180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 1 - 3

by B. R. Paulson

  Chapter 3

  Margie

  Margie jerked awake. She stared into the dark confines of their cabin. Light from the harbor carried through their small window, revealing shadows and shapes but not enough detail.

  Thrashing from David’s side of the bed pulled her attention back to what had woken her. “David, David, calm down, breathe.” Margie rolled over on the firm mattress that should’ve been slightly rocking or at least feel like it was at sea even the smallest amount. She reached out, patting David’s upper back carefully as he coughed, crying out with the pain.

  The morphine wasn’t touching his pain.

  Their cruise ship had only gotten halfway out of the harbor, they could see the docks about six hundred yards away, but couldn’t reach them from the loading plank. Those six hundred yards might as well have been a thousand miles for all they could cross them. The waters were cold and even the air seemed to cling to the memories of winter.

  The rainstorm had come with a vengeance and the dark clouds hadn’t let up.

  Three days they’d been at harbor, waiting, but none of the people onboard knew what was going on. The captain wouldn’t tell anyone and the deck hands seemed just as confused as the rest of the passengers.

  Sick bay was full, or had been yesterday when Margie and David had retired to their cabin.

  “Margie? Margie?” David’s eyes were still closed as he called weakly for her. Margie’s husband had multiple issues right then. His lung cancer had spread to Stage IV a month or so ago and things were bad. Margie had planned a last trip on an Alaskan cruise to fulfill his dream of seeing the northernmost state. She’d gone out of her way to hide his sickness from their only daughter, Cady, and then Cady’s husband, Zach had died in a car accident. Margie hadn’t been able to tell Cady on their way through since they were there to help with burying her husband.

  The fact that her father was dying wasn’t something they could just drop on her. Cady had literally just lost her husband the day before. Margie could at least protect Cady from more pain for a little while longer.

  Unfortunately, she’d ignored Cady’s text messages and phone calls after they’d left as they’d been filled with doom and gloom and warnings of things to come. Things Margie wished she’d paid attention to. Now she was faced with the very real possibility of facing the apocalypse from the deck of a cruise ship filled with the dying and sick.

  Stubbornness was not a trait she wanted to be the cause of her death or her husband’s.

  “Can you sit up?” Margie clamored to sit beside him on his side of the small bed. “David, you need to sit up so you can breathe.” She had no way to determine what symptoms came from his cancer and which ones came from the illness Cady had mentioned, the illness other passengers had murmured about. Some people had already fallen victim to a painful chickenpox-like sickness.

  But if the rumors on the symptoms were true, they sounded closer to smallpox, but she couldn’t know for sure.

  Even the captain had become sick which shouldn’t be surprising, but of course was. The ship was supposed to be waiting for a replacement, but that was the last thing anyone had heard and that was two days ago.

  A fine sheen of sweat dotted David’s forehead and down his neck. He shivered, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so cold.” His teeth chattered as he spoke. The cabin was far from cold. The thermostat still worked and forced air kept them in a comfortable seventy-two degrees. Margie would adjust that for her husband. She’d walk around in the heat, if only to help him be more comfortable.

  Margie’s heart broke for him. He was miserable and being pent up in the cabin wasn’t helping anything. They needed to get off that ship. In fact, Margie wouldn’t have to work hard to convince herself that she needed to get off that ship to save his life or hers.

  She leaned against him, rubbing his back and placing her cheek against his shoulder. Her heart was breaking and it made it worse that she was a huge part of the reason he was so uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I know you’re miserable. I’m not sure why I even forced you to come here.” But she did. She hadn’t brought him for him, she’d brought him for her to be able to feel just one more time that they were happy and everything was fine. Everything had been selfish on her part and she’d never felt so sick or guilty about her actions before.

  Grasping at her fingers on his arm, David twisted his face toward her. “You. Did it for. Me. I. Love. You.” His smile resembled a grimace of pain more than anything with happiness in it. His eyes were damp and sunken in and he looked like a gaunt version of the man she’d spent her life loving.

