180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 4 - 6

by B. R. Paulson

  Bailey tucked the gun into the holster her mom had given her and leaned forward. The small baby had a slight tuft of dark hair and small lips. She didn’t seem to mind being talked about or carried around as she slept peacefully. “She’s so cute.” Bailey leaned closer to see the small infant, conscious of the fact that Jason smelled like Axe deodorant. That’s what she would think of the end of the world smelled like.

  “Yeah, she’s like two days old. We rescued her.” His pride resonated inside Bailey.

  She hadn’t done anything because her mother had kept her locked in the house because she was afraid of exposing Bailey. Well, who cared? Who wanted to live while the rest of the world was dying?

  “I’m Jason. Do you want to hold her…” He tilted his face forward as he waited for her name.

  “I’m Bailey. Can I hold her?” Was there a rule she wasn’t aware of about holding brand new babies? If her mom were there, she’d have some kind of a rule. In case Cady showed up, Bailey reached for the baby before Cady could say no. Bailey didn’t care if there was a rule, as Jason transferred the baby into her arms. “Ooooh, she’s so little.” Bailey cooed, completely taken with the small girl.

  She tried not to stare at Jason who had definitely grown even more attractive in the last few seconds since he’d shared the baby with her. Ducking, Bailey breathed in the baby smell and kissed the smooth forehead. “She’s just perfect.”

  “Yeah. I think so, too.” Jason beamed at his cousin. He crossed his arms and watched Bailey with the baby. He wouldn’t need long before his frame would fill out and he’d resemble Scott even more.

  Yelling from the house reached them and Jason maneuvered himself in front of Bailey and the baby as if he would save them from a fate worse than death.

  Bailey glanced up at him, grateful for his protective stance.

  Worry furrowed his brow. Jason cocked his head to the side as he tried seeing her and the door and window. “Something is going on. Why are you out here?”

  “We came over to drop off baby stuff Scott asked my mom to get. Mom sent me out here when we heard someone in Scott’s place. I heard a gunshot and now here you are.” She looked out the window and then back at him. “Did you hear the gunshot?”

  “Yeah, it’s why Scott sent me out here with Jessica.” Jason craned his neck, pushing her back away from the door. “Someone’s coming.” Jason lowered his volume, keeping his words to a whisper as he backed Bailey further into the coop.

  As they got closer, Scott and Cady’s voices became more recognizable. While their words were hard to distinguish, they didn’t need to be announced as their voices carried ahead of them.

  Jerking the door open, Cady stormed into the small building, jerking her gaze from Jason to Bailey. She shook her head as she slouched back, a half-sob on her lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Scott grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “It’s okay. This is going to be okay. Being sick doesn’t guarantee anything. They’re all young. They’re going to be fine. I have to believe that. Tell me you believe that, Cady.”

  Cady shook her head, her eyes tearing up. “No. You don’t understand.”

  Enough was enough. They were acting like the world was burning. “What is the big deal?” Bailey blurted out. “I had the vaccine, you all should be upset about you. I’m fine.” She directed her gaze at the baby, brushing the smooth cheek with her forefinger.

  Bailey wasn’t worried about herself. She clung to Scott’s words though as she looked down at the baby. Hopefully, Jason, the baby, Cady, and Scott would get over the virus. They were healthy. She had to hold onto that.

  Scott turned an aghast expression toward Cady, his hands still gripping her arms but in confusion. “What vaccine?”

  Bailey’s eyes widened as she watched her mother’s mouth fall open and her gaze rove the coop as if the answer lay somewhere inside. What had Bailey done? She hadn’t known it was a secret.

  Cady kept her knowledge tightly to her chest. She’d never told Bailey to keep anything to herself. She’d probably assumed Bailey wouldn’t get a chance to say anything to anyone since you had to be around people to talk to them.

  Now the secret was out.

  Bailey wasn’t sure what that meant, but judging by the incrimination on Scott’s face, it wasn’t a good thing.

