Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

She brought up the list of diseases and stared at the row of letters at the top of the page. Great. An alphabetical list.

“What about our bug-out plan?” Lister drummed on the table.

“When is the next ration distribution day?”

“Monday.” He shrugged, and then scratched his arm. “Maybe later if the fires continue.”

“Delay distribution.” Mavis looked over the top of her laptop at him. “I want that food kept in reserve.”

“Will do.” Sighing he rose to his feet and stretched. “Take care of yourself, Doc. I’ll check in when I get off duty.”

“Be careful.” Mavis clicked on the ‘a’.

Before the screen could switch over, Miles Arnez appeared. “Hello.” He scratched his pink scalp. “The military and government officials all seem to be recovering.I think I should warn you, we’re both going to be on the unemployment lines soon. As well as public enemy numbers one and two. Somehow I’m sure we’ll take the blame for the economy and global warming as well.”

“Miles,” Mavis rubbed her aching chest. “I don’t think this is over. In fact, I think the worst is yet to come.”

Walking down the clogged road, Manny peered into the veil of smoke clinging like a bad odor to the clogged road. Moisture distorted his vision. He blinked but instead of washing away the grit under his lids, the motion allowed the soot to scratch his eyes.

Through the mesh of gray, towers of black smoke choked the Phoenix skyline like evil pillars of destruction. Red and orange tongues of fire laved two of the tall buildings. On the rise seven miles away, he saw the white specs leap from the upper stories, accompanied by colorful bed sheets that never quite opened like a parachute.

At least, he was too far away to hear the watery splat landing. Glancing over his shoulder, he stared down the lines of people. The haze prevented him from seeing the niños , but they were back there watched over by Rini, Connie, the Wilson sisters and Mildred.

And lots of coughing strangers.

Even now, the hacking drowned out the drone of the ATV and motorcycle engines at the back of the line. Cloths of many colors covered the gray faces in their funeral procession.

“We picked up more people.” Again. There must be a hundred extra folks marching with them now. Did they even know where they were headed or were they just desperate to leave?

Anywhere was safer than here.

Henry maneuvered his wheelchair around a pothole. “We’ll pick up a lot more before we reach the soldiers’ camp.”

Yeah, but how many of those with them would make it that far? So many seemed sick. Shuffling forward, Manny coughed and his hot breath washed back across his face. Despite his mask, he tasted the ash of the fires and smelled the burning plastic. He slammed the battered door of a white Toyota shut. Around him, two more doors echoed his actions.

Threading a path through the line of abandoned cars, he forced his jaw to relax. Bad enough the people just walked away from their vehicles blocking the road and the sidewalk, but why did they have to leave the doors open? He stumbled over an abandoned blue flip-flop before catching himself on a hatchback. Pain rocketed up his elbow were it collided with the wiper.

“We need to take a break.”

Pushing off the car, Manny glanced down at Henry. “A break? We’ve been traveling for three hours and have only gone that many miles.”

Henry jerked his head back. His ponytail lashed the back of his wheelchair. “The ATVs are having trouble keeping up.”

And the ATVs hauled the food, and the supplies, and the sick, and some of the little ones. They also herded the stragglers so no one was left behind. Breaks appeared in the lines of people weaving through the cars. At least they could turn and squeeze through the tight spots. The vehicles had to keep to the edges because of the mishmash of cars blocking the way.

A woman with a toddler in her arms stumbled against a van. She turned her head, coughing away from the baby. A man shambled into the cough before lifting the toddler up and away. The woman closed her eyes for a moment, pushed away from the van and stumbled after the man and child.

Manny raked his fingers through his short black hair before adjusting his face mask. “Everyone’s having trouble.”

Twenty-two miles would take them a week at this pace. With his luck, they might get to the soldiers’ camp to be told the pandemic was over.

Henry pulled hard on his wheels before yanking his hands into his lap. The sides of his chair scraped the fender of a Honda. “I did not expect so many abandoned vehicles.”

Manny slammed another door then kicked crumpled paper under the engine. “You’d have thought people would have siphoned the gas and pooled it to get further.”

That would have been the smart thing to do. He eyed the box of Ramen noodles visible through the passenger window. But this abandonment seemed more the result of panic than thought.

“Lots of folks think they can survive alone.” More paper crunched under Henry’s wheels. “Stupid.”

Manny nodded. Been there, done that. It sucked. Not that he was happy about all the people they collected. Especially since most of them appeared to be sick. Sighing, he booted a pile of clothes out of the way, clearing the path for Henry.

Setting his brake, Henry braced his hands on the arms of his chair and levered himself up. “We might have a bit of trouble.”

“Where?” Manny whipped his head up.

About a hundred yards down the road, a man on horseback rose above the slope of abandoned cars. Smoke wrapped him in a gray mist but didn’t disguise the rifle in his arms.

The hair on Manny’s neck rose. One man. One. But there were many of them. He counted six walking abreast. All able to walk without coughing. Sure, cars separated them, but if they stood together and faced him down… “We could probably take him.”

Henry sank down into his chair and released the brake. “I’m more concerned about the dozen or so over the fence and on the roofs aiming their weapons at us.”

Manny blinked. His attention darted from the lone man on horseback to the shiny metal barrels poking like thorns over the side of the block wall. A few men lounged against the peaks of roofs. While a handful had their weapons in their laps, others aimed down into the street. Several men in Manny’s group stopped. Their gazes swung from the riflemen to him and Henry.

His pounding heart knocked the air from his body. Fences lined the street, some led to neighborhoods, others to businesses. He held his breath until his heart slowed to a normal tempo. Lined up as they were, they could be picked off one-by-one or the more able ones could trample the others. Jesus Christ. He’d never get to Rini and the niños in time to protect them. “We can’t turn around. He had to go forward.”

Through a gauntlet of bullets. Manny swallowed despite his dry mouth.

“No, we can’t retreat.” Henry rested his gloved hands on his wheels and pushed. “And they know it.”

So they would brave it out and push on. Manny’s fingers closed over the open door edge. The cold metal barely registered before he slammed it shut. The noise was soft compared to his rampaging heart. “What do you think they want?”

In the row next to him, another door shut. He eyed the other man. Compared to his black skin, the whites of his eyes practically glowed above the yellow bandanna. Another door answered. Then another. Manny sucked on his dry bottom lip. Could the open doors be a way to slow down the people, funnel them in a particular direction?

Henry rolled close to Manny’s heels. “Could be almost anything.”

Anything? Fear wrapped around his chest like a Boa constrictor. Stars danced in his peripheral vision. He shut the next door. Empty road lay between him and the man on the horse. Manny labored for breath, beating back the oblivion gnawing on the fringes. He stuck his hands in the pocket of his hoody. Ten feet away. At this distance, the rusted knife wouldn’t even piss off the cowboy. He stepped from the safety of the cars. “So what are we going to do?”