He was close. He just had to do it.
Turning back to the door, Manson hacked at the window, taking small breaks to conserve his energy.
After what felt like hours but was more like a few minutes, the glass and wire was removed from the hole. The clatter to the concrete outside brought Manson’s pulse up more than it already was.
He looked over his shoulder, listening for anyone who might be yelling to alert the others that he was out.
Manson was out. He just had to crawl out of the door. Then he was there. He was out.
He climbed out, the thinner material of his jumpsuit not protecting his skin very well from the jagged window frame. He stopped for a brief moment when both feet were on the cement stoop and took in a deep breath of air.
While it wasn’t technically any different from the air he was breathing in the yard, it was different. There was something right about it.
Moving toward the car, Manson didn’t look back. He had to get to Ritzville so he could grab I-90 and head toward Spokane. Once he got that far, getting to Bonner County would be nothing.
Ritzville, here I come.
Chapter 18
Scott
The Bronco felt bouncier, more jarring while Scott and Cady were still plagued with achiness and fatigue from not being completely recovered from the sickness. Scott sorely wished he had taken more time on the shock and suspension years before when he rebuilt other parts of the rig.
Taking Diamond Drive toward Highway 41 diverted them through forest, lots and lots of forest. Organized rows of trees separated the tree farm from the rest of the woods. Sporadic houses dotted the landscape here and there, but Scott didn’t slow down to check them. They were on a mission and neither he nor Cady had the energy to face even an empty house.
Train tracks ran parallel to the road and a train had been abandoned by a drop off station. The lack of music or talking left Scott to think about who would have been in those trains and wondering if they had made it home to see their families before anyone had died.
Would Scott and Cady be able to get the oil and save Jason? His nephew deserved a long life. They all did. What did Scott think made Jason special?
As they passed Ramsey Road, Scott was glad they had opted out of taking Ramsey when they’d planned their route. The stopped train blocked vehicles from going north or south on the Ramsey thoroughfare at the Diamond intersection.
Scott limply held his hands on the steering wheel. He glanced at Cady who rested back on the car seat, her head lolling from side to side as she struggled against falling asleep.
“Glad we didn’t take the ATV?” Scott didn’t want to delve into deeper conversation with her. He didn’t know that he had the energy to face what was in his heart or the things he’d done. What he needed was action. He needed to do something.
Cady blinked, and nodded softly. “Yeah, thanks.” She didn’t need to say what Scott knew she was thinking. Her thanks was for more than just checking on her or for pushing that they use the rig. No, she was also thanking him for using his rig, using his gas, his resources to save her friend – and being there for her.
But that’s not why Scott was going. He didn’t care if they added another person to their group. He wanted to save his nephew. Those oils were a huge part of his theory for how he and Cady got better. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected they had a significant role. Wait, he was getting redundant.
Cracking the driver’s window, Scott adjusted in his seat. He blinked hard. Hopefully, he wasn’t falling asleep or anything. It wouldn’t do to get in an accident.
Because for all his bluster and desire to keep family alive, he still was holding out hope that someone else from his family was still alive – a brother or maybe his sister Stephanie’s husband – Jessica’s dad.
What would Scott say if his brother showed up to save his son and Jason was dead? How would he explain that one? Scott had to do everything he could to save his nephew. Love and family aside, the boy deserved that. Jason had lost everyone. He’d been through so much… too much.
Driving through the north part of the town of Rathdrum left a sour taste in Scott’s mouth. There was a general feeling of abandonment in the air, but a pile of dead bodies rotted in the spring air in the grassy ditch by the main grocery store.
Cady shivered, looking away from the evidence that someone was gathering the dead.
Scott twisted his lips in concern. Who was gathering the bodies?
“I’m going to take Greensferry Road down to Post Falls. There’s less chance of running into problems, if we stay on less populated roads.” Scott kept his voice low with a hint of reassurance.
Cady nodded, blinking back tears. She must be emotional because of the sickness. Cady was one of the least emotional women he knew. For her to have tears meant something horrific had happened.
Driving through the town, Scott realized she didn’t need to have something wrong with her to cry. Something horrific had happened. Her response was necessary.
A chill ran up his spine. The sensation similar to when someone was watching him. Scott glanced around, taking in as much as he could as he drove through the intersection.
He could just be paranoid, but he wasn’t going to ignore his gut. Not when his instincts had been spot on up ‘til that point. He would have to rush Cady through getting her friend and the oils and then they had to get back home.
Because if his gut was right, there was something out there that wasn’t going to be as merciful as the virus.
Chapter 19
Bailey
In the room Bailey and Jessica shared with Jason, Bailey gathered Jessica’s bedding from the makeshift crib they still used which Scott had rescued her in from the hospital. The baby was sure lucky Scott had been able to get her and he wasn’t even a parent. Bailey couldn’t help wondering if the other babies were able to be saved, too.
Her arms full of the bedding and Jessica, Bailey cooed to the little girl in her arms as she approached the top of the stairs from down the hallway. The plan was to go into the living room while Jason continued to rest. Staying quiet would be the best way not to bother him. She could turn on the TV and close the doors to the living room to minimize the noise.
