Her neck! She’d been scratching at her neck and all this time she’d ignored the possibility of it being the virus because of the vaccine.
Scott and her mom had been in such pain. Bailey started to pant, trying to catch her breath as panic set in. She didn’t want to hurt like that. She didn’t want to get sick like Jason or Kent. She didn’t want to die.
All of the turmoil around taking the vaccine seemed pointless. She’d felt betrayed by her mom and she’d spent a lot of time trying to get over that. Now… how did she recover from this?
“We’re going to cross the bridge soon. I’m not sure what will happen when we’re so exposed. We’re pretty lucky nothing has happened yet.” Her mom spoke quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb what Bailey might be figuring out.
Lucky? Lucky was the last word Bailey would assign to them. She didn’t flinch when the tires transferred from the blacktop to the long, stretched-out bridge across the Pend Oreille Lake toward Sandpoint. She didn’t blink as Cady accelerated, faster and faster, and she ignored Cady’s sigh of relief when they reached the other side unscathed.
She didn’t care. Bailey was sick and she wasn’t sure she was going to make it. Wait, not that she wasn’t going to make it. More like she didn’t know if she wanted to make it. Night time wrapped around the truck as they continued driving. Bailey was suspended in time and she stared out the window. What was she really ready to deal with?
Glancing down at Jessica, Bailey knew she’d have to make a decision soon. Did she want her and Jessica to struggle through everything? She wasn’t sure. Maybe surviving through the virus and all the rest of the deaths and desolations wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Best case scenario – they made it to their goal, safe and sound. Worst case? They died trying to get there. Could it be easy, though? Could they make it to her grandma’s before anything else happened?
The aggressive way her mom drove almost guaranteed they were getting somewhere. There wasn’t another car on the road, but she drove like she dodged other cars and passed them in various lanes. Cady got them through the dark highway and streets of Sandpoint, turning toward Bonner’s Ferry when the highway faded into a normal road.
A bridge ahead of them was blocked with hazard signs. Orange and white diamond-shaped signs glared at them from the front of cement road blocks.
Cady pulled to the side of the road and studied the entrance to the bridge, leaning over the steering wheel with her shoulders hunched.
“What’s wrong?” Bailey’s voice lacked conviction, but at least she asked. She had to care – Jessica needed her to. If she didn’t care, then what would make her actually try to survive?
Motioning forward, Cady sighed. “That bridge is blocked. We only have to get through and then we have about three miles to get to Grandma’s. Three miles. That’s it.” Her mom stared at the bridge, the engine idled as if in agreement. The truck rocked gently side to side with the vibrations of the motor.
Only three miles separated them and relative safety. And the bridge was blocked.
“Can we drive through the blockade?” Bailey squinted toward the bridge entrance. If they could get to her grandma’s place, she could relax. The virus was going to attack her soon, judging by the rash on her neck. If that happened, she’d rather be somewhere other than the truck cab and on the run.
“No. It looks like cement dividers are across it. I can’t tell for sure.” Cady turned, twisting and studying as much of the darkness that she could penetrate around them. Finally, she put the truck in reverse and then turned around. “I’m going to park over here. There’s a dump area we can maybe use to our advantage.”
A garbage site? Great. Bailey blinked rapidly as she tried processing what her mom was suggesting. “How can that be to our advantage?”
Speaking slowly, Cady turned the wheel and avoided moving the truck in fast, jerky motions. “Well, if we have to leave the truck, I’d rather hide our things where people won’t look – in plain sight.”
Leave their things? Leave the truck? But the baby formula and extra diapers were there. The essential oils that Beth had brought with her were in the back of the truck. The last of their personal items were in the back of the truck.
If they left the truck, they would be on foot. Bailey jerked her gaze to her mom. They would have to hike? Coming down with the virus, Bailey didn’t need more stress on her. She’d watched the virus burn through her mom and Scott, followed closely by Jason.
No, things were not going to be easy.
