Bailey’s birthday was in a few days. Cady hadn’t gotten her anything. At that point, Cady just hoped she would be healthy enough to wish her daughter happy birthday. There were so many things running through Cady’s mind, she couldn’t focus on any one thing.
The answering machine clicked on, Cady’s college welcome message echoing loudly around the lower level.
With the baby still in her arms, Cady jumped up, rushing to turn down the volume. She picked up the phone to answer without waiting to find out how it was. She had nothing to worry about since telemarketers would be sick as well.
“Hello?” Cady turned from the dining room and faced the kitchen. Hopefully her mom was calling. Cady was so worried she’d blocked the problem from her thoughts.
“Cady? It’s Beth. I… I’m so glad you’re there.” Her friend’s voice sounded far off with a staticky overlay. Had reception gotten that bad? Only that morning Scott’s phone call had been barely received. If Beth was calling, she’d still be on her cell.
Bailey appeared at Cady’s side, offering to take the baby with hand motions. Cady transferred her to her daughter’s arms and turned back to the counter. “Beth, you’re alive.” Cady’s happiness drowned out the soft conversation at the table. She slid onto the stool and stared at the center of the counter, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. “I’m so glad. How are you?”
“Barely alive. I… S.J. died… right here. I’m staring at his body, Cady. Livvie… she wants the Cure, but I’m too scared to go get it.” Her voice broke on a sob. “You have no idea… it’s horrible.”
Cady’s back stiffened. “Beth, listen very carefully to me. Do not use the Cure. It’s bad news. I think it makes you crazy or something. It might even make you kill yourself. Just stay away from it.” She ignored the announcement that Beth’s son was dead. If Beth didn’t listen to Cady, she would watch her other two children die as well.
Cady didn’t need to point out that things were only going to get worse.
“That makes sense. My neighbors… it’s getting bad out there.” Beth’s voice broke up and when she came back, her words had a slight tick in them like spaces were being taken out as she talked.
Cady raised her voice slightly. “Have you gotten it?” They both knew what it was.
“Not yet. I’ve… elderberry syrup. You?” Beth’s voice broke up again. The silence claiming a section of her words.
The lifeline between Cady and Beth was tenuous and Cady didn’t want it to snap. “I was just exposed today. Do you need anything? What can I do for you? Can I come get you?” No point avoiding the germs now. Cady might as well load her house up.
Beth seemed to have lost all hope as her voice fell flat. “No. I still have two kids alive. I can’t leave them.” Yet hung in the air as she paused.
Cady scrunched her nose, attempting to keep her sadness in. She didn’t want to cry, but Beth had to watch her children die and there was nothing she could do to help her.
Cady had saved herself that. She’d given the vaccine to Bailey and she didn’t have to watch her only daughter die in front of her. Her decision was validated to protect Bailey. Even if Beth hadn’t meant to, she’d taken away every doubt Cady had about her decision to act.
S.J. hadn’t survived the sickness. He hadn’t had the Cure and he’d still died. A healthy young man and he’d been unable to fight the disease. His death took a lot of Cady’s hope and squashed it.
Cady lowered her voice, trying not to share how sad for her friend she truly was. “The power will go out soon. I’m not sure if the weather we have is actually spring moving in, or if we’re going to get a late winter cold snap. If it gets cold, use that rocket stove I made you.” Cady lowered her eyes to her hand twisting the cord. “People aren’t themselves. Beth, be careful of looters. They’re going to be ruthless.”
“They need to be careful of me.” Something ferocious negated the humor in her words as she spoke.
Cady had no doubt that if left with a spoon and no other weapons, Beth would carve out the hearts of anyone trying to harm her or her children. That’s just the way she was – except when it came to her husband, Steven. “I absolutely would bet on you. Stay alive, lady.”
They hung up and Cady realized Beth hadn’t mentioned her husband. Just as Cady hadn’t mentioned Zach.
In fact, there had been no mention of goodbye.
