Cady motioned toward the couch. “Get some sleep. We need it.”
Bailey didn’t know if she would ever be able to wake up again.
Chapter 15
Scott
Ranger’s tongue licked Scott’s cheek and forehead. Then disappeared, leaving behind a cooling trail of dog spit. A few drops of water followed, landing on his eyelid, nose, and chin. Was Ranger spitting on him?
Scott groaned, reaching up to wife his face. More water landed on his hand and he blinked heavily. “Ranger, stop. That’s gross.” The wind surged and a pocket of water sprinkled more onto his face.
Rain fell from the sky, and while Scott was protected from the overall onslaught a few stray drops would blow under the overhang to find him. He shivered, more from the cold than anything else. He was bone cold, where even the heat of Ranger’s leg by his arm couldn’t penetrate his chill.
He blinked. Memory returned along with the aching burn in his thigh. He’d been shot. It couldn’t have been from a shotgun because the majority of his thigh was still intact and he only had the one entrance wound, actually… he pressed his fingertips around the pained area. Judging from the position of the wound, he’d been grazed but pretty deep. Blood still seeped at his touch.
What was he going to do now?
He had to get his bearings and get out of the cold. Exposure to the elements when he was probably in shock wasn’t a good combination.
The white of the porch posts was barely discernible from the rest of the darkness. Scott rolled to the side opposite his injury and lay there panting for a bit. Ranger stood, moving to Scott’s head as if to support Scott with moral presence. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get this figured out.” Scott huffed, stretching his arm up to grip his fingers on the ledge of the windowsill.
He just needed to find the strength to pull himself to his feet. That was all. It shouldn’t be so hard. Scott had the distinct impression he was fooling himself and he wasn’t very convincing.
He’d lost so much time, but how much? He was supposed to head for Cady, find her and help her. At this point, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to find anyone – even himself – ever again. He was having a hard time moving. How did he expect to drive his rig?
Scott held onto the sill with both hands, bending his uninjured leg to try to stand.
Instead of finding success, Scott slumped back to the porch, slowly lowering himself to the prone position. Maybe he’d just lie there for a bit longer to gather more strength. The chill would have to be okay as long as he was out of the rain. He was out of options. Unless he crawled. Maybe he could crawl. What if he did crawl into the living room at least? He’d bleed all over everything, but he had to find Cady before she’d remember to care about her home.
He didn’t have the energy to try to crawl. He wouldn’t be able to roll himself inside, or to do anything that might jostle his thigh – so pretty much anything.
The rain picked up, the sound of dripping water changed to one of a tumultuous nature.
Scott turned his head so his cheek lay against the rough surface of the composite. He stared out into the dark night, watching the shapes and listening to the cacophony of nature. Maybe he was going crazy. He was dying. Right? Wasn’t that what he was going through right then? Death? He’d always hoped he’d die in the comfort of his own home, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think that was a guarantee. Just because he wanted something, didn’t mean it was going to happen.
Light was suddenly there, flickering through the undergrowth of the island. Two lights which curved and cut through the darkness. Scott’s angels? Was he being sent home to Heaven? No. He wouldn’t go to Heaven. He wasn’t an idiot. He had done a lot of things he wasn’t proud. His pride was strong enough, he didn’t believe the things he’d done were forgivable. He hadn’t done much with his life that he would change – except for that incident in the NICU. He had no doubt he’d be charged harshly for that. He already judged himself more harshly than anyone else could.
The lights rounded the loop and Scott finally realized it was a car coming up the drive. He didn’t think the angel of death would come by automobile. He blinked at the rain drops reaching him, wincing at the brightness of the headlights.
He hadn’t brought the gun outside. That would have been more masculinity than his thigh afforded him. Scott was vulnerable and he’d never felt more weak and exposed.
What else would he have to face before the Good Lord took him?
“Ranger…” Scott’s plea was weak. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted or what would help them both. Maybe he could hope Ranger would run away, hide, do anything but sit there and watch Scott die.
The car’s approach had slowed and then finally stopped alongside the van Jackson had parked and died by.
Scott couldn’t keep his eyes open under the onslaught of the light. He didn’t have to see his death come. He’d be fine just dying there and never knowing how it happened.
Chapter 16
Margie
The rain had started somewhere along the curve in Clagstone. Margie didn’t try to outrun it, but she would be happy to get into Cady’s house away from the cold and wet as soon as possible. She couldn’t get there fast enough.
As she pulled up to the drive, though, Margie’s jaw dropped. Cady’s gate was wide open, the bright orange, black, and white No Trespassing sign that hung in the middle of the heavy-duty gate lacked any form of authority with the gate opened like an arm of welcome.
Margie turned down the drive but decreased her speed slower and slower, growing more cautious than she thought she would have to be at Cady’s. Why was Cady’s gate open like that? Rain drops blurred the scene through the glass and Cady waited for the wipers to slick away the majority of the water away.
Even during the normal times when the worst thing that was happening in the neighborhood was who was running the HOA transportation department, Cady locked the gate up tight.
