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

by B. R. Paulson

  As it was, Scott couldn’t get to the dry stuff. He couldn’t grab the logs which had been left on the front line where the snow and water could reach them and soak into one end. Starting a fire was next to impossible with the wet wood, but that’s what Scott kept having to do. As long as Cady wouldn’t keep using the coals to maintain a fire, Scott would have to keep working on the insufferable wood to burn for him.

  Had the loss of her husband been that devastating? Cady and Zach hadn’t been that close as long as Scott had known them. He’d watched their marriage deteriorate over time and he’d always hoped she’d be free sooner rather than later – but he’d always known the marriage wouldn’t last. Now that Zach was finally out of the picture, Scott couldn’t help feeling like he was just wasting his time hoping she’d get over Zach’s death and turn to him. She seemed to be spiraling into a backward cycle and Scott couldn’t figure out why.

  He stepped out of the slider door and grabbed an armful of split logs from her wood box which was getting woefully low. Back inside, he stacked the logs and shoved crumpled paper underneath them. He pulled out a small bottle of lighter fluid and squirted the dry ends of the logs. He wasn’t too proud to cheat. Lighting the match and closing the front door, Scott settled back on his haunches and listened. The only sound greeting his ears was the roar of the fire as the air from the open ash box rushed through the box to push the flames higher and hotter.

  Where was Cady? He padded around the lower level in his socks, his steps muffled. No sign of life. Maybe she wasn’t even home.

  He climbed the stairs. The silence was eerie and he felt like an intruder in someone else’s house.

  The first room off the stairs to the right was Cady’s. Scott had been up there before a while back, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate then. Now, he was just worried and didn’t care what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

  “Cady?” A pit of dread worked its way into his gut. Had she done something to herself? He’d read stories about women who snapped and killed themselves and their children in the name of grief or frustration or whatever emotion they couldn’t handle. Heck, he’d read that about men, too.

  A soft rustling sound pulled him to the walk-in closet of her room beside the bathroom. Light spilled onto the carpet and he knocked softly on the door. “Cady?”

  She jerked upright from her position on her hands and knees. Pressing a hand to her chest, she exhaled. “Oh, wow, Scott, you scared me.” She smiled shakily at him.

  He studied her. She didn’t seem off-kilter mentally. Her hands shook, but she just claimed that he’d startled her, so maybe that was all it was.

  But Scott didn’t think so.

  “What’s going on? Your fire was off and Bailey isn’t here again.” His tone was half-accusing and he didn’t rein it in. He got that she’d lost her husband, he got it. But life had to go on and at some point she was going to have to snap out of whatever stage she was in.

  Cady stood, her jeans and t-shirt showing the curves of her body without being too tight. He’d always liked that about her, her modest femininity.

  He stepped back to her let pass. “Cady.”

  She stopped, looking up at him, her eyes wide. “Look, I know Bailey is gone. I’m letting her get in some time with her friends before… well, before she can’t.” Cady lifted her chin. She rubbed her hands together. “I totally forgot about the fire. I… I’ve had some things on my mind.”

  Scott ignored her cryptic message. He shook his head, ducking to stare into her eyes. “Look, I know you’re going through a lot with… Zach, but you can’t stop living. You need to focus.”

  She laughed, the sound more mocking than anything. “Scott, you’re honestly the only person in the world that would listen to… me.” She snapped her gaze to his face and stepped closer to him. Studying him, she grabbed his hand in hers. “Listen, you’re the only one who will listen to me.” She stared at him, holding his gaze with hers.

  But she didn’t say anything else, just watched him, as if waiting for something.

  He didn’t break the contact. Her hand in his was the first real connection with her he’d had in a while and he didn’t want to let it go.

  The silence spread before them and finally Scott cleared his throat. “I came to clean the chicken coop. I just did mine and figured yours could use it, too. You said the door was catching. Is it still?”

  Tears welled in Cady’s eyes. Had Scott said something that reminded her of Zach or something? He didn’t want her to cry. He couldn’t handle her sadness.