  Just what had Bailey done?

  Chapter 9

  David

  David’s wife was one of the most stubbornly optimistic women he’d ever met. Margie had an insatiable need to make sure everything was easy for everyone but herself. She was the only person he knew who would push herself to drag a mortally sick man with her to survive the apocalypse.

  At that point, he was more like an anchor she was dragging through the pavement than anything else.

  The pain had blurred most of their trip.

  David couldn’t figure out why he’d let Margie talk him into going away from home when he just wanted to sit on the veranda and watch the deer eat from the deer feeder he had set up at the end of the yard. There was one spike David had been watching grow over the last few seasons. He wanted to see if he got a bigger rack on him this year.

  Somehow David had survived escaping the ship. That was hell in and of itself. Making it off the lifeboat and onto solid ground had given him a renewed burst of energy, until they’d had to sit in that small rickety car.

  Then the men, with their rough voices and their estimations that David was pretty much dead already. He hadn’t needed that. Margie hadn’t needed that. She’d squeezed his fingers so tightly, David had almost cried out from the pain.

  Back in the Bug had been like Margie telling him to climb back into a torture chamber. The lack of suspension picked up every bump and line in the road. Even slight grooves became tracks the Bug couldn’t escape.

  His teeth had chattered from cold and irritation and David dipped in and out of consciousness. He just wanted to lay down.

  Honestly, he just wanted to die. At his last office visit, they’d assured him the tumors were growing. He would be lucky to survive the week. There he was, almost three weeks later and he was plugging along – barely surviving, but still breathing.

  And in more pain than he’d thought possible.

  Margie told him to stay there but where was there? David struggled to work through the pain and Ativan fog to open his eyes, but he ended up blinking wearily, just barely opening his eyes in a slit.

  His wife clutched the handle of a garish orange and yellow duffel bag, walking toward the gas station. She glanced side to side as if checking for danger, but her steps didn’t falter.

  David was slowing her down. He lolled his head to the side to stare out the window. They had stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t even sure where they were. A small collection of businesses that probably tried calling itself a town, but that was more or a less a stopping point between other towns. Maybe the rule was if you had a Burger Kind, you were a township.

  With the Bug’s engine off, the chill from the setting sun crept into the metal paneling and up along his legs. He hadn’t completely dried off from the rain whenever that had been and the chill latched onto the damp material, making it more like razorblades cutting at his flesh whenever he moved.

  The cold ran up and down his skin but he’d been in a fevery daze for so long he wasn’t sure what was a real temperature and what was fever induced. When he and Margie had talked about the end coming, they’d never planned on him being shackled with cancer and a weak immune system. How did you bugout with those conditions?

  You didn’t. Margie had to get back to Cady’s. That was obvious. The sooner the better. She wouldn’t be able to get there, while lugging David alongside her.

  She was also the most stubborn woman… he loved her so much. She’d never willingly leave him behind. No… he had to make the decisions. He would never be able to convince her to leave him, either.

  David blink
ed hard, trying to remember what it was Margie had said, something about being right back. How much time did he have left before she returned?

  He swallowed past raw pain in his throat. Everything hurt and he had the awful sensation that he’d wet himself while he’d rested. He didn’t want to continue on like that. What kind of a life was he living? What kind of an existence was he dooming Margie to? If she did stay with him, she’d get sick and stuck. She had to move faster, get back to their daughter’s home before Margie got sick. It was only a matter of time.

  He was limited with what he could do. He had to pull himself together long enough to think up a plan and it had to be fast. She’d be back… he wasn’t sure when or even how much time had passed. His weakness was going to be his biggest frustration.

  When Margie had been digging around for keys at the shore, David had seen a gun in the glovebox. A gun. The glovebox was only inches from him.

  That seemed like a year ago. She’d stopped at the storage office, muttering something about getting him into a comfortable motorhome. Maybe if he hadn’t been with her, she would have just kept driving and wouldn’t have been in danger of getting caught by the men with guns. Maybe she wouldn’t be so stressed out and she’d be able to travel faster, get to safety faster.