Now… Margie gripped the steering wheel, leaning forward as she searched the pre-dawn darkness beyond the scope of her headlights for a sign of danger, a sign that she should turn and run. The headlights sliced through the night and Margie held her breath. What would she find?
Her daughter’s body? Would she find an assaulted Bailey and a dying Cady? The worst scenarios she could think of traipsed across her mind. If she didn’t find them, she’d never be able to sleep again. She’d never forgive herself for leaving.
Around the curve in the loop, Margie swallowed. A van had been left on the north side of the driveway, closest to the island. Margie parked to the side of it, closest to the house. Like a spotlight, the headlights lit up the scene of the front yard with rain slicing through the beams and gently soaking everything in sight.
Margie stared, her lower jaw dropping open as she took in the gruesomeness before her. Even the rain couldn’t temper the appearance of death and blood.
The bodies of men lay on the ground, what looked like three, and then Margie spotted one lying beside a dog on the deck. All were down and unmoving. She peered at them, looking, searching. Was her daughter there amongst the carnage? Had her body been discarded like trash thrown to the side?
“We should get out of here.” Breaking through Margie’s worry, Ryker reached over and locked his door, slipping down in his seat. He stared around, as if searching in the darkness for someone to attack them.
Margie watched the dog who stared at them but didn’t move from the man’s side. After the incident on the highway with the attacking canines, Margie wasn’t taking any chances. She nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t safe.” She reached up, shifting into reverse since she wasn’t going to be able to drive forward with the body-littered drive blocking her way.
As she backed up, light from the headlights glinted on the barrel of a gun in one of the fallen men’s hands. She screeched the brakes, shifting quickly into park. She couldn’t leave that there. She stared hungrily, almost desperately, at the glimpse of protection so close
to within reach.
“What is it?” Ryker jerked upright in his seat, scanning the direction she stared.
“He has a gun. They might all have guns. We need something like that, Ryker.” Margie glanced at him, her expression set. She didn’t have a choice. They needed a weapon or two for protection. It would have made things so much better and different, if they’d had some form of protection. They wouldn’t have had to run like they did.
If she could get them some guns, it wouldn’t matter who was inside. Margie and Ryker could somehow get in and get some rest. The fact that she was thinking about breaking inside Cady’s home after seeing the scene proved she needed sleep. She wasn’t thinking coherently.
Ryker furrowed his brow but nodded softly with a frown. “Okay, what do I do?” His quiet acceptance that he had to do something to stay alive upset Margie more than she’d thought possible. He shouldn’t feel like he had to do the dangerous stuff.
The windshield wipers wha-thunked on the glass. “No, I’m not sending you out there.” Margie glanced at the gas gauge. They didn’t have more than half a tank left and she didn’t know where they were going. She had to know if Cady was inside or where she’d gone. But how would she find out? They needed to get some rest. It wouldn’t be long before Margie and Ryker would be worthless in any situation. “I’ll get the guns and check to make sure they’re all dead. If that’s the case, we might consider holing up here and getting some sleep.” She didn’t know where else to go, but the sanctuary she’d been counting on with Cady wasn’t there any longer.
But maybe she could create it for just a brief spell. Margie chewed on her lower lip. If she could get one gun, she wouldn’t be so nervous to approach the other bodies – if they were in fact dead. She opened the door quietly, welcoming the chilly rain that didn’t thunder down around them, but more came steadily, persistently from the sky.
She crept from her seat with a pit in her stomach. Everything in her said to run. Get out of there. Rain soaked through her hair, sticking the strands to her scalp with definitive determination, as if to say you’re going to be cold, wet, and it’s not going to be worth it. But Margie had to find Cady. She had to at least know if her daughter was alive.
Margie moved into the protecting shadows of the van, cautiously but with determination. Wiping at her face, she set her jaw. She wouldn’t run. Not right then. She was too close to finding Cady. Too close to getting a gun.
Coming upon the first man’s feet, she kicked the soles of the boots, listening for any sound that would indicate he was alive. She crept forward, bending down to press into his flesh above the boot top. Noting the cold stiffness to his form, she narrowed her eyes. Okay, that one was definitely dead.
Margie didn’t breathe easier, but she could tick off one of the bodies as gone on her mental list.
A second man lay slumped across the first man’s upper body, his hand was the one she’d noticed the gun in. A long-barreled gun of some kind, hard to tell exactly what kind of gun it was in the dark and with half of the stock and barrel covered by his shoulders.
Margie pushed at his side to roll him off the first body, glancing around to make sure the other dead men weren’t moving to come at her. Their sodden clothing added a good amount of weight to their already heavy forms. She pushed again, harder, shoving him just so and he rolled to the side.
The gun slid from his hold and off the back of the guy on the bottom to land on the ground.
Rain speckled the dry parts of the barrel and Margie reached carefully for the weapon. Her fingers curled around the cold steel gun and she jerked it close to her, watching for anyone to suddenly rise from the dead. Was she so far gone in the apocalypse that she believed zombies were a possibility? No, but maybe she worried just a bit. She was tired and at that point, anything seemed possible.
The man’s body wasn’t warm but still hadn’t reached the rigid part of death. He’d died more recently which didn’t make Margie feel better or worse. She gritted her teeth and Clutched the gun with both hands.