Chapter 7
Barbara Sue
Monica liked the name Barbara Sue. Didn’t Marilyn Monroe and the other big actresses change their names? Well, if Monica wanted to survive, then she had to become Barbara Sue. She would have to become someone else and just leave her old self in the past. The weak Monica wouldn’t survive any more of the circumstances she’d been subjected to.
No, Barbara Sue needed to relieve Monica from the pain and torture she endured.
She weakly pulled the torn sleeve back up her shoulder and avoided meeting the gazes of any of the men around the campfire. From her position on the periphery of the clearing, she was more in the shadows than in the warm glow of the fire. But right then Monica was glad for that.
Most of them had passed out after using her or the other women. Monica, no, Barbara Sue had stopped making noises or fighting the night before when one of the women she was imprisoned with had been killed during a gang rape because she wouldn’t stop screaming. Killed in the middle of being used.
Barbara Sue didn’t want the Monica in her – the innocent one, the one who still believed in happy-ever-after and romance – to have to experience the debauchery.
She moved slowly, dropping from her knees to her butt and wrapping her arms around her drawn up legs. She stared at the fire. A body moved up beside her and she involuntarily flinched.
“It’s just me.” Tabitha’s whisper soothed Barbara Sue’s anxiety. Tabitha was done being used for the night. Now, they would huddle together for warmth until the morning sun came up and they would be put to work around the camp… unless… Perry came for Monica.
Tabitha leaned close, resting her chin on Barbara Sue’s shoulder and murmuring ever so softly, “This is not what I had in mind when I helped with the Gulch plans.”
The Gulch. Just thinking of the plans and how they were supposed to play out and how the families were supposed to be safe and taken care of in a survival situation made Barbara Sue’s stomach clench.
Instead, she’d watched her children die – the three young ones had gotten the horrible virus and died from the ointment Monica’s mama had applied. Her mama had died from the pain in her hands from applying the medicine.
Monica had been outside helping her dad and husband bringing in firewood. They’d gotten caught up, arguing with the other residents of the Gulch. When Monica had returned home to check on her family, she didn’t remember much of the next few hours except her voice was gone from the screaming.
The virus hadn’t affected Monica and she didn’t know why. Her father and husband had both fallen ill the next day or two and died.
Perry, their neighbor, had checked on Monica. He’d been the first in the group to turn from a respectable family man to someone who was out to use the weak. He’d taken Monica, claiming she couldn’t be a woman alone. She needed protection. His protection had consisted of multiple rapes and little food.
“Did you come up with a different name?” Barbara Sue barely moved her lips as she spoke. Perry sat on the other side of the circle, his hooded eyes narrowed at the flames. He’d been unhappy and territorial when he’d pulled the other men together and suggested some changes to the Gulch organization. He’d demanded use of the women and had been expected to share his.
He hadn’t liked that, but what could he do?
He took it out on Monica almost every night after she’d been used by the other men. His jealousy was unquenchable. Barbara Sue hoped he was
too tired tonight. She wasn’t sure how many more times she would survive at his hands. She hadn’t healed from the last few as it was.
“I want to use Echo.” Tabitha whispered, a soft smile on her sad lips. “What about you?” A fresh crescent-shaped scar curled around the edge of her eye, drawing the skin tight instead of relaxing as she smiled.
“Barbara Sue.” Saying the name out loud strengthened Monica. She could be someone else. She could protect who she really was and what she’d lost to the virus.
“Monica!” Perry stood from the log at the fire and jerked his hand toward her, his dark eyebrows raised.
Barbara Sue swallowed her whimper. If she went meekly and didn’t make a sound, he’d be nicer – if what he did to her could be considered nice on the horrible scale of cruelty.
Tabitha, no, Echo, reached out and squeezed Barbara Sue’s shoulder. They didn’t need words. What could she say? I hope you die? Death was pretty much what they hoped for each other every day.
