He’d created the Cure. There was no escaping the consequences. One way or the other, his creations were coming back to haunt him.
“Hey, get back here! I just want to talk to you, man. You saved us.” Bret called out, but he didn’t follow Jackson as he returned to the cooling relief of the initial urtica ferox ointment. He waved Jackson off as he turned back. “Give me some more.”
The euphoria of the initial application would be addicting. Jackson couldn’t enjoy it as the dread of what was going to come drenched him in sweat.
Those cowboys had no idea that Jackson grabbed his bag and darted from the house, climbing into his rig. He had to get down from the mountain. He needed to find a safe spot to hole up for however long he needed.
He’d never tried the ointment on a healthy specimen. He’d never seen its effects. What was he going to do?
What would he be able to do to stave off the hemorrhaging? That would be the worst thing. He could fight hallucinations. He could fight delusions and sweating and even unbearable pain.
There was nothing he could do against hemorrhaging. He didn’t have time to get to Cady’s house before the Cure started to work on him. He didn’t have more than a handful of hours left.
What had just happened? How had he gotten so lazy and dropped his guard? Jackson had no doubt that he’d done that to himself. He could own his mistakes.
His hands shook as he turned the steering wheel to get down off the mountain. He glanced at the digital green numbers on the clock on the dashboard.
How long did he have until he lost his mind?
Chapter 17
Cady
The aroma of spaghetti with its garlic seasoning and home-dried basil carried upstairs to Cady’s bathroom through her master bedroom. With the power still on, lights weren’t an issue – yet. Bailey heated up the spaghetti with the stove before calling everyone to dinner.
Escaping to her room for to gather her composure had become essential. Any questions or doubts Cady might have had about the disease’s high infection rate were gone.
Her hands shook as she paced back and forth on the tiled floor. Every emotion was laid bare after seeing Scott getting sick. The very real possibility had actually become something she could see.
Kent didn’t count. She hadn’t seen him progress through the disease. Watching Scott as he got worse over hours instead of days was taking its toll on her. How could she escape something that was so prevalent and seemed to have no problem infecting everything on two legs?
She braced her arms on the edge of the counter and leaned close to the mirror. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun and strands of silver stood out as they intertwined with the mass of brunette ones pulled tightly from her temple. Tired. She looked so tired.
At least her eyes weren’t red-rimmed – not like Scott’s.
Not yet.
She didn’t really have a cough and she didn’t have a fever. All of that didn’t keep her from checking herself for the rash. Twisting and turning, she searched her neck and upper shoulders, lifting her shirt to see her lower back as well as under her clavicles on her upper chest. A fever she could treat. The rash she could probably even treat. That was fine, doable even. But she wasn’t sure what the disease did to a person mentality.
Breaking it down, she was scared of the disease, but she wasn’t sure why. Kent had been sick when he’d come the first time, but he’d spoken of going for the Cure – despite her pleadings that he not touch it or even go to town. When he’d returned to Cady’s place, he’d been out of his mind, but Cady couldn’t be certain that he had used the Cure. She had no idea. Chances were very good he had and the way he’d been acting hadn’t been congruent with just a disease.
Rachel’s state of mind had nothing to do with the Cure. Sadly, her sickness and the horrific loss of her children had contributed to her mental status. She hadn’t had any contact with the Cure.
There was nothing tying the only two deaths she had witnessed together – except the disease.
Cady hadn’t seen anyone survive the disease, or heard of anyone surviving. At that point, it was the disease killing everyone combined with their circumstances. If she could focus on getting rest, getting Scott rest, were their chances increased to survive the illness? Most likely, unless the end game of the virus also messed with the host’s mental state.
She leaned her head back and groaned softly. If only she could find someone who had survived it. She wasn’t even sure on the true length of the disease – which would be different for everyone – but she didn’t even have a basic timeline.
The symptoms started out with red-rimmed eyes, fever, cough. From what she’d seen, there was a rash that progressed to a pox. After that, she was unsure.
Scott was getting weaker. Cady had winced each time he’d stumbled while they unloaded the Bronco into the garage. He hadn’t seemed to notice, either that or he fought through and didn’t want her to see.
If it had been Cady, she would have felt that way.
The sickness seemed to be moving fast with him. Unless that was the way it came on. Slow, slow, and then bam.
“Mom! Time to eat.” Bailey’s voice had taken on a hopeful tinge, like she wouldn’t have to worry about watching her mother die alone.
“I’m coming. Just a sec!” Cady wasn’t going to let Bailey watch her die.
She turned off the light. When was the power going to go out? The world wasn’t essentially gone completely, but there had to be less people every day to work the utilities and their jobs. Once the power stopped, she would have to blackout her windows.
Actually, she would do that the next morning before she got too sick. Bailey wouldn’t know how to do it. Blacking out the windows would keep the lights hidden from anyone on the road and giving away their presence at the house. With the generator going, the sound would give them away, but in the garage, the generator would be mostly muffled. Cady just had to get it into Bailey’s head how important it was to air out the garage when she turned off the generator and to not linger in there while the generator was running. The emissions would kill her.
