Move On_a post apocalyptic survival thriller

by B. R. Paulson

  “No. Just deal with it.” Cady shoved herself away from her position against the building. Now she had to attach the big box trailer to her truck. That wouldn’t be a big deal – if she weren’t exhausted.

  Still no big deal. She had to stop letting her doubts take over. But in all honesty, as she carefully made her way over the dirt ground and then through the tansy weed starting to grow up through the brush, she had to admit that pulling the trailer the two or three feet to the edge of the storage area to hook to the rig wasn’t going to be possible. It just wasn’t.

  Cady couldn’t even move the stump underneath the tongue of the trailer, let alone move the entire trailer. She sank to a seated position on the flat part of the log, rubbing her eyes. It wasn’t well lit out there, but at least it was quiet and she was by herself.

  The echoes of a gunshot followed by another rang out over the valley. The length of time the echo lasted suggested it wasn’t as far off as she would like to hope. Her paranoia had everything too close, but self-preservation clung to that paranoia like a life rope.

  She was too weak to move the trailer. That didn’t matter. She just wouldn’t be able to take as much as she wanted. The sense of urgency to get out of there was strong. Panic tightened its hold across her chest like a band. She would have to leave a lot behind. Taking all of Beth’s things wasn’t an option.

  Cady had to choose between her truck with its cab and the Expedition. She had no idea which one would do the best. Both would get them where they needed to go, but… She rocked back and forth in the safety of the darkness.

  Scott had left her. She didn’t have time for a breakdown. She had no one to lean on.

  More shots jerked her back to the present, outside of the maze her mind wanted to take her in. She jumped to her feet and shook off her fatigue. She didn’t have a choice. She had to keep going. Just push forward. She could sleep later.

  Maybe.

  Even with her determination, she was only able to make herself walk across the drive instead of run like she wanted. Wind blew through the treetops, making them sway in the night sky. A storm was coming.

  She had to deal with rain, too?

  At the pile of Beth’s supplies, Cady unstacked the bins and then sank to her knees. With shaking hands, she dug through the bottles and mason jars filled with salves and tinctures. The dark bottles were clearly labeled and if they had anything in them, Cady put them into a bin she filled with only the oils or herbs. She couldn’t take all of the bins, but she could take every oil she could get her hands on.

  When she was done there, she would have to work her way through the garage and through the food storage in the pantry and crawl space. She couldn’t go to the front driveway or to the back porch. There was way too much death and she couldn’t have her last memories of her home tied to such loss.

  One way or the other, she couldn’t give herself much time. She had to get packed and they had to get out of there.

  Chapter 14

  Margie

  Clenching and unclenching her fingers on the steering wheel, Margie tried to control her breathing. She glanced at Ryker with his pale face and his own knuckles white as he clenched the armrest. “You okay?”

  He half-nodded and then shook his head violently. “I need to throw up.”

  Margie stopped in the middle of the highway, waiting with her foot on the brake as he opened his door and threw up on the pavement. After a moment he shakily withdrew back inside the van and closed his door. He closed his eyes and nodded as he leaned his head back on the seat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Margie grinned as she shifted her foot from the brake to the gas. Glancing down at the gas gauge, she chewed on her lower lip. They were low. Lower than low and if they didn’t figure out a plan soon, they were going to stop in the middle of the highway, permanently.

  “We’re running out of gas, aren’t we?” Ryker spoke matter-of-factly as if the information was expected in a long list of news he’d been waiting for. He studied her like she might lie, but he didn’t think she’d do it convincingly.

  Margie nodded slowly. “Yes. Do you have any ideas?” They were down to the line and there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They were going to run out of gas. It really was just a matter of when and that point was a lot closer than either of them was comfortable with.

  “What do we do with the van? Do we have to drive?” Ryker looked at Margie as the van spluttered.

  She closed her eyes, pressing down hard on the gas pedal and hoping against hope that… nope, the engine died and the lights faded. Margie shifted into neutral and let the van coast to the side of the road.

  Leaning her forehead onto the upper curve of the steering wheel, she took a deep breath. “You were saying?” She laughed, looking at Ryker in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. At least the battery still ran. Not for long, but at least for the small amount of time they needed it.

  Ryker chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, we have no weapons, no nothing. What if we gather what we need or have to have and just walk there? Would that be so bad? Is it too far for that?” Although what was too far in the whole scheme of things? They were both able-bodied. Transportation was a luxury anymore, something the empty gas tank had just proven.

  Margie stared shifted her gaze out the windshield, considering what he said.

  Why not? Why couldn’t she walk the rest of the way? She was prepared to walk clear over in Easton and she hadn’t had to. What about then when they needed to? The drive to Cady’s from where the car had stopped was about thirty minutes. About twenty-two miles. If they hiked it, they would be in danger, but less likely to be targets without headlights. There were pros and cons, and Margie wasn’t rested enough to think of them all.

  “We don’t have any weapons.” Margie clasped her hands in her lap. They were vulnerable. Just sitting there wasn’t safe either. One way or the other, they had to get moving.

