The Last Peak (Book 2): The Darwin Collapse (4 page)

“What are you talking about, Iridia?” Beth cut into Iridia’s ongoing complaining.

Iridia spun around and hiked the shirt up again to show Beth her bare buttcheeks. She really needed some underwear that consisted of more than a cord up the crack. “I have butt fat.”

Beth waved her off. “Pffft! Talk to me when you’re thirty-four and you can tell me how perfect your twenty-five-year-old butt used to be. Now, stop flashing your flesh under this roof and take those plates to the table.”

Iridia’s full lips looked even more pouty than usual. Mason wondered which way she was going to go. Typical Iridia flameout or one of those few instances of reasonable responsibility? Iridia grabbed two plates off the counter and marched them into the dining room.

Beth shook her head. “I swear to God. I bet you’ve seen her butt more times than mine in the last week.”

Mason decided to poke the bear.

“Hey, who’s counting?”

“I am. That’s who. And the balance better leans towards my column.”

“I’m just the cook here. I only recently realized I was working in a strip joint.”

“Very funny… not.”

“Grab a couple plates and I’ll get the rest,” Mason said. “We need to discuss the food and water situation with everyone.”

Beth bit her lip and led the way back to the dining room. Together they brought enough food on each plate to ensure that, today at least, no one would starve.

Mason wondered how long they’d be able to say that.

The small round table in the breakfast nook of the kitchen wasn’t big enough to accommodate everyone, so the larger rectangle dining room table had become the gathering spot where they shared food, touched base, and did their best to keep each other sane.

That was the idea anyway.

Everyone sat down and eyed the noticeably undersized portions. Before anyone could take a bite, Beth spoke. “We should say a blessing. Does anyone want to lead it?”

“I do!” Iridia said before anyone else could volunteer.

“Okay,” Beth replied through pursed lips.

“Dear God,” Iridia began, “I know you’re, like, amazing and can do anything you want with all of your powers. And I know you see and know everything happening to everyone down here. So you can totally see the disaster.”

Mason nodded as he stared out a window at the clear blue, summer sky. He agreed. May as well pray for heavenly help. Couldn’t hurt at this point.

“So, I’m begging, praying I guess, for your help. Please make my butt fat go away.”

Theresa laughed so hard she snorted. Elio did his best to suppress it, but laughter had him in choking convulsions. It was too much. Or maybe just enough.

Beth and Mason broke into laughter as well and the entire table laughed themselves silly while Iridia looked on in confusion.

“What? I know it sounds stupid. But if anyone can fix it, it’s got to be him, right?”

Beth forced herself into a semblance of composure and replied, “Yes, please help Iridia’s butt first, and then, if you happen to have any time left over, maybe take a crack at the lesser needs of the rest of the world.”

“Exactly,” Iridia said, “I figured he knew all about the big problems we face. It’s the little problems that sometimes escape notice.”

The laughter resumed and it took a full two minutes before it died down again. Mason took a big breath. The suffocating weight on his chest felt one ounce lighter.
 

Laughter.
 

They needed it.

A light to resist the clawing darkness.

“Thank you, Iridia,” Mason said.
 

“For what?”

“Never mind, let’s eat,” Mason said. “And go slow. This isn’t the Sizzler all-you-can-eat buffet.” He took a spoonful of rice and beans and chewed it slowly. His body buzzed at the incoming caloric delivery. Food became sacred, a sacrament, when the end of its abundance was in sight.

A wet rasping cough came from the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

 
“Where’s Clyde?” Mason asked.

Beth had saved the week-old Bili chimpanzee from dying inside his mother’s womb. If Iridia was an odd addition to his household (and she was), Clyde was stranger yet. But Beth wouldn’t have it any other way. She was as committed to his future as she was her own. Mason didn’t think the extra burden was a wise choice considering the state of things, but Beth had made it clear the topic wasn’t open for discussion.

Mason understood.

Clyde’s mother had been like another daughter to Beth. Her death still very much a tragedy Beth was working through. Besides, Clyde was good for Theresa, too. The gruesome deaths of their dog Max and her best friend Holly had punched a hole in Theresa’s heart. Caring for Clyde distracted and focused her attention at the same time.