Night lights were randomly placed throughout the house, one of which was in a wall plugin beneath one of her bedroom windows. Softly closing her bedroom door for a moment, Cady sank to the floor beside her bed and used the light from the nightlight to make sure the handgun she’d stuck to the underside of the mattress was in place.
She hated to consider it an option, but once Scott got sick, he would change. He wouldn’t be himself and Cady had to be on guard as long as she was able. As much as she hated the thought of killing him, she had to protect Jason, Bailey, and the baby.
Plus, what if the pain did get so bad she had to take care of things? Cady had to be prepared for every eventuality.
If Scott was getting sick, Jason probably would be close behind him. How much would Bailey see? If Cady had the presence of mind, she would get her daughter and run up to her parents’ place. But Cady selfishly didn’t want to get sick and leave Bailey all alone. Jackson had sent the vaccine and Cady had been able to use it to protect her daughter as much as possible.
There was no going back now. Plus, Scott needed her.
Cady pushed to her feet, pulling her long sleeves up to her elbows. Leaving her room, she glanced up and down the hallway in case someone had followed her upstairs.
Downstairs, she hid all indicators that she’d been making sure she had her self-defense weapon in place – in case she needed to kill her guests. No, that wasn’t something one said while sitting to eat dinner with company.
While Bailey served the meal, Jason offered the baby to Cady whose smile felt foreign on her face. As she cuddled the tiny infant, she raised her gaze to Jason. “You’ve done really well, Jason. Jessica seems to be thriving.”
The young man blushed, half-shrugging as he tilted his head toward Scott. “My uncle saved her. I just rode shotgun and fed her as we came home.” He looked toward Scott with something close to hero wors
hip.
Cady smiled, nodding, glad to hear Scott get some recognition. “Yeah, Scott can be pretty amazing. So, what happened? How did you save her?” Cady focused on Scott.
Her neighbor and now housemate shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He cleared his throat, something haunting in his gaze that he couldn’t seem to shake. “It’s well… I just went into the hospital and pulled her out.” He smiled at Bailey as she scooped spaghetti onto his plate. He grinned. “Jason and I are so thankful you ladies welcomed us in. We haven’t had homecooked meals in a while. Just MREs, right, Jason?”
His sudden topic change seemed weird, but Cady didn’t question it. She understood evasion. Scott was trustworthy. If he’d done something, he would have a good reason. He didn’t do things unless they were morally right.
Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If you call crackers and peanut butter MREs, then yeah, we had MREs.”
Bailey laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, wow. My mom has some that are like lasagna and beef stew. They aren’t the best tasting, but I guess they fill the hole.” She glanced shyly at Jason and Cady almost groaned aloud. Was that going to be a problem? She was going to get sick and not be able to chaperone the two teenagers living together under one roof and playing house.
Bailey’s birthday was in a few days. Cady hadn’t gotten her anything. At that point, Cady just hoped she would be healthy enough to wish her daughter happy birthday. There were so many things running through Cady’s mind, she couldn’t focus on any one thing.
The answering machine clicked on, Cady’s college welcome message echoing loudly around the lower level.
With the baby still in her arms, Cady jumped up, rushing to turn down the volume. She picked up the phone to answer without waiting to find out how it was. She had nothing to worry about since telemarketers would be sick as well.
“Hello?” Cady turned from the dining room and faced the kitchen. Hopefully her mom was calling. Cady was so worried she’d blocked the problem from her thoughts.
“Cady? It’s Beth. I… I’m so glad you’re there.” Her friend’s voice sounded far off with a staticky overlay. Had reception gotten that bad? Only that morning Scott’s phone call had been barely received. If Beth was calling, she’d still be on her cell.
Bailey appeared at Cady’s side, offering to take the baby with hand motions. Cady transferred her to her daughter’s arms and turned back to the counter. “Beth, you’re alive.” Cady’s happiness drowned out the soft conversation at the table. She slid onto the stool and stared at the center of the counter, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. “I’m so glad. How are you?”
“Barely alive. I… S.J. died… right here. I’m staring at his body, Cady. Livvie… she wants the Cure, but I’m too scared to go get it.” Her voice broke on a sob. “You have no idea… it’s horrible.”
Cady’s back stiffened. “Beth, listen very carefully to me. Do not use the Cure. It’s bad news. I think it makes you crazy or something. It might even make you kill yourself. Just stay away from it.” She ignored the announcement that Beth’s son was dead. If Beth didn’t listen to Cady, she would watch her other two children die as well.
Cady didn’t need to point out that things were only going to get worse.
“That makes sense. My neighbors… it’s getting bad out there.” Beth’s voice broke up and when she came back, her words had a slight tick in them like spaces were being taken out as she talked.