  “Well, we can’t guarantee we’re going to find gas. At this stage, we might as well as take that problem out of it.” He folded his arms and looked around at the dark shadows of buildings and the stretch of road going both north and south.

  Taking the problem of having to find gas out of their situation, they only had to walk. That was it. Grab their stuff and go. It simplified the situation which Margie could definitely handle at the moment.

  Ryker was full of optimism. He didn’t know what they would face. Manson was nothing compared to what they could see. “You understand we’re most likely going to come across people with guns, right? More people like Manson? We have to make it to Cady’s before morning or we’re going to be really easy to spot.” Margie half-turned and studied Ryker as much as she could in the darkness. They were too tired to make it longer than that.

  A gunshot blasted off in the valley somewhere, the sound more like a billowing thunder call from far off.

  When would the shots head their way? Margie tensed. She gripped the steering wheel like it offered any support other than being a stable item to hold onto. “We need to decide. One way or the other.” But did they really have any other options? If they went out searching for gas, they would have to leave the van unprotected. Leaving one behind without a weapon wasn’t a choice.

  Ryker nodded. He pointed up the road. “Let’s go. I have a backpack and you have your bag. We can carry what we need.” He lifted his chin and opened the door without blinking. Thankfully, Margie had turned off the light already. She twisted the handle by the steering wheel and left the keys in the ignition.

  If someone found the van, maybe they would have gas and could use it. No reason to carry worthless keys.

  Climbing out of the van, Margie slid open the rear passenger door and leaned in to get her orange medical bag. She stared at it for a moment. How long had she had that bag? Days? A week? Maybe longer? Was her life now relegated to memories wrapped up in fear? David… she’d grabbed the bag to help escape the cruise ship with David. Now, she carried it to make sure she was able to s
urvive. But why? For what?

  No, she didn’t have time to worry about those things. She had to get the kid she’d brought with her to safety. Safety was with her daughter. If she could use Ryker’s need for her to get her to Cady’s place, she could reassign her usefulness, her reasons for living. Either way, they had to move.

  She jerked her head toward a bag of jerky. “I wouldn’t leave anything you can eat behind. Leave the toilet paper and napkins. They won’t help us as we walk.” She tucked a solitary roll into the wedge of the straps on her bag. You never knew when you had to go.

  A flash of light and the crack of a pistol came from a trailer park up about a hundred yards and to the right of the highway. In a state filled with preppers and lots of legal gun owners, no one was going to give up their things without a fight.

  Meeting each other’s gazes, Ryker and Margie quietly gathered their things. They kept their movements fast but careful as they loaded up their bags and slung straps over their shoulders. Quietly closing the doors, they made their way across the highway opposite the side of the highway where the trailer park was located. They walked a while in front of the industrial buildings rather than close to the residential areas.

  Margie leaned close to Ryker and muttered, “I hope you’re ready for this. We’ll try to get guns as soon as we can. There are more in this state than in yours.” She clutched the strap of her bag across her chest. She wasn’t prepared to fight for a weapon, but there had to be houses with dead people inside with weapons. In a state where carry conceal was legal for everyone, there had to be more guns than not.

  Those odds were in their favor. The fact that there were more people alive than she’d originally assumed wasn’t going to benefit them. Plus, how would they know if there were dead people in the homes or not when it was time to go after guns?

  Judging by the way the moon sat in the sky, they had roughly six hours to get to Cady’s. If they could do a couple miles an hour, they wouldn’t even get halfway there. She wasn’t sure what type of a pace they would be able to maintain as tired as they were.

  She gritted her teeth. Would they have to hunker down or just push through the day to get there? She could see either situation being required, but what would help them survive the longest? That was what it had come down to. Which decision was more likely to help them survive another day.

  Getting through the next day was as far as they could look into the future. Anything else was overly optimistic and illogical.

  Chapter 15

  Buck

  Buck jerked awake at the sudden silence. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. How had he slept when he was far from comfortable? Had the looters left his house yet? If they hadn’t left, maybe they’d passed out on his things. The early morning silence was only broken by the tweeting of a few birds a few yards over. Even the normal crashing of waves on the shore in the distance seemed muted from where he sat.

  The men had gone swimming after tearing through his home. Sounds of his items crashing and breaking had filled a few hours and Buck had wedged himself as tightly as possible between the trees and the bushes. He fell asleep, his cheek rubbing against the rough bark. If he’d snored, no one had heard. He was grateful for that small blessing.

  Creaking of a metal lid jerked him to the side from a lower position. Were the men back but coming from a different direction? Buck held his breath as he slowly craned his neck to look down on the dumpsters gathered together in a semi-circle. They overflowed with bags and cardboard boxes and who knew what else.

  A small family crawled from the protection of one of the large metal boxes. A frail looking man covered his mouth as if trying to stop himself from coughing even though the movement of his shoulders suggested he just blocked the sound. He turned and helped a young girl from the pile of bags they climbed out of. Her clothing was dirty but looked like it had been an expensive brand and her hair was divided in two braids which were ratted and frayed, but still identifiable as braids.

