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

by B. R. Paulson

  Three days. Was that going to be enough time to do what she needed to do? It wouldn’t be if she couldn’t find the energy to stay awake.

  Chapter 16

  Jackson

  Waking came suddenly with an abruptness Jackson wasn’t prepared for. He swallowed, his throat scratchy but no longer sore.

  His legs hung off the edge of the bed, a blanket pulled across his chest. The slight chill in the air could have been because of the lost electricity. The only light coming in the top portion of the window from the full moon gave him a sense of furnishings and placement. There was a decided lack of electricity that he could almost feel in the air.

  Glancing at the T.V. where Dr. Phil had been the last few times he’d worked himself from sleep, Jackson waited, certain the ole doc would start laughing or chiming in with his idiotic sayings.

  But the screen stayed blank, mocking him with its black glass and cracked center where he’d shoved one of the stakes on a previous delusion. The blank screen didn’t mean anything.

  Another trick. Jackson wasn’t stupid. He knew to watch for the doctor. He’d been tricked already and it wasn’t going to happen again.

  He pushed himself up from the mattress, wiping at a layer of stickiness across his forehead. Pulling his hand down, he winced. Blood stained his fingers with a crimson shine, creasing in the lines of his fingertips. Okay, his fingers were sensing the same thing as his eyes, that had to be a sign he was progressing, unless now they were sharing in the delusion instead of working apart.

  He reached up, touching the crusty surface beneath his nose and under his eyes. What had he suffered through?

  Scrapes on his palms had the dried, scabby look as he stretched them. Everything ached but with a purity of pain. There was no presence of a numbing agent or even something to dull the ache. The translucent shimmer he’d noticed on the things during the last argument with Dr. Phil had disappeared.

  He’d never been so grateful for pain in his life. The sheets were stained with red in multiple places and Jackson stood, unsteady but stronger than he’d been.

  Stepping around the bed, he stumbled, stepping on the sharp edges of a stake lying on the ground as if abandoned. His feet hurt dully, like a constant pressure would increase the pain, like anything would increase the pain.

  Was he still hallucinating? No, because the thirst and hunger were real, twisting in his stomach and throat with a demanding need.

  Where was Phil? He squeezed his eyes shut tight against the dark, bursting a red shot through his vision. Reset, that’s what he needed. If only he could reset his mind, maybe then Dr. Phil would show back up and quit playing his games.

  But upon opening his eyes, Jackson found there was no headache, just a dull awareness that his body had been through hell and he needed water.

  If there was no power, would there be water? He made his way into the bathroom, stopping every few feet to rest his feet. He must have damaged them when he’d broken the chair legs with his bare soles. He could remember that… at least.

  He had to take a shower and rinse away the sweat, blood, and what he could identify through smell as urine. How many times had he wet himself? As soon as he could steady himself, he had to get out of that motel room.

  The bathroom was dark and he closed his eyes as he turned on the faucet. Cold water flowed over his fingers. Relieved, he opened his eyes and turned it off. Chances were high there was no hot water, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d showed in freezing water. It would be the first time he was relieved to take a shower – cold or not.

  As he turned to the shower, he paused, listening for the chuckle of the Texan doctor who had haunted him during his torture by toxin.

  There was no sound.

  Bending down he turned on the bathtub and let the thundering cascade of the water drown out any possible noises that might pop up.

  He didn’t have to hear Dr. Phil taunting him. He remembered and the red rinsing down the drain cemented his delusions in his mind. His reality had been twisted and contorted. To survive what he needed to, he would have to learn to forget the last few days – or however long he’d been incapacitated – and not try to piece together his fractured memories of what had happened.

  There was no other way to survive.

  He stepped into the chilly water and winced, lathering up the soap and getting his skin thoroughly scrubbed. If he was back to himself, he would need to get food, water, and get clean clothes on. He had a trip to finish and a woman to find. Without GPS, it was going to be hard to locate Cady. He had an idea of where she was, but an idea wasn’t worth much without a plan to execute.

  None of it mattered right then. He’d survived the vaccine, exposure to the virus, and lastly the toxin. He’d faced the end of the world as he’d created it, and he’d come out victorious on the other side.

  Nothing could stop him now.

  Chapter 17

  Bailey

  Jason thundered downstairs, panic etched into the youthful angles of his face. He’d all but thrown Jessica into Bailey’s arms when he’d realized his uncle had left like a thief in the night. The thought that Scott was out there was terrifying. They didn’t want to lose him. What was he capable of and how delusional was he? Because that’s what he had to be, right? To leave in the middle of the night, as sick as he was?

  Bailey cradled Jessica in her arms, staring at the empty room where Scott had slept and tried to shake off his illness. He’d left, and she had no idea why. She stared inside with the hall light spilling through the doorway.

  His bedding had been thrown to the side in a twisted mess. For some reason his pants and shoes still sat on the floor. Had some kind of delirium made him flee the house? Was she sure he’d left the house? Jason had run outside after him, but maybe Scott hadn’t left.

  She glanced down the hallway, nervous he might still be in there. Would he feel threatened in his delusional state? Bailey could be acting silly about the whole thing. He would walk out of the bathroom, laughing because he was feeling better and they’d thought he’d left or done something horrible.