A thud from downstairs made Bailey pause at the top of the steps. She narrowed her eyes at the sound of shuffling.
“Where is it?” Jason’s angry yell startled Bailey as it reached her upstairs, but his emotion surpassed normal anger as he growled his rage. His shoulder slammed into the wall beside the stairs and it shook up to where Bailey leaned against the banister.
She smiled in relief. He was awake. He must be okay. She took a deep breath, ready to call down to him. For some reason he was mad, but maybe he just didn’t feel well. He was looking for something. Maybe Bailey could help him and he’d calm down. She wasn’t always the most pleasant when she didn’t feel well, either.
Jason slammed himself into the front door, his repeated violence jarring Bailey from her assumptions as she moved onto the top step and stared down at him. She squinted in the light that was brighter at the top of the stairs and not as bright by the front door from the skylight.
He faced the door, muttering, slapping the panel with his palm. Something black splattered the white paint of the door, smearing as he smacked it again.
Bailey furrowed her forehead, what was he doing? Her arms were full from the bedding and Jessica. She took a step down, the board creaking with her weight. She froze, watching him tense.
Jason spun, his eyes wild as he searched for the source of the sound.
Bailey gasped at the sight of the black liquid dripping from his nose and mouth. His eyes roved maniacally from side to side and he had a jerkiness to his movements.
He caught sight of her before she could move, the light from the skylight acting as a spotlight for her location.
Fear squished her relief that he was awake. His movements reminded Bailey of their neighbor, Kent, before he died – shot by her mo
m when he tried attacking Bailey.
They stared at each other, as if any sudden movement on either’s part would set off a chain of events the other wasn’t sure they wanted to follow through with.
Jessica sneezed, releasing Jason and Bailey from the spell. Jason’s eyes flicked to Jessica and even more anger rippled across his face. “It must die!” He roared, storming up the stairs.
Bailey didn’t wait for him to reach her to find out what he was talking about. She ducked into her mom’s room, locking the door behind her. She panted, her chest heaving as she squeezed Jessica’s small form.
As if she sensed the fear cascading through Bailey, Jessica’s eyes widened and her cry split through the tense air. Bailey flinched at the sound.
Jason almost howled on the other side of the door. He pounded on the panel with both fists. The door bounced and moved under his attack.
Bailey jumped, backing away from the door, staring at the wood grain in the white paint. He wanted the baby. The way he was talking, he was going to hurt her or worse. What was wrong with him?
Bailey couldn’t let anything happen to the baby. Jason loved Jessica. Why would he want to hurt her? “Jason,” She whimpered. “Stop.”
He stopped pounding, rubbing his face on the door and then his rough whisper carried through the panel. “I’m going to get in there and save all of us. It has to die. Right now.” Then the pounding began in earnest, his slams causing the door to quake in its frame.
Bailey rounded the bed, dropping to her knees. What was she going to do? How was she going to be able to save them? She had nothing to protect them with. Where was her mom and Scott? Bailey had never felt so helpless.
Jessica’s cries continued, unwilling to let Bailey breathe.
Leaning forward, she placed her head on the floor and tried to think. She glanced under the bed, her eyes seeking something, anything. Peeking from under the ruffle, on the floor only a foot from where she crouched, the black blocky shape of a handgun caught her eye.
Tremoring fingers reached for the gun. Bailey couldn’t imagine pulling the trigger while training the barrel on Jason. No, she knew him. She’d dreamt of him kissing her. He could very well be the last boy her age and he was trying to kill Jessica. He was so sick and deranged, he wanted to hurt and kill a small innocent baby.
The sound of splintering rent the air and Jessica’s cries sharpened.
Bailey couldn’t breathe. What was she supposed to do? He was going to get in. He would hurt Jessica. He might even hurt Bailey, if given the chance.
Bailey set Jessica in the plastic portable bassinet and tucked the blanket and extra diaper around her. She tucked the crib against her hip and grabbed the gun, checking for bullets as she did so.
Standing, she rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her as Jason’s foot made it through the door under the doorknob. His victorious shout mingled with words of threats. Bailey wouldn’t be able to just hide in the bathroom. She had to get another door between them and him.
She ducked into the last section of the bathroom that was reserved for the toilet and the small set of shelves that had books and magazines and extra toilet paper rolls set up behind the door. Dad had always called it the Crap Cave. Bailey had always laughed uproariously at that and hadn’t understood why there needed to be another door in a bathroom.
As she locked the door, she’d never been more grateful for something she used to deem as unnecessary. Sitting on the ground, she clutched the gun with shaking hands.
She couldn’t shoot Jason.
But what if she didn’t have any other choice?
Chapter 20
Cady
Cady reached out and clutched Scott’s arm. She pointed with a trembling finger, horrified at the scene on the elementary school’s lawn.
Set up on the corner of Greensferry and Poleline, the school commandeered the entire southeast corner of the intersection, providing a full view of the dead bodies stacked on display on the side lawn beside the bus lane.
