Judging by the truck thieves, not everyone had died from the virus. That was okay. Jackson wasn’t even disappointed. As far as he was concerned, his plan had worked perfectly. The two phases had complemented each other and there was now enough death in the world, he didn’t have to worry about a real vaccine being distributed.
When the Black Plague had decimated parts of the world, society had recovered. There was a significant dip in population, but not to the extent that Jackson had caused.
Unless the survivors all happened to be of a certain age and health, Jackson had no doubt they would die in the coming weeks from lack of preparation or survival skills. People were lazy and inconvenienced easily.
Jackson had complete faith in his superiority. Ruling them all – whoever lived past the underdetermined time period – would be his right and his privilege. King Jackson didn’t sound right, but he’d figure out his title and they would all bow down to him. With his queen by his side, he had a terrific future ahead of him.
He’d daydreamed like that for the duration of the time he’d recuperated in the motel room.
Time to find a rig to travel in, food, fuel, and a map. If nothing else, he could get himself to Cady’s and then they could make their plans together. She might not want to continue living in north Idaho. She might want to go somewhere more urban.
They could decide that when the time was right.
Jackson pulled on his backpack, tucking the rolled up wool blanket from the bed in the small of his back inside the straps. Without a guaranteed vehicle, he risked having to walk and sleep somewhere. He could handle anything, if he was prepared.
He’d wrapped his hands with pieces of the sheet to prevent the scabs from tearing or reopening.
Closing the door behind him, Jackson smiled. He felt like he was off on a new adventure. He couldn’t even conjure up any anger at the theft of his weapons or gas. He’d created the opportunity to experience survival of the fittest. What kind of a hypocrite would he be, if he moaned and groaned about the consequences?
He’d find a vehicle and he’d make his way to Cady. He wasn’t worried about that. It would all be part of the journey.
Plus, he might get to kill someone else – raising his body count and helping with his skills at hand-to-hand combat.
He limped slightly as he walked, still unsure how much pressure he wanted to put on his feet.
Lifting his hand to shade his eyes from the bright afternoon sun, Jackson blinked to adjust his eyes as he walked from the protection of the motel. The parking lot led to the street where Jackson was headed.
He adjusted his pack and searched the road. Not one car caught his eye. In the small town, he’d be hard pressed to find anything right there. He’d be grateful for a car dealership, but he wasn’t sure where to find one.
Getting to a gas station would get him a map.
Maybe. GPS had depleted the need for those and Jackson wouldn’t hold his breath that he’d find one.
He would find a car, even if he had to kill someone to get it.
“Hold on, Cady. I’m coming.” His muttered words seemed to echo back at him with a promise that things were going to work out. Nothing could hurt him. He’d gone through hell and back and came out the other side. Things hadn’t looked so good in a long time.
Falling into a steady gait on the broken and cracked sidewalk, Jackson headed west. Backtracking wasn’t an option.
Getting to Cady was all he needed.
Chapter 22
Beth
Even during the day and into the afternoon the garage didn’t warm up. There was nothing soothing about trying to stay warm on the concrete floor of the garage. Beth wrapped the extra sleeping bag tighter around herself and watched Steven. She shook her head every once in a while, amazed that she would waste her time staring at him.
What did she expect was going to happen? He had stopped responding to her a few hours before, slipping into unconsciousness.
At first, Beth’s breathing picked up in pace, shallowing out as she waited for him to die. Like he would die right then, but his chest continued moving, barely imperceptibly, but still moving.
Her numb emotions blocked her from reaching out and taking his hand. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. There was so much under the bridge between them. Even with his murmured apologies Beth still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d been simply awful to her. Plus, how did she know he was sincere? He was dying. Maybe he didn’t want to go with something like that on his conscience.
Beth didn’t want to face her Maker when she died. She’d failed her children and she’d shot her husband and then watched him die. There was nothing forgivable about any of that.
Steven’s chest stopped moving, the faint sounds of his ragged breathing quieted and Beth stared at him with curiosity. She had already assumed he was dead. Watching him die didn’t upset her as much as it should have which actually upset her more.
Had the multiple traumas and losses cost her the emotions that anchored her to humanity? She hoped not. She hoped a lot of things.
Staring at Steven’s body, Beth realized she wasn’t sure what he’d said was truth or not. He’d left more questions than he’d answered.
Where had he been? He claimed to have checked on their parents, but was that possible? She had a feeling he’d been somewhere else. He had no sign of having had the virus which didn’t make sense. Steven wasn’t the healthiest person out there and the fact that he hadn’t gotten sick while their children had died from it bothered her.
Plus, even though he was back and had apologized, she still resented him for leaving her alone to deal with the death of the children by herself. She reached up, touching his neck to check for a pulse. The give when she touched him was decidedly empty.
Beth scooted backward on her hind end, staring at him. She had to cover him. She couldn’t have him there while she tried to figure out what to do. She leaned forward, yanking the sleeping bag up over his face.
Her husband disappeared and she stared at the pile of blankets he’d become.
