Shaking off his thoughts, Papa Rose slammed his boot against the wood. Metal screamed. Hallelujah! It budged. Bracing his feet against the wall of the ditch, he leaned against the two by four. Splinters bit into his palm and he sunk deeper into the green slime at the bottom of the ditch.
The damn thing didn’t move.
He glared at Falcon. “Wanna give me a hand?”
“Nope.” The former Green Beret grinned. He carefully set the spray can on the dirt road running parallel to the ditch. “But I will, we’re running out of time and you’re taking forever.”
“Asshole.”
After blowing him an air kiss, Falcon rested his hands on the other end of the plank, pushing in the same direction. The wheel squeaked as it turned inch by inch.
Brainiac took out a knife and scored the plastic covering the wires in his hand. “Oh we have plenty of time now. The water from the first well has already made it down to the ponds. Glen is routing the water to the pools.”
“Who is Glen?” Papa Rose’s knees banged against the metal gate. Pain burned across his back as he continued to push with his upper body. Christ Jesus, this was getting old.
“The nuclear tech.” Brainiac bit the tip of the green plastic and pulled, skinning the wire. “I should probably check on him. He didn’t sound too good.”
“We’re lucky he’s lasted this long.” Releasing his plank, Papa Rose turned in the ditch and grabbed the one Falcon had been pushing. Bracing his foot in the muddy side, he pulled.
“He’s been sick nearly thirty hours, right?” Mimicking his actions, Falcon manhandled the wood toward his chest.
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.”