In her office, she grabbed some notebooks and pencils, checking the phone for any other calls. Nothing. She would have to go another night not knowing where her parents were or if they were okay.
Back up in her room, she sat on the side of the bed and took notes on everything she could.
Everything was fuzzy. She had no idea what was killing who, but Rachel had been in so much pain she’d opted to die. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She’d killed herself because of more than just the pain of the sickness.
Cady had no idea just what the possibilities were that someone could survive the virus. She had no idea what the end symptoms were. But as she mapped what she knew, things became clearer, even if the treatment wasn’t.
The only definitive answer she could come up with was that the pain became so severe, the victims were desperate to escape it, desperate to do anything to stop it. Would she need her gun for her? Was that the way she would take it?
What about Scott? Was his pain debilitating yet? It was only a matter of time with the disease. Cady knew that. Scott knew that.
She had to check on him. She had to see for herself that he was okay, at least for the night. Opening her bedroom door, she crossed the few feet to his door and pushed the panel open, knocking softly as she entered. “Scott?”
The blinds had been closed. Scott had burrowed deep under the blankets she kept on the queen-sized bed. He sprawled across the center of the mattress. Thankfully, Cady had put the room in for when her parents visited. Scott’s jeans had been folded carefully and set on the wing-backed chair beside the bed as if he wasn’t sure where to put it. The edge of the pants hung off the seat with a lopsided look.
Cady shifted the pants further back on the chair and dragged it closer to the bed. She sat, folding her hands as she stared at him. The strong features of his face were pale and she longed to have the right to reach up and push his hair off his forehead.
She’d protected Bailey, but she’d failed to protect her mom and dad, her close friend, her sister-like friend, her neighbors, and so many other people. Scott was there, in her home, because she’d failed to warn anyone. He was sick. He’d lost his parents, his brothers, his sister, so many people.
Cady leaned forward, resting her forehead on her clasped hands. Her tears were silent and hot as they streaked down her cheeks. Did she deserve the chance to pray for forgiveness for things that in hindsight she should’ve done differently? She’d never looked closely at the probability of a God or other being out there, but as the world crashed down around her, she couldn’t deny that she longed for the comfort of something out there, something to put more faith into than the science that had turned its back on her.
After a moment, warm fingers wrapped around one of her hands. “Cady…” His voice rasped like gravel scraping together.
She looked up, wrapping her hand around his. Her tears didn’t stop flowing, even as she sniffed. Guilt weighed her down, and she couldn’t control the sob that broke free. “Scott, I…”
He seemed to summon some kind of strength from a preserve he hid deep inside. “Sh. Let me talk. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but this apocalypse drama keeps getting in the way.” His grin was wry and tired, like he was just trying to force humor into his eyes but he was failing. “I’m falling… No… I mean, I’ve fallen for you a long time ago. I’ve just always waited for the right time to tell you, plus, you know, your husband… and now, just when the chance actually arrives, I’m going to die through the right time. This is going to have to be the right time. I think I’m babbling.” He shifted his gaze to a spot above her head and licked his lips.
“You are babbling, but it’s sweet.” Cady’s eyes hurt from crying so much over the last few days and weeks. There had to be a limit for how much crying was survivable. She could see losing herself to dehydration than anything else. “No. We don’t want to end up sick and dying and confessing our feelings. That’s so cliché. We’re not cliché, okay?” Cady tried matching his attempts at humor, but she fell flatter than his attempts did and that scared her. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen and her lack of knowledge left her with a sinking fear deep in her gut.
“Say you care about me.” His whisper was more demanding than any shout could be.
Cady nodded, blinking back more tears. “Of course, I do. There’s no question. But if you die on me? I’ll never forgive you.” She shook her head, biting her bottom lip and narrowing her eyes.
He chuckled. “I promise. I won’t die.” He weakly squeezed her hand as his breathing grew more ragged.
“Look at you, making promises you can’t keep.” Cady sniffed, already feeling mad at him for breaking his promise. Because he would die. She didn’t see any other way out of his fate.
Or any way out of hers.
“You’ll see. Just wait and see.” Scott released her fingers and sighed, turning his face away from her. He moved his legs, moaning at something only he felt.
Cady studied him, nodding after a moment. She stood, leaving him to his rest.
As Cady climbed into her own bed, careful not to jostle Jessica, she didn’t hear the answering machine click on in the kitchen all the way downstairs.
“Cady, it’s Mom. Shingles. It has something to do with shingles. I’m alive. I’ll try calling again tomorrow night… if we haven’t left by then. If you have the virus, or you’re getting it, try all of your treatments for shingles. I need to find some oils. Do whatever you can to stay alive. I’ll get to you. I love you.” The machine clicked when Margie hung up.
~~~
Everyone is trying to get to Cady and Cady is sure she’s going to die. Can anyone survive the virus? Find out in Look Away, book 5 180 Days and Counting… Series. Keep reading!
Dear Reader,
I can’t believe how far we’ve come so fast! I wash my hands after writing this book. I feel like I’m going to get the virus just from typing on my keyboard. Have you liked it so far? I’m completely emotionally invested in Cady and her family. There is so much coming and I’m scared for her. Let me know what you think and reviews mean so much! Please, leave one for any book you read. Even a short “I loved it” works. *wink*.
