Casting a side-eye at Buck, she sighed and folded her arms. “Where are we going?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Buck had no idea what they were up against. If his neighborhood could turn out the way it had, he had serious doubts that many other places were any safer. He cleared his throat. “I think we need to get some food and rest, first.” He smiled at her as he watched the road. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Maria Ivanosa.” She said it with dignity, lifting her chin on the –osa part of her last name. Bright tears glistened in her eyes. The last little bit of her pride was wrapped up in her name. It was all she had left.
Buck turned to the left, down the road that would get them off the small hill he’d lived on. Had lived on. He could honestly say he didn’t live there anymore. Wow, an abandonment of heart and home. With a revving of the engine and he was homeless.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maria. I’m… Buck.” Just Buck. His name had no more value. Not anymore. When things were normal, he could get into places based on just his name, he could do pretty much anything he wanted – simply because of his name. Not anymore.
He shook the humiliation off. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He had no doubt she was in some kind of shock. He’d had a part once where the character he was playing had been in shock for some scenes and the director had told him to shut things off – emotions and anything else that connected him to himself. Then, when he was told to, Buck was to let each emotion come in one by one. Nothing had surprised him more when the of relief had come in first.
Maria swallowed, dashing her fingers against her eyes and removing the tears angrily. “They killed my brother. So many of them used him and then he died from it. He was so little. Way too little for that.” She sniffed, shaking her head so that her hair moved from side to side. “So I ran.” There was more strength in her final sentence which contrasted with the slight hiccup at the end of her words.
Buck’s stomach twisted in on itself. Her brother was abused as well. They were hurting women, girls, and boys? The familiar taste of bile worked its way up the back of his throat. He swallowed, keeping a tight grip on the wheel.
“I’m sorry. I won’t cry.” Maria breathed slow and deep, reaching up to grab the chest strap of the seatbelt. Her expression became like stone as she hid her pain behind a mask.
“Why would you trust me? I’m a man.” Buck wouldn’t trust anyone in her situation. He’d probably keep hiding until he died of starvation or something.
Maria laughed, the sound hollow and mirthless. “You’re one man. You can’t hurt me as much as ten did.”
The stark pain and honesty in her words struck Buck silent. He didn’t know what had happened to her, but he knew he wouldn’t subject her to that possibility again. Not when it killed her brother. Not when it looked like it nearly broke her.
Buck didn’t know what survival looked like for everyone, but for him, it was taking on an even more ominous shade.
Chapter 3
Scott
The burning in his thigh wasn’t even close to the fire and brimstone Scott expected for the things he’d done. Killing innocent newborns, a nurse, and then abandoning his nephew and his niece, and more he couldn’t get his unfocused mind to bring up.
Through a haze of pain and burning intensity fueled by determination, Scott had to figure out a way to get himself to the Expedition that Margie – Cady’s mom – wanted to leave the house in. While she and the young man she’d brought with her – the one who reminded Scott so much of his nephew, Jason – loaded up items from Cady’s place.
Scott wanted to help, he really did, but he could barely breathe with the pain. Not just in his leg. Something sharp poked in his chest and wrapped around the side. No matter what he did, he couldn’t feel what it could be. There was nothing to remove and every breath felt like whatever it was it was pushed deeper inside him until panting was the only option.
He’d made it as far as the doorway and glancing back, the miracle of that in itself was overwhelming. He’d been able to grab onto the couch, the side table, the doorjambs and the walls. If only there was a path like that outside. No, outside there was less for Scott to hold onto, less for him to rely on.
Did he really want to go? He had nowhere else to be, and in all honesty, Scott wasn’t sure where they were going. Margie had said something about Cady not being safe and that was all Scott needed to hear in his discomfort. He would go where they needed to, even if he had doubts about his abilities.
Leaning against the vinyl siding which creaked with his weight, Scott gripped the bandages against his thigh tighter to his skin. His fingers twisted in the ends of the material, as if that would be enough pressure for him to stop the pain. Instead of helping, he felt more heat seep through his fingers.