What was Beth supposed to do when her garage, the last place she had to hide, was filled with a dead body. Everywhere in her home had a dead body in it or smelled of death. She wasn’t safe outside, not on her own.
She had no way to get out. No way to escape that she’d been left on this earth alone. Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe she could still take her car and get out of there. She probably had a half-tank of gas. That would get her to Cady’s… maybe.
None of this was fair. Whose fault was this? She wanted to find them and kill them. She probably wouldn’t be able to, but the thought made her feel better. It wasn’t about fault or blame. Finding the person who had spread this awful sickness, the one that had claimed her children and altered her life beyond measure was improbable.
Assigning fault wouldn’t work. She had to take responsibility for what she could control. At that point in time, that was her grief, her emotions. Her survival.
Rocking back on her heels, Beth looked around and gasped in a sob. She had to stop walking around the issue. The truth was… She couldn’t blame anyone else for her husband’s death. Steven’s dead body lie beside her because she’d shot him. Just her.
No matter what he said about being glad that she’d shot him to protect herself, she couldn’t be glad that she’d taken out the last person of her family. If nothing else, she could have grieved with him over the loss of their children. Even as she was mad at how he’d treated her, she could have still mourned with him.
Beth swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She had to get out of there. But how? Where would she go? She could try to get to Cady’s but she wasn’t sure what was out there. She’d locked herself in her house, hoping against hope that she’d figure something out.
Instead, she’d just shot her husband.
She folded her arms and closed her eyes, trying to look inward. What was she going to do? How badly did she want to survive alone?
A rumbling in the distance caught her attention. Was that the sound of an engine coming for her? Coming to take her away? Maybe the body collectors knew about Steven and the kids. Maybe they were coming. They’d see Steven and they’d kill her.
The motor sounds grew louder, louder, and Beth’s eyes snapped open.
She fell to all fours, crawling closer to the garage door to listen. The sound of a truck pulling up in front of her house and cutting the engine made her break out in a sweat. Yes, the answer split through her like a bolt of lightning – yes, she wanted to survive.
New people. Had they heard the gunshot from shooting Steven? They’d come to investigate, probably, maybe they were other cops. Steven had said the force was gone, but he could have been lying. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Doors shut and voices worked their way through the metal garage door.
“This is her house. Her car is still here.” The woman’s familiar voice curled around Beth and she leaned back, covering her face with her hands.
Cady. Cady had come for her. Beth gave in to the overwhelming sensations crashing over her. She couldn’t pinpoint what she was feeling because she wasn’t sure she was capable of normal emotions.
She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she could definitively say she was glad Cady had come.
There wasn’t much left for Beth to hold onto.
Chapter 23
Scott
Scott stood back, keeping his hand close to the small of his back and the gun he’d tucked there while Cady approached her friend’s house.
She stopped by the garage door and leaned on the house to gather more energy. Even though they’d been in the car for a little over thirty minutes, they both felt like they’d run a marathon. They were exhausted, but they had to push on. Even if her friend was dead, they still needed the oil. Cady was sure she would be able to identify it. Scott hoped so. He needed that oil for his nephew.
A sudden creaking and groaning sent a burst of adrenaline through the both of them. Scott’s muscles tensed and he pulled his gun out and chambered a round.
Cady stepped back from the house, her hand half-raised as if she weren’t sure what was going on.
The garage door opened, slowly revealing the dirty jeans of a woman who looked like she’d been through hell and wasn’t sure she’d come out alive. Her long-tangled hair framed the peaked angles of her face and her arms hung limply at her sides.
Cady didn’t hesitate as she stumbled into the woman, wrapping her own arms around her friend. They both sobbed, rocking side to side as they accepted that the other was alive. Nothing else seemed to matter.
Scott blinked back tears at the reunion. They needed something positive, something worth holding onto. He hadn’t held out hope for Cady that her friend was alive, but he’d stifled any desire to try to hook her to reality.
Looking around, Scott swallowed at the nervousness working its way up his throat. The hair on the back of his legs seemed to perk up with warning. He scanned the abandoned looking houses around them, seeking to penetrate the reflective glass. What were they hiding? What was he missing? He didn’t have to see the trouble to know it was coming.
Someone was out there and whoever it was, they watched Scott, Cady, and Beth as if waiting for something.
Scott stepped closer to the duo, nodding slightly at Beth as she raised alarmed eyes to him. He held his voice low and continued looking around. “Cady, I hate to rush you, but something isn’t right. We need to get going.”
She glanced over her shoulder and their gazes clashed. She nodded tightly. Turning back to Beth and taking her hands in hers, Cady took a deep breath. “Beth, do you have more oil? I need helichrysum and ravintsara. Plus, anica oil, and whatever else you have.”
Beth furrowed her brow and tightened her jaw. “Is that all you’re here for? I…” She blinked back tears and crossed her arms. “I was kind of hoping…” She looked at the ground, unable to force more.
Cady put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, if you’re ready to come with me, yes, we want you to come, too. But you didn’t want to come with me earlier. Are the kids…” The question didn’t need to be completely asked. As if all of the words would make it more real.
