If they focused on their overall pain, they might not want to get better. They might be able to understand the suicidal move their neighbor made a little more clearly.
He cleared his throat and straightened his arms to shift himself backwards an inch or two. “Everywhere, but mostly where the rash is. It… burns. I… I know I deserve it. Like hell.” He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath.
Cady didn’t question him on whatever he’d done. She couldn’t believe Scott had done anything that was truly bad. He wasn’t the type. Cady had killed someone and he’d brushed it off like it was part and parcel of the situation. Nothing was worse than killing someone. She found that to be the case so strongly, she said so. “Nothing is worse than killing someone, especially innocent people. I killed Kent. Sweet Kent. You can’t have done anything that bad. So, let whatever it is go, you’re going to be fine.” Cady unscrewed the tube lid and leaned closer to him. His stale cologne wafted over her and she wished it wasn’t mixed with the scent of sleeping man. She murmured, “I’m going to put this on the rash, let me know how it feels.”
She slowly rolled the oil on, watching his face as she applied it. As she touched him, he winced, but then the more she did, the smoother the wrinkles in his forehead became. Touching his face and checking along his hairline, Cady whispered, “Is that feeling better?”
“Yeah, it’s actually easier to think with the pain down. I meant to tell you we should try the shingles treatment.” He nodded his head slowly and rubbed his hands together at his waist. His eyes became more focused and his voice less trapped in a painful rasp.
Cady laughed in relief. “Yeah, my mom called and left a message. She put the shingles bit together, too. So, hopefully, the treatment cuts things in half. Unfortunately, it looks like it won’t completely get rid of the virus, but that’s how shingles and cold sores seem to work with the treatment, too. It took my last shingle case from six weeks down to two. I’m not sure how long the sickness is supposed to last, but I hope the oils lessen it.” She smiled encouragingly and screwed the cap back on. “I’ll put some helichrysum on and then later I’ll come back with more aloe.”
He nodded, sighing as she applied the other oil. Thankfully, she’d loaded up on the most expensive of the oils. Beth was her supplier and she’d always made sure to get Cady the oils at cost. If nothing else, Cady had learned that investing in her health – even long term – was more important than investing in anything else.
Prepper mentality had made her think of investing in her and her family’s health for a long time.
Scott sighed again as the oil sank into his skin and into the shiny sections of the rash. “Thank you. It feels a lot better.” He leaned toward his pillow, lying down and closing his eyes. He didn’t even bother to move much as Cady maneuvered around him, cleaning up the things she’d used and moving his blanket back into place.
After Cady took care of the medicine on the tray, she carefully tapped on Scott’s leg where she hadn’t seen any evidence of the rash. “I have some food here, Scott. Do you want to try eating it while I’m here?” Could he still eat?
He worked his eyes open and watched her for a minute. “I’m too much of a burden. You should let me go back home.” His tone was solid and full, not the sound of a man who was insane with pain, but more like that of a man who had found relief and could think clearly.
Cady laughed, shaking her head at the thought. “You’re funny. You can barely sit up for very long. How do you think you’ll be able to make it to your house, even if I helped you? Not to mention how would you take care of yourself? Just let me do this. You helped me so much after Zach died, the least I can do is make sure you survive this virus.” She didn’t point out that she could’ve warned him sooner about the virus, or let him know about the vaccine, or so many other things. “Plus, I’m being selfish by hoping you make it, you know?” She winked at him, careful to keep the intention light. “I mean, if you die, what will happen to me?” She laughed at his joking, but weak scowl he flashed her in return.
“Are Jessica and Jason alright?” He licked his lips, letting his eyelids droop. Even weak, he still looked strong and masculine.
Cady focused on the subject. “They’re fine. I’m taking care of Jessica and Bailey is not put out by taking care of Jason.” She chuckled, arching her eyebrows. “It’s cute, actually. I’m glad she has a friend. There is a special emphasis on friend. Hopefully, you or I are around to make sure they realize how young they are.”
