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

by B. R. Paulson

  Assured that Baby Martin would be okay for a few more minutes, Scott returned to the nurses’ station and grabbed the bucket of syringes. He didn’t meet her eyes with his gaze as he set off to the do the job asked of him.

  He’d made a promise to the nurse and seeing the devastation of neglect, he couldn’t abandon those babies or her to that fate.

  Pulling the first syringe from the twenty or so syringes in the bucket, Scott entered the first room to the right of his niece’s room. Thankfully, both babies were already dead. A diaper bag had been left at the end of the crib furthest from the door. Scott didn’t think twice as he swung it over his shoulder.

  It wasn’t stealing, if the owner didn’t need it anymore.

  His luck didn’t hold out in the next room. Soft snuffling and whimpers came from both cribs as the small infants rubbed their fists against their faces, seeking something to suckle, something to curb the ache in their bellies. How long would they go, searching for love and comfort, if Scott didn’t do this for them? They would eventually starve to death, lonely and afraid.

  Scott looked away quickly. He focused on the injection port at a joint in the IV line. He uncapped the syringe, inserting the needle into the compressed port. Scott prayed for forgiveness, pushing the plunger until half the liquid had been administered.

  Almost instantly, the infant calmed, dropping its hands to its side slowly.

  Scott shivered. Withdrawing the needle, he used the same syringe on the IV port attached to the other child, ignoring the patient while striving to harden his heart. Scott forced himself to blur everything out as he moved from room to room. In some, the babies cried with a simple desperation for attention. In others, they were already dead from neglect.

  But none of them left Scott feeling like he was a good person or that he was doing something beneficial for anyone. He couldn’t let himself cry. Not yet. He couldn’t… face what he’d done. Maybe on his day of judgement, the Lord would look at him and see that his intentions were pure. Until that day, Scott doubted he’d ever be the same again.

  Back at the nurses’ station, Scott nodded when his gaze clashed with the nurse’s. Her shoulders relaxed, slouching forward. She quickly nodded, seeking the bucket at his side with her eyes. “Done.”

  “Yes, I’m done. That was…” He blinked back tears as he struggled to escape the enormity of what he’d done.

  She carefully wrinkled her nose and nodded slightly. “I. Know. Hard.” More tears coursed down her cheeks. “Thank. You.”

  The act of killing babies wasn’t something he wanted gratitude for. “I have two syringes left. I can…” He twisted his lips to the side, glancing at her own IV before flicking his searching gaze her way.

  After taking a deep rattling breath, she nodded. “Please.”

  Scott did it as an afterthought. He was tempted to keep a syringe or both of them for himself, but he could always use a bullet. He was able to walk out of there, at least for the moment. That poor woman deserved a chance to find peace. Something she wouldn’t find in the dark tomb of the hospital.

  He uncapped the final two syringes, injecting them into her injection port on her IV line one at a time and plunging them hard until they were empty.

  Her eyelids sank low and her lips mouthed, “Thank you again.” In less than a minute she slipped into the initial sedated state before the muscles weakened.

  Scott dropped the bucket, but clung to the diaper bag with an almost desperate grip.

  Over the next few minutes, he went through each room, searching the drawers and cupboards for any items he might need for the baby. Premade formula in glass bottles filled the diaper bag quickly, with singly wrapped nipples and rims. That bag hit its limit and Scott set it down by the door of Baby Martin’s door.

  He grabbed a plastic laundry bag from one of the drawers and filled it with diapers, wipes, and blankets. Everything he could find, he put into bags, until he had five full bags and a diaper bag. Baby combs, baby shampoo, lotions, powder, thermometers, ointment, pink and blue striped hats, onesies, socks, and blankets had joined his collection.

  He finally had to stop when he realized he still had to carry the baby. Approaching her crib, he pulled out the diapers on the stand beneath her crib and pulled out diapers and wipes. He had to get her cleaned up and wrapped warmly and securely before trying to get her out of there.

  Pulling the wrapped blankets off her, he changed her diaper. The sudden movement and attention pulled her from sleep and Scott picked up a pink pacifier wedged between the mattress and plastic. He put it in her mouth which she sucked at desperately. Scott didn’t have time to feed her right there. He had to get her to the car and out of danger.

  Once they got going and he was sure Jason was okay, Scott would be in a better frame of mind to get Baby Martin fed and comfortable.

  He finished changing her and then rewrapped her in the blankets. Grabbing more blankets he’d grabbed from other rooms, he padded around her crib with the rolled-up material until she was snugged in the crib and falling asleep from feeling like she was being comforted.

  He hefted the diaper bag across his shoulders and chest, the strap long enough to leave it at his hip.

  The basinet rested on the top of the stand but wasn’t secured in any manner. Scott found he could pick it up and carry the box under his arm rather easily.

  The baby didn’t weigh much and neither did most of the supplies – the liquid formula the exception.

  Wrapping the cords of all the bags around his other hand, Scott grabbed everything he could and left the room. The floor was fatally quiet. He used his lower back to push out onto the stairwell and he carried the baby and the items down the stairs.

