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

by B. R. Paulson

  Cady’s voice broke on a sob. “He texted me. The hours are running into each other. I can’t remember if he texted me yesterday, or today, or when. Everything… it’s all a blur. He cut eight days off the timeline.” She sounded like she was trying to figure it out. “Jackson wasn’t the best at understanding the virology aspect of replication and evolution. No one is really.”

  “Explain it. What is it? What don’t we know?” Scott leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing to the deck and furrowing his brow. He’d understand, if it killed him. There had to be something he could learn that would benefit him or his family. There had to be a weakness. Cady had said so herself.

  Dropping all pretenses at being unknowledgeable, Cady’s voice took on the dulcet tones of a lecturer. “Okay, I’ll keep this simple. Evolution is easy to understand simply as change that happens over multiple generations to adapt for survival, right? I’m not talking the fallacy that humans came from monkeys. That’s ridiculous. What I’m talking about is like something as simple as size – men in the early nineteen hundreds were an average height of five feet and five inches, give or take. Now, average height is closer to six feet. That’s an evolutionary trait due to better access to nutrition at a younger age and better healthcare. Another one would involve the emergence of genes that are prevalent in humans that are devoted to fighting diseases like malaria, leprosy, and tuberculosis.” Cady paused, warming to her subject.

  “Okay, I understand all of that.” Scott straightened again, wishing she would get on with it. “What does that have to do with the virus?”

  “Evolution takes generations to create. It’s not something that is going to happen between me and Bailey – in one generation. It takes multiple generations. For humans evolution seems relatively slow because generations are every twenty years. In a viral aspect, the generational turnover to develop a new trait or an adaptive trait is a matter of hours to days. The generation time aspect for a virus is more like twenty minutes compared to our twenty years.” Cady let that sink in before continuing. “So, if he released his virus early, then the viral changes needed for that particular disease to flourish would be altered and adapted to as warranted. What this means, Scott, is that it doesn’t matter what Jackson wanted the virus to do. Now that it’s been released, it will do what it wants, it will alter and change and do what it needs to do to fulfill its calling. Jackson’s timeline is no longer controlled by his testing.”

  “Are you saying that every twenty minutes there’s a new generation of the virus? Every twenty minutes?” Scott’s disbelief could have stopped the breeze from blowing past him. Twenty minutes. Evolution could happen so fast on a viral landscape.

  How did humans ever stand a chance?

  “What does this mean, Cady?” Discouragement clouded Scott’s normal can-do attitude. “I need you to break it down for me, simply, and tell me what I need to do.”

  A long pause filled with tension and regret covered the line. Scott ignored the sight of Ranger sleeping on his side on the driveway in the sun. The dog would have no one, if Scott died from the sickness.

  After another moment, Cady’s forced optimism left a bitter taste in Scott’s mouth. “Honestly? Stay away from hospitals, clinics, doctor offices. I know you have family that is sick, and I wouldn’t write them off, not yet. However, you’re looking at a guaranteed fifty o sixty percent death rate. If Jackson’s virus is evolving, it may or may not be for the better. I guarantee the design will have been to have an eighty percent mortality rate, but the genetic code could’ve changed to alter that. You need to get your family and either hunker down in Boise, or you need to get home before everything becomes impossible to navigate and you need to hunker down wherever you end up.”

  Cady paused, as if uncertain just how much to give him. “Look, I know this sounds harsh, but I can’t take the chance with my daughter. You’ve been out there… you’re exposed. I can’t…” Her voice broke on a sob and Scott realized it wasn’t worry over Bailey that created her sorrow.

  How long had she known she cared? Was it before Zach’s death? Had she suspected that she had feelings for him? Had he tipped his hand and exposed his feelings too soon? None of that had been intentional. Things couldn’t be a worse time, and yet, Zach didn’t care. She spoke of not being able to see him because he’d been exposed already. It was like a slap in the face, but he agreed with her. The last thing he wanted to do was to endanger her or her daughter.