Scott nodded like it was an after-thought, but didn’t stop his eyes from closing all the way. The relief from the pain would leave him feeling exhausted and he would be able to sleep without the disturbance of so much agony.
Cady needed to make sure she didn’t get in his way, rest would help him get better.
If the treatment helped with the pain, then Cady would make sure to keep it on hand. She had to let Bailey know how to apply it, especially if Cady was going to come down with the sickness soon. Everything – their care, the chickens, the house, the food, the baby, the guns, everything would be left to two teenagers.
With how entranced with each other Jason and Bailey were, Cady hoped the house didn’t end up burning down. She didn’t have much choice but to hope they all survived the next few weeks.
Even if it was the stupidest thing she could think of.
Chapter 2
Margie
“I can’t get a dial tone.” Margie leaned against the counter of the convenience store and stared at Kelsey. The other woman’s previously noble mohawk hung in straggly angles to her shoulders since she washed it in the sink the night before. She held scissors in her right hand while stretching her hair out as far as she could.
“Are you seriously cutting it off?” Margie tried not to let her jaw hang open, but Kelsey was proving to be more of a character than even her tattoos, piercings, and hairstyle had suggested. Anything would be better than the stringy mess she had now, anything except maybe going bald.
Shrugging, Kelsey pointed toward the front of the building with her scissors. “I’m getting bored. Since we can’t leave until tomorrow morning, I don’t see the point in waiting around doing nothing. I can’t find any more moose or hair wax. If I cut the ‘hawk off, now, it will be less of a headache later, right?” She set her jaw, reaching up and working the tool. The shearing sound of the scissors cutting through her hair filled the entire store with its finality. “In a penny and a pound and all that.” Kelsey powered through, cutting off as much as she could reach. She angled her arms, taking it all.
The spiky tufts clung to the lingering colors in the very tips of the remaining hair. She ran her fingers over her scalp and widened her eyes. “Wow, I’m really pushing the edge, don’t you think?”
“You know what? I think you look more feminine. It actually looks pretty good.” Margie wasn’t lying, the softer angles of the hairstyle enhanced the woman’s eyes and softened the jowly look the mohawk had enhanced.
Margie’s compliment brought a smile to Kelsey’s wrinkled mouth. Her lipstick stain had worn off a while back, but the creases in her lips had soaked it in and gave her a permanently puckered appearance. The smile smoothed them out, adding more youthfulness to her appearance.
Nodding at the phone, Kelsey drew her eyebrows together, the eyebrow ring moving as she did. “You can’t get through to Cady? I hope everything is okay.” Kelsey set the scissors down and rounded the counter to stand beside Margie. She lifted the handset, pressing the ear piece to her ear. Pushing the hang-up button repeatedly while listening, she twisted her lips. “I wonder if they finally got smart and cut our line last night. I’m not sure.” She looked at Margie, reality dawning. “You might be right, Marg. We really need to get out of here.”
Marg. Margie wasn’t a fan of that from anyone but David. The nickname reminded her of the blue towered hair woman off of a cartoon from years before. She brushed if off and nodded. “I know. I’m still ready to leave right now. We can do it
. We can set up a distraction and slip out the back. We could even push the car out of the parking lot and not use any lights or anything.” Margie chewed on her inner lip. She hadn’t wanted to leave.
Kelsey hung onto the semblance of safety that the store gave her. “We need a few more gas tanks, though. We don’t want to be forced to stop anywhere else. What if they’re going through something like this in Spokane? Or Coeur d’Alene?” Kelsey shook her head, glancing around outside. “No, we can’t take any chances.”
Margie sighed. She didn’t want to wait. The longer they waited the more certain she was they weren’t going to make it. But she needed a car. Or did she? She’d been willing to walk before. Not for the first time, she considered walking. She had great hiking boots and she was dressed appropriately. The duffel bag would be a hassle, but she could deal with it.