The edges of a red shirt fluttered in the spring breeze and Cady pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. The sheer amount of bodies was astounding. Piles of ten, twenty, maybe more were clustered with room to walk between them. Depositing more bodies seemed the goal between leaving the piles accessible, but that didn’t make sense. Were there people healthy enough to move that many bodies? If that was the case, then why hadn’t anyone done anything about the power, or about… anything?
Was there some kind of an immunity to the virus Jackson hadn’t planned on? Cady didn’t have the immunity and she’d had every other varicella out there – well, almost. Scott had gotten better, maybe because he was healthy otherwise and they hadn’t added the Cure to his treatment.
What was it about the virus that was capable of decimating an entire town but could leave others fine or even others with scarring and at least getting better like survivors of an accident? If Cady could figure that out, she wouldn’t feel so defenseless.
“I want to roll my window down, but I’m scared of what we’ll smell.” Scott laughed nervously, like they hadn’t already been smelling the horrific odor coming through the vents.
Cady had never faced death with such wanton abandon. Someone had dealt with the disturbing emaciated bodies, touching them enough to move them and put them on display.
Who would do that? What was the purpose? Maybe they weren’t doing anything other than trying to keep the houses and neighborhoods cleaned up. If there were enough people to move bodies, then maybe there were enough to put society back together.
Somewhere, deep inside, Cady didn’t think it was going to be that simple or that peaceful.
“Which street do I go down, Cady?” Scott’s uncharacteristically soft voice pulled Cady’s attention from the bodies.
The next road on the right on Greensferry after the school was the direction Cady pointed. The neighborhoods looked the same in this part of town, as the builders had put up subdivisions and built based on a cookie-cutter mentality. The only difference between the homes was the budget of a few thousand dollars and the Easter egg colors of the vinyl.
Glancing back at the piles of bodies, Cady chewed on her lower lip. Was Beth’s body lying on the piles? Were her children? Cady didn’t want to face the thought that her friend could be there, lying next to her family, stacked up like cords of wood.
Who was stacking the bodies and where were they? Cady knew what they were doing with the dead bodies. What would the stackers do with a live one?
As they turned onto Beth’s road, Cady’s stomach twisted. Would she find her friend or would she find a scene she’d wish she could go back to bed to avoid seeing?
Chapter 21
Jackson
The day or two of rest was exactly what Jackson had needed. His feet ached, but not so all-consuming that he couldn’t move or walk on them. He didn’t have time anyway. He had to find Cady and start taking over the world. The more he thought about spending time with her and exploring the new world of theirs, the more antsy he became.
By this time, she would be grateful he’d given her the vaccine. She was stubborn, but she’d learn her place quickly. She still had a few good child-bearing years ahead of her. Jackson planned on using them to the fullest of his abilities.
Judging by the truck thieves, not everyone had died from the virus. That was okay. Jackson wasn’t even disappointed. As far as he was concerned, his plan had worked perfectly. The two phases had complemented each other and there was now enough death in the world, he didn’t have to worry about a real vaccine being distributed.
When the Black Plague had decimated parts of the world, society had recovered. There was a significant dip in population, but not to the extent that Jackson had caused.
Unless the survivors all happened to be of a certain age and health, Jackson had no doubt they would die in the coming weeks from lack of preparation or survival skills. People were lazy and inconvenienced easily.
Jackso
n had complete faith in his superiority. Ruling them all – whoever lived past the underdetermined time period – would be his right and his privilege. King Jackson didn’t sound right, but he’d figure out his title and they would all bow down to him. With his queen by his side, he had a terrific future ahead of him.
He’d daydreamed like that for the duration of the time he’d recuperated in the motel room.
Time to find a rig to travel in, food, fuel, and a map. If nothing else, he could get himself to Cady’s and then they could make their plans together. She might not want to continue living in north Idaho. She might want to go somewhere more urban.
They could decide that when the time was right.
Jackson pulled on his backpack, tucking the rolled up wool blanket from the bed in the small of his back inside the straps. Without a guaranteed vehicle, he risked having to walk and sleep somewhere. He could handle anything, if he was prepared.
He’d wrapped his hands with pieces of the sheet to prevent the scabs from tearing or reopening.
Closing the door behind him, Jackson smiled. He felt like he was off on a new adventure. He couldn’t even conjure up any anger at the theft of his weapons or gas. He’d created the opportunity to experience survival of the fittest. What kind of a hypocrite would he be, if he moaned and groaned about the consequences?
He’d find a vehicle and he’d make his way to Cady. He wasn’t worried about that. It would all be part of the journey.
Plus, he might get to kill someone else – raising his body count and helping with his skills at hand-to-hand combat.
He limped slightly as he walked, still unsure how much pressure he wanted to put on his feet.
Lifting his hand to shade his eyes from the bright afternoon sun, Jackson blinked to adjust his eyes as he walked from the protection of the motel. The parking lot led to the street where Jackson was headed.
Find Them: an apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... series Book 6) Page 8