Cady raised her voice slightly. “Have you gotten it?” They both knew what it was.
“Not yet. I’ve… elderberry syrup. You?” Beth’s voice broke up again. The silence claiming a section of her words.
The lifeline between Cady and Beth was tenuous and Cady didn’t want it to snap. “I was just exposed today. Do you need anything? What can I do for you? Can I come get you?” No point avoiding the germs now. Cady might as well load her house up.
Beth seemed to have lost all hope as her voice fell flat. “No. I still have two kids alive. I can’t leave them.” Yet hung in the air as she paused.
Cady scrunched her nose, attempting to keep her sadness in. She didn’t want to cry, but Beth had to watch her children die and there was nothing she could do to help her.
Cady had saved herself that. She’d given the vaccine to Bailey and she didn’t have to watch her only daughter die in front of her. Her decision was validated to protect Bailey. Even if Beth hadn’t meant to, she’d taken away every doubt Cady had about her decision to act.
S.J. hadn’t survived the sickness. He hadn’t had the Cure and he’d still died. A healthy young man and he’d been unable to fight the disease. His death took a lot of Cady’s hope and squashed it.
Cady lowered her voice, trying not to share how sad for her friend she truly was. “The power will go out soon. I’m not sure if the weather we have is actually spring moving in, or if we’re going to get a late winter cold snap. If it gets cold, use that rocket stove I made you.” Cady lowered her eyes to her hand twisting the cord. “People aren’t themselves. Beth, be careful of looters. They’re going to be ruthless.”
“They need to be careful of me.” Something ferocious negated the humor in her words as she spoke.
Cady had no doubt that if left with a spoon and no other weapons, Beth would carve out the hearts of anyone trying to harm her or her children. That’s just the way she was – except when it came to her husband, Steven. “I absolutely would bet on you. Stay alive, lady.”
They hung up and Cady realized Beth hadn’t mentioned her husband. Just as Cady hadn’t mentioned Zach.
In fact, there had been no mention of goodbye.
Chapter 18
Margie
The shooting and carrying on at the gas station didn’t stop, even as Margie and Kelsey settled onto their cots. Kelsey handed Margie a thin wool blanket that was surprisingly warmer than it looked.
Even through the concrete walls, Margie could hear the revving of engines, the repeated blasts of gun fire, and yelling. “How long will they do this?” She was emotionally exhausted and the constant barrage wore on her emotions. She didn’t want to think about what they might have done to the Bug or David’s body.
“Usually they’re gone by now, but they must know there’s someone new in here. Maybe they’re going to try to get in. I don’t know.” Kelsey’s sounded resolved to whatever was going to happen. She didn’t seem overly worried since they were barricaded inside a secured building.
Rolling to her side, Margie studied Kelsey’s silhouette in the flashing headlights that filled the store with light every few seconds. “When do you think we can leave?” She couldn’t imagine staying there longer than absolutely necessary. If she could, she would have left when Kelsey was going to let her out, if David hadn’t killed himself.
Now she had to find something to give her drive again. She needed a purpose, a goal, and getting back to Cady would have to be enough.
“Well, like I said, we can’t leave for a day or two.” The cot Kelsey was on creaked as she shifted to face Margie. She adjusted her blanket, the tips of her mohawk bobbing toward the ground as she jerked her arms around.
Margie tightened her jaw. “Yeah, that would make sense. Give those men a little more time to get sick.” At least most of them. “The longer we wait though, the more chance we have of getting sick ourselves.” Margie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t succumbed to the illness yet. She had to figure out what the driving force was behind the virus. If she could help figure out the virus’s weakness, maybe she could figure out how to treat it. If nothing else, she might be able to survive it.
“Well, we haven’t gotten sick. I don’t think it’s smart to act like we will.” Kelsey huffed. “I mean, I don’t even feel like I’m getting sick.” She flopped onto her back, the cot creaking as she moved.
Margie wasn’t sure how what would set Kelsey off. She spoke as calmly as possible. “Of course not, but we have to plan like we will or could. I believe in the whole ‘mind over matter
’ concept, but I also believe in reality. The odds are we will get sick. I’m not sure why we haven’t yet, but there’s no logical reason why we won’t. It’s not like a previous disease we’ve had…” Wait… or was it? Cady had said something about varicella. Could the virus act like the chickenpox? Once you had a major disease like that, you were less likely to have it a second time – at least at the same strength you’d had it before.
Kelsey and Margie hadn’t known each other before, so there was nothing between them that was acquaintance associated. Even their backgrounds were severely different as well as where they came from. Medical history would be the next ground to check for any commonality.
“What’s your health history? Like pretend I’m a doctor or a nurse that you’re visiting for the first time and I asked you for an oral history of your medical background. What would you say?” Margie closed her eyes to listen to Kelsey’s answer. She needed paper and a pen to take notes, but with no other distractions, this would have to do.
Too Late_an apocalyptic survival thriller Page 10