He tried not to breathe too deeply, as each one was a ragged form of torture. Focusing his eyes on the blurry shape of the Expedition with its dome lights on inside, Scott let go of the wound in his leg and gripped his side. It hurt so bad. How was he going to be worth anything? He could barely help himself.
There was no way he’d ever be able to limp all the way there.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Scott focused on his body. Why was he hurting so much? It wasn’t just the one injury. Something was wrong with his side. His leg wasn’t even bringing all of his focus with the burning pain there. No, his side was holding him back just as much.
He wasn’t completely recovered from that virus. Cady had seemed to rebound faster than he had. What was her secret? They’d both been exposed to the same virus, same treatments. Why was Scott having a harder time recovering than she had seemed to before she left?
That could be what was wrong with him. He dug into the flesh at his side, pushing his fingers against his ribs and dragging in another painful breath. He’d pass out, if he stood there and panted all day.
He had to get going. He had to get to the car before they left without him. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Scott heaved another painful breath. Walking wasn’t going to work. He half-sighed, since that was all his chest would let him do and he slid down the doorjamb, his shoulder the only point keeping him from falling on his face.
Dropping to all fours, Scott was able to stretch his chest out and take a breath. While it still hurt, it wasn’t gut-twisting pain and he was grateful for that. Wincing but refusing to cry out, Scott braced his weight on his arms and his good leg.
He just had to get down the few steps to the rocky drive and crawl a bit to the Expedition. No big deal. He could do that. He had to drag his leg behind him. Dragging his leg would be a helluva lot easier than trying to walk or even limp out there. His breathing was easier, not easy, but easier by a few degrees. At that point, Scott would take any improvement over none.
Sounds of Margie and Ryker from around the corner and in the garage spurred him forward. He had nothing of his own that he needed, except for Ranger. He couldn’t leave his dog there. Where was the animal?
Scott gave a low whistle as he stared at the grains in the composite decking in the steadily growing dark. When had the sun decided to abandon them? When had they lost all sense of hope from any angle. Or was that just Scott?
Moving one arm forward, Scott tightened his jaw and moved again. He wasn’t going to be able do this. No, wait, he could. He had to. He straightened his arms and dragged both legs forward, planting the good knee as close to his waist as possible and then lunging forward with his arms ready to catch him. His hands took the brunt of the fall and he collapsed onto his chest, crying out.
He wasn’t going to be able to do this. He couldn’t breathe.
A moment later the ticking of nails on the composite alerted Scott that he wasn’t alone. Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes as he rolled to the side that didn’t feel like he was being jabbed with a hot poker and stared up at the shadowy ceiling of the deck covering. Ranger’s small whimper consoled Scott. He needed the companionship, the reminder that he wasn’t alone.
/> “What am I going to do, boy?” Scott’s whisper fell on Ranger’s ears. Scott half-turned his head as Ranger licked the tears from his cheeks. He had to somehow get to the car or he’d be left behind. Well, he honestly doubted Margie was going to leave him there, but it didn’t add any reasons to take him along when he couldn’t even walk the twenty yards by himself.
His leg was bleeding again. He could feel it. And he was having a hard time breathing normally. He was a wreck and if he was able to accept honesty, he probably shouldn’t even go. But the sudden possibility of being left there on his own was more terrifying than the pain he would have to face to get him to the car.
“Can I help you, Scott?” As if conjured by his cry, Margie hesitated by his side as she stood at the end of the deck, feet from where he lay. Concern knit her eyebrows together as she watched him.
Scott could only imagine how he looked in the late evening darkness. Light from the Expedition helped illuminate some things, but not much. Dark blood stains marred his jeans and his fingers had taken on an other-worldly tinge that looked black and then red depending on how he moved his hands.