Caring for another was a powerful means of caring for yourself.

“He’s snuggling Lambchops in my bed,” Theresa replied.

That was a surprise considering how attached she was to the old stuffie that had been her nightly companion over the last fourteen years.

“Didn’t he chew off the remaining eye button yesterday?” Mason asked.

Theresa’s jaw twitched. “Yes, he did. But he needs Lambchops more than I do right now. So, I’m sharing for the time being.”

Elio giggled under his breath.

Theresa smacked his shoulder, but not too hard as he was still recovering from the gun shot wound to his left side. He’d gotten lucky. It had torn out a chunk of flesh on his left side below the ribs, but no bones or vital organs had been involved. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not! I mean, a little maybe. You’re fifteen years old and you still have a woobie.”

“Elio Lopez! He is
not
a woobie. He is Lambchops. And he’ll be around longer than you will at this rate.”

Mason laughed. So like her mother.

“Sorry,” Elio replied. “Baby stuffies are A-okay with me.”

Theresa pinched her face tighter and frowned.

Beth grinned. “That hole keeps getting deeper.”

Elio stared hard at his plate. “I’m going to eat now.”

“Smart choice, for once,” Theresa said in an icy tone.

Everyone ate in silence for a few minutes, each in the shadow of their own thoughts, as if the blazing sun outside couldn’t reach them. Elio broke the spell.

“Mason?”

Mason blinked his eyes back into their shared reality. “Yep?”

“I’m not trying to be a problem, but I can’t wait any longer. I have to go check on my mom.”

Mason had stalled the kid for days on the decision of when to go check on Maria. She lived at their apartment in Inglewood. The first few days had been easy as neither of them were in shape to do anything more than rest and recuperate. But now that they were both growing stronger, it was likewise growing more difficult to keep him contained.

The danger involved in traversing eight miles of dense urban jungle in its current condition was incalculable. It was incalculable simply because none of them had ventured further than the front yard in a week.
 

“Elio, we have no idea what the situation is in the larger city. We can expect that it’s not safe. You and I have healed enough to move around, but we’re in no condition for a lengthy expedition into danger.”

“I know,” he replied, “but it’s my mother. And she’s got no one else in the world but me.” Elio’s eyes lifted to connect with Mason’s.

A dull pain stabbed at Mason’s chest. Elio knew the truth now. The boy’s eyes didn’t accuse or blame him. They simply stated they truth. She was alone.

“I agree we need to check on her,” Mason said, “but we need another day or two to get stronger and shore up our situation here. A shorter expedition is the way to start.”

Elio breathed out heavily and shook his head. “I can’t wait much longer. She may already be in trouble and need me.”

“You going out and getting yourself in trouble isn’t going to help your mother. Give me another day or two here and I promise we’ll go together.”

“Whatever. You just want to sit around here until we all die,” Elio said as he dropped his eyes to the last bite on his plate.

Mason didn’t like the delay either, but he knew better than most that recklessly putting yourself in danger in order to save another usually ended up with both people dead. He’d seen how quickly death could come for you when you lived at the boundaries; out on the edge where seemingly simple decisions could unleash devastating consequences.

Death lingered just beyond the edge.

And the virus had thrust all of humanity closer to an unexpected rendezvous.

“Theresa and I will go on a supply run tonight,” Mason said.
 

Theresa looked to Beth for confirmation.

She nodded. “Your father and I discussed it this morning. We don’t have a choice.”

“Can I go?” Iridia asked.

“No,” Mason and Beth answered in unison.

He sometimes wondered how they somehow ended up with three teenagers under their roof. Iridia was technically twenty-five, but her immaturity and selfishness brought her emotional intelligence right in line with the other two actual teenagers sitting at the table.

“I’ve rationed out our food and, plus or minus a day, we have eighteen days remaining.”

Mason chewed the inside of his lip as his words settled into the minds of everyone present. Two additional unexpected mouths to feed didn’t help the situation, but still, he was furious with himself for not laying in a larger reserve. They had the resources. He always knew it was a good idea. The options were there. But he never had time. It never quite made it high enough on the priority list.
 

