Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

The sound of laughter trickled inside the strange bedroom.

Stumbling out of the blanket bunched around his ankles, Manny staggered to the window. Shaking hands pushed aside the tan drapes. Beyond the neatly trimmed desert landscaping, Jose sat atop a blue bicycle, laughing.

“Don’t laugh, Jose Saldana.” Irina shook her finger at him while lifting a red bicycle off Mikey. “You fell off the bike many times after your Pop removed the training wheels.”

Thrusting out his trembling bottom lip, the five-year-old pushed off the asphalt and remounted the bike. “I’m not gonna fall this time.”

“That’s the spirit.” White-haired Connie sat on the sidewalk handing Lucia and Mary pieces of chalk from the bucket in her lap. Neither girl seemed to mind that a blind woman chose the colors for their art.

Manny’s shoulders relaxed. Safe. They were safe. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he pushed the sleepiness away. His heart resumed a normal rhythm as happiness invaded his limbs. Neither was he alone.

Memories flooded his skull—Connie, Henry, Mildred. Adults to protect them, to help him take care of the niños . His belly rumbled due to emptiness. Food wasn’t a problem either. The soldiers had caught him up on his family’s weekly rations.

And the murder.

He licked his dry lips. Had the murderer seen him standing in the common area of the development? Surely, if Manny could see him, the reverse must also be true.

But would the killer return?

The soldier seemed to think so.

Henry had identified one of the murderer’s victims as the man’s ex-wife and said that he’d lived in the neighborhood prior to their divorce.

Fortunately, the soldier had promised to relocate them within a week. Did he have a week? Manny let the curtain fall. Yes, he did. He had to believe that.

If the murderer came back before then, Henry had pledged to hide him.

So had Mildred and Connie.

Tears stung his eyes and pricked his nose. Stupid to cry now. He was finally safe. The niños didn’t have to fear the gangs or starvation. They could relax and play outside. He shuffled to the dresser shoved against the wall opposite the beds and window. Underneath a framed print of white sand and a turquoise ocean, toys were carefully lined-up on the dresser.

Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a change of clothes. Holding the folded tee shirt and jeans against his nose, he inhaled the scent of laundry soap. God, he missed smelling clean. Padding into the bathroom, he did his business then pressed the toilet lever. No water. Pushing aside the shower curtain, he filled the mop bucket with water from the tub and poured it down the bowl. The crude flushing system worked and he lowered the lid.

Gathering up the niños ’ dirty clothes, he made his way past the four bedrooms. Voices bounced off the cream walls before being absorbed into the beige carpeting. Someone else was here. Manny paused at the entry to the family room/dining area and peered around the corner. Henry rolled his wheelchair up to the kitchen table, a pad of paper in his hand and a radio on his right.

“You’re going to have to wind that radio soon, Henry.” In the open kitchen behind him, Mildred pounded blobs of white dough on the granite countertop. Flour dusted the bright red curls escaping the handkerchief tied around her head.

“I’ll get to it, woman.” Henry’s gray ponytail slipped over his shoulder to tease the walnut table top. “Just gotta finish taking all this information down.”

Manny released the breath he’d been holding. The voices had come from the radio. It wasn’t the Child Protective Services coming to take the niños away from him.

“You just remember the last time you let it run all the way down.” Mildred plopped a round into a glass loaf pan. “All that cranking made you cranky.”

Shaking his head, he entered the large room. Their bickering reminded him of his parents. For the first time, the reminder wasn’t a punch to his gut, but a warmth infusing his limbs. These gringos were good people.

While taking another hunk from the silver mixing bowl on her left, Mildred looked up. “Well, you look like a brand new man.” She slapped the dough into countertop. Flour puffed up and coated her ‘Kiss me cuz I could be Irish’ apron. “Put the dirties in the laundry room then come and sit. I’ll get your breakfast as soon I get these on to rise.”

Henry flicked off the radio before swiping it off the table and working the hand crank on the side. The soft whirring filled the silence.

“I can help with the bread if you’d like.” Manny adjusted the load in his hands. Had there been an announcement on the radio that the older man hadn’t wanted him to hear? He wracked his brain. Nah, they’d just talked about burning trash and the rat problem.

“Pshaw.” Mildred waved a white-crusted hand. “I’m almost done here. Besides, it gives me an opportunity to take out my frustrations. Pounding dough is much better than pounding sense into that man’s head.” She jerked her chin toward her husband. “Easier, too.”

Henry snorted. “Since when do you make sense?”

Manny skirted the brown sectional sofa on his way to the laundry room.

Mildred pinched off a piece of dough and flung it at her husband. He jumped as it splatted against his ear.

“Dog gone it, woman!” He scraped up the piece, stared at the mass creating cobwebs between his fingers, before sniffing it. “That’s my favorite herb bread you’re depriving me of.”

“Well, that’s my favorite herb bread you’re depriving me of.” She dusted the lump with more flour from the split bag on the counter. “Any more smart mouthing from you and you won’t get pasta tonight.”

Setting the radio on the table, Henry wheeled over to his wife’s side. “Any more smart mouthing from you and I’ll be eating your pasta tonight.”

Manny ducked into the laundry room when Mildred squeaked. There were some things he preferred not to see—old people making out was one of them. He quickly sorted the laundry into the piles already on the marble floor then leaned against the front-loading stainless steel washer.

“You can come out now, Manny.” Henry chuckled. “We’re finished necking. For the moment.”

His cheeks burned. His parents had also found his embarrassment funny. Must be something in the age bracket.

“Henry, stop teasing the boy.”

Wiping his damp hands on his jeans, Manny shuffled into the family room. Both Henry and Mildred’s lips twitched. Best to change the subject before the older man hazed him some more. “What can I do to help?”

“First, you need to eat your breakfast.” With one thrust, Henry closed the gap between the kitchen counter and the French doors leading outside. “Then we need to do a little neighborhood shopping.”

Effortlessly, the older man eased open the door, and then slid down the ramp onto the patio.

Manny pulled out the heavy antique chair and sank onto the cushioned seat. Offering to help was useless. The old man always brushed him off. He understood. Really, he did. But he was used to doing things. Here, these three had everything down. Not that he felt like an intruder exactly…

But keeping busy had helped him not think about the Redaction too much.

And all that he’d lost.

The darkness sucked at him. The k-chunk of wheels hitting wood broke its spell.

Henry glided up the ramp and coasted into the room with a silver-covered plate balanced on his lap. “I’ve made a list of things we could use, plus a few…luxuries we might want to liberate.”

Mildred appeared at his elbow with silverware and a cloth napkin. “Here you go. And I expect you to eat everything on your plate.”