Redaction: The Meltdown Part II (32 page)

Brainiac spit the piece of plastic onto the field. “Thirty-two.”

Time was almost up. Thankfully, they were about done and he could return to the munchkins. God knew what trouble they would get up to with no adult supervision.

“I just want to be there for him when, he… you know.” Brainiac focused on scoring the red plastic.

“Yeah.” No one should die alone. The wheel spun faster. The metal gate lifted off the ditch floor. Using the side of his fist, Papa Rose loosened the two by four and pulled it free of the valve. Sweat dampened his palm when he grabbed the wheel and turned it.

Falcon braced his hands on the sides of the ditch before pulling himself out. “How many more of these do we have?”

Brainiac scored the black and white wires. “Two or three.” With his knife, he pointed down the dirt road. Brick walls and house roofs popped up from the fields. Beyond it, black clouds expanded like foam on the horizon. “The last well is that-a-way.”

“Call Glen when we get there.” Falcon picked up the spray can and tossed it into the back of the truck. “Let him know we’re almost done.”

After checking to make sure the gate was fully open, Papa Rose threaded the chain links through the wheel then rammed the hasp into the lock. No asshole was going to undo all their hard work. This thing would stay open until the metal rusted into flakes or the land became habitable again.

Brainiac tossed a leg over the edge of the truck, straddling the ledge. “I think he’s waiting for us to be finished.”

Papa Rose climbed out of the ditch and picked up the plank. “He’s a hero. We would have thought everything was A-OK by just filling the generators.”

“Yeah.” Dropping the cord in the bed, Brainiac threw his other leg over and slid to the ground. “I never would have thought to check the chillers or the water.”

Tossing the plank in the back, Papa sat on the lowered truck gate. Green mud dripped from his swinging legs. “Onward!”

Brainiac shook his head and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine started with a low-throated grumble.

Picking up the M-4, Falcon sat on the hump over the passenger wheel. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“Yeah.” He scanned the fallow field. Raw desert surrounded them and the bushes bowed and scraped every time the wind kicked up. “Even though we haven’t seen anyone all day, I don’t like being in the open like this.”

The truck bumped along the ruts. He slid to the right then the left.

“I don’t like the silence.”

Picking up his Sig-Sauger, he used a twig to try and scoop the mud out of the barrel. He’d take it apart and clean it when they set off to join the Doc and Colonel. “At least the rain yesterday kept the dust down.”

Nothing like a big ol’ brown plume to give away their position.

Brainiac slowed as they approached a perpendicular dirt road cutting the field in half.

Falcon rubbed his nose. “There better not be another fucking gate.”

“We have to make certain the water all goes to the plant.” He switched to falsetto as he aped Brainiac. “Even one drop goes down the wrong ditch and we won’t have three days.”

Falcon chuckled. “I’m not sure if the squid is enjoying his power trip or if he and Glen actually calculated the time to meltdown in drops of water.”

“Probably both.” Papa Rose blew into his gun. Balls of dirt flew out.

The right light blinked then Brainiac turned onto the paved road.

“You think the munchkins are alright?”

“Sure.” Papa Rose grabbed the edge of the gate with one hand when they bumped onto the asphalt. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Falcon snorted. “Because they’re kids and there’s no adults to tell them not to do this or that. I get a white hair every time I think of what I did at their age.”

Using a waded up flyer, Papa Rose scraped the mud off the side of the gun. “God, I remember playing ball in the street, lighting shit on fire, crawling through construction zones and rafting on pallets in the canal overflows.”

“Imagine being locked inside a nuclear power plant.”

His hand stilled. “Shit.”

“I keep thinking the power will go off and the electronic locks will magically open on the doors.” Falcon scratched his head. “When you were a kid, would you have been able to resist a clear pool of water?”

“B says it’s a hundred and twenty-two degrees. Not exactly swimming temperature.”

“Will they know that?’

God only knows. Papa Rose set the pistol to the side. “We’re almost done.”

“And we’ll have B ask Glen to check on the munchkins.”

“They’re probably sleeping.” Too bad he didn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have slept if his parents were away. “We’ll look like idiots.”

“B will look like an idiot.”

“Yeah.” Serves the squid right for leaving them to do all the dirty work. He liked the plan.

The truck slowed. Six foot high brick fences hemmed them in on both sides.