  “Oh, David, what have I done?” Margie moaned. She had to get him back to Cady’s house. He didn’t need to suffer through the cruise – if that was even going to happen anymore. Even worse would be dying right there in the Seattle harbor just feet from freedom.

  Could she get him off the ship and back to their motorhome? She had no idea how things had progressed on the ship. Why hadn’t they returned to the loading dock? Why weren’t they unloading people? They had lifeboats and, as far as she was aware, they weren’t being used.

  Setting her jaw, Margie nodded to no one in particular. “David, I’m going to get you some chicken broth and ice chips. I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to figure this out. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

  He nodded, laying back against the stack of pillows she’d set up for him two days before to keep his head elevated. He closed his eyes, shivering even as more sweat poured from his skin.

  Pulling on her jeans, a t-shirt, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a sweatshirt, Margie then yanked on her socks and the hiking boots she’d brought for the walks on the Alaskan shores. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was getting prepared for, but walking around the ship in her pajamas wasn’t being proactive.

  She was done waiting for someone else to save them.

  Softly closing the door behind her, Margie glanced both ways down the hallway. Their stateroom wasn’t overly large, but the hallway was elegantly appointed with cream wallpaper and blue, gold, and maroon carpeting.

  Headed toward the eating area, she stopped at the first aid station set up beside the fire extinguisher. She glanced both ways again, disconnecting the bright orange and yellow bag from the wall and pulling it to her side. She passed her cabin door again and tucked the bag and its contents inside her door. David wouldn’t even know she was there, but storing that inside would keep it easily accessible for her than in the hallway. A part of her recognized that she was shoring up for when they made a break for it, another part shied away from the risk they were taking. She wasn’t that type of a woman until she was backed into a corner.

  Nothing was happening until she got food in her husband and herself.

  She strode confidently toward the buffet. Grabbing a plate in the large, empty room, she turned to the closest food display.

  Wrinkling her nose, Margie passed up congealed puddings, melted Jell-O molds, limp lettuce, and dry, crusty meats. How long had the food been left out? She lifted a vegetable dish, peeking underneath for the presence of ice, but lukewarm water greeted her touch. She slowly lowered the dish, searching the well-lit serving areas for any food that didn’t need to be kept in specific temperatures.

  Rolls, biscuits, crackers, and nuts were stored in a plastic bin along the side of the soup display. She crossed the floor quickly, setting her plate down on a table that she passed. She wasn’t going to be able to get David any broth. As it was, she’d be lucky to walk out of there with anything, certainly nothing on a plate.

  Staring at the display, she squinted while she thought. She should have brought a bag or something. Usually there were things stored behind the counter of buffets or places like that to help with restocking food items.

  Leaning over the edge of the counter, Margie spied a plastic bag half-hanging from a box in the back. Yanking on the corner, Margie pulled it to her side of the counter and shook it open. Filling the standard-sized garbage bag wit
h all of the baked goods she could reach, Margie looked around for other items that wouldn’t have been ruined by sitting out for who knows how long.

  Apples and bananas sat proudly among limp fruit like grapes and pineapple slices. She grabbed what she could, edging the heavier food to the side of the bag so it would work its way to the bottom without crushing the softer rolls. Once the bag was full, she searched for bottles of water, but the soft drink dispenser was the only sign of anything related to beverages.

  Nothing. Well, she’d have to make do. Once they got to the mainland, she’d worry about water.

  She left the large room and searched for the stairs that would take her to her deck. Rushing back to their room, she stored the food inside the door beside the first aid bag. Sneaking a peek at David, she was both relieved and anxious that he slept through her disruptions. Her murmur went unheeded as she closed the door. “Don’t worry.”