Beth shut down. Her eyes seemed to deaden. She shook her head. “No. The kids… And Steven…” She motioned behind her and Scott followed the direction of her hand with his gaze and grimaced. A body was under a sleeping bag, there was no hiding that.
Her husband hadn’t made it either along with her kids. The lady needed to get out of that house. Judging by the creepy feelings he was getting from the neighborhood, Scott needed her to get all of them out of there immediately.
Beth lifted her gaze and studied Cady, doubt in her hunched shoulders. “Really? You’re not just saying that?” Cady nodded and Beth shifted gears, becoming an agitated mess as she started moving around the garage. “I need to get out of here. Let’s get all the oil stuff. I have some helichrysum and ravintsara already made up. Is there room in there for all of my equipment and supplies.” Beth peered toward the back of the Bronco. Something in her face was animated at the chance to escape the horror her life had become. She motioned toward the car in the drive. “Siphon the gas while we’re getting things. Then we won’t be wasting anything else here.”
Scott nodded. “Your things will fit as long as you’re not packing a couch. Let’s get started. I’ll turn the rig around to siphon and so you guys can reach the back. You two run through the house and grab what you need.” He glanced again at the surrounding houses. He pulled Cady to the side as Beth moved back into the garage. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it feels like we’re being watched. We can’t stay here. Let’s do this in less than ten, okay?”
Shadows under her eyes didn’t stop her. Cady nodded. “I feel it, too.” She bit her lip. “Do you think we can get away, if we fill up and get out of here as soon as possible?”
“I hope we can outrun it, but what if we can’t? We’ll be putting us and her in danger, not to mention the kids.” The gravity of the moment socked him in the stomach. “Go, get this done. We need to leave. Make sure she understands how important it is that we hurry.”
Cady nodded. She wasn’t strong enough to lift a lot of stuff and Scott wasn’t sure how much energy he had.
He could find the reserves he needed in order to get them out of there. When he got back to Cady’s he’d let himself collapse… after they got the oils on Jason.
Scott turned the car around and left the engine going as the women returned to the end of the garage. They shoved gray bins ahead of them and Beth disappeared back into the garage. Using a half-inch clear tube, Scott attempted to siphon the gas from Beth’s car into a five-gallon gas tank he’d found on the side of the garage.
He couldn’t get anything out of the car. She’d already been siphoned.
Scott wasn’t going to check the other cars in the neighborhood. Someone was stealing all the gas and stacking bodies. Scott rushed to the back of the rig and hefted the first bin into the car.
Something was coming.
Scott wasn’t sure they would make it out alive.
Chapter 24
Bailey
Jessica and Bailey cried in unison as Jason’s banging moved from the bedroom to the outer bathroom door. With her back against the wall, Bailey stared at the gap between the door and the linoleum, watching for his shadow, for a hint that he was there and she didn’t know it.
When would her mom and Scott be back? How long had it been? The bathroom was cold and secluded.
The pounding was chaotic with no rhythm to the beating. He had more energy than his rest and his sickness had suggested he would. He shouldn’t be able to beat on the doors.
Taking a deep breath, Bailey offered the pacifier to Jessica who took it greedily. She closed her eyes as if desperate for some kind of comfort. Bailey brushed her fingers across Jessica’s sweaty forehead.
The thudding of Jason’s fists co
ntinued as if he didn’t know how to breathe without it.
Bailey gasped in between each thud. She’d gotten the baby calmed down enough to sleep in her exhaustion.
More splintering rent the air.
Bailey stood, staring down at Jessica in the bassinet. The child was snugged into the plastic box, as secure as Bailey could make her.
What was Bailey going to do? She hadn’t put the gun down. She couldn’t. Jason wasn’t himself. That much was clear. But how much hope did she have that he was going to recover enough to be himself, if she didn’t shoot him? Mom had killed Kent because he’d been close enough to cause damage, inflict harm. Would he have made it afterward? Mom hadn’t mentioned anything about him using the Cure, but it could have been possible and Bailey wouldn’t know anything about it.
She looked around the ten foot by five foot room again, for what had to be the thousandth time. Four walls. A door – flimsy, unfortunately. A small heat and AC vent at her feet. A toilet. A window. Books on the shelves and toilet paper, but they were ineffective for anything other than reading material. There was nothing supportive there.
Narrowing her eyes, Bailey clenched her jaw as she slid the shelves from their position against the wall to a new spot in front of the door. It would be temporary, but Bailey could use all the help she could get.
She needed out. She needed to get Jessica out.
The door wasn’t an option. She glared at the window. If the window was open, it would only give half its size for an opening.
With the screen knocked out, the hole wasn’t huge, but she might be able to get through.
And do what? She had a baby and there were still icy spots on the roof. She could get out onto the roof and then, what? There was no other way out or down. There were no nearby trees or lattices. She had Jessica and it was only a little above freezing, maybe in the forties with the sunshine.
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 4 - 6 Page 30
