“Do you think the coyote is still inside?” Mud squished under her boots. Water chased away the rats as she splashed through the puddles. She spit out the damp fabric. Maybe it was safe enough to remove the covering.
“We’ll find out.” He paused by the opening and settled the stock against his shoulder. “Sweep the light over the inside then I’ll shoot any glowing eyes.”
Her arm brushed his as they inched through the vestibule. The inky interior swallowed the tiny ball of light. Holding her breath, she stepped into the rectangular tent. The orb swept right to left, gliding over bare tables and empty chairs. Wind snapped the canvas and plucked at the ropes. Papers tumbled over the dry floor.
“I think Mr. Coyote went out another door.” With the barrel, Eddie gestured to the dark pit at the fringe of the light’s reach. “I’ll close it in case he decides to revisit.”
She nodded. The last shred of her hope left on the draft. No soldiers. Now what was she supposed to do? This was her plan B. There was no C.
“Why would he?” Stuart scratched down his handkerchief. “There’s nothing here.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Mrs. Rodriquez chuckled, grabbing a handful of papers off the floor. “We’ve got toilet tissue.”
Stuart stepped back and wrinkled his nose.
Where had he lived the last few months?
“Don’t like that, eh, Prince Charming?” Mrs. Rodriquez fished around her pocket with her free hand and pulled out a plastic lighter. With a soft phft sound, a flame leapt from the top. “We can always burn it to keep warm.”
Audra blinked at the letters on the paper. Not…r…sur… She bounced on her heels. Those words might be a message.
A wooden door banged.
She jumped. The coyote!
Then another.
She aimed the light at the direction of the noise.
Eddie sauntered into the shadows. “The locks are broke so they might slam open again.”
Her heart left her throat and sunk into her chest. She really needed more sleep if she’d forgotten so quickly. Kneeling, she pinched a paper and lifted it.
Footsteps pounded on the wood floor behind them.
The deputy skidded to a stop and wiped his mouth. “We’ve found the soldiers.”
Praise Jesus! She collapsed against the table. It was over. Her job was done. “Where?”
Stuart pumped the air and high-fived Mrs. Rodriquez.
“Two tents down. They’re dead.” The deputy covered his mouth and gagged. “All of them.”
“Fuck!” Stuart punched the table then shook his hand and cradled it against his chest.
Exactly. She stared at the paper, not seeing it.
Eddie shuffled closer, propped a hip against her table. “Are any of the tents useable?”
The deputy nodded.”Two so far, enough for all of us to sleep in a cot tonight. Jackie O and Principal Dunn are sorting our people now. The latrines are nearby and aren’t overflowing.”
They’d done exactly as she’d asked. And she hadn’t kept up her part of the bargain. There was no safety. No soldiers. She blinked back the tears.
“So now what are we supposed to do?” Stuart clasped his skull between his hands. “I told them I’d get them to safety.”
Get in line to board the failure train. God, her mother was going to be so disappointed. And Eddie’s brother would have died for nothing. And… The words on the paper shifted into focus. Notice for survivors.
Congratulations. If you’re reading this you’re alive. To keep your ass firmly in the land of the living follow these directions…
Her attention raced over the words… evacuation route…supplies laid in…antibiotics for anthrax…rendezvous in Winslow… She straightened then checked to make certain her feet still touched the ground. Laughter bubbled up her throat and bounced off her tongue.
Four sets of eyes stared at her.
Audra shook the paper at them. “I know what to do. I know where the soldiers went.”
Chapter Nineteen
Day 8
“Dude! I’m trying to work here.” Brainiac fisted Toby’s oversized teeshirt, lifted the preschooler up and set him on the floor two feet away from the makeshift desk.
Papa Rose shook his head. The squid had done that three times already and Toby hadn’t gotten the message. “He’s a kid, not a dude.”
All that energy created a vortex around children, deafening them to adult words.
“I’s a mun’kin, not a dude.” Grinning, Toby pointed his thumb at his small chest. His bare feet slapped the concrete as he ran in front of the construction yellow saw horses holding up a four by eight foot plank of particle board.
Brainiac hunched over his tablet computer, pounding at the keys.
Toby dropped to all fours and crawled toward Brainiac.
“You tell him, munchkin.” Across the room, Falcon grinned and stretched his long legs in a vee. He sketched Olivia’s face on the bare concrete between his thighs with a broken piece of drywall.
Laying on two lengths of recycled denim insulation, Papa Rose bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. Damn, the tyke was persistent and restless. He should have expected the cabin fever. They’d been stuck in this room for the last ten hours while Brainiac and the nuclear tech tried to figure out how they were going to get millions of gallons of water to the generating station.
Olivia and Jillie sat on Falcon’s left side playing Tic-Tac-Toe. Hashmarks filled with X’s and O’s covered the floor on the other side of the room.
Papa Rose cleared his throat.
Falcon glanced up from shading Olivia’s cheeks.
He nodded his head toward the preschooler under the table just as Toby set his hand on Brainiac’s thigh and shoved the top of his head into the squid’s groin.
Brainiac yelped and pealed away from the table. The wheels of his rolling chair squeaked before B stomped his feet down and stopped his flight. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
Falcon’s eye narrowed. “Language…dude.”
Yawning, Papa Rose shrugged into his jacket. The fifteen minutes he’d slept over the last two hours would have to hold him until after the mission.
“What’s going on?” The nuclear tech’s wheezing sounded tinny coming through the phone speakers. The shiny black plastic glinted in the fluorescent lights overhead. “Did you lose satellite connection again?”
“Not this time,” he answered while Brainiac glared at Toby. No doubt the spotty connection had contributed to B’s short temper. He checked his watch. The ticking time bomb nearby didn’t exactly help matters either.
Eight hours until the spent fuel rods were exposed.
If they didn’t get moving soon, lunch would be everyone’s last meal.
His vertebrae popped when he stretched. Brainiac would do it. The squid didn’t have a choice. Failure was off the table. Pushing to his knees, Papa Rose shoved three lengths of the recycled denim insulation side by side—a comfy bed where the kidlets could snooze while they’re away delaying the inevitable.
Olivia yawned. Her dreadlocks slapped her cheeks when she shook her head. “Can we go to sleep now?”
Falcon pealed off the paper backing, exposing more chalk. “In a bit. B?”
Still sitting in the rolling chair, Brainiac duck walked toward the desk and his tablet. “I’d be done in five minutes if someone could keep the munchkin away from me.”
Toby smiled. “I yike B.”
Shaking his head, Papa Rose tied his boot laces then rose to his feet. The preschooler liked everything. “All right, munchkin and munchkinettes, let’s take a potty break then we’ll tuck you in.”