“I’m o-.” But he wasn’t. Scott shut his mouth and then nodded. “Yes. Please.” He shuddered when Margie bent down and yanked his arm to get him to the edge of the porch.
“I’m going to swing you to a sitting position and then we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?” Margie moved him around like she had experience with less-able bodied people. Once upon a time, Cady had told him her mother was a nurse.
Scott wanted to talk to her, but he couldn’t. His chest hurt too much from being upright again. He nodded and put as much of his weight on his good leg as he dared. Margie’s arm snaked around his back, her hand pressed into his side.
Spots burst before Scott’s vision at the pain, but he held it in. He didn’t cry out. He had to get to the car.
One painful step at a time, Scott hobbled next to Margie, the distance to the truck finitely shrinking with each jarring movement.
After an eternity of pain, Margie leaned Scott against the side of the Expedition. He reached up, wiping at the sweat dripping from his forehead and down his nose. He rested his head on the cool metal of the vehicle as Margie opened the rear-passenger door.
Scott tried to catch his breath, only able to half-gasp as he stood there. He wasn’t sure he could climb into the rig by himself. He could barely stand there without help.
Thankfully, Margie had helped him. He’d been to prideful to ask for help, but she’d asked. Standing there with his energy drained, he was grateful he’d accepted. No way would he have made it by himself.
As if reading his mind, Margie opened the left rear door and held out her arm. Her wide eyes cajoled him into accepting more of her help.
Scott nodded, trying not to sob from the pain and relief. Stumbling on the side-step, he flopped onto the seat, gasping for breath. He held his hand on his side, leaning forward to relieve some of the pressure on his chest. His leg didn’t even matter right then. He didn’t care about it compared to the pain in his torso.
Margie moved to shut the door, but Scott reached out a hand and clenched her shoulder. Still breathing hard, he narrowed his eyes and gasped to speak. “I know… it’s tight in here, but… I can’t leave my dog. He’s… he’s all I have… I’ve already abandoned him once… Sit at my feet. Please.” Every ounce of his being begged Margie to let him take Ranger. He had to keep his buddy with him.
Thankfully, Ranger had found his way home. This time, though, if Scott left him, he didn’t stand a chance. Ranger had never been anywhere else. He wouldn’t know where Scott had gone or where he would be headed. He didn’t even know that Scott wouldn’t return. The dog would probably become prey for the coyotes or any wolves in the area.
Leaving Ranger this time wasn’t an option.
Margie studied him, seeing something in his face that must have told her it was nonnegotiable. “I understand. We’re almost finished packing, Let’s get him a spot next to you.” She left the door open and moved back to the garage.
Scott leaned back on the seat, closing his eyes and arching his back. He had to make sure Ranger got inside, then he could pass out. That was suddenly all he wanted to do, all he could think about ever wanting to do.
Just going to sleep.
Eyes closed, Scott pursed his lips and gave another low whistle similar to the one on the porch. His dog wasn’t far away, of that Scott was sure. “Ranger, come on.” His words ended on a whisper as he struggled to stay conscious. Sure, Margie said he could take Ranger, but would she make sure the dog was in there before they left?
Scott needed to be certain his best-friend was accounted for before he gave over to the pain and blood loss.
A deep whoof and the scrabble of nails on the gravel pulled Scott from the fog pulling him under. He lifted his head an inch from the seat and watched Ranger leap over his legs. The dog crunched onto a box set up on the seat opposite Scott and then turned back to his owner.
Ranger’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he studied Scott before licking his cheek in greeting and also in supplication. Of course, he worried about Scott. Scott worried about Scott.
Scott sighed, releasing more pressure on his chest and gave up the fight.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged that the door was closed and the engine started. With his fingers in Ranger’s fur, he let himself go.
There was nothing else he could do anyway.
