180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 1 - 3

by B. R. Paulson

  And now the depth of his misogyny moved into the light. He never looked directly at women. He often spoke down to them and any books written by women or about women he refused to read or consider as an option to spend his time on. Did he really think so little of women? Well, look at his mother. She’d only ever had babies and raised children.

  C. Moss was a thinker and obviously a doer. She had matched him thought for thought and even surpassed him in ideas. If any woman in the history of the world was going to change his mind about the female worth, it would be someone like his friend.

  Yes, she was still his friend.

  Their mindset was so similar. He never guessed because… And finally, Jackson was able to face the reality of his sexism. All bets were off since she was a girl. What was the saying – all’s fair in love and war?

  If they were that compatible and she was available, Jackson had to know more about her. If he had a perfect match out there, it would be her. How often had he randomly thought how perfect C. Moss would be for him as a mate, if only he were a woman? Well, now Jackson’s wonderings were his reality.

  Of course, the option was there that C. Moss was a guy married to another man, but going back over their notes in his head, there was nothing that would suggest C. Moss supported that lifestyle. They both had always voted fairly conservative, as far as he’d been aware. Once they were married, she would have to match him in beliefs, so he wasn’t worried about how she might have changed.

  Marriage. Had he really just made that leap? Would marriage and all of the steps around that social construct be necessary in the world once everyone had died?

  Coffee aroma pulled him back to the moment in the lounge and he glanced up as the giggling trio left the lounge, headed toward the conference area. He stood, tucking his phone in his pocket.

  Once he got home, he was going to find where she was. Everything was possible now and he had an even greater desire to orchestrate their plans. A sudden rush of protectiveness toward her reared inside him. Her husband had just died and he wanted to replace the hole the man had left.

  But Jackson had read her words about her deceased spouse. Her dead husband hadn’t had her heart. As far as Jackson was concerned, that meant the grief for the man wasn’t going to be long, if at all. All Jackson had to do was get through the meeting and the arduous drive home.

  Claiming his seat in the back of the room, he pulled out his phone again. Reading her email over and over was going to be the only way he got through that meeting.