  But there was a finality in the air about his room. She couldn’t put her finger on what left the sensation behind or why she didn’t think he’d planned on returning.

  She pushed her side against the wall at the top of the stairs, leaning while she slid to a sitting position at the top of the landing. Jessica fussed, but quickly quieted as Bailey rocked her again. Bailey’s mom wasn’t even in her room more than a day and already Bailey was overwhelmed. How had Bailey lost Scott? When had he gotten out?

  Of course, he wasn’t a prisoner, but none of them knew what the complete list of symptoms was for the disease. Cady had warned them against hallucinations, delusions, extreme pain, and some kind of a black tar-like liquid that came out of noses and ears. She hadn’t said anything about fleeing the house like a crazy person, but any of the symptoms she had mentioned could lead to it.

  None of what Cady had described was anything Bailey wanted to witness. The more she thought of it, the more she wanted to run and hide in the chicken coop to escape the experience.

  Part of her – a huge part of her – was grateful her mom had given her the vaccine. But another part that would have to watch her mother die in the horrible manners she’d described and that made Bailey hate the whole thing. She hated that Cady got the virus, hated that Bailey cared for a guy that was getting the virus, hated that her dad had died before everything had happened and wasn’t there to help them.

  Hate was the word she was going to have to carry into her fourteenth year.

  Jessica’s peaceful face hid the pain her rash said she was feeling, the pain Cady had said she was absolutely feeling. Even the small baby was going to be tortured the way Scott had been, and so many others.

  Bailey had to watch them all die.

  The overwhelming fear engulfed her logical side. So, what if she wouldn’t feel it, so what if she’d be fine. She didn’t want to watch anyone in ho
rrible pain.

  Lights flickered off and then back on. Bailey wasn’t ready for that step either. Cady had been clear that the power would go off eventually. Why did it have to do it when Scott was gone and Bailey was all alone? Maybe it was just flickering. Maybe it was just fine and would stay on another week or so.

  No such luck as the power blinked off, leaving her sitting there in the dark and sudden silence. Jason would have to come back, find his way through the dark. Would it come back on? Bailey held her breath as she waited for the power grid to right itself without human assistance. Nothing happened, leaving Bailey’s heart further broken. For some reason, the electricity was a comfort she needed to keep her reason wrapped around her.

  Bailey hung her head, tears leaking from her eyes as she struggled for some kind of control. But it didn’t matter how much she fought. Soft sobs broke free and her shoulders shook. It wasn’t fair. Now she had no power. Her mother had locked herself in a quarantine of sorts. Scott, the only other adult, was gone.

  What was Bailey supposed to do? She wanted to just sit there and sob and wail, but that wouldn’t do anything to fix the problems. She didn’t have time to whine. What did she need to do to get back on track? What did she have control over? That’s what her mom always asked her. What did she have control over?

  Making sure Jessica was fed, changed, and put to bed. That would have to be the first thing. Make sure Jessica was taken care of since she was the smallest and most helpless of the group.

  Next, she would find Jason and see just how he was feeling. Depending on where he was at regarding his symptoms, she might have to get him to bed to rest. All of that wouldn’t take long. She had to get Jason back and then she could take a flashlight and go after Scott, if she could still go on. There was no way she’d be able to find him, if he didn’t want to be found. If Jason had any hope of surviving the sickness, he needed rest, himself.

  Bailey shrugged her shoulders as she moved to sit upright from the wall. She had to try better than her best or someone would die.

  Chapter 18

  Margie

  Margie didn’t want to leave the relative safety of Ryker’s porch. She needed things to be stable, just for a minute. Plus, she was already tired and heading out toward who knew what on foot was more terrifying then she wanted to admit as she stared toward the dark forest line.

  The lights stopped flickering and then went out completely, leaving the road in darkness.

  Ryker whimpered and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees while putting his face in his hands. Margie reached out, placing a hand tentatively on his back. The poor kid hadn’t had human contact for who knew exactly how long. There was too much for him to cope with and she understood. She didn’t want to be alone either.

  With the power down, the outdoors felt decidedly more open. Were they more vulnerable outside or in? She didn’t want to go back into the house with the horrific smell overriding any other sense of survival. She didn’t want to retch as she sat there or – horror of horrors – become accustomed to the odor.

  Twisting the bag strap between her fingers, Margie studied Ryker’s profile, his silhouette barely discernible from the dark night beyond him. Trees blocked out the moonlight from that angle and Margie had to squint to see him. “Did you get sick?” How close was he to the illness? He wasn’t old enough to have shingles so that couldn’t be what protected him. What had happened that kept him virus free to that point when his entire family had expired from the virus?

  He furrowed his brow, and rubbed his cheek. “No. I had a couple days of fever, but that was it. Mom had hoped that’s all it would be for the rest of them, but…” He lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug, the shadow moving slowly beside her, his clothes whispering with his movement.

  As Margie’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, more details of Ryker’s lost expression came into focus. While he was close to fifteen, the vast vulnerability on his face made him appear younger which spurred Margie’s protective side.