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Look Away
She couldn’t escape the virus.
Cady has nowhere left to turn as Scott has fallen ill and she’s following suit. Fighting the symptoms as long as possible, Cady is out of time.
Margie is making her way home to her daughter and granddaughter, but she’s on lockdown with certain death outside the convenience store and guaranteed insanity inside. Margie has to choose which is the less of two evils – which is more preferable to die?
With the virus terrorizing the population at the darkest levels, the flicker of hope left for the three generations of women fighting to stay alive fades to black.
Chapter 1
Cady
At least Mom was okay, even if the rest of the world had been run into the ground. Cady had nothing else to hold onto except the fact that her parents were still alive. She could hold onto her sanity if one person she loved was going to make it.
Cady balanced the cookie sheet she was using as a tray on her hand. She placed a cup of tea and a small container of honey beside a plate of eggs and a small bowl of oatmeal. She reached up into the medicine cabinet of her kitchen and grabbed two roll-on vials of helichrysum and ravintsara. Laying them on the napkin beside the plate on the sheet, Cady hoped she wouldn’t have to use them. They didn’t
hurt, she just didn’t want the rash they were supposed to treat.
The last thing she needed was a slice of aloe plant. She broke off a fat blade and rested it beside the vials on the napkin. Scars laced one large blade of the plant that sprouted from a five gallon bucket she kept healthy. If nothing else, she could at least offer skin care via plants and oils.
While Bailey and Jason still slept, Cady glanced out at the burgeoning spring morning.
Even as a deadly virus ravaged the world’s population, the sun was determined to make its presence known. Early morning rays broke through clouds and glistened off morning dew and still melting snow. Small puddles made themselves at home in the low parts of the yard and Cady could just glimpse green grass struggling to break through the dead, brown and damp grass from the last season.
She’d already let the chickens out and checked their food and water, as well as gathered their eggs. Almost fifty chickens allowed for a hefty collection of eggs both morning and night. She would clean the eggs and then dip them in wax for safe keeping. There was no way they would eat fifteen to twenty eggs a day. Even if they tried. Well, maybe Jason could. The teenage boy seemed to have a hollow leg with how much he ate.
Cady lowered the tray and continued staring outside. Every joint in her body had taken on an ache that throbbed. But Cady had to ignore them. Even the cramping and spasms in her back below her sacro-coccyx had taken on a personality all its own. As long as Cady denied the existence of the sickness, as long as she ignored it taking over her body, she would do fine. She would be able to avoid its toxic debilitation and continue on like she only had a headache.
Except… Cady had to know that wasn’t true. In the smallest, quietest, most honest part of her mind, she did, but even that part of her wouldn’t admit the truth. There was too much to be done.
Leaning forward, Cady grabbed the washcloth and wiped at the counter. Thinking back to that morning and when she’d gotten up to feed and change the baby Scott had brought home with him and his nephew, Cady had been able to get the newborn back to sleep. Laying back down in her own bed, she’d stared up at the ceiling, unable to go back to sleep herself.
How could she when she had no idea what was happening out there? No news, no reports, no calls from anyone.
Thankfully, Cady had wandered downstairs and paused at the blinking light on the message machine. Thinking about it now, Cady was glad she’d pressed play. She’d needed to hear that message.
Her mother’s voice had worked its way through Cady’s foggy mind. Two things that she focused on from the message – one, they were okay, Margie and David, Cady’s parents, and two, Margie had somehow tied the virus to shingles. Of course, that hadn’t been a stretch when Cady had left her numerous messages about the virus coming and that it was related to varicella viruses. Somehow though, Margie had pinpointed it to shingles. She’d admonished Cady to treat the sickness like shingles, if she and Bailey were still alive.
There was no caller ID attached to the call, so Cady couldn’t try calling Margie.
Treating the sickness like the shingles was easy to do. Cady could do that, but she wasn’t sure if those steps would be enough. She’d seen the effects of the virus. The illness and symptoms seemed to mess with the victims mentally – not just physically with the rash, fever, pox, and aches and pains. No, there was a mental psychosis that they seemed to fight with. Cady couldn’t figure out why. Maybe the pain level was so intense it drove a person slightly insane. Or maybe seeing so many people dying around them broke the victims in half.
Cady wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something to keep in mind as she got sicker and she treated Scott for a more advanced illness.
If all she could do, however, was treat the virus like shingles, then that’s what she would do. Whenever Cady got her shingles, she rubbed helichrysum and ravintsara on the rash and around the tingling skin. She also used aloe to soothe the itching burn. Vitamin C was usually the topper with plenty of rest. Ibuprofen and Tylenol never seemed to do anything, so she wouldn’t even attempt the more pharmaceutical medication.
That’s how she was going to have to treat Scott’s illness. She would have to touch him and he might take things the wrong way, or maybe they would be the right way, she wasn’t sure.
All Cady knew was that she had a lot riding on her and Scott getting through the virus, a relationship between them wasn’t at the top of the priority list. She would treat him the way Margie had instructed.