Chapter 4
Bailey
Mom hadn’t really said anything about the essential oils Bailey should use or even asked if Bailey had very much with her before she’d left with Dusty. More than anything Bailey needed a direction to stay on. Taking care of the baby was easy. She knew what to do. She knew what to do back at the house regarding taking care of Mom and Scott. But herself? She had no idea what she was going to do.
If Mom was giving over to her normal “mode”, then she was going professional and ignoring the emotions of the situation. She was probably shutting out her worry over Bailey in case something happened to one of them.
Bailey got it. She did it all the time herself. Ignoring her feelings for other people made losses much easier to bear.
“Bailey, honey, why don’t we have some dried apples and you can help me entertain Jessica until she falls asleep.” Elba, Dusty’s long-time wife and companion, fluffed the edge of her tie-dyed apron. She laughed and pointed at the orange and yellow swirl on the bottom corner. “I made this when I was in my twenties. Dusty’s mama said he couldn’t marry a hippie. They were staunch conservatives, you know. They didn’t want him to marry a peace-loving witch woman.”
Elba chuckled and smoothed the wrinkles in the time-faded material. “Honestly? I swing pretty conservative myself. I just like the clothing and style part of being a hippie. This was more to irritate her than anything else.” She winked at Bailey and crooked her finger toward the kitchen. Motioning toward Bailey’s hair, she smiled and nodded appreciatively. “I like the new length. It adds some attitude.”
Reaching up to touch the ends of her hair, Bailey smiled self-consciously and more than a little wistfully. “Thanks.” She moved away from the front door.
Palming the small vial of shingles essential oils mix that had helped her mother and Scott through the worst virus the world had seen, Bailey tried to keep herself calm. What was the name of the virus? CJ180d was what her mom had called it.
Coming to stand in the middle of the living room, Bailey stared forward, blinking. She had been going somewhere, but she couldn’t remember… oh that’s right. Elba waited in the kitchen for her, watching patiently.
Jessica would need to be fed soon and then maybe Bailey could take a nap. Her energy waned and she didn’t want to complain, but a nap was probably exactly what she needed.
She trudged across the shag-style carpet and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen.
Elba reached out and pressed the back of her hand agai
nst Bailey’s forehead and then around to the side of her ear. “Are you feeling okay, Bailey? You’re pale all of a sudden.” Concern wrinkled the area between Elba’s eyebrows as she studied Bailey. “Here, why don’t you sit down while I make us something to eat. I think you might need more than just dried fruit. How about something filled with protein and fat.” She grinned. “I’m thinking meatloaf. I still have some ground venison from last season hiding in the freezer.”
Bailey nodded weakly. When had fatigue and weakness hit her? She hadn’t expected to be tired so fast. She reached up to brush at her forehead, wincing at the sheared hair. Mom hadn’t put a lot of concern or time into making sure Bailey’s hair didn’t have a chopped look.
The sound of men’s voices carried down the chimney to their log fireplace. Bailey turned her head and stared at the brick-framed opening. Was she going crazy? Maybe the Parks’ place was haunted. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
“Elba? I think… I think I just heard someone talking.” Bailey pointed toward the fireplace, a knot twisted in her stomach. What did that mean? Was she hallucinating? Was the sickness taking hold faster than it had with Mom and Scott? Jason? She would rather the house was haunted than she was hallucinating.
Bailey reached up and rubbed at the back of her neck. When had she gotten the bumps? She gasped for air, sinking to the ground as she realized just how sick she was.
Elba rushed to her side. “You heard voices?” Twisting her head, Elba stopped talking as more voices drifted toward them. She stood, helping Bailey to the couch. Glancing at Jessica, Elba nodded tightly. “Okay, I’m not sure what’s going on, but don’t worry. No one knows we’re in here, yet. Not to mention the terrific locks and barriers protecting us from anyone outside. Remember, keep your voice down, because sound travels.” She grinned and pointed at the fireplace. “Obviously.” She had lowered her voice as she spoke, keeping her tone calm.
Death Days: post-apocalyptic survival story (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 10) Page 2