Look Away

by B. R. Paulson

  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 horrible 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 seriously, 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.

  Margie had to get out of there, breathe some clean air and talk to Ryker. She couldn’t leave him there. Not alone. She wouldn’t. But he had to be willing to come with her. The grief he was feeling would probably prevent him from leaving. She understood that, but she still hoped it wouldn’t be the case.

  Finding herself back outside, she blinked at the difference in stages of darkness. She could almost see Ryker’s face clearly with the light from the moon reflecting off the grass. She smiled encouragingly at Ryker. “My granddaughter is alive. I’m trying to get there, in north Idaho. I…” Her voice trailed off as movement caught her eye.

  A pair of headlights turned down the street, moving slowly toward them.

  Margie pulled Ryker down the porch and around the corner of the house. They had no idea who it was. For all they knew, it could be any one of the men who had destroyed the gas station. It could be anyone and they weren’t in the position to protect themselves. Sure, Ryker had a gun, but Margie had a distinct feeling he didn’t really know how to use it.

  A small car rolled past the houses, the speed couldn’t be more than five miles an hour. It inched slowly toward where Ryker and Margie hid. “Margie! Margie!” A loud, hoarse whisper called for Margie from the car.

  Startled, she stepped out from their hiding spot, squinting as she did so toward the window. “Kelsey?”

  The car stopped and Kelsey jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Are you ready to go?” She looked past Margie, her eyes wide as she took in Ryker’s presence. Motioning toward the car, she added, “We don’t have a lot of time. Come on!”

  Margie looked at Ryker, hope back in her expression. “I know your whole family is gone and this is your home, but we’re going to be with family, hopefully, where it’s safe. Are you interested? Do you want to go? You won’t have more than a minute to grab your stuff.” Would he go with them? Margie hadn’t asked Kelsey, but there was no other decent choice to make. She couldn’t leave him there, if he wanted to go. If he wanted a chance at something new.

  Ryker set his jaw and pierced both women with his gaze. “What do I need to grab?” His voice trembled but his shoulders were straight. He knew what he had to do to survive, that much was evident.

  Margie glanced at Kelsey and grinned. Three was better than two and two wasn’t a bad number to be.

  They had to make it home. There were no other options and finally, Margie felt like she had a chance.

  Chapter 19

  Scott

  Scott’s feet hurt. Not like a subtle ache that would eventually go away. This was a pain that came from being cold and then prodded and poked with sharp instruments. Instruments that in this case were rocks and sticks on the dirt and gravel road. The jarring pain reached up into his gut and he cringed with each step.

  He’d somehow made it from Cady’s long driveway to the road and he wiped at the sweat pouring off his face. The moisture intensified the burn in his neck and back, but Scott gritted his teeth and pressed forward. How much could he endure? How far was he willing to push it before he fell to his knees and crawled the rest of the way.

  The option actually gave him pause. He glanced down at his legs and realized he could do that. He’d probably move faster with the weight distributed across his hands and his knees versus everything on his feet. He hurt so bad that alleviating anything at that point sounded like heaven.

  He wasn’t there yet – crawling down the road – though. But he kept it as part of a plan while the spiking pain created a shiny block to his vision in the upper right-hand corner of his eyes like a burst of light that hadn’t faded.

  Stopping, he leaned down and braced himself on his knees. The light spot was there even when he closed his eyes. He opened them, pushing his finger into the air toward the spot, but nothing moved. He then pushed on his eyes, but nothing changed. The light just glowed.

  Was he getting a mig
raine? He couldn’t remember what he was doing. Maybe it was aneurysm. Wait, he was on the road toward his house. He had to focus. What he was doing couldn’t be good for his sickened and stressed body. Okay, he had to get home. He wasn’t far away. With the land parcel positioning, he was roughly halfway there. He only had about a hundred yards left to go, but that looked like forever.

  The way Scott’s feet hurt, it could easily have been ten miles with nails.

  Glancing behind him, the direction he’d come, he sighed. He’d made it halfway. He was almost there. Either direction he chose to go would take as long. He just wanted to lay down right there and rest. Just give in to the pain and fatigue and sleep on the cool dirt under the soles of his feet.

  The yipping of coyotes grew close, the high-pitched howl carried on the soft evening breeze. The sound was one Scott recognized as a declaration that a meal was close by. As they got closer to his position on the road, Scott looked around for the unsuspecting animal that they had pinpointed as their prey.

  There was nothing around. Maybe it was hiding in the brush and it was injured. They had an uncanny ability to sense when an animal was sick or weak. More often than not, those were exactly the types of prey they were looking for.

  His bare feet scraped across the ground as he struggled to lift his foot and moaned as the rocks bit into his wet feet. Yeah, he was hurting. He didn’t want to run into any animals outside, not while he was defenseless and half-naked himself.

  The silhouette of a coyote came into view as it moved onto the road from the forest past the shoulder of the curve by Scott’s house. Moonlight painted the dog’s presence clearly on the rocky surface. Lowering his nose, he sniffed the air and lifted his head before yipping hard and fast.

  Scott looked around him. There was nothing else around that could be labeled with the call. Just him. He was weak. He was tired. There had to be scrapes and raw flesh and blood exposed, leaving the scent of injury on the air for the predators to sniff out.