Then she would treat herself the same.
Cady knew she was infected. She wasn’t sure when the symptoms would start to manifest themselves, but if the aching joints were any indication, she would come down with it sooner rather than later. The incubation periods were inconsistent across the board. Where Jason had been exposed longer and in more concentrated amounts, Scott was the one to come down with it sooner as was Cady.
Hopefully Jason was able to avoid the mortal effects of the illness. Cady didn’t want her daughter to see even more people she cared about die.
She rinsed the washcloth and wrung it out, hanging it over the center divider between the sinks. Cady didn’t want to go upstairs and face her future. Scott was getting sick and fast. It was only a matter of hours or days before she was in his position and he was… dare she say, dead?
Shaking the negativity away was harder than she’d hoped. Grabbing the tray, Cady headed upstairs. She would take care of Scott the best she could until she couldn’t move anymore.
She didn’t want to lose herself in the virus, but she was afraid that if she didn’t, she might lose herself all together.
~~~
Cady allowed herself to fall into a routine over the next two days. She lulled herself into believing it was okay to feel achy and tired – she was helping with a newborn and a sick friend and apparently watching her teenage daughter flirt with a slightly older teenage boy.
Rather than focus on Bailey’s adolescent flirtation, Cady focused on Scott. He hadn’t left the bed in a while, except to go to the bathroom and even then, he needed help. He wouldn’t have left the bed otherwise. His pallor had worsened over the last forty-eight hours and his words slurred in random times. Cady couldn’t find a pattern or cause for it.
Bringing up Scott’s next treatment, Cady knocked on his door and pushed inside. As Cady entered, she stopped, smiling at Scott sitting up on the bed. A light sensation of relief flooded her chest, opening her up and making it easier for her to breathe. She had hope. He was looking better. She swallowed past the scratching in her throat and forced a cheerful tone. “You’re feeling better? That’s great! That says a lot about essential oils.” Cady’s hope was revived as she rested the constantly refilled tray on the nightstand beside the bed and turned to face him.
She paused, studying the dim look in his eyes. Worry twisted in her chest and focused on the scent of peppermint oil she’d swiped under her jawline before coming up. Furrowing her brow, Cady leaned closer to get his gaze to focus on her. “Scott, are you okay?” Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his forehead. The fever burned hot and furious against her palm. “Scott…”
His gaze was glassy as he slowly turned his eyes toward her. Shaking her head, Cady clamped a hand over her mouth. Despair won the war with hope and her spirits sank.
The rash she’d been fighting on him with oils repeatedly applied every three hours for the last two days stood out starkly against his pale skin like a crimson stain. Creeping up the bend between his neck and shoulder and spreading down under his shirt collar, the angry red of the rash left little to the imagination. It was out to conquer his flesh and leave nothing but destruction in its path.
She stood there, staring at the evidence that the sickness had come on with a pounding persistence. What she was seeing was her future. She couldn’t give up. Sometimes the oil didn’t prevent the illness, it just helped the immune system fight it off. That didn’t mean the symptoms wouldn’t be there. All it meant was that Cady was helping Scott find r
elief from the pain of the rashes and the rest of the illness footprints.
Cady tucked her chin and picked up the ravintsara. “Well, at least we know where to apply the oils exactly.” Hopefully, she had done some kind of good previously by applying the oils before the appearance of the rash in full force. She grimaced, when she meant to smile.
Scott blinked, scrunching his eyes and reaching up to rub his face and his eyes. A thick stubble shadowed his jaw and his fingers scratched over the hair with a raspy hoarseness his voice seemed to match. “I can’t focus, you know?”
Cady glanced at his face, anxious to hold onto some lucidity, some sign that he was still in there and hadn’t been damaged mentally, yet. She would have to add the yet, until she had evidence that it wasn’t guaranteed. She licked her lips. “But you can hear me?” Cady wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that point and just how much he understood. She picked up the ravintsara tube and approached him slowly. “Can I put this on?” She held up the vial so he could see, or at least try to see.
He stared blankly at her, watching as she got closer. After a moment, he nodded slowly. His confusion twisted and became consternation, horror and terror wrapped into a twisted mask of disbelief. He reached out and grabbed Cady’s free wrist, his fingers clammy and cold. His eyes roved her face wildly. “I… I did awful things, Cady. You should send me home. You shouldn’t take care of me. I’m…” Tears leaked from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks to the week old stubble along his jawline. “You don’t… I don’t…”
Cady shook her head, more than enough sorrow for them both in her heart. Rubbing her thumb along his jaw, Cady ducked her head to stare into his eyes. “Sh. You’re okay. There’s nothing you’ve done that you can’t forget. Just push it away, Scott. You did what you had to do.” Cady reached out and softly ran her fingers over his face. She wiped his tears away and nodded encouragingly when he finally raised his gaze to hers. “Let’s not worry about it anymore. Focus on getting better physically and then we’ll deal with the emotional and spiritual parts of us that are broken, alright? Now, I need you to focus. I know you’re hurting, but can you tell me how much and where?”
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 4 - 6 Page 12
