Death Days: post-apocalyptic survival story (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 10)

by B. R. Paulson

  The man had lost it. And no one was stopping him.

  Cady glanced around the group of women. They were her hope of escape, of rebellion, of getting them all free and rising above the oppression of Perry and his gang. The women, collectively, refused to meet her gaze as well. They cast their eyes downward, shifting closer together to gather more heat and protection.

  If this was Cady’s last hope, she had better start planning a different source. They weren’t going to help her – not when they themselves didn’t know what hope was anymore.

  If she wasn’t careful, the same could happen to her.

  Chapter 13

  Buck

  Getting through the paneling hadn’t been as hard as Buck had expected it to be. Inside the store, the fading light of the evening sunset seeped through the edges of the boards and through the seams between panels stacked on each other, creating a patchwork sensation that didn’t quite light up the insides.

  Buck slid through the opening and then thrust backward, pressing his shoulder blades against the wall. His gaze darted left and right, eyes trying to adjust in the lack of light. Night would fall soon and it would be perfect, if they could shore up in the convenience store at least until they got some rest.

  “Hello?” His voice echoed off the laminate flooring and the glass doors to the coolers along the back. Items had been flung from the shelves but that seemed to be the extent of the looting.

  Was there food? There was food. Bottled water had fallen across the floor from a stack on the side and he bent his knees until he had crouched down enough to pick one of up.

  Water. He blinked back relieved tears. Twisting the lid, the tearing of the plastic parts startled him. But Buck didn’t hesitate to chug the bottle down. All of it. The cool water had a stale flavor to it, but it tasted as refreshing as a spring well to Buck.

  They would be safe in there that night and maybe for a few more days, until they had something figured out.

  Buck gripped the now-empty bottle and turned, pressing his shoulder against the panel of wood and pushing until there was a sizable gap to see through. He scanned as much of the surrounding landscape as he could before calling out, “Maria! Turn off the rig. Come here!”

  At least the sound of the truck hadn’t left. Which meant… she hadn’t left. For some reason that mattered to Buck more than the absence of the Range Rover did.

  The motor turned off, the resulting silence casting a morbid sense of urgency into the air.

  Maria peeked her head around the corner. Her dark hair hung imply around her shoulders and she stared at him with wide eyes. “It’s safe?” Her tremulous voice held more disbelief than question.

  He jerked his head up and down and then brandished the water bottle like a flag of victory.

  Even empty, the bottle still represented possibilities and Maria didn’t hesitate any longer. She scurried through the gap Buck created and into the shadows.

  Buck ducked his head inside, still holding the wood open. “Go to the back door and let me in, when I knock. I’m going to reclose this board up.” He waited for her to respond.

  Maria nodded, her knuckles pressed to her teeth as she half-hugged herself and hunched her shoulders. She stared at him as he disappeared and pressed the wood into place.

  The nails would hold, but only if he pounded them into place. Buck hadn’t brought a hammer. He glanced at his feet, he hadn’t even brought shoes. The sight of the tattered slippers emboldened him. He’d gotten Maria away from the psychos in his neighborhood without shoes.

  He could figure out how to re-secure the safe place. He didn’t need a hammer. He needed something to act as a hammer. What had he brought in the car? Had Maria grabbed the keys? Questions ran through his hunger-induced confusion. What was most important? He’d board up the window and then grab the keys. Then he could go inside and get something to eat. Food. Anything.

  Still staring at his feet, his attention shifted and he found himself studying a large round rock half buried along the water-runoff line from the roof. Other gravel and silt-like material had it crammed into its spot, but Buck used a flatter but less stable neighboring rock to scratch it out of its place.

  He hefted the shoe size rock in his right hand and braced himself against the wall with his left. Perfect. Using the rock, he hammered in the loose nails. Reaching forward, he pulled on the boards, satisfied they were anchored in place. Moving around the building, he checked for any other signs of weakness, rock in hand. It was a great tool, but also a makeshift weapon. He needed a weapon and the weight of the rock gave him more comfort than an empty hand.