  There was no maybe about it. The certainty was, David was holding her back. He would be the reason she died. Him. Not Margie.

  He glanced at the mirror-like windows of the store and wished he could see her one last time.

  David wasn’t stupid. He was dying. There was no other outcome for him. The only thing that he had any control over was when.

  Chapter 10

  Margie

  Margie had gone against everything her gut had told her and now a lock had clicked into place on the door behind her. If everything wasn’t so time-sensitive and dangerous, she was tempted to sit on the cold linoleum and cry.

  She spun on her heel, wincing as the orange bag slammed into her hip. Why hadn’t she paid attention to her instincts? She’d known better. She could have siphoned gas from one of the cars along the street. She could have done something… anything, but walk into that gas station.

  David was going to suffer for her decision. He would get cold and when his pain spiked, he wouldn’t have the medicine because Margie had it in her bag.

  Pushing on the door, she shook her head. “No, no, no!” Her voice rose with each word, yelling at the end. The time for worrying about causing a scene was long gone. In about two seconds, she was going to start throwing a fit. Out of the tinted glass she could just barely see David’s shape in the windshield. He was all by himself and she was trapped in that store.

  The bag slid down her arm as she flattened her palms and slapped the door, kicking at the bottom frame and pushing with all of her weight to get out. “Let me out! David! I’m coming, David!” She scanned the wall of glass for a weak spot. She didn’t even care if someone was in there – which there would be, if the lock had slid into place. As far as Margie cared, though, they could shove their lock where the sun wouldn’t shine.

  Her goal was David, taking care of David, and nothing was going to get in her way – certainly not a gas station glass door. She glared, gritting her teeth, and then kicking the bottom of the door as hard as she could.

  How could the car be only ten yards from her? It might as well have been five miles for all the good it did her. David must be so scared. She paused in her rampage on the door to touch the glass. Yep, it was getting colder. He wasn’t just getting scared, he was getting cold and she was standing in there and not helping him!

  “Hey, you done?” A woman’s surprised voice pulled Margie from her panic.

  She’d been so upset with her cage, she’d ignored her captor. Get rid of the captor and she could get out. Margie whirled, slamming her back against the glass. She narrowed her eyes as she took in the woman’s appearance. She had to find a weakness and fast.

  A hand on her hip and a triple pierced eyebrow arched high, the cashier’s pink and green Mohawk was from a decade different than the crows’ feet beside her eyes and the sagging skin of her jowls. She was a heavy woman with one arm decorated in a complete sleeve tattoo and the other only three-quarters finished with the outline of a fish wrapping her wrist.

  Pointing toward the front, the woman spoke again, flashes of silver coming from her mouth. A sign she’d pierced her tongue as well as many other pieces of metal sticking from the cartilage in her ears, her lower lip, and her nose. “You won’t want to go out there. It’s almost dark.” The woman shrugged, her expression softening. “It’s not safe after dark anymore. Something I never thought I’d say in Easton.” Her smile was kind, but unrelenting.

  Margie just wanted to breathe. She needed to get back to David. He was helpless without her. She couldn’t breathe fully until she sat beside him in the car again, or had him in the store beside her. “Why did you lock me in here? I need to get out.” She waved her hand in front of her a moment. “Thank you for the warning. I have to get out there. My husband is sick. He’s in the car. Please, I need to get out to him.” Why hadn’t the woman unlocked the door yet? Didn’t she see how urgent things were?

  The woman moved closer to Margie, her name tag defining her as Kelsey. The vanilla name didn’t fit the spicy exterior. She pointed at the Bug sitting at the pump. “Your man’s as good as dead, if he’s sick.” She tugged at the blue uniform shirt with the logo of the gas station on the left breast. “I pulled you in here to save you. You should have brought him with you.”

