Look Away: an apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... series Book 5)

by B. R. Paulson

  Nothing else would fit. She’d have to either get another bag or empty this one, if she wanted to drag anything else with her.

  Lifting her head, Kelsey yawned. “Don’t do what?” She stopped, staring in disbelief at Margie as if Margie standing there with her shoes and coat on, and bag packed within a centimeter of its stitching was a mirage. “Don’t do what, Margie?” She rubbed at her ear as if she was certain she’d heard wrong.

  Setting her jaw, Margie pointed toward Kelsey’s feet. “Don’t take off your shoes. Get finished packing. We’re leaving tonight.” She didn’t offer an option as she swung her bag off the cot and set it beside the back door. Turning toward Kelsey, Margie narrowed her eyes. Why was Kelsey just sitting there? Margie had stepped out of bounds and taken on the leadership role, but she had to. Kelsey passively existed. She wouldn’t do anything and Margie had to move.

  Spluttering, Kelsey shook her head and then paused long enough to narrow her eyes. “We’re what? Leaving tonight? We already decided to leave tomorrow.” Confusion furrowed Kelsey’s brow as she blinked heavily at Margie. “You don’t understand what’s going on out there. I can’t believe you think we can just make a decision like that. No, that you can make that decision.”

  Inhaling long and slow, Margie gathered her patience around her. She didn’t need Kelsey. She needed her car, but did she need it that badly? “You decided on tomorrow, but think about it, Kelsey.” Margie pointed toward the front which was already under attack. “Why do they only come at night? Something isn’t right. I think there’s more to worry about during the day and if we wait around here to find out, we might not make it. They want to keep you from something, but I’m not sure why just you. You’re one person.” There was no logic reason for those men to target the convenience store, unless it was simply in search of fun.

  “We need those gas tanks. They’ll see us leave. We won’t get out of here.” Panic widened Kelsey’s eyes and she scooted back on her rear, the whole cot moving backward with her. “Margie, I’m serious. You don’t know what these men are capable of.” She shook her head frantically, spittle catching at the corner of her mouth. “I can’t leave. You can’t leave without me. I have the car.” As if to make a point, she lifted her keys which jangled as they swung. Her features set as if she knew that was the bargaining piece, that’s what was keeping Margie there.

  Margie lifted her chin. “No, I’m not stuck here, Kelsey. They don’t scare me. Staying here scares me.” And so much more. She studied Kelsey again, inclining her head and lifting her hand toward the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? You’re all ready to go. It wouldn’t be hard. I think we can sneak out of here. The best case would be a distraction, but we don’t need that.”

  Kelsey clutched the base of her throat and shook her head, averting her gaze from Margie’s face. Was that shame holding her focus from facing Margie?

  There was nothing to be ashamed of. “I understand.” After a moment, Margie nodded, slowly. Okay. She was going to have to go by herself. Even as she’d lied to Kelsey about not being afraid, she had to lie to herself. She wasn’t scared… too much. Her hands shook and she wiped her damp palms on her thighs.

  But fear of being caught and killed wasn’t as high as her fear of staying stuck in the building with Kelsey. They would starve in there eventually. Margie couldn’t stay there. She didn’t want to be relegated to the cement confines of the convenience store. At what point would those men figure out they could ram into the store with their trucks? They couldn’t be stupid. They must have already figured that out. So what were they doing that they needed Kelsey inside the building? Margie wasn’t a private investigator but it didn’t take a detective to know when things didn’t add up.

  She nodded again at Kelsey, pulling her bag up to ride on her shoulder. The strap stretched across her chest and she pushed the bulk of the pack to ride on the curve of her lower back. “Thank you for taking me in and helping me. I really appreciate it. Good luck.” She didn’t bother holding onto the grudge or mentioning that if Kelsey had let Margie leave when she’d first asked, Margie could still be with her husband. He would still be alive. Margie wouldn’t have to sneak out of anywhere at night.

  Why force the issue when there were no absolutes? She couldn’t be sure that David would still be alive or even that they would still be in the car. She hadn’t had access to gas without Kelsey. One way or the other, her path was affected by Kelsey. Why bring up any of it?

  Kelsey had only done what she thought was best, just like Margie was only leaving because she believed it was best. Unfortunately, there was no way to know perfectly what the best way to go for anyone was.

  Margie just wanted to get back to her family and sitting there in the gas station store wasn’t helping her reach her goal. Arguing with Kelsey about when they were leaving wasn’t either.

  The back-storage room could have been empty for all the sound that came from either woman. Kelsey didn’t look at Margie which worked fine. Margie understood Kelsey came from a position of fear and not-knowing. Margie did as well, which only spurred her to action.

  She turned to the door, turning the knob quietly which triggered the lock to open. She knew once that door closed behind her, Kelsey would never let her back in.

  Fresh, cool air brushed across Margie’s face. She gripped the door knob and closed her eyes. What was she doing? Was she being stupid? If she left the safety of the cement walls, she’d be vulnerable to anything out there. She would be all alone and she wasn’t sure that was where she wanted to be. Had she set herself up to die a horrible death?