Something in Kelsey’s eyes though begged her to stay, as if she sensed that Margie continually considered leaving on her own.
“Okay, then we’ll get over to Safeway in the morning. I just hope it isn’t too late.” She glanced at the trucks that continued to show up outside the convenience store. The bullets would start to click against the glass, but they were half-hearted shots since the first night Margie had arrived.
The Bug had been moved with David’s body and Margie didn’t look for it. She didn’t want to know where they’d taken it or what they’d done with it. There was nothing in there but a gun, but there was no way Margie would have taken it. She couldn’t return to that car – not for anything.
The next morning was supposed to be Margie and Kelsey’s run for freedom, except they weren’t sure what was keeping the men from coming back during the day. They didn’t have enough data and it was driving Margie insane. She’d suggested repeatedly that they leave at night, but Kelsey was mentally attached to the store. Margie recognized it. She understood. But if Kelsey couldn’t leave over the last two days, what was going to make her leave in the morning?
“Do you have your bags ready?” Kelsey headed back to the storage room which had been set up as a bunker-style apartment in the back. “I’m almost ready. I just need to pack my pillow and my blanket. I’ll do that in the morning when we’re ready to go.”
Listening to her gut had saved her so far. If Margie stopped, she might not see her daughter and granddaughter again.
Margie grabbed more matches and a bottle of lighter fluid. Would Kelsey be ready for big moves, if the time came to make them? Creating a distraction was going to be the only way to get out of there, most especially during the day. An escape at night would be better since they would have the potential cover of darkness. Daytime was just leaving themselves open.
If they didn’t do something soon, Kelsey might get her wish and die in that store.
What if Kelsey refused to go with Margie the next morning? Could Margie deal with the consequences, if she didn’t? Could she leave Kelsey behind, if she didn’t want to go?
What was keeping Margie there?
The plinking on the glass began. There was something those men wanted and some reason they continually shot at the store. What was Kelsey hiding?
Chapter 3
Jackson
“Juan, are you going to take your shoes off? You know it isn’t polite to wear your shoes into your mother’s home.” More voices surrounded Jackson. Indistinguishable as they merged together. “You must never act like you’re better than the gringos, Juan. You will get far, if you stick to your place in life.”
Another voice, weasel-like in its initial whine and then ending like a bark. “Wait, what do you mean you peed your pants? Look at this baby, boys, he likes to pee his pants. Oh, Juan, you’re such an embarrassment.”
Juan… wait. Everyone who called him Juan was supposed to be dead. Every last one of them.
Jackson shook his head on the sweat-dampened pillow. He cried out, tears streaking from his eyes like he sobbed for his own life. He clutched at the sheets, digging his hands deep into the material, ripping his fingertips through small holes and tearing them down long lines. The rending sound seemed to ground him. He stretched his legs as far as he could, but his joints hurt like a blazing branding iron thrust between his bones.
Rolling over to his stomach and pushing his pillow to the side, Jackson burrowed his face into the mattress that smelled of mothballs and dried sweat. Was that his sweat? What was his and what wasn’t? Was he sweating or had he wet his pants? He couldn’t figure out what sensations were real. Was that hunger? Even if he had the wherewithal to eat something, he would soil himself because he wasn’t sure how to get to the restroom.
“Juan, Juan, my son. I’m here. What can I do to help you? Let your papa help you.” His father’s voice caressed him, calming him.
“Dad, is that you?” His eyes snapped open and he stared at the white sheet beneath his face. He blinked slowly, pushing himself until he could flop over. He searched the small room for evidence of his dad. Maybe for just a moment, he could give into his delusions and see his father. For the first time in his memory, he craved the simplicity of his father, of his mindset that faith was enough.
Blinking against the bright light of the setting sun, Jackson jerked back and then jerked forward as if to escape a binding he hadn’t agreed to. Was that guilt riding him? No, because he had nothing to feel guilty about. The shame would come from his father and the rest of the family.