  But how could he not see her? How was that going to work? As if she could see him, he nodded, gripping the angle of the post to his side. He squeezed his eyes tight. “Yeah, I get it.” His voice was husky with his own regret.

  She sniffed. “Scott, I…”

  “No. Cady let’s just leave it. If we both make it through this, let’s talk then.” He wasn’t going to lose a chance at happiness… Even if he had to survive a deadly virus to be with her.

  They hung up and Scott tapped his cell against his thigh while he considered all of his options. He had to finish what he’d started. Since he’d already come into contact with whatever was terrorizing everyone – he had no idea yet just what kind of a scale he was looking at – Scott had no excuse but to gather everyone up and get them the eight-hour drive home. All of them. Even the sick ones.

  Who would come with him? How hard was he going to have to fight them?

  Scott didn’t want to go back inside, but he had to finish what he’d gone to Boise for. To rescue his family. His fight was just starting. If the incubation period was right – the one he’d heard his mom mention to her friend – of only three days, Scott had to hurry to get them north. He had seventy-two hours before he came down with the sickness. He couldn’t be protective, if he was down for the count with a sickness he wanted to save everyone else from.

  Inside the house, he approached his mom working in the kitchen albeit slower than he remembered from his last trip. She’d put the phone away and used a blue sponge to wipe down the counter.

  “How are you feeling, Mom?” Scott came up from behind and studied her as she turned to face him.

  Her long silver hair was pulled back in a French braid and she wore a peasant blouse over a pair of faded jeans. Her natural beauty wasn’t hidden under makeup which also revealed the shadows under her eyes and a slight rash along her neck up to her ears. The red splotches dipped below the neckline of her shirt down her back toward her shoulder blades.

  She forced a smile, the light not quite reaching her eyes. “I’m fine. Your dad isn’t feeling too well. He has a fever. I was surprised he got this. He got the flu shot a few weeks ago.” Mary half-shrugged as if she couldn’t figure out the science of it all.

  “Mom… I know you’re not okay. I can see the bumps starting.” He’d been watching his parents since he’d arrived and they were already weak from whatever they’d caught. Scott wasn’t sure if it was the one Cady had been worried about, but it wasn’t looking promising. The hospitals were beginning to report deaths in their facilities, but not many. Not yet. At least not that they were tying to the specific illness.

  According to the authorities the flu was spreading fast and the incubation period was only a matter of days, much shorter than that of a regular virus. There were whispers of it being similar to chickenpox, measles, shingles, and even – on the peripherals of suggestion – smallpox.

  His mother put a bowl in the dishwasher and raised worried eyes to his. She shook her head. “I don’t want to die this young, Scott. If the reports are correct, we have to go to the hospital, but you and I both know those aren’t the places for the old or the young in these situations. I want to die because I wasn’t strong enough to survive, not because I wasn’t smart enough to listen to my son and his warnings.” She didn’t blink, as if holding back the tears was the last chance she had to fight that sign of weakness.

  “Mom, you were smart. I could’ve been wrong just as easily.” He shook his head, reaching out to rub her arm comfortingly. What was he doing ther
e? He’d left the safety of his home, quarantined and safe, to come down and make his family go back with him. They hadn’t wanted to. He should have left well enough alone.

  She jerked back. “Scott, aren’t you worried about getting it?” She wiped at his hand with her sponge as if the soapy water would save him from anything he might have gotten.

  He offered a half-smile. “Nah. I put myself at risk just leaving the house. Plus, I put all of that worry away. It’s not worth surviving, if my family isn’t alive.” He stepped forward and pulled her suddenly frail-like body in his arms. Her shoulders shook.

  She drew back after a moment, studying his face, her own cheeks damp from tears. “But you’re not exhibiting symptoms.” She eyed him closely. “Just how dangerous is this?”