  No, she couldn’t think that way. She glanced back at Kelsey who had turned away from the escape route and huddled over her knees. Her debilitating fear scared Margie who couldn’t go back to the frozen immobility. She wouldn’t.

  Taking another deep breath, she didn’t say anything as she stepped through the doorway and slowed the door as it closed with a soft click behind her. Had that been loud enough for the men on the other side of the building to hear?

  Darkness closed in around her. She was blocked from the lights around front with the high wall. While the power was still on there weren’t a lot of lights on around the streets and store. Two parking lot lights glowed close to the rear of the store lot, close to the gas station. The S, F, E, and Y were the only letters still lit in the store name at the front of the store and there were no lights glowing from the inside.

  The moon cast an eerie shadow that seemed to contradict the angle of the large lights casting their own shadows. At least it wasn’t cold enough she could see her breath. That would have made things harder than they had to be.

  Margie crept cautiously toward the back of the fenced in area along the dumpster and the hidden car of Kelsey’s. A large gray boat tarp had been thrown over the car with other trash thrown on top. Kelsey was good at camouflaging her car. Too bad camouflage would only get her so far.

  The harsh scrape of Margie’s hiking boot on a rock across the blacktop increased her pulse and she struggled to calm her breathing. If she left the protection of the back yard, she’d be out in the open. Every step pushed her further out to a more vulnerable position. Her breathing was loud in the outside silence.

  When was the last time she’d snuck around in the dark? She pushed her rear end to the cold cement wall that kept the back area out of view from the parking lot of the grocery store. She looked around the edge again, gathering as much information as she could before ducking back to her position behind the wall.

  The duffle bag wasn’t the most practical. A backpack would be easier to carry, but she didn’t have any other options at that point in time. Plus, the duffle bag held more, and as irritating as it was right then, she’d be thankful for something in that bag in the near future.

  She tried to catch her breath. Had she really gotten that out of shape? She couldn’t breathe normally after just a few feet of anxious actions?

  Get your act together, Marg.
She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she slowed down her intake to calm down. What was her plan? She needed to find a car. At that point, stockpiling gas wasn’t an option. She probably wouldn’t even be able to load up on gas since Kelsey controlled that and anyone who approached the store at night was supposedly killed. Not that she doubted Kelsey’s account, just that she hadn’t seen anything since she’d arrived. Plus, part of her didn’t want to accept that being out after dark had become the same as a death warrant.

  The cars seemed to be stuck out front, by the gas pumps or within view of the pumps and anyone around them.

  Judging by the position of the trees and the field, Margie could crawl or walk hunched over along the perimeter and then dart into the store without being seen. Hopefully. She glanced at the bag, cringing at the reflective lime green stripes racing along the edges. They picked up the moonlight and shone like flashlights. Maybe no one would notice. She could carry it on the side closest to the trees. She didn’t have any other choice.

  Was all of this worth the chance? Did she really need anything in the store? Not at that point. But that wasn’t the only reason to head that way. Getting as far from the front of the store as possible was the best way to get away from the danger. She didn’t know what lay behind the stores and further into the trees, but she knew what was in front. Nothing good.

  If she could get a car, maybe she could get gas cans to siphon gas and fill. Maybe not. In order to siphon gas, she needed more cars and finding one car was going to be hard enough.

  Shaking off the necessity to get into the store, she changed her plan. Find a car. That had to be her main goal. Even if she could get a car and it had enough gas to get her to the next town, she would take it. If she couldn’t find a car, then she would have to start making her way by foot. Would that be so bad? Probably not. She could stay along the freeway and just stay away from people – if there were any people around or alive to stay away from.

  Either way – with a car or without – she had to get away from that gas station.

  As she ducked to readjust the bag a hulking silhouette caught the corner of her eyes. The shape of a car hid in the shadows of the other side of the parking lot, near the back. The mass was barely discernible in the far-reaching light from the parking lot.

  If that car didn’t pan out, she’d start walking. There had to be something behind the store, even if it was only a way to travel along the freeway.

  Getting into position, she rounded the side of the wall and rushed to the grassy area along the trees. The long damp stalks of bent, dead grass brushed against her jeans, clinging for brief seconds to her legs. Ducking in and among the trunks, Margie switched her gaze between the lighted area and as much as she could see of the ground where she stepped. She reached out from tree to tree, softly scratching her palms with the rough bark, not painfully, but so that she knew she was still on the right path.

  What couldn’t have been more than a hundred yards or so felt like a mile with the slow pace and her difficulty seeing. She tripped, catching herself on a trunk with her shoulder. Her bag slammed to the ground, the metal in the bag clanging together. Margie froze, waiting for her nerves to settle down. Had anyone heard? What was she doing? Was she going to get out of there alive?

  Somehow, she forced herself to keep going, inhaling through her nose and absently marveling at the pine scent that was strong in the evening air. Would she be able to associate pine with anything but fear again?

  Margie reached the car and slumped against it, her breathing rapid and shallow. She closed her eyes, her chest heaving up and down. Did she try to get inside and start the car? Or did she give up and lie down and die right there?