  Three levels down, he avoided the door with a window, pushing along the walls, around each corner until he hit a door with no window and a level-style handle he could push against with his hip.

  Outside, the cold brisk air hit his face with the refreshing scent of snow and mud.

  He shifted everything a little higher and rounded the building, coming upon the ambulance drop-off area with ambulance parking just beyond. All the emergency buses were parked in place.

  After seeing inside the hospital, Scott understood why.

  He came from the front of the rig like he’d promised Jason. His nephew’s face lit up at the sight of his uncle and he leaned across, unlocking the door and pushing the door open as Scott arrived.

  Using his shoulder, Scott opened the door the rest of the way and slid Baby Martin onto the front seat. He pushed the bags over the back of his seat to land beside Ranger who woofed at him from his bed.

  Sliding the box across to Jason, Scott climbed into the driver’s seat. He felt like he was being watched. He turned to talk to Jason, then stopped, turning his head back out the door and throwing up onto the blacktop. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, spent.

  Pulling his door closed, he started the engine. “Ready? How long was I gone?” He had to act like everything was normal, like stealing a baby and everything from the NICU floor was normal. “Did anyone try to get in?”

  “About an hour and no. Is everything okay? Are you getting sick?” Jason’s fear was palpable as he reached into the box and touched Baby Martin’s tiny hands.

  “No, not yet.” Scott pointed toward the diaper bag on the floor between them. “Can you open one of those bottles and put a lid on it? She’s not going to be happy with that pluggy for long.” Pluggy was what his sister had called them for all of her kids. His nieces and nephews he wouldn’t see again. He had no idea where they were or where their father had taken them. Scott had to keep Stephanie alive in his memories so that the baby would at least know something about her mother – if she survived long enough to care.

  Scott had just stolen a baby and killed numerous others. He would never be able to face himself in the mirror.

  At that point, he wasn’t sure he deserved to live.

  Chapter 13

  Margie


  Getting to the storage facilities office was a no-brainer. Margie didn’t know how long David would be able to hold on, sitting upright. The old car’s passenger seat didn’t lean back easily, if at all.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the offices, checking for signs of anyone else in the vicinity. The units were tucked behind a wellness center that featured an indoor pool and a park. Large trees divided the two properties and hid the high fencing around the storage units.

  There were no other vehicles in front. Rain clouds covered any evidence of sunlight and large sheets of water overworked the Bug’s windshield wipers. The temperature didn’t warm up much, but at least there was relief from the wind.

  Parking as close to the front doors as possible, Margie checked for any signs that the owner was in there. She sighed at the faint glow of a light coming from inside. Maybe, just maybe, Margie would be able to get into the units and get the motorhome. Anything had to be better than that Bug.

  Climbing the few steps to the door, Margie held her arm up to keep the pelting rain from her face. She had grabbed the bag and clutched the strap secured to her shoulder. An overhang helped with the rain coming from directly overhead but not the water trying to catch a ride on the wind as it buffeted from both sides and her back.

  She wasn’t warm enough to deal with much more. She just needed a place to crash and David had to rest before she made him go through anymore. She wouldn’t be able to drive the motorhome in the rain as it was, if she could even find the keys to her storage unit.

  The door was unlocked, but no one was inside. Margie finally felt like things were going her way. She dropped the bag beside the large desk and returned to the car. Helping David from his seat, she winced when he gasped at the cold air and rain. “I know. Let’s get inside and you can dry off and get warm, okay?”

  He didn’t answer as he followed her, doing as she instructed like a small child. He lumbered tiredly up the steps and into the office. She lowered him carefully to the carpeted floor and rolled up a jacket she found hanging on a hook. The chairs were stiff-backed and not for lounging. Tucking the jacket under his head, Margie slumped to the floor beside him. She needed a break. It wasn’t what she wanted to do, when she should be watching out to protect David. Her body had a different goal in mind.

  She flopped to the ground beside David, she couldn’t help thinking how much she was going to hurt from sleeping on the floor when she got up in a little bit from her nap. At least it was warm and there was no rain or wind.

  Thoughts of the cruise ship they’d left behind haunted her. How many people were going to be stuck on there? How many would be able to get off? Had that group escaped? What about the woman with the three children?

  Margie’s eyes slowly closed. She would have to push everything to the side except worry for them. After her nap, she’d use the landline to call Cady. Those had to be working still. It was about time Margie contacted her daughter.

