Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

She mentally smacked her head. Duh! There was no other reason for him to come to her house.

“Yes, ma’am.” Something rattled against cardboard. “My momma always told me never to show up at a woman’s house empty handed.”

She dried her sweaty palms on her Dockers. “I think that only applies on dates.”

“You and I have a date.” He stopped before her, his presence warm and solid in the darkness, and tilted the flashlight up. The glow created a golden bubble around them. Sparks danced in his blue eyes and dimples flirted with his cheeks.

She licked her dry lips. “A date?”

“With destiny.” He focused on her mouth.

Mavis caught herself leaning toward him. Whoa. Who was in control here? Intellect or instinct? She had to rein in her hormones and muzzle her lizard brain. Mentally slapping herself, she pulled away and shook the heat out of her limbs. Cool. Calm. Professional. “Nice line, Soldier. Does that work often?”

“First time I’ve tried it.” David shrugged.

Mavis snatched the box from his grip and jogged into the house. She felt more than heard him behind her.

“So, Doc.” The door snicked shut and the bolt shot home.

“Mavis, not Doc.” When did the dark become so intimate? Setting the box on the counter, she ran her hand over the electric lantern and turned it on. The fluorescent bulb glowed to life and cast a web of light around the great room. “Doc implies GP or surgeon. I’m neither of those.”

“Mavis.” David smacked his lips as if savoring her name.

She held the box up to the light. The seal had been neatly slit. Someone had been poking their nose in her business and she didn’t need a Mensa IQ to figure out whom. Colonel Bastard. Should she report it to Miles?

David shuffled up behind her. “Sorry about that. I’ll try to make sure the package goes directly to me next time.”

“Not your fault.” Mavis felt his body heat along her back. Did he have to stand so close? Do not give into your baser instincts. You’re smarter than that.

“Did you say something?”

Mavis clamped her lips closed. Did she say that aloud? Good gravy, that’s all she needed. If she gave the soldier just a little encouragement, he’d be all over her like a bird dog on point. With shaking hands, she plucked out the wadded up packing paper. “Just talking to myself.”

He moved away to lean against the counter. “You may want to do that louder, so I can hear you.”

God, no! She swallowed the lump in her throat and dug the round jump drive out. “I—I was just telling myself that it doesn’t matter if your CO opens the box. The drive will only fit in a certain port.”

“It matters.” A muscle ticked in David’s jaw. “Colonel As—er, Lynch notified me at zero-two-thirty of its arrival. That’s two and a half hours after its original ETA.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at his slip. Colonel Ass or some variation of the theme. The name suited him better than puke or bastard. She rested her empty hand on David’s arm and felt the taut muscle underneath his ACUs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Here now, don’t say that.” He covered her hand with his. His palm was warm and rough, calloused and strong. “You can’t give up. You have to save humanity from extinction.”

How easy it would be to depend on him. With a sigh, Mavis slipped her hand out from under his and walked to the table. “Miles kind of overstated the extinction bit.”

“Oh thank God.” David clasped his head between his hands and chuckled. “You don’t know how worried I’ve been.”

“It’s more likely to be a genetic bottleneck.” Which was still bad. Very, very bad. Collapsing onto her seat, she stuffed the jump-drive into the right port before lifting the top of her laptop. Black pixels filled the map of United States.

Lifting the lantern off the counter, David pulled out the chair next to hers and dropped onto the seat. “Bottleneck doesn’t sound too bad, especially if it’s a beer bottle.” His knee brushed hers before he shifted his legs. After setting the light between them, he dialed down the brightness. “Far better than extinction, anyway.”

“It is and it isn’t.” Mavis minimized the map and opened the raw data file. “Bottlenecks mean a majority of the population either dies off or are unable to reproduce. Either way the numbers tank dramatically within a very short time.”

“Yeah, but we’re still alive.”

She merged the new data on the jump drive with the current data. “Some of us are.”

He set his hand on hers and squeezed. “You will be.”

“Like that would do a lot of good. I’m forty years old, near the end of my reproductive cycle.” Her cheeks heated. Geez, she was an adult, a mother, she’d had sex. Liked sex. Stop! This is about biology, not sex. Mostly.

His grip tightened for a moment and his gaze dropped to her breasts then lower. “Near the end, is not the same as being at the end.”

Mavis sucked in her stomach. What was she doing? “The point is I’d only be able to have one or two healthy children before emptying my egg basket.”

Egg basket? What was she, the Easter bunny? Sweet Jesus, why didn’t the floor just open up and swallow her?

“Two is enough for you and…” He cleared his throat then shifted in his seat. “And your mate.”

She shook her head before scrubbing her hands down her face. Why was this so hard? “It isn’t for the species. The reason humans have s—sex is for genetic diversity.”

“And here I thought it was for the fun.”

That too. Especially with a strong partner who could— Snapping off the thought, she resisted the urge to fan herself.

“The greater the genetic diversity, the better chance the species has for survival. Think of it this way: humanity is going from a gene pool the size of the ocean to spit in a cup.” She ran the simulation program and watched the screen bleed red across the map of the country. “And the cup is sitting in the hot, hot sun.”

David’s shoulder brushed hers as he leaned in to watch.

Her skin tingled at the contact. Get a grip. Get some distance. After angling the laptop to give him a better view, she pushed out of her chair.

He looked up. Crimson light washed over his features. “Aren’t you going to watch?”

“No.” Yanking her jacket off the back of her chair, she stuffed her arms into the sleeves. “I need to prepare for the day.”

Wood scratched tile as David stood. “What are you doing?”

Great. Mavis tugged her hair out from her collar and winced as strands were plucked from her scalp. She wanted space; he wanted to help. “Today is trash burning day.”

“I thought that released toxins into the atmosphere.” When he lifted the lantern, the shadows shifted.

“It can if you burn plastics and other chemicals.” Opening the pantry, she removed the keys from the hook inside the door. Metal tinkled in the silence. “But the main reason behind that announcement was to prevent the fires from getting out of hand. The Rattling Death may have killed thirty-five percent, but it infected almost everyone. With that many people out of commission, there was no one left to put out fires. The Politicos feared the valley would become one big fire pit.”

Mavis released the locks on the arcadia door before sliding it open.

Although moving soundlessly, she felt David follow her outside. “I can see their point. We don’t have enough marshmallows for everyone.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. Jack had done that as well—made absurd comments in horrible situations. “But that sword is double-edged.” Mavis flicked the switch for the floodlights. Nothing. Stupid rolling blackouts. “All that garbage piling up for months is bound to be infested with rats.”