  Back out in the hallway, she climbed the stairs and went to the main deck, peering at the Seattle skyline while gripping the cool railing with both hands. She would have to make sure they were dressed appropriately for cold weather, even as the summer was coming on soon. It was better to be too warm, then not warm enough. Especially if David wasn’t feeling well.

  “Ma’am? Are you okay?” A deckhand with brown hair and pale skin smiled cautiously beside her. A nametag proudly proclaimed he was Brad from beside his left front pocket.

  “Brad. Yes, I’m fine. Do you know what’s going on?” Margie pasted a congenial smile on her face and turned toward him. She didn’t want to create alarm or give away her plans to get off the ship before she knew what was in play. For all she knew, the staff had been instructed to keep everyone calm and in their rooms no matter what.

  “I was just on my way up to check. If you go back to your cabin, we’ll send word around as soon as we know.” He smiled reassuringly, but something was lacking in his eyes. He waited for Margie to walk toward her hall, and she didn’t turn to look at him while his gaze pierced her in the back.

  She didn’t trust what he said. He didn’t know what her room was and he had no idea what was going on. Keeping the passengers controlled was the only way they would be able to maintain some semblance of peace on the ship until it got too bad to fight for freedom. Margie had read all the books. She knew what would happen. She’d just been too stubborn to listen to Cady to believe it could actually happen in her lifetime.

  As she climbed down the stairs slowly, Margie inhaled through her nose and blinked. How had she missed the odors of unwashed bodies and rotting food? She’d been in such a hurry, she’d been breathing through her mouth. That mistake was one she wouldn’t make again.

  Down the stairs, Margie hurried to her cabin and closed the door behind her again. The walls pressed in on her and she realized that the longer she waited for news, the closer she was to being a statistic.

  Margie sank onto the bed. She rubbed at her forehead, pulling on reserves she wasn’t sure she had. Okay, she needed something to eat and to gather everything together. Once they were ready, she could do what was needed.

  She had to get David off that ship. She wasn’t sure how, but the smells were atrocious and she was determined to have David make it back to his daughter before he died. They had to get off the water. She had a sad suspicion that part of the smells was from dead bodies. She’d been an operating room nurse a long time ago and she’d smelled the flesh in all its varying forms of life and death and decomposition.

  The acrid scent of death would seep under the other smells, rotting them as well.

  They couldn’t waste any more time. She stood, grabbing a few items of clothing for both her and David. Shoving the articles into the end pocket of the large first aid duffel bag, she shuffled some of the items inside the bag to the other pocket and then stuffed the food items into the bag. Once it was as full as she could get it, she zipped all of the pockets closed. The bright orange and yellow might be detrimental or might be beneficial. Right then, she could know and she couldn’t be picky. None of their luggage would be able to hold everything nor would she be able to sling her bags over her shoulder like she needed to.

  Getting out similar clothing items for David like she wore, Margie tugged their coats down from the hangers in the closet and turned to face her sleeping husband. She hated to make him move. But there was no other way. Scooting the bag to a spot by the door, she leaned over David, gently shaking him. “David, we need to go. Come on, honey, let’s get off the ship.”

  He groaned, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He struggled to sit up and nodded slowly. “Is. Bad?”

  Margie blinked back tears at his struggling to ask a question. She nodded. “It’s worse than they’re telling anyone and I’ve got to get you out of here.” She squatted beside him, ready to help take some of his weight. “Come on, I’ll help you to the bathroom first.” Margie braced him underneath the arms and helped him up. He stumbled to the side and leaned heavily on her as they made their way to the restroom.

  She hadn’t realized how weak he really was. How was she going to get him off the ship when he could barely walk?

  Chapter 4

  Jackson

  Glee and triumph didn’t adequately describe Jackson’s emotional state. He tapped his fingers along the windowsill of his Jeep as he drove north on I-205. Reported as one of the busiest and fastest growing cities in America, Portland’s highways were virtually empty. With just the slight spreading of a virus, Jackson had cleared his commute to pretty much everywhere. There would be no signs of road blocks or traffic jams. Everyone was at home, trying not to die.

