Stepping outside the Bug, Margie took a moment to scan the lot, and then glanced at the screen of the pump.
The black digital screen flashed $6.42 a gallon. Margie blinked in disbelief. “What?” Her confusion sparked a fury inside her. Why would it cost that much for a gallon of gas? People needed to get home or get places during this emergency. They didn’t need to be gouged from the navel upwards.
But she bit her lip and pulled out her credit card. She’d pay it. Or, at the very least, her credit card would pay it – exactly like every other person who had paid that price.
Pushing her card into the slot, Margie breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was angry and tired and just plain done with the whole situation.
She pushed some buttons but then a beep that split loudly through the silence startled her. The screen flashed a message.
“Transaction failed. Please see cashier inside.”
Margie inhaled, feeling like she was struggling to breathe through a thick layer of gel. Really, she was only angry, but too many things piled on her shoulders.
She couldn’t go inside. She didn’t want to leave David. She did, however, need to use the restroom and she could do with some freshening up.
If the gas station was running like normal though – minus references to price gouging – then maybe she had a modicum of safety there. She could go inside, use the bathroom, get some water, pay, and then come back out to finish gassing up.
On the flip side, it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep going. She could try running her card again. Maybe it was just an error. Re-swiping the card again, she punched in her zip code and got far enough to choose which grade of gas she wanted. At the last second, the screen beeped and the message flashed on the screen to go inside and see a cashier.
Okay, so there was a human in there tampering with her purchase. Margie pressed her lips together. What was she supposed to do? Really go inside? She needed the gas. The temperature was dropping and she needed to get them back on the road so David wouldn’t freeze to death. The heater didn’t have to work perfectly to put off some heat. She’d be siphoning some from the engine anyway.
She had to get going and couldn’t without gas. There was no getting back on the road without gas. There was no getting gas without going inside.
Maybe it would be cleared up with just a few strokes of the key and she could get out there. Plus, she really did need to use the bathroom. David hadn’t gone in a while either.
Margie ducked her head in, pulling the bag from the back. Bracing her hand on the seat, she reached with her other one up to softly shake David. He’d fallen back to sleep or into a daze. She wasn’t sure. When she got back, she’d give him some more Ativan. “David? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Or stretch your legs? I need to go inside and straighten something out with the cashier so I can get some gas. David?”
David’s eyelids fluttered, but that was the extent of his response.
“Okay, I’ll be right back. I’ll just be a few minutes.” Cady straightened from the car and swung the heavy bag over her shoulder. The bright orange and yellow could have been a beacon for anyone looking for a moving target. She shook her head as she approached the glass door to the building. Thoughts like that would make her incapable of moving, let alone getting things done that needed doing.
The windows had to be one-way or something similar as they prevented her from seeing inside as she approached. Hopefully, she wasn’t walking into a trap or anything.
A small chill ran down her spine. But that didn’t make sense. If someone was going to abduct her, they’d need a purpose for doing so. She wasn’t worth anything, as far as they could tell. Plus, if you abducted the customers, then where would your money come from?
None of that mattered anyway. She needed gas. Going inside was the only way to get it.
She’d left the gun in the glove box though. Why hadn’t she thought through what she was doing?
Too late to change course as she reached for the handle and pulled open the door.
Inside the convenience store, Cady welcomed the warmth from the electric heat as well as the sounds of the pop machine and coolers running. She hadn’t realized how truly quiet it was outside with no cars on the freeway or running around town.
Breathing in the scent of gas station hotdogs and nachos, Margie could almost taste the salty extravagances. Her mouth watered and she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing it in. Just the ambience of the interior was enough to boost her morale. She should get David inside so he could experience it. Just being in there made her feel like everything was going to be okay.
She hefted the bag higher on her shoulder and her worry seemed to fade. She’d pay almost seven dollars a gallon just for that experience alone.
Metal grating on metal broke into her thought process. The lock had been activated on the door behind her. Margie’s eyes snapped open.
What exactly had she walked into?
Chapter 4
Beth
Beth Stark swallowed another tablespoon of straight elderberry syrup. She tilted the mason jar back to an upright position and shook the glass container carefully. There was only about an inch of the darkly purple and amber liquid left. Dark sediment settled slowly to the bottom.
She would have to make more. She was running out of her stockpile. Claiming that the syrup was why she’d only gotten a fever would be false since she’d given the same concoction to her kids repeatedly but they had all fallen ill and at the moment all three were bedridden with the same ugly virus that was trying to decimate her neighborhood.
Even her tinctures weren’t helping the kids and as she sipped water from one of the half-empty bottles she had lying around, Beth couldn’t figure out what else to give them. If only she had a way to induce a coma.
She was a firm believer that the body had everything it needed to heal itself. Comas were necessary for the body to force itself to sleep and relax so it could heal. That’s one of the reasons hospitals did medically-induced comas – because they worked.