  He was about the same age as Bailey, if a little older. His family was more likely wrapped up in the latest gadgets and technology. The odds that they would have a landline were slim. Most people had cell phones at that point and didn’t need the high cost landlines had become. Thinking of Bailey though had Margie curious enough to ask. She had to know if there was a reason to hope, to head home.

  “Do you guys have a house phone? Like a landline?” Margie dug her fingernails into her palm, unnaturally tense as she waited for his answer.

  Ryker nodded, rubbing the side of his nose. “Yeah, my mom had a fax machine for her work. Will that work?” He looked at her, desperate to help, to take his mind off the pain and terror he’d left in his house.

  Except… Except Margie would have to go back inside to use it.

  Despite that, excitement swelled in Margie’s chest. Hope blossomed and she stood. “Yes, actually, that would be perfect. Can I?” She glanced inside and then looked back at Ryker. “Actually, if you let me know where it is, I’ll go inside. You don’t need to do that again.”

  He nodded, looking down the dark street. “In the kitchen, straight through and to the right. The fax machine is pretty big and set up beside the fridge.” He chewed on his lower lip and leaned back against the siding with his arms folded across his chest. He rubbed his cheek and Margie hoped it was just because it itched and not because he was crying. Until she figured out what to do, he had to hold it together. They both did.

  “Thanks.” Margie had to somehow go back in there and not only breathe in the air, but talk without throwing up.

  If Bailey or Cady answered.

  What if they didn’t? It wouldn’t be the first time, but Margie needed some kind of hope, something to hold onto as she struggled to get home.

  Taking a deep breath at the front door, Margie pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth and nose and rushed inside, across the living room and into the kitchen. She banged her shin against a low-standing table – she thought. The stench wasn’t as bad as the first time she’d entered the house, but it was still rancid and easily detected through the cotton material.

  The dark interior was hard to navigate, but with her hands out, she found the tall, textured fridge and then moved to the side. There was the fax machine under her searching hands. Patting the machine, Margie found the ear set and held her breath as she hoped for a dial tone. Landlines were usually separate from electricity, but the machine needed power to work, unless the phone mechanisms were intact and separate from the fax.

  Pushing the ear piece to her ear, Margie let her air out on a whoosh. The dial tone rang strong and steady in her ear.

  Dialing Cady’s land line, she chewed on her lower lip. Come on, be there. She needed to talk to one of them. She just needed to hear their voice. After losing David, she needed to know she wasn’t alone.

  After three rings, the machine picked up and her shoulders slouched forward. She lifted her hand to her forehead and leaned over the counter, nauseous at what the lack of an answer probably meant. Bailey and Cady were most likely dead and Margie didn’t know if she wanted to continue on without them alive, too.

  The beep announced time to record. Margie licked her lips, not even sure she wanted to leave another message for an empty house. After a brief pause, she spoke. “Hi girls. It’s Grandma. I… I hope you’re both… alive.”

  A click and a beep as the answering machine was stopped. “Grandma? Grandma!” Bailey’s voice broke through Margie’s failing voice.

  Disbelief and desperate relief tightened around Margie’s chest and she gasped. “Bailey, oh… Bailey, you’re alive.” She closed her eyes and thanked her Creator for the tender mercies. She was almost used to the stench inside, almost, but then she would move and stir the air and her throat would clench. None of that mattered. Bailey was alive.

  “I’m alive. Mom gave me the vaccine, but she’s sick now. Are you and Grandpa coming back? Where are you? Are you sick?” Bailey’s questions
came on a wave of relieved sobs. She’d said something about a vaccine. There was a vaccine but they were supposed to stay away from the Cure? Too much mixed data and Margie had no way to sort it out.

  Margie understood Bailey’s rush of concern and swell of emotion. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Okay, Bailey, it’s okay. I’m coming toward you. Tell your mom to hang on. Tell her I’m coming. We can do this. I… Your grandpa…” Margie wasn’t ready to say the words, but her silence was enough. She stared into the dark in front of her, unable to speak.

  “Oh, Grandma, no. No. Really?” Bailey sobbed, panting as she cried for the loss of another loved one. She and David had been close and Margie knew she was sincere with her grief. As much as it shamed Margie to admit to herself, she was glad to share the loss with someone – even if that someone was just her teenaged granddaughter.

  “It’s okay.” Margie sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, I’m heading that way. Don’t let your mom do anything reckless.” Margie knew Cady. To save Bailey suffering, she would take herself out of the equation. “I’m serious, Bailey. You know she’ll try something. Don’t let her.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Grandma. I’ll watch her. I love you.” Bailey paused, her voice a little calmer since answering the phone. “Be safe.”

  “I love you, too. I’ll be there in a bit. I gotta go, now, honey. I gotta head toward you.” They hung up and Margie nodded. She was going to get back to her girls.

  That was exactly what she needed to know. Just a glimpse that at least one of them was alive and to find out both of them were? Margie was relieved and more than a little rejuvenated in her determination to get home. She could walk home on that information alone. Bailey had some kind of vaccine. Was that a guarantee that she wouldn’t get it? That wasn’t how vaccines worked, but maybe, just maybe it would strengthen her chances to stay healthy.