  He laughed at that, inhaling deeply. Poor saps. But honestly, he just couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had the virus spread faster than he’d planned, it had evolved and was killing people faster than he’d thought possible.

  Hopefully, he could make it to his next stop before it was too late. Seattle was his goal. He wanted to be there when they released the ointment which should be any day now, if they hadn’t already.

  Normally, such deviation from his plans would be unacceptable, but since every transgressor was going to die anyway, Jackson decided to sit back and enjoy the show. Plus, he really didn’t mind the fact that everyone was dying earlier than he’d wanted. Cut his wait time in half. Gotta love efficiency.

  In Portland, the illness had taken the population activity down to thirty percent, give or take and most people were probably at their jobs working overtime for pay they would never get or to help others in an attempt to save them. Idiots.

  The drive on the freeway was actually enjoyable instead of bumper-to-bumper. Jackson couldn’t help thinking it over and over. He passed a Toyota pickup and nodded at the driver, muttering, “You’re welcome for the drive.”

  The jangle of his phone pulled his attention. Only his parents had the number. He’d kept it restricted so Cady couldn’t convince him to change anything. As soon as he’d realized she was a woman, he’d had to protect himself from any power she might have over him. He planned on being with her for as long as the world would let them stay on it. After the rest of humanity died, they had to make sure they repopulated the earth.

  He pushed the button on his Bluetooth. “Hello.” He knew who it was, but he didn’t care.

  “Juan? This is your father. I need you to come home.” The older man’s words ended on a sob. Juan. That infernal name. His father’s pain didn’t bother him. Jackson expected it, welcomed it. Things would be over sooner rather than later.

  Jackson arched an eyebrow. He glanced toward the phone to see where his father was calling from. Home. This was a good sign. “What’s going on, Dad? Is everything okay?” He knew nothing was okay, but he asked, anyway.

  “Your mama is not doing well. She’s very sick. I’m starting to cough and all of your brothers and their wives are very sick. We haven’t seen your sister, Maria, since the party. We need you to come home and help us.” The plea was palpable in his voice as if he tru
ly expected his son, Juan, to make the trip home to help out.

  Who was Jackson to let down his loving father?

  Jackson glanced at the green sign coming into view on the right side of the highway announcing the arrival of the junction that would divide the highway into more westward pavement on the I-84 or the northward exit to get him on to the I-205 headed toward Seattle. He just wanted to go to Seattle, see the devastation there before heading on to Spokane and north Idaho to find his apocalypse bride.

  He’d already said his goodbyes to his parents and his family.

  But the plaintive whine in his father’s voice and the chance to see his brother’s sick was more appealing than he could turn down. They turned to him when they needed something, only then was he worth calling or including.

  The drive would take all day and then some, but he had all the time in the world. Smirking, he replied. “I’ll try to be there this evening.” He lifted his chin in a short nod. “Hey, Dad. I heard there’s an ointment that’s supposed to be the cure. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll stop and get some and bring it for you guys.”

  “Gracias, Juan. We are so happy to have you come.” His father hung up, relief in his voice.

  Jackson tapped the steering wheel to a beat only he could hear. Then he ditched the exit to I-205 and continued westward. Stopping at his parents’ place wouldn’t put him out at all. He’d miss out on the devastation in Seattle, but there were plenty of other places he could see it carrying on. He’d learned once that attitude was everything.

  If he looked forward to the death anywhere, then the presence of near-extinction would make him happy wherever he went.

  Humming under his breath, he shifted on his seat and settled into a speed faster than what was posted as legal. He didn’t care if a cop tried stopping him or not. He had a gun and very little doubt there were any authority figures untainted by the sickness. Jackson couldn’t be bothered. He was already altering his plans and he wouldn’t tolerate anyone getting in his way.