Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

David winced. Except for women’s shoes, their base didn’t have much to spare. The government supplied them with enough rations for two weeks. He’d thought it was because their base was slated to close in a month.

But now…

Now, he wondered if they’d held back because they’d known the Redaction was coming back like a bad case of Gonorrhea. God only knew what their distribution warehouse held. But God and he would both find out when he returned to base.

“What about drop sites?” He gestured to the non-quarantined areas. Some of the regions along the Colorado River were prime farmland. “Sure, we can’t go into the area, but they could airlift supplies in.”

“The fighting for those goods will increase in proportion with the death rate.” As if hearing her words, mortality statistics mushroomed all over the states. “Panic and greed will set in, leading to hoarding. About week two, supplies will run low. Rations will be cut for everyone. Then the rumors will start. Peacekeepers have more, are getting more than their share.”

“Like Seattle.” David adjusted his copper memorial bracelets. He’d known a few Marines stationed up there. They’d been good men and women, but their names weren’t on his bands. There just wasn’t enough room. And he refused to wear three bracelets.

“Seattle. Dresden. Hamburg. Hiroshima. Any place people are fighting to survive and you’ll have normally law-abiding citizens rise up and kill soldiers, police, anyone that stands between them and what they want.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “And, God help us if some entrepreneur starts selling rations.”

Or trading them for sexual favors. The CO needed to be stopped. David sighed. And he needed to not think about how many people could have been saved if he’d stopped the asshole sooner.

Red bled along the roads, while the quarantine zones kept expanding. The death rate soared.

Mavis set her hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Based on what we currently have on hand, we run out of medicine in week three.” With a few clicks, she switched to the bar graphs detailing the population by age groups. Here the red bars started to rise. “Whether or not they get the new influenza, we’ll lose the old first.” She pointed to the over sixty groups. The crimson bars rose like mercury on a summer day. “Five out of six of them need drugs to survive.”

And they won’t be able to get a damn aspirin. He flattened his fists on his thighs. The numbers continued to rise as the infection engulfed the whole state and swallowed large swaths of the population. Around ten percent mortality, they began to level off. That was good, wasn’t it? It was a hell of a lot better than ninety-nine-point-nine. Suddenly, they jumped a point then began climbing, slower but still increasing.

Still heading for extinction.

“What happened?”

“The wolves are moving among the sheep, picking off the weak of the herd, despite the best efforts of the dogs.”

Wolves. Human predators. “That’s kind of cynical.”

But was it? He’d already seen it in South Phoenix with the rise of gangs. How long before they challenged the Marines for territory, weapons and supplies?

“It’s realistic. Classifying the populace into one of the four categories will help you avoid traps and keep your men alive.”

“Four?” David raised a finger for each group. “Sheep.” The majority of the population that went along with everyone else. “Wolves.” Predators who usurped rights and lives for their own purposes. “Dogs.” Soldiers like him who were willing to make the sacrifice to keep the sheep free. Three groups, not four.

Mavis eased his pinky out from under his thumb. “Lobos are a cross between wolves and dogs. Usually, they present as one until an inciting incident pushes them firmly into the other camp. They’re the most dangerous of all—the spies, the traitors, the bait for traps—because you expect them to be one thing while they’re actually the other.”

Staring at his pinky, David rocked back in his chair. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He’d never heard it put that way before. Lobos. Damned dishonest bastards. “Well, I’m definitely a dog, guarding the flock. Same as you.”

Mavis’s lips thinned and the sparkle left her eyes. “Not the same as me. I’m a lobo. Dogs will sacrifice themselves to protect their flock. I’m only willing to risk so much for the stupid sheep.” She set her jaw and frowned at the darkness. “And if they turn against me or those I love, I’ll pick and choose the best of the flock and gut the rest.”

David blinked. He believed her. Every word. It was good to know where he stood with her. Kind of. Maybe not. What was he saying? She’d never turn on him, because he planned to protect her and her niece—just like his men. His gaze fell to the swell under her sweater. Okay, maybe not just like his men. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the screen. The numbers had climbed to twenty-five percent. “But this is all based on multiple infections, right? What if just one person got sick?”

She slid her index finger over the mouse pad then clicked to a new screen. “This is just one person or household. Chances are someone came back from a hot zone. Patient zero would have used a toilet somewhere, gotten gas, a drink, food, rolled down their window. Depending on the surface, the virus could remain alive and infectious for days after contact. How many people touched the door knob after he did?”

David rubbed his forehead, but the ache remained. He didn’t want to think about touching door knobs. “People will stay away from someone coughing.”

He hoped. Prayed. Bartered with God.

“Sure, but he’s a carrier for two days before symptoms begin and bugs hitchhike on words.” She gathered her hair behind her head. “People talk to each other out there, don’t they?

“Yeah.” And his men talked to them. Handed out food and supplies. Lots of people. All over the valley. Hell, they may already have met Patient Zero on their rounds today. “What about masks?”

“Most people don’t have any left. And again, since no one is presenting symptoms and the government hasn’t warned people of a possible outbreak… Just one uncovered sneeze and the virus is spread all over the food bags and packages, most people won’t wash their hands before touching their mucous membranes, um, eyes, nose, or mouth so the virus has an easy in.”

Had anyone sneezed or coughed? None of them had worn masks. None of them had known. He rubbed his stomach hoping to ease the cramping. “So day twelve and we’re still only at fifty percent.”

“Watch the numbers change as the infection reaches the total population. There’s no one around to make sure clean water gets through. Add in no electricity to cook, heat their homes, or boil water. Food and water-borne illnesses rise.” The numbers jumped in whole percentages. Quickly climbing into the sixties. Seventies. Eighties.

“The weak get weaker. Those who have recovered from the influenza now are attacked by other diseases. In China, India, Nepal and all the ‘stans around the country, entire cities are devoid of people.” Mavis shifted to pictures of the region. White studded parts of the red landscape. “Satellite IR images have no heat signatures other than fires. Nothing is left standing.”

“Damn.” One in a thousand is much better than none. His skin itched. There had to be something he could do to bump it up to two in a thousand. Three would be nice.

“Children under three with no care givers are gone.” Mavis hugged her torso and rocked in the chair. Her eyes lost focus as if she were staring in the distance, or the future. “Older kids have a chance if they can find a teen or adult to help. But without food, clean water, and shelter, they’re extremely vulnerable. The wolves that survive will be fighting each other for turf and resources. Anyone who gets in their way will be removed permanently or wish they had been.”