  With how hard her heart was pounding, she could see herself just giving up. Was surviving worth it when it came at such an effort? She placed her hands on the chilly metal paneling and hung her head forward. The car was real. She had to make the decision that survival was worth it and quit questioning. That’s all she’d done since she’d started on this adventure. She’d questioned if anything was worth it.

  That wasn’t the attitude to have. She had to decide and decide right now. If she chose that it wasn’t, then she could sit down right there and not go on any further. She could die, just give up. Or… Or she could choose to survive, but if she did that she had to shut up about it, quit questioning her decision no matter how hard it got.

  Setting her jaw, Margie pivoted on her heels, still in the squatting position. She pulled on the door handle. When the door didn’t open she almost laughed out loud with a bark. Great. Locked. Did towns like Easton really require you to lock your car? In this instance, it was probably the best thing for the car owner – who was most likely dead. In most small towns you didn’t have to lock your cars or your front doors. Everyone trusted each other.

  She stood in the dark, taking the chance that she wouldn’t be seen. Staring at the door to see if the lock was up on the other side or if a window had been left open, she pressed her lips together and huffed.

  Kaboom!

  An explosion rent through the air from the direction of the gas station, freezing time for a split second and filling it with bright orange, red, hot white, and a dark, inky black cloud that knocked Margie to the ground.

  The back of her head throbbed and she blinked at the sudden headache rippling toward her forehead. She touched her crown, wincing at the slight moisture on her fingertips. The roaring of the explosion faded to a crackling and Margie rolled to her side, groaning as she rolled to her side.

  Was Kelsey okay? What had happened? That kind of explosion could only have come from the gas station. There weren’t enough cars around and the last Margie had heard, cars didn’t just spontaneously combust.

  Margie shifted herself to her elbows and stopped moving at the sudden pressure of a gun muzzle against her scalp.

  Chapter 10

  Jackson

  “Open up. We know you’re in there.” Rough voices scratched through Jackson’s subconscious. He turned his head to the side, opening his eyes and staring at the dust ruffle of the motel bed. As he breathed in and out, little dust bunnies moved across the floor in front of him. He blinked at the subtle movement, trying not to move more than he had to.

  Pounding and the scratch of something at the lock pulled him completely from the realm of painfilled sleep he’d been trapped in. Wait, was someone really there? The lock wouldn’t hold them for long. If they really wanted in they could break the glass to the window. Why would they want in? He didn’t want in. Maybe they could come in and take him out with them.

  The pain didn’t leave with the vestiges of rest. He forced his aching joints to work, pushed his jelly-feeling muscles to do something, even as he struggled to breathe. Was his diaphragm paralyzed as well? He had to agree with whoever might think he was a sick bastard. That toxin had been brutal and he’d been pretty twisted to add it to the arsenal in his war against the world.

  Pride would swell in his chest, if he wasn’t in so much pain. His own mistakes would keep him humble.

  As the pounding continued, Jackson watched the door, the panel expanding and retracting with each hit. He couldn’t stand, just edge himself further past the feet of the bed so he could watch the door and crawl out of the pile of vomit he’d fallen into earlier. He hoped it was his vomit. With how often Dr. Phil had come around, Jackson wasn’t sure what was his and what wasn’t.

  Was he hallucinating? He couldn’t be sure. The voices were familiar, but he’d been there long enough that those cowboys should be dead, or almost. There was a twinge of his brother’s voice in the roll of the R, but his brothers were dead. He was certain of it. He’d watched one shoot them all and then himself.

  At least, he thought he had.

  Jackson glanced at the television. His only “tell” since the toxins had started to work on him. Dr. Phil was decidedly absent. He rubbed his thumb across his chapped lower lip. The skin was rough and sore, but ev
erything hurt. He was having a hard time differentiating what was pain from the toxins and what was actually pain from whatever he’d been doing.

  If Dr. Phil wasn’t there and he could hear other people, maybe his hallucinations were gone. Maybe he could go out there and see what those men wanted. They couldn’t have good intentions. No one had good intentions anymore. Even Jackson didn’t need his cynicism to have that be true.

  Would he be able to stand? He pushed his face into the carpet, moving his legs before he attempted to do anything with his arms. He moved his backside upward and dragged his legs forward, finally using his elbows to push himself up. Somehow, he made it to his knees, leaning his arms and bracing himself on the edge of the bed.

  If he could make it that far, he could get to his feet. Grunting, he forced himself to ignore the nausea and the pain and he stood, brushing off his bare thighs with slow movements. He glanced down at his muscular legs that looked pale and weaker than usual. When had he taken off his pants? As if by magic, they appeared on his legs and he stared as his shoes wound themselves onto his feet.

  That wasn’t normal. There was nothing normal about that.

  He touched his legs again, but found the sensation of skin against his touch. Not denim. His pants weren’t there or they were. So, either he could see them but he couldn’t feel them, or they weren’t there and he could feel their absence but see them. Oh, just thinking about the options brought his hands to either side of his head and he moaned again.

  Okay, worst case scenario – which was worse? Seeing something that wasn’t there or not feeling something that was?