  Scott’s mouth dried up and he tried to swallow. “I’m sorry… I…”

  She shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “You’ll listen to me, right?”

  “Of course, I’m listening. I’m right here.” Scott grabbed her other hand with his free one. There was something desperate in the air, and Scott wasn’t sure what to call it.

  “Promise me, promise me that you’ll forward your mail. Forward your mail and stop going to stores or anywhere when I tell you. Get your affairs in order, now. Now, Scott, do you understand me? Now. Not later. Don’t wait until tomorrow, either. I mean, it. Get your stuff done immediately.” Her lower lip trembled and she lifted her chin as she dragged in a deep breath. The t-shirt collar was off-center, showing the angle of her collarbone in relief. She’d gotten thinner and that worried Scott.

  Kitting his eyebrows, he stared at Cady, trying to determine if she was losing it or she knew something she wasn’t saying. “What’s going on? Cady, I don’t understand. What aren’t you telling me?”

  She jerked her hands from his grasp and crossed the carpeted floor to stare out the window. She stood there in silence for thirty seconds, a minute, then she turned and pointed at the wall clock on the wall past Scott. Resolution settled her and she pierced him with her gaze. “You’re wasting time. I’ll get my coop cleaned. Go, do what I said.” She stared at him and then strode up to him, clutching his arm. “Scott, promise me. I’ll tell you more when I can. Do you trust me?”

  Even with the manic glint in her eye, Scott realized he did trust her. She was one of the smartest people he’d ever met and if she said something was important, he took her seriously. He nodded slowly. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll do it.”

  She smiled, relief removing lines around her mouth and eyes. “Thank you.” She sighed. “You have no idea… I tried warning my mom but… she didn’t… and with my dad’s cancer…” She wiped tears from under her eyes and shook her head. “I just hope… it doesn’t come back on me, you know?”

  Scott didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was slipping back into her pensive mood and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  “I’m going to head home, then. I’ll be back later to check on you. When is Bailey supposed to be home?” Scott was more worried about Cady’s daughter than he was about the coop. But he was coming around to check on Cady and everything at her place was under his watch, whether she wanted it to be or not – including her daughter. “Please, make sure you’re putting logs on the fire. Your pipes can freeze, if you don’t watch that in here.” Not to mention, she could get so cold she wouldn’t wake up.

  She nodded but moved back to the window to look out at the dark day. Scott would be back, but something in her tone had warned him she wasn’t kidding. He moved to the door to walk down the stairs and stopped at the sound of Cady saying his name. He looked back at her, resting his hand on the doorjamb.

  “I’m not sure who else to warm. This isn’t a joke.” She grimaced, reaching up to rub her eyes.

  “I understand.” But he didn’t. Walking down the stairs, he had the sinking sensation that what Cady warned him about, might be what he’d been prepping for. Slipping his boots back on, Scott left the house and climbed back on his ATV.

  The drive home passed quickly. Their neighbors all stayed to themselves, one of the things he liked about the area.

  Inside, Scott breathed easier. His breath didn’
t puff out in front of him inside his own home like it had when he’d been inside Cady’s home.

  He moved to sit on his recliner, but didn’t relax back. He leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees. Cady had made some pretty specific demands without any information. He was taking a huge leap of faith doing what she’d warned him to do.

  If he was going to do it, then it was worth warning his parents and family.

  Picking up the phone, he took a deep breath. They’d think he was crazy. If nothing happened and they all took these steps, they’d never trust him again. But if something did happen and he didn’t warn them… his regret would make surviving difficult.

  He straightened his shoulders. He’d warn his parents and tell them it was a drill. They took those seriously. He would just have to tell them this was even more important to do. He ran his hand down his face. The not-knowing what was going on would drive him insane.

  How much did Cady know and what was her role in it?

  Chapter 20

  Jackson

  Swirling satisfaction consumed Jackson. He studied the contents on his cot in the dying light of the day as the final rays of sunlight reflected off the snow. He’d propped the doors open to catch the remaining shafts of the sun to conserve energy.