Falcon pushed off the wheel and stood behind the cab.

Picking up his Sig-Sauger, Papa Rose climbed to his knees. His attention roamed the streets as they passed. Brown seed pods rattled and rolled through the pock-mocked streets. Yellow, purple and maroon blossoms clung to the gutters. The skeletal limbs of Mesquite and eucalyptus trees swayed in the breeze. Row after row. Unlike in Phoenix, these homes sat perfectly preserved, waiting for owners that would never return.

“Hey!” Brainiac shouted out the window as the truck stopped. “Do either of you remember that truck being here last night?”

Papa Rose zeroed in on the cherry red pick-up at the corner. Gray brick tumbled around its oversized wheels and the lift kit kept the crinkled hood almost even with the top of the fence. The light bar hung to the side as if someone tried to rip it off the roof. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Falcon tightened his grip on his rifle. “Anyone else see a resemblance to the vehicle Jillie describe the assholes that murdered her and Toby’s parents?”

“Fuck, Falcon.” Brainiac coasted through the intersection. “You’re a paranoid son of a bitch.”

“Hate to agree with the squid,” Papa Rose joined Falcon near the cab, “but this is rural Arizona. Lifts and light bars are almost as commonplace as gun racks.”

Not that he’d had one on his Ram. His wife hadn’t allowed it. The memory of her smile was a punch to the chest. Damn, he missed her.

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember it from last night.” Falcon flicked off the safety but kept his finger off the trigger.

Papa adjusted his weight on the balls of his feet when the truck picked up speed. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on our parts. I certainly wouldn’t mind blowing out the brains of those murdering bastards.”

“Maybe.”

“We might get lucky and meet up with them on the road.” He set his elbows on the cab. The cold metal leached the warmth from his skin. “Jillie said they listened real carefully to the evacuation routes.”

“Probably to pick off more survivors.”

Maybe. Hell, probably. But there was nothing they could do about it. If the bastards did follow the soldiers, they’d be far away by now. He and Falcon had to protect the munchkins. Thankfully, justice could still triumph. “If they do show up, Jillie will be able to identify them.”

They could kill the bad guys in Colorado just as well as here.

“There is that.”

Once cleared of the neighborhood, the area opened into farmland. The sidewalk ended in a dirt trail next to the irrigation ditch. Pristine furrows cut through the rich loam. Towering trees swayed around a mobile home and an empty tire swing dangled from a white limb.

“You know, I never knew what a well looked like until today.” Falcon’s arm brushed his as Brainiac steered their vehicle back onto a dirt road.

“Completely ruined the image I had of a round thing with a roof and a bucket.”

Falcon squinted at him.

“What?” Papa Rose shifted. Knowing frou-frou things didn’t make him a pussy. “I had five daughters and each one loved a different fairy tale.”

Falcon’s lips twitched. “Cinderella.”

“Grimm’s or Disney?”

“What, are you fucked in the head? Disney. Grimm’s is a little to dark for a five-year-old.”

Or a twenty-year-old for that matter. Papa Rose jerked his head toward the evil metal wheels of the gates. “You’re up.”

Brainiac pulled alongside the ditch and stopped.

“Rocks, paper, scissors?” Falcon wiggled his eyebrows.

“Hell no.” Papa picked up the two by four and shoved it at the former Green Beret. “You cheat.”

Falcon traded the M-4 for the wood. “How do you cheat at rocks, paper, scissors?”

“Easy.” Brainiac turned up the collar of his pea coat. “Papa Rose always chooses paper. As long as you pick scissors, you win.”

Papa Rose blinked. Shit. He did always pick paper. What was wrong with him? And them… Some friends they were. They’d never told him. “Assholes.”

“Nice going, B.” Falcon set the plank on his shoulder and strutted to the gate. “Now, I’m going to get stuck with latrine duty.”

“Better than getting my boot stuck up your ass.” Papa Rose mentally smacked his forehead. How could he have been so stupid?

Brainiac tugged a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and unfolded it. The wind snagged the map and tore through the worn creases. “Okay. You need to open this one here.” He pointed to the one leading to the housing development. “And close this one.” He indicated the open gate heading away from them.

“Gee, thanks, B. I don’t think we could have figured it out on our own.” Falcon’s lip curled into a sneer as he pushed the two-by-four into the wheel of the closed gate.