Barbara Sue stood on shaking les. She didn’t look directly at Perry. Instead, she moved her feet, forcing her body to do what she had to.
At the edge of a trail down from the center of camp ended in a ledge that overlooked the valley. A sharp drop-off fell hundreds of feet to the rocky floor below. A cool breeze swept up through the mountains and stirred the material in her shirt and the edges of Monica’s hair. She didn’t want to be there. Did she have any other choice?
Perry stopped to say something to one of the men, watching Barbara Sue as she went toward his sleeping area. She stopped by the trees, staring out at the stars over the valley. The scenery held nothing for her. Nothing special. She didn’t care anymore. It was nothing to her and she swallowed back bile which tasted like sawdust.
She was sick of being used. Sick of being in pain. She glanced back at Tabitha who watched her in the dark.
Something clicked between them. Tabitha nodded slowly and moved into a crouch. After a second, she broke into a sprint, reaching for Barbara Sue’s hand as she tore down the slight, grassy slope. Barbara Sue moved with her, running for all they were worth.
The men who were still awake shouted, rousing themselves from the late night stupor. They moved into place to block the women’s escape at the only two ways in or out. But they thought Tabitha and Monica were trying to run away.
No, they wanted to escape.
Barbara Sue relished the speed as they ran harder down to the drop-off. She let go of Echo’s hand as they pushed harder and harder. Glancing over her shoulder, she almost stumbled to see three more women fleeing after them, determination hardening their features.
At the sheer drop-off, Echo and Barbara Sue didn’t hesitate. They reached out, grabbing for each other’s hands and they leapt from the horrors of survival.
And for the first time in a long time, Monica felt weightless and free.
Chapter 8
Scott
Scott still had time to catch Cady, maybe. He could get in his rig with Ranger and they could chase after Cady. What would he say, if he caught up to her and Bailey? Of course, he was an idiot. He’d apologize. But what were the odds that he’d find them? What were the chances she’d forgive him? Even though she left, he was the one who had abandoned her. It wasn’t hard to see who was to blame at that exact moment in time.
The longer he sat on the floor, the lower his chances at catching them. His rig was still out front. He could grab a few things and follow them. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but could it really have been long enough for them to entrench themselves at her mom’s?
Scott hoisted himself to his feet. His eyes adjusted but not much and he stumbled toward the door. Leaning against the doorjamb, he swung the panel open, closing his eyes and inhaling the cool night air. He was going to miss it, the scent of home. He couldn’t even pinpoint the exact root of what the aroma was. If he could, he would burn candles of it everywhere he went.
He mustered his strength, and stepped onto the porch. “Ranger? You out here still?” He called out low and soft. He wasn’t leaving Ranger again – not by accident or intent. He clung to the white porch post, looking and listening for his dog to reach him.
A loud blast filled the air, echoing off the vinyl siding and the composite slats of the deck. A flash in the dark wasn’t enough to see but Scott blinked at the there-and-then gone light.
A burning in his upper thigh made Scott stumble. He reached down, hot liquid on his hand.
He’d been shot? There were more people there? Dropping to the deck – both because his leg didn’t want to support him and because the shooter might still be out there, Scott pressed his palm to the painful area on his thigh.
He squeezed his eyes shut. There was no shortage of dizziness and he rested his head on the deck, his shoulders tense. The last thing he needed was to stay there. It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. He’d failed. Was he going to die?
A snarling bark in the dark pulled Scott’s wandering focus. A man cried out and then was silent.
Then as if he could read Scott’s mind, Ranger was there, licking his face and sniffing over Scott’s body. Scott half-closed his eyes, trying to keep pressure on his wound and also petting his friend. “I messed up, buddy. We should have gone with Cady. We should have gone and protected them. My head…” He swallowed, suddenly not wanting to talk. His mind wasn’t right since Jason had died.
Bailey might have shot him to defend Scott’s niece and to save herself, but that didn’t lessen the pain any more. Because the virus changed Jason so much he’d tried killing the baby he hadn’t stopped protecting before he’d gotten sick.
