He didn’t have to run away from the house. There was no reason to run away. Cady was doing enough leaving for the both of them. No, all he needed was some breathing room. That was it. True, he’d have more than enough of that as soon as they left, but he needed it now. Or he might beg Cady to stay.
The late-night hour lent even more peace to the air. Scott stopped where he was, kicking around to find a fallen log to sit on. On his fourth leg swing, he hit a log with a thud. Turning, he lowered himself to the makeshift seat and leaned his elbows on his knees. What was he doing? Sitting out in the woods in the middle of the night when he could be helping Cady and Bailey get ready to leave was a cowardly act. He knew it. He couldn’t deny it.
But he felt like he didn’t have a choice. Not when he wanted to scream with grief and anger. Not when he wasn’t even sure what exactly was happening. Was the world ending? Or was the Rapture taking place that he’d learned about at church? Had he been a bad person and the Rapture had skipped him over? Maybe all of the religious people had it wrong and it wasn’t a lifting up but a virus that would claim the good ones.
He rested his head in his hands and silently laughed. Of course not, but it sounded like a theory that he could at least mull over in his head while he sat there.
If he went back to help Cady, he might try to go with them. No, leaving wasn’t an option, but why? Emotional baggage? Did he really think he couldn’t be safe anywhere else? Or did he really think his family was going to come to him? Did he really think his family was still out there? He knew his parents weren’t. His mom had taken care of that.
Scott swallowed past the lump in his throat. He had no doubt Mom and Dad were dead. None. What about his siblings? Or other nieces or nephews? Why had he been left with two of them? He’d failed. How would he face his mother in the after-life knowing he’d lost Jason? He couldn’t take Jessica when he couldn’t take care of her. Failing at caring for her… he couldn’t do it. She was too little to mess that up.
The odds weren’t in his favor that anyone in his family was alive or would even make it back to him. With gas and other things becoming a rare commodity, there wasn’t a lot of hope for him ever seeing them again. He pushed his hands through his hair and stared up through the treetops. He’d never been more tired or more confused.
Ranger settled on his haunches next to Scott and rested his chin on Scott’s knee. He watched Scott in the dark, whatever light out there seemed to find its way to Ranger’s eyes and reflect back at Scott.
Reaching out, Scott scratched the soft fuzzy hair behind Ranger’s ears and then under his chin. Mid-scratch, Ranger lifted his head, his ears perking forward as he turned to face the neighbor’s house.
Stilling, Scott stared toward Rachel’s house. Nothing was alive there. There shouldn’t be. Scott wasn’t going inside her house to check. Cady had watched Rachel kill herself with Scott’s handgun. He didn’t need to find the bodies of her dead children inside her home. He was sick of all the bodies and all the death – especially of the innocent ones. Maybe a deer or something had pulled Ranger’s attention.
The hair on the back of Ranger’s neck stood up and Scott pulled his hand back. He lowered himself to better follow Ranger’s gaze, staring hard into the darkness.
A flash of light as a beam swept over and over in a back and forth arc split the night in two. One light, no, a second one showed up, sweeping opposite the first. The lights bounced, moving up the ungated driveway with confidence. Whoever it was, they weren’t afraid, but bold.
Scott’s chest tightened. Cady had sworn more would come. How had she known that? How had she known? Just like she’d known about the virus? Had she been the one to signal to others? Was she expecting more to come? No, Scott had to stop thinking like that. Cady wouldn’t set them up for failure. He had to get some things straight in his head, but he didn’t have to clarify that.
A gunshot rang out surprisingly close sounding. The sound of glass breaking followed in half a second. Angry, taunting laughter rode the dark breeze to Scott’s position.
Thrusting himself to his feet, Scott reached out and clutched at the bark of a nearby tree. His breathing suddenly shallowed as he tried to hear what they were doing and where they intended to go. Maybe they would say something that would give themselves away.
The candlelight in Cady’s house would be easy to see, if the men looked that way. Scott had to get over there and blow out all the candles. He wasn’t going with Cady and Bailey, but he had to help protect the last home he had. Survival instinct kicked in. He’d inspect his emotions and thoughts later.
He turned, walking carefully but quickly back. He wasn’t sure where the men had come from, but he had no doubt what they wanted. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that no self-respecting man would shoot up a house at night.
Scott slapped the side of his thigh. Ranger turned from facing Rachel’s house and fell into step beside Scott. They had a purpose and neither would fail at their mission.
For the first time since Cady had mentioned it, Scott agreed with her need to leave immediately. The sooner the better.
Chapter 17
Manson
Kelsey’s hot blood cooled on Manson’s skin as he rushed after Margie in the van. He set his jaw. Things just got interesting. He was on foot and they had the van. With only his crowbar in his hand, there was no reason for Manson to run down the highway after them. He wouldn’t catch them and there was nothing he could do with the metal bar from that distance.
There was no way they had time to get gas. Manson had walloped Margie pretty good. She was probably pretty dizzy still and dealing with the aftereffects of a mild to serious concussion. That hadn’t stopped her from getting away. Fleeing, she’d only made the need to catch her a thousand times more necessary for Manson than breathing.