  Without killing everyone right there.

  ~~~

  Settling into his office chair in the chilly parts of his train box, Jackson rubbed his hands together and started up the computer and satellite internet. Figuring out who and where C. Moss was would help him decide so many things.

  Mentally they were a match. But what about physically? Would she be as masculine in her physical features as she was in the way she communicated? Restarting the world would require attraction and Jackson was self-aware enough that he wasn’t interested in mating with just anyone. She didn’t have to be a model, but even her smarts wouldn’t be enough to make an ugly woman someone he wanted to be with.

  Searching for her online felt taboo. He’d never done that because he’d protected the anonymity of their relationship. But now, with things changing as they were and his plan in motion to end the rest of the world, Jackson had to know who he was considering being one of the last two people on earth with.

  Would she take the vaccine? Would she save herself to be with him? To live?

  They could start a new society, a new world. All he had to do was find her. Part of him wanted her to be ugly and even a little bit male. He didn't want to think about why he was excited by the possibilities behind her being a woman.

  Jackson had considered eating a bullet after he released the final stage of his plan, but if he didn’t, he might get to see the fruits of his labor. Being together with C. Moss would help justify everything he was doing. He wasn’t a bad person, but he was setting out to kill seven billion humans. To some people, that warranted some name calling. C. Moss would validate his efforts. She would applaud them. He had to believe that, because he was sick of feeling alone.

  They could be together. If they did have children, their offspring would be very smart. Jackson chuckled. Look at him, already making plans for the future.

  Using her email address, he searched on the blue social media site for a match, bringing up an old profile that hadn’t been updated in a few years. A grainy picture of a woman with dark hair and a bright smile was on the profile square.

  Cady Moss. Cady. She even spelled her name different. She was a woman who stood out without being overtly attention-seeking.

  Her simple beauty took his breath away. How was a woman like that, with her brains and her revolutionary ideas not someone that he had captured before? Thankfully, her husband was dead. Jackson didn’t want to have to kill him and then lie to her about it. He was dead. That was all that mattered.

  Using some of the information she’d given him in the email and on her page, Jackson did a little more digging and found a newspaper article about a car accident the night before in north Idaho on highway 54. He cross referenced that with the IP address she’d sent the email address from and he sat back smugly.

  She wasn’t extremely far from him. She was in Spirit Lake, Idaho.

  He was in some awful place on the edge of Wyoming. The drive up to her would be nothing. Mail wouldn't take that long to get there either.

  Leaning toward the drawers on his desk, he pulled out a small thank you card he used to schmooze his way into offices and labs.

  He deliberated how much to go into in words. After scribbling out his message, he scrawled on the back of the envelope, “The world is about to change.” Putting her address on the front of the envelope. He stuck a stamp to the upper right corner and added it to his small pile of outgoing mail.

  Altering one minor step, Jackson’s plan to destroy the world would go forward with a vengeance. He and Cady could start things off the way they were supposed to be started. The world would be safe from mankind.

  An all new world was about to begin.

  Chapter 12

  Cady

  The sound of the front door closing pulled Cady from a drug-induced sleep. She blinked as if weights hung from her eyelids. Hiccuping from residual tears, she pressed her hand to her forehead.

  What time was it? She rolled from Zach’s side of the bed to lay on her side of the bed. She glared in the general direction of the oak clock on the wall beside the bathroom door. Afternoon. Maybe her parents had made it to Cady’s. Bailey wasn’t supposed to be home until after dinner.

  Zach… Cady wiped the gathering moisture from her eyes. Her crying jag before she’d popped some sleeping pills – like five – would have to be enough. She didn’t need to cry like that with her parents and she would have to be strong when Bailey found out.

  Her daughter was going to be destroyed.

  “Cady? You home?” Scott’s voice snapped her to a sitting position.

  Her long auburn hair fell across her face and she shook it back. What was he doing there? He couldn’t just come in like that. What would Zach…

  Cady shook her head. She took a deep breath and crawled from the center of her mussed bed. She must have tossed and turned a lot, everything she didn’t remember. Pulling on the clothes she’d discarded, Cady ran a hand through her hair, but didn’t really care what it looked like. She was just going to tell him it wasn’t a good time. That wouldn’t take getting dressed up. She could probably call from her room for him to leave. She approached the doorway to her – just hers now – bedroom.

  Two voices murmured from the bottom of the stairs and Cady recognized the other one as Bailey’s.

  Cady froze by her bedroom door, turning to press her back against the textured paint. She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. Why? She wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t h
ave enough time. She had no one to help her break the news.

  “I’ll go check outside. I bet they’re out fixing the snow-blower. Mom broke it last week.” Bailey’s voice was clear as she spoke, and it was almost as if Cady could hear her daughter rolling her eyes at her mother’s ineptitude.

  “I break my snow-blower all the time. It’s the weight of the snow and then it refreezes. Go find them. I’m not leaving you here by yourself. Ranger wouldn’t like it.” Scott laughed as Bailey’s footsteps echoed across the kitchen floor. The garage door shut.

  Cady dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to the top of the stairs, looking down and watching as Scott stared out the wide window.

  She must have made a noise because he turned and looked up for her.

  Surprise and delight covered his face but they faded as he took in her appearance. For the first time, she looked down at herself, seeing the wreck that she was. She should’ve stopped at the mirror, taken a shower, something. But she hadn’t and judging by the shock on Scott’s face, she was about to get the second-degree.

  “Cady...” He searched her face with his gaze. “Are you alright?”

  That was the first time anyone had actually asked her if she was okay. Maybe everyone assumed her injuries must not be that bad since she was walking around and her husband was dead.

  But she was walking around despite the fact that her spouse had died in a car accident and she had checked out at the hospital as fine. Her muscles were beginning to get sore and the bruising and scrapes felt raw and overly-sensitive. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  Scott motioned for her to come down the stairs. “Come on. Come and tell me before Bailey gets back inside.” He glanced toward the garage and then back at Cady, a sense of urgency darkening his features.

  They could both hear Bailey calling for her father outside on the driveway. She wouldn’t stop looking for him for a while. As far as Bailey was concerned, there was nowhere else he could be.

  Cady pushed herself to her feet and made her way down the stairs with the least amount of grace as possible. She didn’t even care about how she looked at the moment.

  Scott pulled her into his arms when she got to the lower landing. His strong embrace weakened her further. She reveled in someone else’s strength for the briefest moment and then pushed away, lifting her head. “I…” She shook her head. “Zach…”

  “I know. I’m just trying to be a friend, Cady. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to push the boundaries.” Regret and shame darkened his green eyes as he studied her. He reached up and pushed some of her hair off the bandage on her forehead. “Are you okay? Where’s Zach?”

  Cady shook her head again, she held a hand up and swallowed the bile aching to spew from her mouth. After a moment, she took a deep breath and got out, “No… Zach is dead.” She drew in a ragged breath, registering Scott’s shock but unable to stand any longer.

  She stumbled into the living room, to the left of the stairs, and dropped onto the first couch she came to. Clutching her hand over her mouth, she finally got herself under control with her legs shaking.

  Scott followed her inside, claiming a seat beside her, but not too close. “I’m so sorry. I… was it a car accident? I read about one on the news this morning. I had no idea it was…” He reached out and rubbed a large, sturdy hand up and down her back.

  Before Cady could reply, Bailey’s happy voice rang through the house, punctuated by the closing of the garage door. “Mom? Dad? Scott, I looked all over and I can’t find them. They might be upstairs or something. Maybe they were out too late last night and they’re sleeping or something.”

  Cady’s eyes widened and she snapped her gaze to Scott’s face. She shook her head, her lips pressed together tight.

  Scott’s own eyes widened in surprise and understanding. He dropped his hand from her back and patted her fingers resting on the couch beside his. But he didn’t linger. Instead he turned and called to Bailey, “Bailey, come in here. Your mom had to sit down.”

  “Oh, you found her. Good.” Bailey bopped into the living room from the other double-door entrance and came to a sudden halt at the sight of Cady sitting there. “Mom?” Bailey glanced from Scott to Cady. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Where’s Dad?”

  Cady leaned back into the leather cushions of the couch, drawing her legs up under her. Confusion from the sleeping pills still had her brain in a fog as she tried to take in what exactly she was doing. Her existence ached – if that was possible.

  Bailey’s nervous laughter shadowed her voice. “Mom, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? How did you get all bloody and what happened to your head?” There was a lot to process and Bailey was doing her best, but it was plain to see she was overwhelmed and starting to get scared.

  Cady used Scott’s position as a buffer and a boost of energy. He didn’t get in the way but he leaned back so not to block the line between Cady and Bailey.

  Cady’s mouth dried up and she worked her tongue. When she spoke, her words came out scratchy like she’d overused her voice. “I’m sorry.” She swallowed, but not well as she tried to fight the dryness. “We were in a car accident last night. And…” Cady avoided Bailey’s alarmed gaze as she fiddled with the torn edges of her jeans. “Your father…” Cady pressed her fingers over her eyes and leaned forward, shaking her head.

  Bailey’s uncomfortable laughter disappeared under her gasp. “Not… no, not Dad.” She stood up, throwing her arms out to the sides. “I don’t believe you!” Running through the house, her yells for her father echoed hollowly off the wooden floors and remained unanswered as she tore outside, screaming for him.

  Scott turned tear-filled eyes toward Cady.

  She sat up, placing her palms on the curves of her knees. “Well, there’s the last wedge we needed.”

  “Cady, I’m serious. Are you okay?” Scott’s gaze was concerned without being invasive.

  Cady leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. She glanced at him, pressing her lips together as she continued holding in her panic. “Yes and no. I’m not sure? There’s so much to do and I can’t wrap my head around anything. I still feel like I’m at the hospital waiting for them to come tell me he’s alright.” She shook her head and looked at her lap. “But I watched him die, so…” She shrugged.

  Scott set his jaw to the side and motioned her to go upstairs. “Go clean up. I’ll get the chickens out and fed and I’ll see what I can do to fix the snow-blower. I noticed you need some plowing done. I’ll get that, too.” He stood, looking down at her. “I’ll talk to Bailey and get her settled.”

  Cady nodded slowly. She needed to hand things over to someone else, if only for fifteen minutes so she could take a shower. Scott had always been so solid for her.

  “Thank you, Scott. I appreciate it.” She somehow got herself to a standing position and then tottered up the stairs. A hot shower might be able to cull Bailey’s screams from her head for a few minutes. Just long enough to figure out how to handle it.

  Cady wasn’t trying to be unsympathetic, but she didn’t know what to do or what to say. The look in Bailey’s eyes had said everything Cady was already thinking.

  The wrong parent had died.