Chapter 18
Margie
The shooting and carrying on at the gas station didn’t stop, even as Margie and Kelsey settled onto their cots. Kelsey handed Margie a thin wool blanket that was surprisingly warmer than it looked.
Even through the concrete walls, Margie could hear the revving of engines, the repeated blasts of gun fire, and yelling. “How long will they do this?” She was emotionally exhausted and the constant barrage wore on her emotions. She didn’t want to think about what they might have done to the Bug or David’s body.
“Usually they’re gone by now, but they must know there’s someone new in here. Maybe they’re going to try to get in. I don’t know.” Kelsey’s sounded resolved to whatever was going to happen. She didn’t seem overly worried since they were barricaded inside a secured building.
Rolling to her side, Margie studied Kelsey’s silhouette in the flashing headlights that filled the store with light every few seconds. “When do you think we can leave?” She couldn’t imagine staying there longer than absolutely necessary. If she could, she would have left when Kelsey was going to let her out, if David hadn’t killed himself.
Now she had to find something to give her drive again. She needed a purpose, a goal, and getting back to Cady would have to be enough.
“Well, like I said, we can’t leave for a day or two.” The cot Kelsey was on creaked as she shifted to face Margie. She adjusted her blanket, the tips of her mohawk bobbing toward the ground as she jerked her arms around.
Margie tightened her jaw. “Yeah, that would make sense. Give those men a little more time to get sick.” At least most of them. “The longer we wait though, the more chance we have of getting sick ourselves.” Margie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t succumbed to the illness yet. She had to figure out what the driving force was behind the virus. If she could help figure out the virus’s weakness, maybe she could figure out how to treat it. If nothing else, she might be able to survive it.
“Well, we haven’t gotten sick. I don’t think it’s smart to act like we will.” Kelsey huffed. “I mean, I don’t even feel like I’m getting sick.” She flopped onto her back, the cot creaking as she moved.
Margie wasn’t sure what would set Kelsey off. She spoke as calmly as possible. “Of course not, but we have to plan like we will or could. I believe in the whole ‘mind over matter’ concept, but I also believe in reality. The odds are we will get sick. I’m not sure why we haven’t yet, but there’s no logical reason why we won’t. It’s not like a previous disease we’ve had…” Wait… or was it? Cady had said something about varicella. Could the virus act like the chickenpox? Once you had a major disease like that, you were less likely to have it a second time – at least at the same strength you’d had it before.
Kelsey and Margie hadn’t known each other before, so there was nothing between them that was acquaintance associated. Even their backgrounds were severely different as well as where they came from. Medical history would be the next ground to check for any commonality.
“What’s your health history? Like pretend I’m a doctor or a nurse that you’re visiting for the first time and I asked you for an oral history of your medical background. What would you say?” Margie closed her eyes to listen to Kelsey’s answer. She needed paper and a pen to take notes, but with no other distractions, this would have to do.
The woman thought for a moment and then replied, “I’ve had your standard partial vaccinations. I wasn’t run through the whole gamut of boosters and stuff because my dad said one was enough. I had chickenpox at four years old and measles at seven.” Kelsey laughed with
melancholy. “When I got the chickenpox, my mom called all the neighborhood moms and let them know I had the chickenpox. If they wanted to send their kids over to get exposed, they had to promise to help watch me during the summer while she worked her shift at the hotel. She even had a chart of IOUs.” Kelsey shook her head, fondness strong in her tone. “My mom pimped out my germs, man.”
Margie joined in the laughter and then waited for Kelsey to continue. “I’ve had multiple breaks in my arm, legs, and wrist. I broke some ribs when I went to that Woodstock revival thing. It sucked, by the way.” She cleared her throat and paused, thinking, then started up again. “Oh, I got my first bout of shingles when I was forty-one. Believe it or not. It’s impossible, I know, since I’ve turned twenty-nine for the last fifteen birthdays or so.”