He turned back toward the plaza, swinging the bar back and forth as he walked with a confident stride past Kelsey’s dead body on the ground. He didn’t even give her a passing glance. She wasn’t worth anything anymore and he wasn’t wasting his time.
Why had he been so stupid and not taken the keys from Margie’s pocket when he’d knocked her out? He’d been too intent on getting to Kelsey and Ryker. Well, he’d only succeeded on getting the one. Now, he had to get a car and catch the other one. For some reason, he still didn’t want to kill Margie, he just wanted to catch her. He couldn’t kill her just yet. He felt like there was something worth understanding there. He was just egotistical enough to wonder what his subconscious found interesting about her.
All he needed was a car.
Pushing his way through the ornamental brush, Manson found himself back on the street where he’d knocked Margie to the ground. He narrowed his eyes and studied the cars up and down the road as much as he could in the dark. The moonlight was fickle and didn’t give him much more than body shape and location.
An old Ford Fairlane or Chevy Nova – he couldn’t tell which from that distance or that light – wasn’t too far down the road from him. The small Festiva Margie had been about to siphon from was closer, but Manson didn’t have much faith in the small car. The easiest to hotwire would be the classic option, but the gas guzzler would be hard to keep full.
What option did he have? Not much and he wasn’t dumb enough to think he could even hotwire anything in the dark without tools. Hotwiring in real life was a whole different story than in the movies. He could theoretically have his choice of any car on the street, he just had to go into a home and find the keys. Who knew if he was going to encounter a living person or not.
He didn’t want to waste too long. Margie was getting away and he didn’t want to lose her. The classic car called to something inside him. He wanted to drive down the empty highway in a car that was made of metal, not fiberglass. He didn’t care how loud it was. The time for being inconspicuous had passed. It was time to make himself known.
Grinning, Manson shifted the direction of his swinging and moved it from side to side as he a
pproached the house the car was in front of. Even if the home owner had a gun, they’d most likely be too scared to use it. Just because a person owned a gun, didn’t mean they knew how to use it. That was more common than not.
Manson kind of hoped there was a capable man inside. He’d like a bit of a scrap or a challenge. With the way things were shaping up with Margie, Manson needed to get his frustration out and slamming his crowbar into a dead person’s body wouldn’t feel as good as into a live one’s.
The end of the world was definitely getting interesting.
Chapter 18
Cady
The back of the Ford truck filled up fast. Cady winced as she closed the tailgate with a bang. Now, she had to finish filling the rest of the cab before closing the hatch. As much as she wanted to bring the generator and all of her guns and ammunition, she couldn’t fit it all. The generator stayed. She could trade her guns, if she needed to, not that she would. Plus, she was pretty sure her mom’s place had a generator or two.
All of the food and supplies along with the gun safe in the crawlspace were left behind. Everything under the floor was left. She hadn’t even checked for anything. Instead she’d pulled a loose piece of linoleum from the garage and covered the entire floor of the pantry. Once in place, the floor looked the same as any other with no evidence of a crawlspace opening.
She might be able to return some day. If not, at least Scott knew where things were and so did her mom – if she ever made it back. Where had Scott gotten to? She couldn’t help worrying about him still, even though he’d made it perfectly clear that they weren’t an option anymore.
The rejection stung and Cady didn’t have the mental capacity to add it to her list of worries. She had one goal at the moment – to keep her and Bailey alive. Every action she forced from her over-tired body had to be toward that goal. Not even her thoughts could be off-focus.
She’d agreed to take the baby. Scott was nowhere in the immediate vicinity and she couldn’t hope he’d changed his mind. It was no longer his call. Cady shoved all of the formula into the back except for a box that would last a couple days which she shoved into the backseat of the extended cab. The diapers and wipes finished up the last of the space in the back and Cady closed the hatch.
Turning back to the garage, she ignored all of the tools she was leaving behind, all of the wood in the shed that she could use for heat through the winter. She was leaving her greenhouse, the garden, the chickens. She couldn’t take care of the hens anymore. She would ask Scott to either take care of them or leave the gate open so they would be able to fend for themselves. They would easily be able to get into the feed in the shed.
Closing her eyes for just a brief moment, Cady held in her gasp of desperation. She couldn’t even think about everything still in the shed. All of the supplies in there she was forced to leave behind. All of the preparations she’d made before quarantining her and her daughter at the house. She couldn’t allow herself to give into the panic that pricked along the edge of her skin.
Not only was she asking Bailey to go with her and leave all of the preparations behind, but she was asking her daughter to leave behind their home. Where she’d grown up. The tire swing in back of the garden that Zach, her father, had made was nothing compared to the trampolines he’d set up for his daughter or the playground set he’d painted a deep red to see through the trees. All of their memories in the house and on the land. Cady wasn’t immune to the loss. She just… she just couldn’t face it.
At the door from the garage to the house, she paused and took inventory of what she still had to do. She’d already loaded two of three seventy-two-hour kit backpacks into the backseat. The third one – that had originally been Zach’s – she’d left on the counter. If Scott changed his mind, he could grab it and drive after them in his own rig.