  He’d be leaving soon and he didn’t feel like setting up additional batteries.

  The time line was set in motion. He had one final “goodbye” to say and then he could put forth the okay to mail his packages. Once the packages were set in place, he’d be able to say goodbye to his survivalist lifestyle and start living larger than life.

  Pulling his clipboard higher, he squinted at the list he’d carefully typed out. The final blueprint for his plans.

  “Okay, first thing’s first. Send off the vaccine vial to Cady. Take my own dose.” He tapped the pen tip next to each item as he spoke. The sound of his voice was eerily loud as it bounced off the metal walls. He could see his breath as he spoke as it puffed in front of him. The night was going to be colder.

  He twisted his lips to the side, narrowing his eyes as he tried to think of when would be a good time to give himself the shot. There was so much unknown in the vaccine that he would be taking a huge leap of faith injecting it into himself. Testing on animals was one thing, but he had no way to test the vaccine’s efficacy on another human unless he wanted that person to live or he didn’t care if they died.

  The only sound in the peaceful silence was the soft blowing out when he breathed.

  A crunch of feet on snow jerked his gaze up from the list. He listened intently, his breathing shallow as his heart rate sped up. His roved the inside of the bunker sightlessly as he focused on what he could hear. There was nothing he could see that mattered in the finite second of discovery.

  Another footstep. That was definite crunching. Someone was out there. Jackson didn’t have enough time to close the doors without being noticed. From the proximity of the crunching, whoever it was was right on him. They probably even heard him talking to himself about the list.

  He leaned down carefully, pulling his Taurus Slim from his ankle strap and setting the clipboard soundlessly on the bed. Gripping the butt of the gun with both hands, he flipped off the safety and held his trigger finger at the ready.

  Of course, he had to make a change to his routine and so close to the end of his plans. He couldn’t get arrested or caught at that point. If he did, he’d never make it out in time to make sure everything went as directed.

  He sighed softly, keeping his noise to a minimum. Shaking his head at his own disappointing mistake, Jackson narrowed his eyes and watched the opening to the train car. He licked his lips. The crunching continued, getting closer and closer.

  As if on a television screen, a head decked out in a warm red and blue stocking hat over a black snow coat came into view from the side. The form emerged as if from off-screen. As the person swiveled their head left and right, they inspected the train but more as if he or she didn’t expect anything to be inside. Maybe Jackson hadn’t been overheard like he’d suspected.

  Jackson focused on the face. Graying whiskers mixed with blond stubble gave away the man’s older age. He stopped walking as he caught sight of the items inside the car. Judging by the surprise on his face, he hadn’t yet seen Jackson. That would be in Jackson’s favor.

  Slowly raising the gun to aim at the man’s head, Jackson arched an eyebrow. He waited. When would he know it was time to shoot? He’d never killed anyone before and wasn’t sure he was fond of the idea of killing one on one. The anonymity of the virus was vastly more preferable to the gun.

  “Hello? Is anyone in there?” The older man spoke as if he didn’t really expect anyone to answer and the question was more of a formality. He hadn’t expected the furnishings either, so why would he be surprised if someone did show up?

  Jackson didn’t feel like wasting time. He quietly pulled the hammer back, his gun was always loaded, and he closed one eye as he aimed tighter on the man’s forehead. The simple squeeze of the trigger released a loud bang and a sharp recoil.

  The man didn’t make a sound, slumping to the ground out of view of the doorway. Jackson raised his finger and pushed his ears. The noise had been a lot louder than he’d expected, echoing off the metal walls of the bunker. He glanced at the firearm. Next time, he’d have to add a silencer. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a next time and all the deaths he caused would be via his first-choice weapon.

  He ignored the body – his first kill – while he cautiously gathered up his things. He couldn’t stay there anymore and that irritated him, but he had enough money he could stay at a hotel while everything unfolded. He would take the vaccine in the next couple days, so he’d be fine.