  When Buck found nothing else to secure or any other signs of danger, he limped back to the rig and yanked the car keys from the ignition. Clicking the lock button, he shut the door and made his way to the backdoor. Leaning on the cement building, he knocked with a solid bang-bang. The door was metal. That fact added to his sense of security.

  Would she let him in? There was no need for her to. She had food and water. She didn’t need him. He could drive off, knowing she was safe and they wouldn’t have to speak to each other about the choice she’d made. He needed food, but he could find something else. He would need to. He should go.

  While he probably should do exactly that, Buck was too much of a coward to leave. He needed something to eat. He needed security. Not too long ago – days if not only mere hours had passed since he’d been relatively safe in the luxury of his home. True, he had been starving, but at least he’d been protected from the elements – the heat of the California sun and the winds.

  Now he had nothing. The gas station represented a huge find that he didn’t want to give up – not yet. He knocked again, waiting impatiently and with no small amount of worry. Would she let him in? Was she going to leave him out there?

  Buck glanced behind him, gripping the rock with a fierceness he hadn’t been aware he had. What would he do? Break back in? Did he want to risk it as the sun was almost gone?

  The door opened slowly just when Buck was certain Maria was going to leave him outside. She looked past him and then motioned him inside.

  Buck didn’t wait. He darted past the door and pulled it shut behind him. He fumbled at the door to make sure it was locked. When had he started breathing fast? He narrowed his eyes at Maria who had folded her arms across her chest and stared at him.

  “You weren’t going to let me back in, were you?” Buck didn’t have to ask, but part of him wanted to hear why she had. His altruistic thoughts on what he should do had fled. Faced with the very real possibility of being left out there, he didn’t want to be the good guy. Not for a few minutes so he could be safe inside.

  She shook her head and half-shrugged. “But I did.”