  A boy, maybe six or seven, poked at a bag lying on its side with a split down the middle. The rounding of his shoulders was prominent under his grimy shirt. If Buck squinted, he could make out the vertebrae bumps through the boy’s shirt. There was no woman with them that Buck could see.

  The two children knelt beside a rock of some kind while the older man moved to another side of a dumpster and relieved himself. He returned to them and watched them for a minute with a wistful regret on his face. After a moment, he urged them to join him and he took each of their hands in his as they turned toward the road.

  The sun would be all the way up soon and even the wind wouldn’t be able to keep the warmth at bay. Their soft voices drifted to Buck on the soft ocean breeze. “What will eat, Da?”

  The man sighed before speaking slowly. “Well, today, we are going to see if you or Emanuel can earn us some food. There are some men who will like you very much.” His shoulders slumped forward as he corralled them toward the road.

  Buck waited until they were out of sight before leaning to the side and dry heaving. He had nothing in his stomach to expunge. The thought of what that man was going to put his children through for some food was worth trying to vomit over.

  As much as Buck wanted to help them, to chase after them and save those children, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them. There was nothing he could do to save anyone.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted slowly to ten, forcing his breathing to match the pace of his numbers. When he reached ten, he worked himself out of the spot in the trees and gingerly worked his leg. Stretching and pushing to see if it was weight-bearing, he moved slowly. Pressure only seemed to cause a dull ache. That would have to be good enough.

  He turned from the dumpsters, his heart hurting for what people would do to their own family members to survive.

  Buck couldn’t go to his house. He couldn’t be sure the looters were gone. What if his neighbors were home? Or gone? They might have food or something else he could use like shoes.

  Sticking to the perimeter fencing, Buck walked as quietly and carefully as he could. He didn’t want to misstep and risk injuring his knee again, but if he moved too slow he’d never get there. A gate between the brick walls hid beneath some ivy and he worked the rusted latch to get through. The metal gave but not without some work and Buck winced with each groan and grind.

  Finally, he pushed his way through and left it open. He honestly didn’t care if anyone saw it. No one would know to look there for a gate anyway. On the other side of the gate, he sank into the over-padded lawn chair, rubbing at the flesh on the outer curves of his knee. What was he doing? What was the plan?

  He had to see if he could get inside, get some food. Maybe if he could hide in a closet or something, he could get some genuine sleep. Nowhere was safe and he recognized that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

  Standing, Buck leaned on the chair backs just in case his knee gave out. Bracing his hand on the wall of the home, he moved carefully, using the connection to help stabilize himself as he limped toward the backyard.

  Debris floated on the top of the kidney-shaped pool. He’d always hated the shape. Hadn’t the kidney pool gone out of style in the early nineties? A lawn chair sat askew on the steps in the water, half-in and half-out like someone wasn’t sure which way they wanted. Clothing and plastic Tupperware floated on the surface.

  And the bodies of a man and a woman.

  They stared lifelessly into the sky, their arms akimbo. A dark red hole in the center of their foreheads left no doubt as to the means of their death. The neighbors he hadn’t met more than a couple times had definitely died.

  Buck bent over, unable to even dry heave at the discovery. He was emotionally drained, dried up of being shocked or alarmed. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the house. The only thing keeping him going was adrenaline and at the moment, he didn’t have a lot left.

  The fear that the killers were still inside the large home focused his en
ergy and kept his pulse racing. How long had the neighbors been dead? Or more importantly, were their killers still around and had they seen Buck?

  Chapter 16

  Scott

  Ranger seemed to sense when Scott was confused or adrift. He joined Scott outside the garage when Scott had walked around the loop in the driveway a couple times. There was only so much that would do to calm him down considering Jackson hadn’t been moved from where he’d fallen and Jason was in the middle of the loop.

  Scott didn’t have to see him to remember he was there. On his third time around the curve to the west, he veered right, taking the four-wheeler trailer away from the driveway and the house. He needed to get away and walking the loop like it was a track wasn’t getting away from anything.

  He reached down and rubbed behind Ranger’s ears absent-mindedly. How quickly he’d fallen into taking for granted his best-friend’s presence again. Ranger had only recently rejoined Scott after being regretfully abandoned by the lake in Coeur d’Alene. Ranger had saved Scott’s life from attacking wolves and coyotes while Scott had been delirious with the virus.

  Leaving Cady’s house with no particular destination in mind, Scott allowed his memories of the place to carry him forward. He just needed away from the dead bodies and the preparations to leave which were underway.

  He paused as he crashed through the underbrush to the west of her house. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to force himself to slow down. What was he running from? No one had threatened to force him to do anything. He didn’t have to deal with Jason’s death, if he didn’t want to. The sickness had changed his nephew and instead of dying painfully in his bed, Jason had hallucinated and gone after Jessica, dying violently from a fall.

  Scott didn’t blame Bailey. She’d protected Scott’s niece. If he wasn’t so messed up, Scott would thank Bailey and cherish Jessica. Unfortunately, Scott couldn’t get his head wrapped around everything that was happening and he didn’t want to face Jessica’s sweetness or the memories she brought up of the babies he’d killed. He shoved those thoughts from his mind.