The only things she hadn’t tried a lot of were the essential oils. The only reason she hadn’t was because when she’d approached Steven, Junior – or S.J – with peppermint oils when his fever had first started, he’d thrown a fit and said her natural mumbo jumbo wasn’t going to work on him. He didn’t believe it.
He hadn’t said mumbo jumbo, either. Beth had stared at him as he’d continued cussing and using words she’d only ever heard his father use.
All of her children had been sitting on the couches at the time, tired and getting sicker by the hour. Every single one of them had said no to her oils and anything else she offered them. It wasn’t until they were too sick to talk, that she started plying them with the elderberry syrup and the alkalized waters.
The next thing she could do, since she hadn’t been able to cure them, herself, would be to swallow her pride in her natural remedies and go to a pharmacy and buy the Cure being touted on social media and the news. Well, had been touted. There weren’t a lot of status updates and the news channels were frozen screens.
Plus, if Beth was honest, she’d admit the main reason why she hadn’t gone out to get the Cure. She hadn’t wanted to miss Steven, if he finally made it home. She hadn’t seen him since the morning they found out about Zach Warren.
Beth took another swig of bottled water and shook off the guilty feeling in her gut. She’d abandoned her friend in her time of grief. There was no other way to say it. She’d abandoned her oldest friend in a very serious time of her life. Beth hadn’t even called to see how Cady was doing after her husband died. Beth hadn’t gone to the funeral and she’d failed to take any dinners up or even send a card or flowers.
Nothing. She’d done nothing.
But in Beth’s defense, Cady knew what kind of a friend Beth was. She loved Cady, loved her hard. They’d been close in college and had known each other even earlier, but they never expected the other to do th
e difficult things which was why their friendship worked so well. Funerals and cancer were the difficult things.
Cady didn’t want to deal with Beth’s cancer, but she’d been there. She’d backed her up. One time over lunch, Cady had leaned over and said, “If you die, I’m not going to your funeral. I don’t do funerals. They remind me of my own mortality.” Cady had only partially been joking. There’d been a glint in her eye that promised she was serious, and Beth hadn’t doubted her words.
But Beth understood. She’d agreed. Funerals tore at her, reminding her that she was close to death. She believed in auras and all that and she worried that going to a funeral would be contagious. She’d already had her own brush with death. In fact, she’d been in remission but not long enough. Her own mortality chased her every day of her life.
When Beth had mentioned her concern about the pandemic of death chasing them all, Cady had understood. The glint in her eye had suggested she understood more than she let on. Who would have thought there would be a real pandemic to kill everyone and Beth would be left to watch others die?
Coughing from her daughter’s room pulled her from the kitchen. Beth put the jar on the counter. There was no point putting it back in the fridge since she’d be right back out to take more. She was sipping that syrup like it was the elixir of life.
She padded around the small counter that jutted out toward the makeshift dining area and into the living room. The kids’ rooms were just through the adequately sized living room. The wall-mounted TV stared blankly at her. It had nothing to offer and she didn’t feel like watching any movies. Times like that she wished she hadn’t loaned out her full set of The Vampire Diaries. She could do with some bare-chested Ian Somerhalder right about then.
Pushing the bedroom door open slowly, Beth couldn’t help wondering what the famous and rich were doing for the sickness. Would they take the Cure?
Entering the room, Beth jerked backwards at the sour smell which reminded her of rotting flesh. The only light in the room came from the blind cracks on the bedroom window. Afternoon would soon fade into evening and Beth didn’t want another night to be upon them.
She stepped further into the room, ignoring the Barbie dolls and small beads strewn about the floor. There was nothing her daughter could do about it at the time and Beth wasn’t going to pick them up. Ignoring them was the only option.
Liv lay on her side, a chickenpox-like rash ran up and down her back and neck, easily visible beneath the spaghetti straps of the small tank top she wore. Her frail shoulders added to her vulnerable image.
Beth settled onto the bed and carefully touched Liv’s elbow. “Honey, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Beth had been rendered helpless during a sickness of her children. She had nothing she could offer them. At least not in the house.
Liv stirred from her near-sleep state and peeked at her mother through slits in her eyelids. “I hurt, Mom.” Her cracked lips and swollen eyes gave a deeper vulnerable bend to her appearance that Beth wasn’t sure she could handle.
“What can I do?” But Beth knew. She had to go get the Cure for Liv. The other kids, too, but they didn’t seem to be in as much pain as Liv. The boys had been fairly quiet during their sickness. Only Liv had coughed or groaned much which attested to just how much pain she was in. When she was six-years-old she’d broken her arm, and hadn’t even whimpered.