Blinking the rain out of her eyes, she approached the deck slowly, gripping the gun with both hands. She wasn’t sure it had any ammunition or even worked, but she could use its length to her advantage and hit something like it was a bat or a crowbar.
Crowbar… Not for the first time, Margie wondered about Manson and if he’d made it. She wouldn’t doubt it. The man’s tenacity would have been admirable, a skilled trait to have, if he hadn’t focused it on killing her and Ryker.
Rain was unable to continue attacking her as she stepped under the protecting overhang of the deck, feet from the dog and body. The new acquisition of the firearm emboldened Margie and she almost wanted the dog to charge at her. She wouldn’t let him get close.
Wait, she hadn’t checked for ammunition. What if the man had expelled it all during some kind of a shootout? She checked it, the one shell left leaving her with very little confidence but a renewed determination to get more.
Margie attempted to glance through the side windows of the front door, but the darkness was absolute with the reflection of the headlights blocking her view of anything inside.
She’d have to step over the man’s legs to get to the door. Was he dead or was he pretending? Did dogs stand watch over dead people? Maybe they did. She wasn’t sure. She’d always been a cat person herself.
Nudging the man’s leg with her toe, Margie jumped back at his groan.
He rolled his head to the side, then back, reaching out as if to ward off an attack, he dropped his hand. “You’ll have to. Kill me. Before. You get. Cady’s…” His voice trailed off. His eyes didn’t open.
He knew her daughter. Margie stepped closer, bending to see more of his face. He had scraggly stubble, but she recognized him as Cady’s neighbor. A friendly person. Margie dropped to her knees and hung her head. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. If nothing else, finding someone she knew of and who she knew was a good person was like finding a haven.
Scott would have answers, unless he died from his injuries.
Margie motioned toward Ryker for him to join her. They could get Scott into the house and figure out what was going on. She stood, moving more confidently toward the last fallen body in sight. That one wasn’t getting up either.
She closed the distance to the car and disconnected the wires under the steering wheel column. The engine died. She wouldn’t be able to restart the car, but that didn’t matter right then.
They had other options and Margie might not need to go anywhere else. Cady might be back. She couldn’t be sure until she spoke to Scott. Ryker climbed from the car with Margie watching and darted to the deck.
“We need to get him inside. Watch the dog.” Margie wasn’t even scared of the dog anymore as the pup watched them curiously but seemed to sense they weren’t going to harm his master.
No, they had to get answers. With a gun in hand, Margie felt much more prepared and even a little less tired. She could do this. They could get through this part. Anything else wasn’t an option.
Chapter 17
Cady
The sounds of someone bustling in a kitchen woke Cady gently from her sleep. She curled her fingers around the edge of the blanket before opening her eyes. She was warm, comfortable. She felt safe which was rare for the last couple weeks.
Then she remembered where she was, what she was doing and why she shouldn’t be lying there sleeping on someone’s couch. Her daughter was coming down with the virus and Cady had only been able to grab one vial of essential oils. She snapped her eyes open and stared around the room she was in.
Afternoon light shafted through a high-placed window, adding to the other light spilling through other well-placed glass. Polished to a shine, the log walls didn’t need any other accessories to look warm and inviting. The random needlepoint piece or photograph here and there were like bright spots of color in an already colorful rainbow.
Cady rubbed her eyes, yawning as she sat up on the couch trying to see more
of where they were. Bailey had taken the recliner to hold onto Jessica better and Cady hadn’t fought her. Glancing at the recliner, Cady froze at the sight of the empty chair.
She lurched upward, jumping to her feet and then stepping forward to search for her daughter. Panic welled in her chest. If Bailey was dead, then what was the point?
A kindly older woman’s voice chuckled, breaking through Cady’s sudden urgency. “She’s okay, Cady. You can relax. She was up a little bit ago. Told me how you just got over that virus. Her ankle is sprained pretty good, but we got it wrapped and she can move a bit from place to place. It’s quite okay for you to rest. You don’t have to be anywhere for a bit and Dusty and I haven’t had any… proper visitors in quite some time.” Elba hadn’t changed a bit in the time Cady had been away from her parents’ place.
Born to be a hippy but a woman who fell in love with a military man, Elba’s silver curls hadn’t changed from the pictures on the wall of a younger blonde version with flowers wound through the strands. She wore an apron over a flowing cotton skirt and a peasant style blouse. Even in the comfort of her kitchen, she wore bangle bracelets made of wood.
Cady grinned as Elba stepped out of the kitchen area and handed Cady an oatmeal cookie. “I made these while you slept and Bailey fed that baby. She’s a good girl you have there.” Elba stepped back and clasped her hands at her waist.
“Yeah, she is. I kind of like her.” Cady grinned, remembering when her own mom had replied to compliments she’d received about Cady growing up. Hopefully her mom was alright. Hopefully, she’d know to head back to her home. Cady pushed thoughts of her mother from her mind. She couldn’t think about that or she wouldn’t be able to function and do what was necessary.
Fit In: a post-apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 9) Page 7