  “I haven’t been exposed long enough. Leaving my house to come down here was the first time I’ve left it in a while. Things are going to get worse before they get better. I wouldn’t trust anything that has to do with this sickness, Mom. If they say there’s a cure? Stay away from it. There is no vaccine for it. Do you understand?” Scott studied his mother’s expression.

  She nodded, hope lighting her eyes. “Is there a chance you won’t get it?” She reached out and patted his arm.

  Scott shook his head. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll get it. If the incubation period is only a few days, I’ll have it probably in two.” There was no point in lying. Maybe he could give her a sense of urgency and get her to commit to come with him.

  “Then you’ll be stuck here with us. No…” She shook her head, pushing away from him. “Jason!” She hollered up the stairs for Scott’s nephew. “Look, you don’t have symptoms yet. You’re feeling okay for now. Jason hasn’t expressed anything either. Take your nephew and get back home. Get things ready. If we survive this, we’ll follow as soon as we can.” She held up her hand as Scott opened his mouth to argue. “This is not something we can talk about, Scott. You said yourself it’s time sensitive. I don’t want him to watch us suffer. I know I’m putting a lot on you, but if this is going to get worse, I don’t want him to see it. He’s the only one in that generation so far. If Stephanie doesn’t… I mean…”

  She narrowed her eyes, blinking back tears. “Please, Scott. I need to fix this somehow. I’ll watch over your siblings the best I can. I’ll make sure your dad is fine. We’ll come up as soon as everyone can get their stuff packed, okay?” She patted his chest but kept her distance. She choked back her despair. “I’m serious. This isn’t a joke.”

  “I’m not sure, Mom. I came down here to get all of you.” He angled his head as he thought about her pleading.

  “Please, Scott. Do this for me.” She begged him with her eyes, with the red-rimmed lids and the slouch in her cheeks. She was tired and barely holding it together. If Scott could alleviate some of that pressure, he would do his best.

  Against his better judgment, he nodded.

  Jason thundered down the stairs. He was fifteen and didn’t handle quiet very well, not yet. He had his aunt’s eyes and his father’s nose.

  His face tight while holding his mom’s gaze, Scott nodded. “Jason, grab your things. You’re going to go back with me.” He smiled as if it was going to be a grand adventure, but no one was fooled.

  Jason volleyed his glance between his grandmother and Scott, the little boy he been not too long ago evident in the still soft skin of his face.

  Scott and Jason worked together to repack as much as they could in the car, ignoring Ranger as he watched their frantic movements. There would be room for the dog. There was always room for Ranger.

  Scott stepped toward his parents’ room but Mary stopped him, shaking her head with a determined jerk. “No. Go. No more exposure to this disease. He’ll be fine and I’ll bring him up as soon as we pull through. Look, we survived a lot of things. This is nothing.” She waved her hand in front of her face and smiled smugly.

  “Can I have a hug?” Scott leaned forward with his arms open, but his mother stepped back, shaking her head. He dropped his arms disappointedly.

  “It’s not goodbye. Now go.” She tightened her facial expression and smiled, pressing her lips thinly together. When Mary had that expression, there was no arguing with her. She was a determined woman and she didn’t take well to argument with her decisions. She had herself convinced they would survive the sickness and Scott didn’t doubt her strength of will.

  If anyone could survive the sickness that would put humans on the extinction list, it would be Mary Jensen.

  Scott understood her reticence to be sentimental. As if hugging and saying goodbye was somehow acknowledging that there was no hope. He nodded, placing his hand on the door to their room. “Bye, Dad.” He murmured.

  There was an urgency in his gut to get on the road, but an ache in his soul to stay there with his family. At least he was doing something productive by helping Jason and his mom could gather everyone and get them to his place, now that she understood the urgency.

  The house phone rang as he walked out the door. Climbing into the car, he started the engine. “Put your belt on.” He admonished Jason, glancing behind his seat to make sure Ranger was in place.