Chuckling Margie quirked her eyebrow at the mention of the last disease. “Shingles?”
“Yeah, horrible buggers. I’m just getting over an attack now. That’s why I’ve been flooding my system with vitamin C and immunity boosters.” She waved her arm in the air above her side, the movement odd looking in the dark. “A whole section on my side. At least it wasn’t on my face this time. The last one hurt so bad.”
“I get them, too. I finished my most recent bout a few weeks ago. The stress from my husband’s cancer prognosis wore on me a long time.” Margie thought hard about what Kelsey and Margie had in common. Cady had mentioned varicella and shingles could be exactly what it was based off of, or, if not directly correlated, then shingles could be related. Could it be beneficial to have had shingles or the chickenpox? Would those antibodies help with the development of more or of the staving off of the worst parts of the disease?
Margie needed time to process the information, but she also needed to talk to someone who would be able to break down the scientific aspects of the virus and the antibody production process. Why hadn’t she thought of reaching out sooner? The medical mystery pulled her mind off David’s death and she finally grabbed onto the goal with psychotic intention. She half-sat up and glanced at Kelsey. “You wouldn’t happen to have a working landline here, would you?”
Chapter 19
D.C.
The phone rang as Tom Shilling rolled toward his wife. Her breathing had been labored the night before and he was glad to hear the rattling had stopped. The virus that was taking over the world had invaded their home as well, despite every precaution, and Tom was sick of the reports. It would be nice to get back to normal.
Except… Her breathing had stopped altogether. Tom had no idea when and his own chest heaved as he rolled back from her still form. Swallowing, he sat up, clamoring for the ringing phone with aching hands and creaking elbows. He licked his lips, his eyes dry. “Yes.” He forced himself to be who he had to be instead of the grieving husband he wanted to be.
“Mr. Vice-Presi… I’m sorry, I mean, Mr. President. I spoke with the head of the CDC facilities and their vaults are reportedly intact, sir. All diseases have been reported in-tank. None got out. There was a breach in the smallpox sector of the facility in Atlanta twelve years ago, but they thought they caught the suspect. They reported the incident to the last administration, who decided to continue working with Ebola development and ignore any mention of smallpox to avoid a panic. The information on the location of that missing tube is classified and I can’t get in. They were decidedly closed mouth about it. Those who were there. It could be possible, sir, that the people who know aren’t even… available anymore.” The Chief-of-Staff was pragmatic and goal-oriented, even in the face of such disaster. He’d been a top choice for his position and Tom was glad he’d been appointed.
Tom sighed, careful to pull the collar of his t-shirt softly over his neck. The rash had started three days before and the pox were getting heads. His wife’s pox had developed and burst in less than a day.
Tom dragged his legs to the edge of the bed and dropped his feet to the plush carpeted floor. “What about this Cure?” Was there any hope? He’d wanted to try it, but the advisory council had refused him access since the ointment may or may not be associated with the President’s death, and the Attorney General’s death, and the Prime Minister’s death in Great Britain.
The Chief-of-Staff was the last man standing as most of the American cabinet had gone MIA with the illness. He cleared his throat. “I would advise you not to take it, sir. There are concentrated toxins from urtica ferox with some genetic modification in the ointment. Mortality is stated at 98% so far. Those statistics are obviously skewed. We can’t get any reliable sources of information. There is also no way to warn people from using it, since there are so many who have reported its initial relief from the pain.” He paused, then asked softly, “How is your wife, sir?”
“Um, she’s… she’s not in pain anymore. Thank you.” Her loss would haunt Tom, but he had other things to worry about. The constant pain could be mind-altering. He understood the desperation for relief and the need to take whatever might offer even the slightest amount of relief. He clamped his eyes shut and then tiredly reopened them to face more. “What about international reports?”
“Well, sir, Europe is black. Australia is still online, but only at about thirty-five percent. They tested the ointment before it got through customs and refused it because of the urtica ferox toxin present.” Papers rustled in the background as he checked his notes.
