Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

A horn beeped outside.

Mavis jumped before her attention stuck to the door. “Do you know this General Lister?”

“Never met him.” David shrugged before backing toward the door. He returned his finger to the trigger but kept the safety on and pointed the muzzle at the ground. “Marines, especially career ones, tend to be good guys.”

If they weren’t total rules-and-regs pricks. Still, she’d been married to one, so it wouldn’t do to bad mouth the Corps. Too much.

Her gaze flicked to the mantle and the pictures of her husband and son. “Yeah.”

David’s ears perked as gravel crunched outside. The jarheads must be in a hurry to be making so much noise. With his free hand, he scooped up the box from the hall table. “Why don’t you get working on the newest batch of data?”

She sighed and sank onto the couch. “I don’t see that it will change anything.”

“It might change everything.” David shook the box at her and heard the jump drive scratch at the cardboard. “Don’t you want to find out?”

“Not really.” She smoothed the purple fabric over her knees.

His strides ate up the distance between the hall table and the sofa. Looming over her, he dropped the box into her lap. “Yes, you do. Because Patient Zero is out there and we’re going to need someplace safe to take Sunnie to so she can recover.”

Mavis scrubbed her hands down her face before wrapping them around the box. “I didn’t think you were an optimist.”

“I’m a glass three-quarters full kind of guy.” He held out his free hand. Operation Comfort is still in effect , he warned his body.

She slid her fingers against his palm then rose from the sofa.

The doorbell echoed around the great room.

Her grip tightened. Hugging the box to her chest, she looked down the hallway, toward the bedrooms, toward her niece’s room.

“Why don’t you get to work while I deal with the jarhead?”

One corner of her mouth tilted up. “I’m not your problem, you know?”

“You are.” David squeezed her chilled fingers. “I have orders from my temporary Commander-in-Chief to make certain nothing happens to you. I even have permission to save you from yourself if necessary.”

“Miles better not have said any such thing.” She pursed her lips while edging around him but kept their hands locked together.

“It’s all a matter of interpretation.” And a very big imagination. Mavis certainly inspired his to take flight. Someone pounded on the security door. Impatient bastard. “I’ll answer that, while you crunch numbers.”

She bit her bottom lip.

David tugged her forward, toward the dining room table and her computer. “Relax. Marines don’t go anywhere without their corpsmen. Since the Corps prides itself on being prepared, the resident squid will undoubtedly be carrying a year’s worth of drugs.”

She slid the box onto the tabletop before strangling the chair back. “I should be there when they examine her.”

“Then get that data plugged in.” He jerked his head toward the package.

The rattling of the security door intensified. The general had better not dent the metal.

“We’re coming!” David shouted above the racket.

Metal hummed to a stop. The silence raged in his ears, but he didn’t move.

Mavis rolled her eyes, hooked the chair with her heel and pulled it out. “Fine. I’ll get the sims underway.”

That’s what he wanted to hear. Even if there was bit of whine in it. He winked at her, walked to the door, and yanked it open. Despite the light, the men on the porch were flesh-colored blobs through the sieve of metal, but he could clearly make out the gold stars on the taller man’s collar. “We’ve got a sick female, approximately nineteen years of age, in the back bedroom. Fever, cough, and chills.”

At least, he hoped she had those symptoms. He hadn’t actually seen her; he’d been too busy taking care of Mavis. David unlocked the security door and stepped back.

“Corpsman, see to the girl then report back.” General Lister wrenched open the door and strutted inside.

Damn cocky Marine. David bit the inside of his cheek. Did they teach the wily bastards to walk like that during Basic? Of all the men in his unit, only Robertson had that infernal swagger.

Jostling a number of bags, the navy corpsman sauntered in. Black skin showed through the shorn hair on the sides of his head. He nodded to David once as he passed and turned right, before doing an about face and heading in the opposite direction.

“Doctor Spanner would like to be present for the examination.” Securing the door, David looked at Mavis.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard like startled birds, wanting to land but unsure if it was safe. Yet, her attention remained riveted on the ever-changing screen. “Absolutely. You should know, she’s taken a dose of aspirin for the fever and body aches.”

The corpsman paused at the branch in the hallway. “Any allergies?”

“None.” Mavis tapped the enter key and the screen blanked. A moment later, a map of the United States appeared. Red fuzzed the west coast before it spread across the landscape like a pool of blood from a fresh body. Wiping her hands on her purple pajama top, she marched barefoot to the medic’s side. “And she has no congenital conditions or any lasting effects from the influenza.”

The corpsman jiggled the medical bag. “When did she contract the Redaction?”

“November.” Mavis brushed by him before turning the corner heading away from the master bedroom. “She had the fever for three weeks and coughed until Christmas.”

“A typical infection, then.”

Distance muffled their voices slightly before David heard hinges creak.

“Sunnie?” Mavis spoke softly. “There’s someone here to diagnose your illness.”

David inched closer to the hallway. Was the Doc’s niece Patient Zero? Maybe he should join them. Mavis might need a shoulder to cry on.

“Christ Almighty.” General Lister moved in front of the computer. A moment later, his voice boomed around the room. “This is what we can expect? Everyone dead?”

Then again, maybe not. David raked his fingers through his hair and focused on the laptop’s screen. The US was one giant black spot, except for the ninety-nine percent splashed across the front. “Not quite everyone. One in a thousand will survive.”

“What the hell kind of odds are those?” Lister turned Mavis’s cane back chair around and straddled it.

“Not good.” David remained standing. Lister may be a Marine but he was still a general. “Hopefully, we’ll find something to give us an edge.”

“We’d better.” Lister ran his index finger over the cursor pad. When a menu button popped up, he clicked rerun.

Silk whispered and David turned in time to watch Mavis turn the corner. He liked the sway of her hips and the bounce of her breasts. From the corner of his eye, he spied on Lister. David shifted, blocking the general’s view. This time the Army Reserve had arrived before the Marines and weren’t about to cede territory to a star toting jarhead. Cupping her elbow, he escorted her to the table. “How is Sunnie doing?”

Mavis licked her lips. Unshed tears swam in her eyes. “The corpsman thinks it might be Plague. I… I didn’t even notice the flea bite on her arm.”

Lister swore under his breath and reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt.

“But that’s good, right?” David held out a new chair for her and gently guided her onto the seat. “The corpsman will give her antibiotics, and she’ll be better in no time.”

“If we caught it in time.” Propping her elbows on the table, she clutched her head between her hands. “For the antibiotics to be most effective, it has to be caught early.”