  But she did. So true.

  ~~~

  Buck shifted to the side on his hip, wincing at the newly enflamed knee pain from his injury by the pool. He wanted to start a fire, but there was nothing safe to contain it in. They’d burn down their sanctuary and Buck wasn’t willing to consider that option.

  They’d both chosen a fruit-filled pie pocket, a can of something – Buck’s was ravioli – and plenty to drink and sat across from each over with a small lantern burning between them. They had taken a spot closer to the back so as not to chance any light from leaking out through the cracks.

  As they ate in hushed silence, Buck couldn’t help feeling some of the worry fade.

  The faux sense of security would make sleeping possible. Buck wasn’t dumb. If they had been able to get inside, others could, as well. But, he didn’t want to think about that tonight. He’d worry about it when he had a chance to breathe, when he’d rested and drank more water and some of the apple juice he’d found.

  “Are you comfortable just sleeping on the floor?” They hadn’t spoken much since sitting down to eat but as Buck realized no one was going to take his food, and that he could actually get full, he loosened up a bit.

  Maria nodded and licked the sugar frosting from her finge
rs. She stared at the lantern and then lifted her eyes to Buck, a small amount of fear back in her expression. “You can use me, if you want to.”

  Her words brought with them a temptation to not feel so alone, to curl himself into a warm body. But the words didn’t hold the weight they should since they came from a child.

  He shook his head, holding up a hand as he spoke calmly. “Maria, thank you for the offer, but as long as you’re with me, you don’t need to do that. Your body is yours. Plus, you’re not old enough to make those types of decisions and those men back there had no right forcing you.” He’d never spoken with such conviction before. To have something he believed in felt good.

  Relief and confusion furrowed Maria’s brow. “I don’t understand. Don’t you need to do that to feel better?” She chewed on her lower lip, looking more like an eight-year-old than the teenager she was.

  Feel better. As if hurting someone weaker than himself would make him feel better. Pressing his lips together, Buck shook his head. “No. I just ate, drank some water, and now I’m going to use this V8 bottle as a pillow and I’m going to get some sleep. That will make me feel better. Not raping a kid. Knowing you’re not being raped is comforting as well.” He hadn’t known her before that morning, but that didn’t matter. One person saved. He could claim that.

  At least.

  She nodded tightly and blinked back tears. Her whisper filled the room. “Thanks for finding me, Buck.” He had found her or had she found him? Either way, he was glad he wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 14

  Scott

  Scott blinked at Ranger’s whimper. It wasn’t urgent like there was danger, but it was more imploring like Ranger needed to use the bathroom. Didn’t they all?

  The pain in Scott’s thigh had dulled but the chill in his limbs had increased. If he moved, the bleeding would probably restart, if it had ever even stopped. At the angle he’d fallen asleep in with his back slightly arched and his arms stiff at his sides, he could breathe, but barely. He was cold, almost numb, and he had no idea how long he’d been out.

  Turning his head to the side, he looked past Ranger’s large brown eyes and out the window of the Expedition. The surrounding area couldn’t decide if it was dark or not as moonlight reflected off a vehicle to their right and dumpsters commandeered the periphery of the clearing. They cast long shadows with sharp angles and hid secrets in the night.

  Buck narrowed his eyes at the vision of the truck. He recognized it, but couldn’t make out the colors of the pain. The canopy had a white decal on the side window which was an outline of Idaho. He’d recognize that sticker anywhere.

  Cady’s truck. They’d caught up to her. Relief washed over him. He closed his eyes a moment and then glanced forward, studying the sleeping driver and passenger. Cady’s mom had made it back. He wasn’t sure why that hadn’t clicked before or maybe it had. Either way he was relieved for Cady. She would need her mom. Margie would need her daughter.

  Things didn’t feel quite right. Sensations running through him were out of sync or confusing with how he wanted to feel, how he knew he should feel.

  Ranger licked Scott’s face again, his whimper more insistent. Scott studied his long-time companion. “Okay, buddy.” He whispered, continuing to breathe shallowly as the ache in his side was ever-present. What exactly had he done to himself? He’d fallen, but he didn’t remember hitting his back or side. He could have. He’d been more focused on surviving the shoot out than what was hurting. He’d been shot. He’d figured that was as injured as he could get.

  Scott took a deep breath and opened the door to his left, leaning back to let Ranger squeeze past his legs. The light above him blinked on and he reached up, pressing on the light to turn it off. He didn’t want to bother Margie and the kid more than he needed to.

  His dog jumped down, rushing here and there in his search for the perfect place to go to the bathroom. Scott angled himself to the side, sitting upright as much as he could. Every movement jostled him and all the pain returned ten-fold and he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t stay there.

  Sudden claustrophobia washed over Scott and he needed to move, to get out. He had to get out of that truck. Immediately. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Scott fumbled at the door for the handle. Moments before he’d been able to open the door so easily and now his panic made it nearly impossible to do a simple task.