  If anyone was alive and thriving in these conditions, it was Cady.

  ~~~

  David’s teeth chattering roused Margie from sleep. The storm hadn’t abated, but the rain seemed to have slowed as the gray clouds hung low in the sky. Margie hurt even more than she had planned. Her hip joints and shoulder blades couldn’t handle the pressure anymore and she rolled to her side away from David to push herself to all fours before standing.

  The office had chilled and she set out to find the thermostat. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced around the office. Everything looked the same as the day they’d signed in the R.V. and left for the hotel – except Sandy, the office manager, wasn’t there and there was no sign that she was returning.

  Margie knelt to check David. His breathing was ragged and he had his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She’d forgotten to lean him up somehow when they had arrived to help with the liquids in his lungs.

  What time was it and how long had they been there?

  Returning to her feet, she strode to the bathroom located in the back of the small building and used the toilet and sink. The window in the bathroom faced toward the front. Movement caught her eye but she couldn’t see exactly where it was coming from or what was making it.

  Back at the front of the office, Margie’s eyes widened at the sight of a good ole boy’s truck parked in front, feet from the Volkswagen and the front door. A Confederate flag with tattered edges flew high from a pole connected to the front of the bed and no sign of the American stripes.

  Margie didn’t remember seeing that truck when she was there less than a week ago.

  Four men climbed from the cab, carrying rifles she couldn’t identify from inside.

  She would have to pass the front door to get to the bathroom again. A tall closet beside her would be her best bet. She glanced regretfully at David as she hid, urging him silently not to move.

  Cady had made Margie read every apocalypse novel out there and then some. She knew what happened to women after things fell apart. She was fifty-five, but she was still a woman and men who carried guns and traveled in groups like the ones out front weren’t looking for people to save.

  She slipped through the narrow opening of the closet and backed inside, slowly closing the door and staring at the panel of dangling keys illuminated by a shaft of light.

  The keys. Once the men left, she could get the keys to the storage units and get their R.V. out.

  A sense of relief hardened into fear as the front door opened and rough voices penetrated the wood of the closet.

  “Look at this poor sucker. Do you want me to shoot him?” There was more excitement at the prospect of shooting David lying there on the ground than sympathy for his sickness.

  Margie covered her mouth with her hand. Please, don’t kill him. What had she done, leaving him there on the floor unprotected?

  “Nah, look at him, he’s as good as dead, already. You’d be putting him out of his misery and he’s the idiot that got himself sick.” The second man sounded lazier, less hurried. He would be the dangerous one with his cruelty and his unhurried tone. “Is there anyone else in here?”

  Footsteps into the bathroom and back out. “Nope. Want me to find the keys?”

  Margie’s breathing quickened. She was there – with the keys. If they opened the door, she would be found. The meanness in their voices was for sport. She clenched her teeth together to keep from chattering with nerves and the suddenly apparent chill in the air that even a thermostat could help.

  The second man laughed like he talked to an insipid child. “Why do we need keys when we have the bolt cutters? You already know where it is. Let’s go get it.”

  “That’s right.” The first man followed the second man out and Margie waited another thirty seconds to make sure they weren’t coming back in before edging from the safety of the closet. A truck engine roared from the front and the men drove their truck back into the storage units, disappearing from sight when they turned a corner.

  They had a specific goal in mind. There wouldn’t be much time to get out of there. Margie rushed to David’s side. His fever had raised. She wasn’t sure how long he could go with a mounting fever and not enough rest.

  She crouched on the floor beside him and stared at the empty space beneath the chairs lined up along the wall on his other side.

  What was she supposed to do? She needed to get them food, into the R.V. and on the road to Cady. She had to face reality. The R.V. might not be an option at that point. Not if she wanted to get going sooner rather than later. Not with the men somewhere back there, looking for something she couldn’t identify.

  David might have to deal with the Bug and its discomforts. A sinking sensation overwhelmed her and she had to admit that things were going to get harder before they got easier and David was going to have to push through or give up.

  She wasn’t ready for him to give up, so Margie was going to have to make the decision to have enough will power for the both of them.

  Maybe they could get into the Volkswagen before
the men returned. She moved to her knees and glanced over the edge of the window in the direction they’d gone.

  The truck turned onto the blacktop leading back to the office. Margie glanced at the closet. She didn’t have enough time to get there or the bathroom. Her gaze went back to the space under the chairs. She dropped down to her stomach and wiggled under the legs, tucking herself back into the corner of the wall and the floor. David’s hand twitched and she reached forward, clenching his fingers in her hand and pulling his arm under the chair out of view from anyone who would come in.

  Staring straight ahead, she half held her breath, ignoring the dust bunnies by the legs of the chairs inches from her face.

  She’d placed the orange and yellow bag on the floor, half-tucked under the desk and her keyring with the single separate Bug key on the top of the work space. She had the R.V. keys on her ring, but hadn’t been able to find the storage unit key.

  Whooping from outside announced the men and she bit her lip. Was she hidden enough? Would they even look for another person at that point? She edged back as far as she could, scooting her butt against the wall and holding her breath.

  A man entered, his scuffed work-style boots strode into view. He passed the desk, going straight to the closet Margie had hidden in moments before. Something in the way he acted suggested he’d been in the storage office before. Maybe he even knew the owner.

  The closet door opened wide, the keys tinkling as they hit the wood behind them.

  The front door opened again, another pair of boots passing by the desk. Two men at once. If she was found, she didn’t stand a chance. A shiver shimmied down her body. Her breathing came shallow and tight. Margie’s hands shook with nerves.