Beth brushed Liv’s hair back from her forehead. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll go get you the Cure. I’ll be back in a little bit. If the boys come looking for me, tell them I’ll be right back, okay?” Pushing herself up from the bed, Beth winced. She didn’t want to go into town. Post Falls was small but it was fierce. She’d already heard of people getting angry because the Wal-Mart down the street was out of cough and flu medicine.
Calling Cady might be her only option. She would have to suck up her pride and ask Cady if she had any of the Cure or any extra. She might not, but she would be able to get some from Spirit Lake and bring it down, if she was still alive. Beth hadn’t stopped to consider Cady might be dead or sick herself.
Cell phones were down to 3G and the towers were only working at half-mast. There were only two bars of reception where she normally had all of them at 4G. What she wouldn’t give to have a landline like Cady had warned her to get last year. After she got back from getting the Cure, she’d check on some neighbors and see if any of them had a landline. Or, she’d just give the cell phone a try. Some reception was better than no reception.
Until she got back from grabbing the Cure. She could avoid swallowing her pride that long, plus, if she checked down here and they had some, she wouldn’t have to call Cady. This way, if they didn’t have any in Post Falls, Beth would have a real reason to call her friend and explain why she hadn’t called in a while.
Cady wouldn’t expect explanations, but Beth would feel self-imposed pressure to give them. And then Cady would ask about the family – Beth’s kids and her husband. What would Beth say to that?
Beth ignored the constant worry in her chest over her husband’s whereabouts. He was a cop. She shouldn’t be worried, but she was. Not that she should care, but she did. The man was abusive and delighted in it. If he was gone, she should be glad. But she didn’t want to face what she was dealing with alone.
She grabbed her car keys to the Ford Explorer and clenched them in her fist. Every bit of her told her not to go outside or into town. She’d listened that much to Cady about what to do. She’d planned on getting out of town as soon as she could, but her kids had fallen sick and she couldn’t get ahold of Steve.
Her chance to bugout had come and gone.
Closing the front door softly behind her, Beth stepped toward her car in the drive as she picked out the Explorer key from the keyring.
The blast of a gunshot stopped in her tracks.
The sound had come from the house beside her to the east. In the quiet neighborhood the shot had been almost too sudden, almost unbelievable. Beth tiptoed across the concrete and stopped at the edge of her rented garage to investigate further.
If the shot had come from the looters who’d been hitting up the big houses in the development across Greensferry and Poleline, Beth would do best to run into her house and hide. A huge part of her wanted that to be what had happened. Or maybe a neighbor had shot at something in self-defense. That would be tolerable as well.
She only had five feet of matted grass to cross and she’d be in front of her neighbor’s garage. The cookie cutter neighborhood was just one of hundreds in the area. Houses didn’t have much room on their own parcel before they ran into the next.
As Beth rushed across the opening, a cooler breeze snatched at her t-shirt. She’d forgotten a coat. Running along the closed garage door with a cracked window, Beth stopped at the edge of the garage corner and passed by the bush on the other side.
Coming to a crashing halt, Beth clamped her hands and her keys to her mouth. The sudden taste of iron split across her tongue. She’d split her lip with the keys. But that didn’t matter. Could anything matter anymore?
Old man Beaty lay on the decorative bark of his rose beds with his legs sprawled beneath him and his .45 revolver inches from his curled fingers. His eyes stared sightlessly through his askew glasses into the dark sky.
Beth didn’t dare check to see if he was alive. She backed up, anxious to get the Cure before anything else happened, but she moved too slowly.
Rushing to her car, she climbed inside and stopped to gape in horror as a woman – Mrs. Cullins – ran from her house across the street, screaming with her arms flailing in all directions to ram herself into the back of Beth’s car.
Not once. Not twice. She backed up and slammed her body repeatedly into the back of the hatchback, until she slid to the ground, twitching.
Her fallen body blocked Beth’s escape.
There was no way Beth was going to check on Mrs. Cullins. What was going on to make her neighbors try to kill themselves?
Climbing over the passeng
er seat of her car, Beth sprinted from the doorway to the house, clamoring to get back inside. What if Mrs. Cullins came after her? What if another neighbor tried killing themselves? Beth gripped the keys hard enough to cut the teeth into the soft flesh of her palm.
Slamming the door behind her, Beth gasped for air. Her chest heaved and she leaned her shoulder against the door panel as she turned the deadbolt into place.
What was she supposed to do? Her kids would be alright, right? Liv would have to deal with it. Her immune system could handle it. She had to. Beth couldn’t get out to get the cure. Maybe she’d force the essential oils issue.
A harsh gasping overrode the sound of her own breathing and Beth followed the sound to her sons’ room. Tim had asked to sleep in Beth’s bed since S.J. snored and Beth had been sleeping on the couch anyway. S.J. was the only one in that room. As the oldest, he’d commandeered the room with his masculinity and defiance.
Too Late: an apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... series Book 4) Page 3