  “Scott!” His mom stopped him from driving away. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she lifted her chin, the soft skin under her jawline quivering ever so slightly. “Stephanie is dead. I’m trying to find out about the baby. I’ll tell you more when you’re on the road. Get home as fast as you can. Don’t stop for anything.” She implored him with desperation in her tone. Glancing at Jason, she offered a sad smile. “Stay safe, kiddo. We love you.”

  Jason’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession. His aunt had died and he was being ripped away from family. That was more loss than he would be able to handle on his own. “Can’t we stay? Grandma, you’re going to need us. We can help.” His gaze implored Mary to reconsider.

  Scott offered a sad smile, trying to lighten that burden at least from his mother’s shoulders. “We can’t stay, buddy.” He looked at his mom. “I’m sorry about Steph, Mom. Thank you. I’ll see you soon. Love you.” He pulled out of the drive, ignoring the aching hole in his stomach and the feeling like he’d lost a limb. His bratty but hard-working and annoyingly nice sister was dead.

  What about the baby? What would happen with Bryant and the kids? Bryant would be devastated. His whole world was wrapped up in his wife. Anyone who met Stephanie couldn’t believe they hadn’t realized they’d missed not having her – even before they’d known her.

  Scott reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, then used his forefinger and thumb to wipe at the moisture under his eyes. He sniffed, wiping at his nose. His sis. He had to pull it together for his nephew. He could save at least one family member.

  He ignored the reason he’d gone to Boise in the first place which was for all of them. He was leaving with one. That was enough, wasn’t it?

  The miserable fact that he couldn’t even stay for the funeral of his sister left a bitter taste in his mouth. If he waited too long, he’d be joining them six feet under – if there was even anyone left to bury him.

  On the road, he pulled out his cellphone and called Cady one last time. “I’m headed back.” He didn’t share the latest news that incubation was suggested to be at three days. He didn’t tell her… so much. The information welled inside him. There was so much he had to say.

  A desperate anxiety did something to twist her tone. She sounded like a different person but with a familiarity to her voice. “Get somewhere fast, Scott, and lay low. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m sure they’ll all be okay, but you know what the odds are reported to be. They’re much worse. Get somewhere safe.”

  He sniffed again, nodding to no one in particular. “My sister is dead. I don’t have anywhere to stay low.” He set his jaw. The only place he had left to go was home.

  Chapter 27

  Margie

  Margie wandered the main deck with a plate of food she’d gathered from the always-open buffet. More an
d more people were retreating their rooms with symptoms of the flu. The more people who disappeared, the more dessert options left open to her.

  Even though it seemed to be a vain hope, Margie couldn’t help hoping everyone was just experiencing seasickness, but they weren’t out far in the harbor. There had been a Coast Guard block for the cruise ships and they were waiting in a queue to leave the harbor.

  Regardless, the view was still breathtaking as the water stretched around them and the city skyline was breathtaking in the morning.

  Margie didn’t want to go back to her cabin. Her husband was weaker than most with his cancer and he’d crawled into bed as soon as they’d boarded. Even the Ativan and morphine weren’t working and Margie didn’t want to increase his dose on the off chance he was just dealing with seasickness himself. Except, he had a cold, or symptoms similar to a cold.

  The thing she hated most about cancer – among so many other things, of course – was the way it seemed to change the standard physiology expectations of a normal man. Margie should be able to see his elevated fever and assume he had the flu or a cold instead of worrying that he had an infection.

  Hopefully, the fact that he hadn’t come out of bed except to use the bathroom was just a sign that he needed rest and not that his death had come earlier than expected. Margie would rather eat another tiramisu than consider that as an option.

  She doubled back to the dessert bar. How about two?

  If she was smart, if she took the time to put the pieces together, Margie wouldn’t have to fight to understand what was happening. Cady had already told her everything. Margie refused to believe that her daughter had any knowledge about what was going on.