Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

“Well snap out of it,” bit off the woman. “We’re all sick and still functioning. I expect no less from the Surgeon General’s flunky.”

Flunky? Mavis sat up in bed. The fog lifted. She was nobody’s flunky! Too bad she couldn’t tell the governor just what she thought of her . Now just what the heck had they been talking about? The soldiers. Right. “I did not steal any service personnel, Madame Governor. Title Ten puts the National Guard under Federal Jurisdiction. My jurisdiction. Since the majority of the troops were sick, I ordered them to consolidate their positions.”

“And where precisely would that be, Doctor?”

Mavis wet her lips. “My neighborhood.”

“They abandoned the capital?” The Governor squawked like a wet hen.

She bit her tongue before she reminded the governor that she and the rest of the government were hiding in military bunkers far from the capital. She was on the front lines, risking what she asked others to risk. “They’ve established patrols to cover as many populated areas as possible. Under the circumstances—”

“The circumstances? Have you looked outside? Phoenix is burning. Tucson is burning. Flagstaff is burning.” Like a stairway to heaven, the governor’s voice rose with each sentence. “The entire state is practically on fire!”

Mavis shook her head. That wasn’t her fault. The President had spoken about burning trash to control the plague-infested rat population. Of course, he meant for the government to collect it first. But without a government, people had taken things into their own hands.

“I want my soldiers back in uniform.” The governor barked into the phone. “They need to get their asses fighting those fires. We can’t lose anymore infrastructure.”

Infrastructure? Mavis rubbed her forehead smooth. Good God didn’t any politician think in terms of human life anymore? “Madame Governor, some of the men are sick.”

“I don’t give a shit! I need those fires contained before we lose everything.”

Pushing to her feet, Mavis ignored the aches radiating from her joints. Why couldn’t people learn from history? Just a little. Was it too much to ask? “May I remind you that sending people to work, while they’re sick, is what allowed the Redaction to spread so quickly. And this outbreak is spreading even faster than predicted.”

“Predictions! May I remind you, Doctor that your little doom and gloom simulations failed to grasp the big picture.” The governor coughed before hacking up phlegm. “You scientists live in some dream world. Our economy needs jobs, the people need jobs. Now get my soldiers out there.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Martial law is in effect. If even one fails to show up for duty, I’ll personally sign the order to have you and them shot. Is that clear?”

The line went dead before Mavis answered. Yes, it was clear. But would the governor come out of her safe hidey-hole to deliver the kill order? Unlikely. But it wasn’t her life she was playing with.

The soldiers had a right to decide for themselves.

Toeing into her slippers, she shuffled down the hall. Voices drifted around her. Familiar yet canned. Someone was watching television. Emerging from the hallway, she scanned the living room. Brown moose slippers were propped up on the arm of the sofa.

“Sunnie?” Mavis felt the soft flutter in her chest where her heart normally resided.

“Here.” Her niece waved a hand over the back of the couch, before it clamped down on the cushion. Soon after, the television was muted and a face appeared. “You sound sick.”

“Yeah, sore throat.” Among other things. As a chill washed over her, she clutched the edges of her robe together. She sniffed. Although her nose remained clear. Hopefully that meant her health was improving.

“Me, too.” Sunnie smiled back. “And neck and legs and arms and everything but my eyelashes. Although, when I breathe they protest a little. Tea with honey and lemon helps.” She coughed into a handkerchief. “At least, I don’t have a runny nose.”

“Small blessings.” Covering a yawn, Mavis slogged to the kitchen island and the regiment of bottles lined up in the middle. She reached for the bottle of antibiotics, Cipro, the one the government continued to stockpile. Not that it would cure the influenza, but the secondary symptoms would be eliminated.

If she had influenza.

She could very well have the plague. In which case, she hoped the drug would prove as effective as penicillin. Heck, if it could take out anthrax, plague should be a walk in the park. Provided the Chinese hadn’t cut it with something to increase their profits.

She shook the bottle, hearing the expected rattle, before unscrewing the cap and dumping a dose into her palm. “Have you had your meds this morning?”

Sunnie rested her chin on the back of the couch. “I’m feeling better. Why don’t we save them for someone who needs it?”

Mavis blinked. Unbelievable! Nine months of living with a microbiologist and the girl still didn’t get it. Antibiotics were supposed to be taken to the end, not stopped because the patient felt better. That’s the way antibiotic resistance spread. And killed people. “Plague requires a sixty day dose. The risks are too high for you to stop when you feel better.”

She shook two tablets onto the counter, capped the bottle then backed away. Minimizing contact was safest at the moment. For all they knew, Mavis could have Hanta Virus and her niece the Plague. Both started with flu-like symptoms. Hell, she’d be hard pressed to find one disease that didn’t.

“Risks?” Sunnie levered herself off the couch. The blanket trailed behind her as she shuffled over.

“Full blown Plague rarely responds to antibiotics. The disease has to be caught early if you expect to recover.” Mavis stuck the pills as far down her throat as she could without gagging, threw back her head and swallowed. The pills lodged in her throat for a moment, but a couple more swallows and they went down.

“Gah,” Sunnie fisted the pills and shook her hand like she planned to shoot dice. “How do you take these things without water?”

“Practice.” Mavis moved around the kitchen island when her niece headed for the sink. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Toast and tea.” Sunnie patted her flat stomach neatly covered by her pajama bottoms. “I don’t think I could handle much more.”

Mavis’s stomach cramped at the thought of that much food. Still, she needed to eat something or she’d vomit the pills. Then they really would taste foul. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll make some chicken soup for lunch and dinner.”

“Could you put some noodles in it?” After removing a cup from the cabinet, Sunnie pushed open the tap. No water trickled out. Muttering, she bent down, opened the cabinet door under the sink and pulled out a bottle of water in a repurposed two-liter soda bottle. “I think my stomach would want something a little more… substantial than just broth.”

“Sure.” Mavis unwrapped a home baked loaf of bread and cut off two slices before popping them into the toaster. “I might even have a can of mixed vegetables around here somewhere.”

Sunnie coughed into her sleeve before wiping her eyes. “Don’t go overboard with the vegetables.”

“I won’t.” How could any relation of hers hate vegetables? Her sister, Sunnie’s mom, certainly hadn’t. Shaking her head, she opened the pantry and stepped inside, casting an evil eye toward the six cans of Spam. The impromptu barbecue hadn’t gotten rid of it all, more’s the pity. Maybe she could give it to the soldiers.

They ate everything.

By-passing the hated Spam, she collected two cans of mixed vegetables, half a pound of alphabet pasta, chicken-flavored textured soy protein, and chicken bouillon cubes. Cradling her bounty, she backed out of the shallow pantry then kicked the door shut. Her lungs heaved like she’d run a marathon. She opened her arms and the cans rolled on the counter.