  His limitations annoyed him but he pushed through the pain in his leg and the warm reminder that he’d started bleeding again. The blood softened the stiff jean and bandage on his thigh. His chest felt constricted and filled with pressure. He had to get out of the sitting position. Maybe that would help.

  Swinging his legs down from the seat, Scott muffled a groan of pain trying to escape. After the initial stabbing sensation subsided, he gasped and scanned the ground and surrounding areas for Ranger. He pressed his hand to his side, a few inches above the center of his waist. He couldn’t breathe. With no water in sight, he felt like he was slowly drowning. How was that possible?

  In all honesty, he wanted to see Cady, make sure she was okay. He just needed that. Maybe if he could do that, his mindset would turn around. Because something was off.

  Inside of him. Deep inside.

  Something he didn’t want to admit was growing and taking over – outside of the drowning sensation, outside of the pain.

  He couldn’t really put pressure on his bad leg, but at the same time, he couldn’t feel anything but the throbbing pain where the bullet had claimed a chunk of his flesh and had to have hit bone. Margie had muttered something about it being superficial, but she’d been missing the look of reassurance she should have had. She hadn’t been telling the truth and Scott didn’t doubt it. Plus, neither of them had known about the pain in his side.

  Leaning on the rig, he hopped one painstaking bounce at a time, the movement jarring to his bad leg but liberating at the same time. He gasped with each movement, pressing harder to his torso so he could stabilize whatever was causing him pain. Limping forward and dragging his leg behind him worked. For now.

  He rounded the Expedition and grinned at the sight of the truck still there. Searching the windshield for any sign of Cady or Bailey, Scott drew his eyebrows together. Were they sleeping? Why weren’t Margie and Ryker talking with Cady? Why were they sleeping? They should have been discussing their next steps, the rest of the plans.

  Things weren’t adding up and Scott needed to sit down. He would have to pass the truck to get to the collection of boulders just past the rig and he suddenly wanted – no, he had to sit there. He could watch the sun come up and maybe recover some of his energy. Facing the day, maybe his mindset would adjust. He could use something more positive in his life.

  He had a feeling there was no such thing in store for himself.

  Scott hobbled past the windows, peeking inside and finding empty seats. Where was she? Where was Bailey and Jessica? They were gone. Even the back of the truck was empty.

  Everything was gone? They’d loaded up a lot into the back of the truck and now it was all gone? Had they been robbed? Why would Cady just leave the truck there? They couldn’t carry everything wherever they’d been headed.

  He panted and sweat dripped down his face. The shadows had become more sinister, more like they wanted him gone rather than welcoming him. The night got darker just before dawn. He was in more pain before he’d get better. He had to hold onto that.

  With the things he’d done, the shadows should welcome him. He wasn’t as good as he wished he were, as he’d tried to be.

  Trailing his hand on the cool metal of the truck bumper, Scott took a few steadying breaths, pressed harder on his side, and then jumped the last three bounds to the rocks. He cried out. He didn’t have to move far after reaching the moss-covered stones as he lowered himself onto the flattest one he could reach. His side. Oh, flames, his side. He couldn’t breathe.

  He rolled his head side to side, holding his palm to his ribs and trying not to scream, Scott str
etched on the rock. Taking a deep breath, he stared up into the sky. What was he doing? What had he done?

  He’d stayed behind and gotten shot. As much as Margie had tried helping him, he could feel the pain spreading out from that spot with a feverish heat he didn’t want to accept. And his side… oh, his side.

  He coughed, lifting his free hand to his mouth. Pulling his hand back, he blinked at the dark flecks on his skin. Was that blood?

  The top part of the sun’s curve peeked above the mountain’s silhouette and the sky erupted in pinks and purples. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and Scott shivered.

  Even though he wanted to see Cady again, even though he needed a chance to see his niece again and to raise her, he couldn’t continue living the way he was. He had more doubt and pain and guilt than any one person should have to carry.

  The deaths of those babies tore at him. The deaths of his family members and his nephew ripped pieces of his soul out minute by minute. He couldn’t be who he wanted to be with so much guilt eating at him.

  The chill of the rocks at his back seeped deep inside him and he blinked slowly. The only spot of warmth seemed to be the blood continuing to come from his leg and the pain tearing up through his chest.

  Scott didn’t care.

  He’d reached his crossroads and he didn’t deserve another chance to mess up.

  Chapter 15

  Bailey

  Crash!

  The tinkle of glass falling to the rock flooring around the mantle filled the silence following the window shattering. Bailey stared upward to the window a rock had just torn through. No one could reach the oddly shaped window from the ground outside, but the men attacking the house didn’t seem to care about getting in so much as scaring the people inside.

  Bailey glanced at Elba who had claimed a spot on the couch tucked close to the wall and away from any windows or doors. She rocked her upper body back and forth with Jessica in her arms and a blanket corner drawn over the baby’s face.