What if Scott had said and did things while he was sick that weren’t part of his characteristics? He hadn’t been as sick as Jason – Cady had taken care of him, administering the essential oils and other things to help him feel better. Scott and Cady hadn’t been able to do the same for Jason because they’d been too sick and trying to recover.
His thoughts were in a whirl and he couldn’t say for sure what was causing his headache – the pain of the last month or so, the blood loss and pain in his leg, or the general fact that too much was happening and there hadn’t been a break for him to recover. Nothing abated and he couldn’t seem to gather himself before the next horrible incident occurred.
Staring to the left, up past the edge of the roof overhang, Scott tried counting the stars he could see around the edges of the clouds moving in. Clouds. Were they due for more rain? He closed his eyes. He should go inside. Wasn’t he supposed to be chasing after Cady?
Ranger nudged Scott’s hand with his cold nose. He pressed his warm body against Scott’s side and watched out for him. He didn’t whimper or make any other sounds as his breathing pushed his chest back and forth on Scott’s arm.
Scott’s murmur barely reached his own ears. “It’s okay. I’m not dying. I’m just resting. We have to find Cady.” He would just take a minute. That’s all. He could do that. Didn’t he need a short break?
Chapter 9
Margie
Margie and Ryker crouched into some kind of a hunkered over run and rushed across the west edge of the parking lot. Panting, Margie paused by the next collection of domesticated forest behind the strip mall. She took a deep breath and held it, listening for any signs of danger. Ryker must have had the same idea because for a moment, their breathing couldn’t be heard.
A dog barked in the not-so-far distance, drawing their gazes. Sweeping flashlight beams – two to be exact – walked down the center of the highway, closer and closer to Margie and Ryker’s position. The lights reached the intersection, flashing east and west then north. Margie reached out and grabbed Ryker’s hand.
She couldn’t cry out like she wanted to, her vocals frozen with fear. Every time the lights moved forward with a step was another lost second of freedom. Ryker and Margie could keep running, but they weren’t going to be able to stay ahead of the men for long. Margie was exhausted and Ryker had to be getting there as well.
They could rely on their adrenaline for only so long.
She tried to see Ryker’s face, but his skin and eyes were just pale in the dark, minus any real features or definition.
The men’s voices were easy to discern as they crossed the intersection and moved closer and closer toward Margie’s position. “Let’s keep going north. We’ll find some fun soon.” They moved methodically, untired or unfettered by fear. Why would they be scared? They had the advantage. Most likely they weren’t afraid and they slept when they wanted, ate when they wanted. They were the type of men who took advantage of bad situations and made them worse.
The bounce to the lights was confident and unhinged. They must be carrying guns to be so sure of themselves. Either that or they’d been doing the killing-by-dog for a while now and knew how to present a fast, sure kill.
Headlights moving up the highway caught Margie’s gaze at the same time she heard the far-off sounds of a car roaring down the highway. She tightened her hold on Ryker’s arm. He seemed to nod and shift his footing.
The men drew almost abreast of Margie and Ryker. Margie inhaled sharply as she and Ryker pressed their backs against the sapling bark, the trees too dense to get through. The dogs growled, their suddenly alert stance and refusal to move as they looked toward Margie and Ryker alarming in the intermittent light.
Margie swallowed. That was it. They were going to die. She hadn’t made good decisions, if they were going to die right there on the highway. Cady’s house suddenly seemed too far away. Everything seemed unattainable. Fear held them frozen and confused.
“What’d you find, Rocky?” The man’s voice chuckled as he turned toward the forest.
The car coming down the highway finally broke through the men’s concentration and one turned, shining his light south.
“Hey, what’s that?” The lights didn’t lift to focus on Margie and Ryker like she expected. Instead, the other man turned, distracted by the sound of a straight six engine.
180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 7 - 9 Page 22