  First, though, he had his party to go to.

  Everything he wanted to keep tucked easily into the backpack he’d been saving for that exact event. He climbed down from the train car and set his pack on a tree stump a few feet from the opening. Carefully, he hefted the man’s body with its staring eyes and off-center bullet hole on the forehead and pushed him into the car.

  Locking the door would make certain that no one would find the man’s body before the world ended. Jackson couldn’t get arrested. Not yet. He had too much on the line. Plus, if the guy was the owner of the property, he’d picked the wrong time to come out and check his land.

  Swinging the doors shut, Jackson congratulated himself on greasing the hinges regularly. The doors didn’t make a sound until they clanged against their metal frame.

  He pulled on his backpack. Maybe the dead guy had driven his rig or something close to the trailhead. That would make things a lot easier. Unless… Dang, unless he had the keys on him. Jackson didn’t care about the body, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like going back and digging around in an old man’s pants pockets. Not when he was just trying to get out of there.

  Hiking to the road, Jackson smiled at the sight of the well-tricked out Land Rover with four-wheel drive. A flat-black luggage rack squared off the top of the sleek ride. The sleek silver charcoal paint added an air of predation to the vehicle, exactly how Jackson was feeling. If there were keys in the Jeep, he’d know that the end of the world was his job to bring about. He’d be on the right track.

  Narrowing his eyes, he pulled on the handle. The door opened. So far so good.

  He climbed into the still warm seat and felt at the ignition. No keys. He glanced around the console and in the cupholders, pulled down the visor, and even felt around under the seat. No keys. Great. Doubt niggled into the corners of his mind. If he wasn’t supposed to bring about the end, would he know it?

  Stopping his search, Jackson thought for a second. “Where would I hide some keys off a highway?” He tapped his chin and then reached up and opened the glove box. Taped to the inside of the box was a set of keys. And right there, Jackson knew he was doing a divinely set task. The world was his oyster and he was going to skewer it into a loaf. He shoved his doubt to the side. There was nothi
ng to doubt and he looked forward to the great things he was going to bring about.

  He put the keys into the ignition and turned, starting the engine. The motor purred to life and in seconds Jackson pulled onto the highway and headed south. All he had left to do was stop at that party and then he could be on his way.

  Life was better than good. It was starting to smell like the end of the world.

  ~~~

  “Mom, I’m okay, thank you. I don’t need any more tostadas.” Jackson rolled his eyes and pulled his paper plate closer to his abdomen. His plate had been under constant attack since he’d arrived at his parents’ place and claimed one from the buffet table. If he wasn’t protecting it from his sister, Maria or his mother from adding contents to it, he was safeguarding it from his brother, Miguel, trying to pull things off like a permanent joke.

  Lanterns had been set up for the late evening party Jackson had just barely arrived at in time. He’d forgotten he was supposed to bring chips and salsa and so he’d stopped in town before driving out to his parents’ place an hour from his hideout. They still thought he lived in the city.

  His mother reached out, squeezing his cheeks as she smiled, revealing a gap between her front teeth. “Oh, Juan, I’m so glad you were able to make it. We sure have missed you.” She pressed her hand to her chest, shrugging and giggling. Already she was showing signs of too much alcohol. Glancing around the backyard, Sylvia de Mante surveyed her complete family with satisfaction.

  Jackson grimaced at the use of his given name. Juan de Mante. He’d switched to Jackson when he’d gotten into college, passing easily for a white man with his fair coloring and shortly cropped hair. He’d dropped any pretense at a last name after college, but before that when paperwork demanded a surname, he’d adopted Aimes. It was as white as he could come up with.

  He’d never told his family he went by anything other than Juan. They never asked about what he did after he shared he ran a biochem department at a small school. That was it, that was all they needed. He wasn’t someone they could brag about, but he wasn’t someone they could complain about either. He stayed off anyone’s radar and with five brothers and sisters, that was just fine by him.