“Don’t you feel bad for what you did, Juan? You should serve penance, beg for forgiveness.” His father’s voice demanded justice for a population that didn’t understand the meaning of the word repentance.
“Dad? No, I’m not sorry. Why? No. I’m not sorry.” He shook his head. Jackson couldn’t remember why he would even want to be sorry. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d saved the world. The whole world.
Was his dad there? No, his dad had to die. There was no other option. His father had contracted the disease. Most likely, his stupid sister-in-law had given his parents’ the Cure. There would be no living after that. He was so glad his parents had died. They would never have understood.
They’d had the same Cure Jackson had been exposed to. He needed to snap out of it. How long had he been dealing with the ointment? He couldn’t breathe normally but was that because he was in pain or because the toxin was affecting him neurologically.
He tried to remember the side effects of the ointment, the research he’d done, but he couldn’t focus. Everything was a blurry haze. Maybe blue, maybe brown. He couldn’t figure it out. He blinked, his eyes tired, dry, and itchy. His hands shook as he reached up to scratch his neck. The itch intensified and he dug his fingernails deep into skin, sighing at the relief.
Pulling his fingers back, Jackson narrowed his eyes at the warmth on his fingers. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus on the color, but only blues were getting through his haziness and he had the distinct feeling, if the colors were coming through well, his fingers would be red. Just how far was the ointment going to push him?
Chapter 4
Bailey
Leaving Jason on the porch swing, Bailey joined her mother in the kitchen.
The sun had gone down, taking its warm rays with it and leaving behind the rapidly cooling effects of shadows. They welcomed another evening of trying to figure out how to help Scott and what to do with the baby.
No one had told Bailey that taking care of a baby was more work than it was just holding one. She’d known about the abstract idea of dirty diapers and feeding, but she had never realized that not doing those things would lead to ear-splitting screaming and heart-breaking cries.
But when Cady rocked Jessica, the baby soothed quickly, as if Cady had the magic touch. When Bailey had asked her about the trick, Cady had laughed and said, “It’s simple. Keep her wrapped nice and tight, swing her, make sure she has a full belly and then a pluggy, and shhhhhh in her ear.” She’d made it sound so simple, like anyone could do it, but Bailey knew her mom had a special touch.
Moving to stand
beside Cady, Bailey smiled softly as she waited for her mom to look at her. But Cady didn’t turn to face Bailey. Instead, she stared out the window, washing her hands in the warm water with steam wafting up to gather on the cooler glass above the faucet.
“Mom?” Bailey wanted to make things easier for Cady, she did, but she didn’t understand what was going on. Cady wasn’t sick yet. Jason wasn’t and neither was Jessica. Everyone was okay so far. Scott was sick, but Cady was treating him. Wasn’t that the best-case scenario?
Scott would get better. Bailey couldn’t imagine anything else happening. Not that she couldn’t, but more like she wouldn’t.
“Yeah?” Cady shook her head and turned, shutting off the water to face Bailey.
Hiding her gasp with a cough behind her hand, Bailey tried to keep her fear from swelling so much it broke through her control. “Mom, are you okay? Can I help with dinner?” Bailey didn’t mention Cady’s red-rimmed eyelids or the glassy look to her bloodshot eyes. She had a slight pinkening to her cheeks like she had a fever.
If she reached out, would Bailey feel her mother’s forehead burning up? The sickness was scarier than Bailey wanted to admit, especially as it crept its way up to try to kill her mother. What would Bailey have left, if her mother succumbed to the illness?
Distracted, Cady nodded slowly. “Thanks, I was thinking we should do something with the rest of that sausage. Once the power goes off, we won’t have a way to save it. I mean, we won’t have the time. I’ve already started turning the elk meat into jerky in the smoker outside, but that’s not what I want to do with the sausage. It will be too greasy.”
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 4 - 6 Page 13
