned her iris. The light snapped off and time ticked down as the computer calculated the patterns and compared them to her identification pattern. “Why use a courier? Why not just email me the updates?”

“The damned Chinese have hacked the Pentagon’s computers again. Most systems are off-line so they don’t know that our eyes in the sky are monitoring them and their burning fields.” Miles chuffed. “Everything will be couriered to you just like in Iran.”

Mavis fingered the ridge of scar tissue running under her jaw. She hoped this assignment turned out better than the Iranian one had. The Windows icon fluttered across the screen before disappearing. From the corner of her eye, she watched the officer. No way would she let the malevolent Kewpie doll get his grubby mitts on her data. “Who will deliver it? Colonel Lynch’s duties are too important for him to act as a courier every day.”

Miles grunted. “Colonel, who is your driver?”

The officer’s jaw worked as if he’d been chewing on a large beetle. “Sergeant Major David Dawson, sir.”

“Well, Sergeant Major David Dawson, you’ve just been drafted as Dr. Spanner’s personal courier.”

Mavis nodded at the soldier. David Dawson. It was a good name, strong and true.

“Now see here.” Colonel Lynch glared at the phone. “We’re still disposing of bodies and…”

“You’ll have the Sergeant Major’s new orders by the time you return to base, Colonel.” Miles bit off, his irritation snapped through the line. “Dawson, you and only you are to touch that package. Keeping that information flowing may be the most important duty you’ll ever have.”

Sergeant Major Dawson squared his shoulders. “It will be an honor, Sir.”

“Mavis, are you sure you don’t want to come here?” Papers shuffling came over the line. “It’ll save us a lot of time. Every minute will count if this thing crosses the ocean.”

“I’m claustrophobic.” She rubbed the goosebumps from her arm and opened her mortality modeling program. “No way are you packing me sixty feet underground with a hundred other people, quadruple bunked and breathing recycled air.”

Gamma Base was just another name for mass tomb.

“That’s filtered, recycled air,” Miles sighed. “And there’s lots of space in the labs.”

“I suck at bench work.” She cracked her knuckles while the program loaded. Soon a picture of the U.S. filled her screen. “Now leave me alone.”

“I’ll have my secretary send you the finishing school literature,” Miles chuckled. “Colonel Lynch make certain Dr. Spanner gets all the assistance she needs, and I’ll make certain the President himself places a commendation in your file.”

The officer straightened and smoothed his rumpled, stained uniform. “Yes, sir.”

“Mavis,” Miles voice downshifted into resignation. “Call me with the projection as soon as it’s finished. I need to know if humanity is facing an extinction level event.”

Manny braced one palm against the door as it swung slightly open. Eyes straining, he tried to decipher the shadows—people? Plants? Beyond the empty carport, the world was a study of silver and gray. Shifting and moving, but not rushing forward to swallow him in nothingness.

“Irina?” His hiss accompanied the rustle of leaves.

A scrape on the ground jerked his attention to the cement pad.

“Here.” Hiding into the darkness sucking at the edge of the house, a large mound unfurled into spindly limbs and a thin torso. “Help me get him inside.”

A limp arm fell in Manny’s direction. He caught the chilled flesh and bone, before crouching lower and moving his hand up to the damp armpit. “What happened?”

“The Aspero.” Irina sobbed and straightened in the moonlight—a sharp angled version of once lush curves.

Manny’s heart lurched and the shockwave rattled out his extremities. God, she had become so thin. Had the gangbangers done this to her?

“I’ll get him, Rini.” Releasing the door, Manny locked his hands around the narrow chest and lifted. Wetness coated his forearms as he stepped backward, dragging the boy with him. “Just get inside.”

Irina crawled forward. Her shoulder brushed his calve as she passed. “No one’s called me Rini since…”

Since her brother died.

Manny hadn’t seen her in the hospital. And as soon as he’d been discharged, he’d been remanded into police custody. Only the fact that he hadn’t been driving the stolen car had prevented him from being tried for manslaughter. His foot caught on the waistband of a pair of jeans and he stumbled. Clothes sucked at him and his burden as he fell. Air left his lungs as the weight of the boy landed atop him. Manny stared at the dark ceiling while his body remembered how to breathe. “Close and lock the door behind us.”

“Okay.” Irina rose up on her knees to shuffle forward. With one arm wrapped around her waist, she leaned into the night, caught the door knob and pulled the door closed. She collapsed alongside Manny. “I think I locked it.”

Releasing his hands, Manny rolled the boy between himself and Irina. He used the edge of the washer to pull himself to his feet and reached for the dead bolt. His fingers brushed the key before he twisted it. It didn’t turn.

“Yeah, it’s locked.” Manny leaned his forehead against the cold wooden plank, before clawing up the door to stare out the peephole. A plastic garbage bag tumbled down the street. Nothing but garbage moved in the moonlight.

“Did they follow us?”

A hand brushed Manny’s pant leg.

He hitched up his loose jeans, before pulling away from the door. “Doesn’t look like it.”

But seeing nothing didn’t count for much these days. It was only a matter of time before the Aspero found him. His insides jumped and bitterness flooded his mouth.

Unless he moved.

Manny bent down and picked up the boy. His thighs burned as he straightened. “Are you hurt?”

“Not as bad as Stash.” In the dark laundry room, Irina hissed before her elbow brushed his side. “He rushed to Basia’s defense.”