The other things she’d packed included gas tanks, weapons, fire making tools, and hygiene products. She’d hidden a small bin of pictures and legal documents including birth certificates, a deed to the house, social security information, taxes for the last seven years, and the external hard drive she stored everything on, including pictures and other videos with scanned versions of the legal documents under the front seat.
Packed to the seams, the truck held as much of her life there that she could fit. She couldn’t fit anything more inside and she had no more energy left to try. She would be lucky to get them out of there without passing out at the wheel. Another thing she needed to prevent.
She needed to eat something. Sitting down for a few minutes would be feasible. She had to check on Bailey anyway. It was only a few minutes, right? What could a small break hurt?
Trailing her fingers across the textured walls, Cady swallowed the lump building in her throat. She ignored the blood on the end of the table and the floor where Beth had rested for a bit. Cady didn’t look out the slider glass to see her friend’s body. No. That wasn’t necessary. She couldn’t help herself though, and she studied some of the pictures on the walls that she passed, shoring up the images for a time when she had a moment to reflect on them.
At the bottom of the stairs, Cady called up into the darkness but not very loud. “Bailey? Are you ready?” She adjusted her position, resting her hand on the railing and glancing out the front window. Moonlight glinted off the top of the minivan that Jackson had arrived in. There was too much there. They needed to get away before Cady lost it.
“Yeah, everything I need is in my bag. Can we grab something to eat first?” Bailey came down the steps, an Army green hoody-style sweatshirt covered her t-shirt. When had she started looking so much older than fourteen? Maybe when she’d had to defend herself and a baby, or maybe when she’d had to face the possibility of her mom dying. Or maybe even further back when her father had died.
Nodding, Cady waited while Bailey descended the steps. “I was just going to make something. We’re almost out of chips. Let’s eat those up and I’ll make some tuna wraps. I’m out of lettuce, but we have tuna and cheese and tortillas.” Cady smiled tiredly. Bailey wasn’t fighting her anymore on leaving. At least there was that.
They worked together in companionable silence. Cady tried to ignore the fact that they wouldn’t be in that kitchen again any time soon, if ever.
Glancing at Bailey, Cady reached up into the cabinet above the fridge and pulled out their best china. She loaded up their wraps and passed a plate to Bailey who smiled sadly at the sight of the silver edging that reflected the candle light as they sat down at the table.
For a moment, they pretended nothing was changing. They ate in silence for a few minutes and fast. Once the first half of their wraps had taken the edge off the pain in their stomachs, they slowed.
Bailey looked around the dining area and over to the kitchen. “Do you think… I mean, do you think we’re going to be okay?” She took a bite of her wrap and avoided looking at Cady. Before her mom could answer, she raised wide, tear-filled eyes. “Mom, please, be honest. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I can handle the truth, but it needs to be the truth. I can’t handle anymore lies.”
Cady swallowed. She was halfway through the wrap and really didn’t want to eat any more, but she forced herself to eat another bite. She would finish it. She needed the calories. After a second, she answered. “We’ll do our best. That’s all we can do.” What else would she say? Cady was the mom and that put an inordinate amount of pressure on her to know everything, be everything for someone else. She wanted to say that she had no idea what they were up against or even if they were going to make it out of the driveway.
She didn’t know what else to say other than they’d do their best. She didn’t even know what her best was when she was so tired from being sick. Cady didn’t want to think of what their best was when Bailey could very well come down with the virus and Cady had no way to move her.
Cady gave away none of her doubt or fears. Thankfully, her answer seemed to be enough for Bailey who finished her wrap and chomped through some c
hips.
The movement of a light flashed through the far window facing west. Cady instinctively leaned forward and blew out the candles on the table. She swallowed the last bite and reached over to grab Bailey’s hand. Something wasn’t right, but she kept her growing fear from her voice. “Get Jessica and meet me by the garage door. You have your bag?”
It didn’t matter that Cady kept her voice calm, Bailey seemed to sense something had shifted too. She nodded, her eyes wider than before. She shoved the chair away from the table and rushed to the living room.
Cady ran to each candle and blew the flames out. In seconds the lower level of the house was drenched in darkness.
Stopping at one of the windows facing west, Cady bit her bottom lip. Two flashlight beams moved along the woods by Rachel’s place. They would soon find the connecting path and then head toward Cady’s place. That was the movement of the lights. They weren’t shining toward the road, they were heading east.
Toward Cady’s.
Something was coming. Now Cady knew her feelings about something coming wasn’t about something coming, they were about someone.
She’d known. She’d tried to get them out of there before her feelings were proven right. She’d tried, but as she watched the lights get closer, a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. For all her preparations, for all her efforts…
Was Cady out of time?
Chapter 19
Margie
Ryker fell into step behind Margie as she set a steady pace up the west side of the highway. It felt good to move after being in the van for so long. She just wished she could shake the headache and the pounding pain along the back of her head. She reached up cautiously a couple times to touch the tender skin, grateful there wasn’t any blood.
Move On: a post apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... Series) Page 8