  “He’s too sick. You don’t understand. I don’t care if he’s as good as dead. I need to take care of him until he dies.” Margie didn’t even try to blink back the tears streaming from her eyes. Maybe appealing to Kelsey’s humanity side was the way to get out of the store. “Were you sick?”

  Kelsey shook her head, the Mohawk wobbling at the top. “Nah, I haven’t gotten it, yet. But I amp up on immunity boosters. I’ve been exposed a lot. You wouldn’t believe…” She pressed her lips into a thin line, diverting her attention back to the lot and the darkening night.

  “What happens after dark?” Margie half-turned, her shoulder absorbing the chill of the glass. The sun dipped below the mountain base, but the light wasn’t completely gone. She needed to get to David. He would be cold and probably in pain. He wouldn’t understand where she’d gone.

  Kelsey sighed, stepping closer to Margie. “Looters or something. I’m not sure what to call them. A gang of men come over from Cle Elum ‘bout every night, like they’re on some kind of schedule or route. They kill the people getting gas off the freeway all up and down I90. There are more people trying to get home, more than you’d think.” She studied Margie, curiosity knitting her eyebrows together. “Have you been sick?”

  “Not yet.” Margie couldn’t give up. “Can I gas up and get out of here? My husband… Please…” She wasn’t going to give up, no matter how friendly the woman was or how much information she had. Being locked inside negated any good feelings Margie might have for the woman.

  Regret dimmed Kelsey’s expression. “I’m saving you, trust me. They come without warning.” Kelsey reached out and patted Margie’s shoulder.

  Margie jerked away. “But David…” Margie would beg Kelsey to get out there, if she needed to. She would do whatever it took. She wasn’t averse to humility.

  Kelsey tightened her features. “I mean it, lady. It’s not good. I’m only allowed to stay in here because I’m like bait to them. Plus, they can’t get to us in here. If you don’t want to watch, you can rest in the back.” Kelsey’s sympathy reached her eyes and she shook her head. “I’m really sorry.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I need to save my husband. I’m all he has.” Margie’s shoulders shook as she jerked from Kelsey, slapping her hand on the glass again, the panel shaking with each slam. “He can’t die alone. He just can’t.” Margie wouldn’t wish that kind of a death on anyone, especially David. Death was exactly what he was faci
ng as the temperature dropped.

  Kelsey studied Margie as if searching for some kind of a secret. After a moment, she nodded slowly and pushed her lips together. “Okay, I’ll unlock the door for ten seconds. But you need to understand that this is all on you. I might not be able to let you back in. I’ll turn on the pump, but you won’t have long. You understand me, right?” Kelsey ducked her head, her brow furrowed. She muttered something to herself as she turned from Margie toward the counter.

  “Thank you, so much. I completely understand.” Margie faced the door, pressing her hands against the bar as she waited for Kelsey to reach the locking system. The grate of metal would be her signal to run out.

  She stared out at the Bug, waiting for the click of the lock. Come on, come on. Hold on, David, I’m coming.

  Instead of the lock sounds, the crack of a gunshot came from the direction of the Bug. David’s silhouette slumped to the side.

  Pressing her hands to the window, Margie screamed, inspecting the scene to figure out what exactly had happened.

  Her screams didn’t stop as she dropped slowly to her knees, but they faded as her throat strained against her disbelief. After a moment, she closed her mouth, realizing that the sound was only in her head. Her chest shook as she sobbed silently.

  Her husband had killed himself. He’d left her there to do everything alone. At least when he’d been alive, even though he was a lot of work, he’d been with her – she hadn’t been alone.

  David had broken her heart. She was supposed to have more time with him. What about getting back to Cady’s? What about…

  He hadn’t even said goodbye.

  Chapter 11

  Jackson

  As if he didn’t have a care in the world, Jackson finished two more laps, then pulled himself from the pool using the rungs of the ladder on the far side of the water. He roostered his chest, throwing back his shoulders and shaking water droplets from his hair.