Tom couldn’t even imagine touching paper right then. His nerves felt swollen and overly engaged. He licked his lips. “What is this urtica… what is it?”
“New Zealand pine needle, sir. I’m not going to lie. It’s pretty horrible. The stories I’ve been able to look up on the internet aren’t good.” He seemed to relish the research and the job of deducing how to minimize the loss and get the world back on its feet.
Tom lifted his gaze and stared at a fleur de lis pattern in the curtain to his bedroom window. His wife’s call since she decorated. “Is this Australia’s way of attacking us? Have they conducted World War Three without ever dropping a bomb or shooting a bullet? Did they send this out to devastate the world?” Tom swallowed, an act that was becoming increasingly harder to complete. He was too tired to even be truly upset at the Australian government. He sat beside his dead wife. The pox was taking over his body. He didn’t have much that he really cared about, but he was still enough of himself to try.
“I don’t believe so, sir. The Cure has a name of CJ180d part B. The virus might be part A. China has gone black, well, almost all of Asia has.” The sound of a more frantic rustling of papers in the background was accompanied by the scratching of a pen on the paper as he wrote. “Southern Africa, South America, and Mexico are partially out. So far, sir, about down to twenty percent… alive, but that number is dropping. I haven’t been able to get ahold of the Prime Minister or anyone in his cabinet from Canada. I’ll report as soon as I’m able.” The man was a good one, but even he sounded tired.
“Is there any way to survive it? What scientists are on this?” Tom didn’t even want to survive it. There wasn’t going to be much of a government to lead when all the population was dead or rogue. He wasn’t even on the history books as the last president of the United States because the people who made records of that kind of thing were dead or dying when he’d taken office. Only three people had sworn him in and it had been in the bathroom with his bathrobe on.
“Sir, there are no more scientists. They’re all dead.” The Chief-of-Staff had nothing left to report and his deadpan delivery of the worst punchline in the history of the United States lingered on the line.
“Understood.” Tom hung up without fanfare. What was the point in wasting their breath on things they already knew? The Chief-of-Staff would call if he had time, energy, and information.
Tom would answer, if he was still alive. They were just passing information along at that point. There was no one left to do anything with the information they did get. Tom couldn’t send the military anywhere. His legs were pulled out from under him and he had no power
to stand on.
He leaned back, laying his head on his pillow. Reaching across the short distance of their sheets, Tom touched his wife’s cold back with the knuckles of his hand. He closed his eyes. “I should be dead with you.”
The world had been begging for a reset. Someone had created the button and pushed it. Now the world had to deal with the consequences of what they’d wished for.
Chapter 20
Jackson
The town of Clinton loomed before Jackson as he barreled down the hill and onto the main street. Through the smallest downtown he’d ever seen which consisted of ten buildings and a motel on the end, Jackson couldn’t think about where he was running to just what he was running from.
The size of the town had been a positive trait that had pulled Jackson off the freeway, but had since turned into a negative aspect he wasn’t sure he’d survive. The size of the town would limit his options. He only had the small motel to lock himself into. Would he be able to get in a room? What exactly was he up against? How many people were already sick or dying? The office could very well be closed and Jackson needed a door he could lock. If he broke down the door, he’d never be able to relock it.
Sunlight sun worked its way down through the early morning. Heat wouldn’t be welcome since it would spread the ointment across his skin, even the smallest particles would leech into the fine lines and give the toxins more surface area to soak into.
Jackson controlled his breathing, but he wanted to run and gasp and jump into the river that ran parallel to the town’s oblong shape.
Quiet as if abandoned, the streets running away from the Main Street looked like alleyways with a random car left here or there. The lights were off in the buildings and even the business at the end, across from the motel, with its sign declaring it a saloon was completely dark. The windows had been smashed out and glass littered the walkway. A glimpse of a hand resting limply on the edge of the windowsill startled Jackson. That wasn’t what he’d expected.
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 4 - 6 Page 10