It wasn’t that he was totally unprepared.

They had a reasonable amount of canned and dried goods in the pantry and even had a month’s worth of freeze-dried Mountain House #10 cans. Drinking water wasn’t a problem in the near future as he’d drained the old eighty gallon hot water tank in the first twenty-four hours of the emergency. They’d been waffling on about tearing it out and replacing it with a modern tankless system for years and never got around to it. Thank God they hadn’t.

Who knew being lazy could be so productive?

He also filled a WaterBOB collapsible bladder in the bathtub, which stored another hundred gallons. Add the four fifty-five gallon drums in the garage and a package of six sealed LifeStraws, and they were set for many months.

That was the drinking water. They gathered water for other uses from a neighbor’s pool two houses down. Mason had torn down the two backyard fence lines in between and created a path that kept them from being visible from the street. Things had gone quiet over the last few days and he had no intention of attracting unwanted attention.

They’d done their best to keep their bodies, clothes, and house clean. So far, it was generally working. It helped that the Mrs., Dr. West, reminded everybody about the importance of hygiene. A small cut could quickly turn into something much worse with their stress-weakened immune systems.

“We need to find more food,” Mason said.

“And we need medical supplies,” Beth said, “specifically antibiotics. Mason finished his course yesterday and Elio will finish the last of it tonight. We need more. Clyde’s respiratory infection is getting worse. And who knows when the next time one of us will need help getting over an infection.”

She swallowed hard and stared at her fork.

Mason reached across the table and grasped her hand. “We’ll get more. Don’t worry.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s not my biggest worry, Mason. What if you two get hurt?”

“Beth, we discussed and settled this. We’ll be careful.”

She shook her head and looked out the window. “I know you’ll try.”

“Dad, where are we going tonight?”

“We’ll check out the CVS by Whole Foods and the Rite-Aid by Ralphs. Looters have probably hit them by now, but we’ll see what we can find.”

“Won’t that make us looters, too?”

“Maybe. We wouldn’t take anything by force, but if there are supplies to be had, we’ll need them.”

The people surrounding the table went quiet.

And then the sound of a gunshot jolted them into action.

Mason shoved the seat back and drew the holstered Glock 19 tucked inside his waistband in one fluid motion. He was headed for the front window before the others at the table had managed to stand. “Beth, you’re armed.”

It was a statement, not a question. He’d convinced her of the necessity. The statement was more a reminder of the severity of the situation.

“Get everyone in the kitchen.”

A chair squealed across the wood floor as Beth dragged someone to their feet, probably Iridia. “Let’s go,” she said.

Mason chamber-checked his pistol and verified it was hot as he edged up next to the large front window. He inched the heavy curtains open enough to get a view of the yard and beyond.

Across the street, half a dozen armed men stood on Mr. Raybury’s porch. The front door was open and they all yelled over each other into the darkened interior. Mason had no doubts about what this ragged band was up to.

Looters.

A man with a thick beard appeared in the doorway dragging the elderly Mr. Raybury behind him and then shoved him onto the grass. Before Mason could formulate a plan to help, the bearded man drew a pistol from behind his back, placed the muzzle to Mr. Raybury’s forehead, and squeezed the trigger.

A sick feeling slammed Mason in the gut.

All the men circled around the body and laughed, pumping extra rounds into the corpse.

Sons of bitches. Mason ached to hurt them. To make them feel what they made others feel. His mind warred with itself, the desire for action wrestling with the need to protect those in his charge.

The bearded man screamed something lost in the hail of gunfire. He shouted again and the men stopped firing.
 

“Save your bullets, you idiots! They don’t grow on trees!” He pointed toward the house and three men disappeared inside. They returned a few minutes later with bags filled with whatever goods they’d deemed worth stealing. One of the bigger men grabbed for a bag and tried to yank it away from an exiting invader. The smaller man charged his assailant and both men ended up rolling around on the ground, throwing wild punches and swearing to kill each other.