“He’s just remembering your
special
training.” Papa Rose picked the padlock on Falcon’s valve, jumped the ditch and did the same thing to the open gate. Thankfully, closing them was much easier than opening them.

Brainiac carefully folded his map. “I’m gonna go to the well and get it hooked up.”

Falcon jumped in the ditch. Water splashed up the sides. “I don’t think we should split up.”

Setting the rifle on the ground, Papa Rose leaned over the wheel. “I agree with Falcon.”

“Oh, come on!” Brainiac flapped his arms. His crew cut seemed to stand on end. “I’m just going to be a hundred yards away. You’ll see me the entire time.”

Falcon glanced at the well, kicking at the plank. It moved half a turn. “Looks like our boy’s growing up.”

“Fuck you!” Brainiac stomped to the truck and yanked open the door. “I don’t report to either of you.”

Falcon’s eyes widened and he placed a hand to his chest. “Was it something I said?”

“Keep an eye out, B.” The engine revved, drowning out Papa Rose’s words.

The squid peeled out in a spray of mud.

“I don’t like that neither of us remember seeing that truck.” He spun his wheel and the metal gate lowered into place.

The truck did a donut in the field before Brainiac backed it toward the well. Chain link rattled when it hit.

“Relax Papa Worrywart. We can see the squid.”

As if hearing Falcon, Brainiac shoved open the door, flipped them off and stalked to the back of the truck.

Once the metal panel was fully seated, Papa Rose snaked the chain through the gears and locked it. “I guess it was time for B to grow a pair.”

“And then some.” Using the plank, Falcon opened the gate. He smiled as it rose silently. “Jealous?”

“Nope.” The asshole would get the easy one. Picking up the rifle, Papa Rose leapt the ditch. His boot heels dug deep into the damp ground. Lucky him, he got to slog his way to the well. Damn Falcon and his sarcasm.

“Are too.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost.” Falcon removed the wood and handed it to him. “Here’s something to remember me by.”

Papa Rose dropped the two-by-four into the mud. Never would be too soon to remember this.

After Falcon looped the chain through the wheel and secured it, he climbed out of the ditch. He turned toward the housing development a klick away and frowned. “I’ve got an itch.”

Papa Rose handed him the assault rifle and tugged the gun from his waistband. He didn’t see anything, but he trusted the ex-Green Beret’s instincts. “It’s at times like this that I miss crickets and birds.”

“They’re an under-appreciated alarm system.”

With their asses in the open, they were easy targets. Worse, they wouldn’t know the direction the attack came from until the bullets started flying. “Run or walk?”

“My ass says run, but I think we should walk it.” Falcon looped the strap around his neck as he sauntered toward the well. “They haven’t made a move so far, they might just be lookouts.”

Papa Rose held the gun at his side as he walked. While he faced straight ahead, his eyes scanned the surroundings. Still nothing but his muscles twitched with the need to run for the cover of the truck. A couple of layers of metal was pretty good protection from bullets, provided one didn’t strike the gas tank. “Jillie wasn’t real clear on their numbers.”

“I’d say we take her nine and add three.” Falcon stopped and crouched down, pretending to tie his shoe while he looked behind them. “I’m thinking the house or the neighborhood.”

Papa Rose’s leg jumped as he waited patiently. He turned to the neighborhood but kept the house behind the well in his peripheral vision. “The house is boarded up with one plank over each window. Wouldn’t be easy to aim through it.”

A shadow crept over the ground as a black cloud scuttled in front of the sun.

“Could come charging around the sides.” Falcon adjusted his jeans leg over his shoe and stood.

“Not exactly in keeping with the attack MO Jillie described.”

Falcon shrugged as they continued on their path. “Not exactly any rooftops they can fire from and funneling people is a little hard in an open field.”

Fifty yards separated them. Papa Rose’s finger twitched on the side of the gun. “You think B’s radar is pinging?”

“Hard to tell with the squid. He’s damn smart but sometimes he lacks common sense.”

“Like when he was dealing with Toby.”

Falcon’s smile was strained. “Did you see him jump?”

Papa Rose used his laugh to look over his shoulder. Still no movement in the neighborhood. What were they waiting for? “Having a kid shove his head in your crotch can startle a man.”