  ~~~

  Cady leaned forward at the table, her elbows on the surface in a defiant act of not using her etiquette. She didn’t care about manners right then. She barely wanted to eat dinner herself, but there she and Bailey sat, trapped in the beginnings of a brand-new routine of eating alone – just the two of them. Cady cleared her still raw throat. “Can you pass the salt, please?”

  Bailey didn’t acknowledge that Cady had even spoken. She mechanically chewed whatever it was Scott had dropped off for them. Something with noodles and chicken in it. The man was a good cook, but it didn’t matter what it was, everything tasted like dust.

  The sun had long since set and there’d been no sign of Cady’s parents. She reached for her cell phone as Bailey suddenly burst into tears and abandoned her dish at
the table. She ran from the room, her sobs rebounding off the walls to torture Cady more.

  Rolling her head to the side, Cady picked up the phone and dialed her mom’s cell number.

  Three rings and then her mother answered, breathless. “Yeah?”

  “Mom, is everything okay? You said you were going to be here this afternoon.” Cady tried to keep the plaintive whine from her voice, but her mom was supposed to be the filter between Cady and Bailey. Cady hated to be a coward, but she didn’t know how to respond to her daughter’s grief when she didn’t know how to handle her own.

  Margie cleared her throat. “Cady, I’m sorry. We’ve been in the hospital. Your father had a… situation… I haven’t had a chance to call you because we’ve been running from department to department at the hospital to run tests. They’ll release him in the morning. I’m coming, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put more on your plate. I was going to call, I just wanted to wait until it was more definitive.” Her voice faded as if she expected Cady to have a mental breakdown.

  Cady sank to the floor, clutching the phone with both hands. She’d been so selfish, more concerned with how to stay away from her daughter’s emotions, when they should’ve been banding together. “I’m so sorry. Mom, what can I do?” Cady ignored the sound of the door opening and closing. She stared at the grains of the wood floor, only able to focus on the micro things at the moment.

  “Psh, nothing. Let me figure out exactly what’s going on and find out from the doctors how bad it really is. I’ll call you back after. I’m still planning on making the funeral. Get me the information, okay? If we can, we’ll be there tomorrow or sooner.” Margie’s voice softened. “Honey, I’m sorry to double up on you.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I understand.” But did she? If she were a praying woman, she’d be on her knees until they were bloody.

  Making her way into the living room, Cady staggered to the couch and flopped down beside Scott who had come in and was folding laundry. When had he had time to do her laundry? He was being too helpful and she didn’t deserve it.